Dainyl shook his head.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know exactly what Shastylt has in mind, and whether he’s hoping Alcyna will find a way for me to suffer an accident, or for me to force her and Brekylt into unwise actions. I have no certainty about what Shastylt and Zelyert are planning, or whether they’re right or the Duarch is. I have no idea whether the ancients are preparing for some sort of attack, where it might occur, and how it might take place—only that they have the ability to destroy weapons and creatures I grew up believing were invincible…and yet I’m supposed to project absolute certainty and confidence?”
“Isn’t that what shows leadership?” Lystrana asked with a soft laugh. She rose from her chair and extended a hand in invitation.
Hand in hand, they went up the stairs to their bedchamber.
Later, as he lay beside the sleeping Lystrana in the darkness, he could sense, ever more strongly, the lifeforce of their daughter within Lystrana. Were all unborn children so strong in potential Talent? Or was he sensing what he hoped, rather than what was? What did the future hold for Kytrana? Or was that, as well, all too dependent upon what he did in the seasons and years ahead?
He looked up through the darkness at the ceiling overhead.
4
Dainyl supposed he could have requested the duty coach to take him from the house to the Hall of Justice where he would begin his translation to Alustre, but he felt that was an abuse of position. Every morning Dainyl was in Elcien, a hacker named Barodyn—an indigen, of course—drove Dainyl to Myrmidon headquarters. Lystrana had calculated that the three coppers each way were far cheaper than having a personal carriage, what with the stable and horse and driver that would have been required.
When Dainyl stepped through the gates of the front courtyard on Quattri morning, two glasses earlier than usual, in the gray of dawn, he wore the traveling uniform of a Myrmidon officer—a blue flying jacket over a shimmercloth tunic of brilliant blue, both above dark gray trousers, with a heavy dark gray belt that held his lightcutter sidearm. His collar bore the single stars of a submarshal. He carried a set of saddlebags that held a spare uniform and personal toiletries.
The morning sun had not yet climbed barely above the dwellings to the east, and possibly not even above the waters of the back bay separating the isle from the mainland, when the hacker reached back from his seat and opened the carriage door. “Good morning, Submarshal, sir.”
“Good morning, Barodyn.” Dainyl climbed into the coach and closed the door, settling onto the hard seat as the hacker eased the coach away from the mounting block.
The driver guided the coach through two turns and headed west on the boulevard, bordered by the public gardens of the Duarch. The main boulevard extended from east to west, down the middle of the isle from the bridge in the east to the gates at the Myrmidon compound at the west end of the isle.
As always, Dainyl spent a moment taking in the gardens, although they looked bleak in the early spring, despite the precisely trimmed hedges and stone paths. The fountains flowed, but the topiary that included a lifelike pteridon, a rearing horse, and a long hedge sculpted into the likeness of two sandoxen and a set of transport coaches looked more like a framework of sticks. There was only a hint of the greenery that would fill out the images when the warmer days of late spring finally arrived.
Ahead to his left was the Palace of the Duarch, south of the boulevard. Flanking the palace were two towers—pointed green cylinders that almost melded with the silver-green sky to the west. Across the boulevard from the palace and the towers was the Hall of Justice, whose golden eternastone glowed even before the morning light struck it.
Dainyl nodded solemnly. He might have smiled had he not been worried about the journey ahead. For him, Table travel was too new to be taken casually, especially not when Table “accidents” had been known to happen to those out of favor with the most powerful of the High Alectors.
Still, he reflected, as he often did, that Elcien was indeed a marvel, built on an island of solid stone. The stone-walled shops with their perfect tile roofs were set around market squares that held everything produced on Acorus. Vessels from across the world disgorged their goods from the wharves and docks on the southern shore into endless warehouses.
The hacker eased the coach to a halt. “Submarshal, sir?”
After he stepped out, Dainyl extended two coppers, plus an extra copper, although the trip was only half the distance of his normal morning ride.
“Thank you, sir.”
As the first rays of the morning sun struck his back, carrying his gear, Dainyl marched up the wide golden marble steps of the Hall of Justice toward the goldenstone pillars that marked the outer rim of the receiving rotunda. Above the architrave connecting the pillars—thirty yards above the polished stone pavement—was a frieze depicting the aspects of justice conveyed by the Duarchy. From the cornice over the frieze angled a mansard roof of man-sized green tiles glinting metallically in the early light.
Dainyl crossed the receiving rotunda, far too early in the day for petitioners to have assembled, his boots barely clicking on the octagonal sections of polished gold and green marble. On the far side, he turned left toward a pillar behind and beyond the dais. He summoned a hint of Talent and would have vanished to the sight of those without Talent, had any been present at so early a glass. Then he reached up and turned the light-torch bracket. The solid stone moved to reveal an entry three yards high and one wide, and a set of steps beyond leading downward and lit by light-torches.
The warmer and moister air surrounded him as he stepped through the entry and the stone closed behind him. At the base of the staircase, he turned right along a stone-walled corridor until he reached a doorway on the north side.
A single alectress appeared, glanced at Dainyl, then nodded. “Submarshal. Will we expect you back shortly?”
“Several days, I would judge, at the least. The Marshal and the Highest have requested I go to Alustre.”
“Have a good trip, sir.” The alectress, an assistant to the High Alector of Justice, stepped back into her study.
Dainyl released the hidden Talent-lock, then opened the door, and closed it behind him, replacing the Talent-lock. He stood in a small foyer, lit by single light-torch, with a second door before him, also with a Talent-lock. A moment later, he released that lock and stepped into the Table chamber, replacing the second lock behind him as well.
The walls of the Table chamber were of white marble, and the floor was of green. Two sets of double light-torches set five yards apart in bronze brackets on each side wall provided the sole illumination. Unlike other Table chambers, the one in the Hall of Justice had no furnishings, just the Table itself. The Table itself looked like any other Table—a square polished stone pedestal in the center of the room that extended a yard above the stone floor. The stone appeared black on the side, but the top surface bore silvery shimmer that was mirror-like. Each side of the table-like pedestal was three yards in length, and because the Table extended below the floor, its actual shape was closer to a cube. Visible only through Talent was the purple glow that emanated from the Table.
After taking a firmer grip on his saddlebags, Dainyl took a long step onto the Table, then a slow and deep breath, concentrating on reaching out with his Talent to the well of darkness below and within the Table. He could feel himself dropping into…
…a torrent of turbulent purplish blackness that buffeted him. Intense cold invaded every span of his body, sweeping through his uniform and flying jacket as if he had been unclothed. He saw nothing with his eyes, but reached out with his senses for the dark gray locator, bordered in purple, that identified Alustre. The closest locator was the bright blue of Tempre, and there was also one of crimson gold that beckoned. Dainyl used thought and Talent to press himself toward the more distant wedge of dark gray.
After what felt like a glass, he began to sense the closeness of the locator wedge he sought, even as other locators s
wirled by him—wedges of amber, brilliant yellow, green, gray…. Well beyond, in a sense he could not have explained, stretched a distant purple-black wedge—the long translation tube back to Ifryn with a sense of distance so overpowering that Dainyl felt almost nauseated.
He continued to concentrate, focusing on the dark gray, now so near—and yet not quite so close as it seemed—before reaching with his Talent to link himself with a line of purple Talent to the dark gray locator wedge that was Alustre. With an abruptness that still nearly stunned him, he felt the dark gray hurtling toward him, even as silver loomed before him, then shattered around him.
Dainyl had to take a lurching step before he regained his Balance. He stood on a Table in another windowless chamber. His entire body shivered, and frost had appeared on his flying jacket and uniform, then vanished, melting as quickly as it had appeared.
Like the Table chamber in Lyterna, the room was empty. Unlike it, there was a set of rich black-and-silver-bordered hangings on the walls, each with a scene holding an alector. A long black chest was set against the wall across the Table from the single entrance—a square arch, in which a solid oak door was set. It was clear that Dainyl had arrived in the residence and administrative center of the High Alector of the East.
He stepped off the Table and walked to the archway. Again, he had to release a Talent-lock before he could open the door. Outside, in the corridor on each side of the arch, were two alectors, both wearing black-and-silver uniforms, rather than the blue-and-gray of Myrmidons.
The guard on the left held a lightning-edged short sword ready, the weapon used for guard duty inside buildings. His eyes scanned the uniform and the stars on Dainyl’s collar. Then he said, “Submarshal, sir?”
“I’m here to see Submarshal Alcyna. She is expecting me.”
“Yes, sir. There should be a duty coach at the west portico. If you go to the end of this corridor and take the stairs there, and then turn right when you reach the main level…”
“Thank you.” With a smile, Dainyl departed, but used his Talent to extend his hearing, hoping to learn something.
“…wouldn’t want to be around headquarters after he gets there…”
“Why not? Submarshals and marshals come and go.”
“Most of them worry about the politics, and who’s who. They wouldn’t know one end of a skylance from another. He’s the one Captain Josaryk was talking about. Came all the way up from ranker…crushed that revolt in Dramur…”
“…brass bitch won’t like that…”
Dainyl concealed a wince and kept walking. Although he couldn’t help wondering what the rankers who had served under him called him behind his back, he wasn’t certain he wanted to know.
The main corridor leading to the west portico was floored in a shimmering silver-gray marble, the octagonal tiles outlined with thin strips of black marble. The walls below the black marble chair railing were also silver-gray marble. Above the railing, the walls were a textured white. At intervals, silver-and-black-bordered hangings decorated the walls, with each tapestry showing a scene from somewhere in the east of Corus.
He heard several children laughing as he passed an open archway. Walking toward him was a slender alector wearing dark silver trousers, a black belt, and a black shimmersilk tunic. The man took in Dainyl’s uniform and stars, then nodded politely as he passed.
Dainyl had forgotten how Alustre had affected the silver and black, as opposed to the greens and blues of the west, but the colors took on a new significance in light of Marshal Shastylt’s concerns—those both voiced and unvoiced.
At the archway that separated the interior of the residence from the portico stood two alector guards, also attired in black trimmed with silver. Both barely looked at him, but Dainyl was well aware of their scrutiny as he passed and stepped out into the stiff spring breeze. Despite the fact that it was afternoon in Alustre, the air felt cooler than in Elcien, but that was because of the wind, since both had similar climates, even a continent apart.
The pavement of the portico was not marble, but white granite, unyielding underfoot, and the columns were smooth circular pillars, also of white granite, and unadorned, not even fluted.
Dainyl glanced toward the waiting area farther west, then nodded. As the Table guard had said, a duty coach was indeed waiting at the west portico, with the Myrmidon colors on the door. The driver smiled as the submarshal approached.
“Submarshal, sir. I was hoping you’d arrive on my duty.” The Myrmidon ranker smiled. “Undercaptain Chelysta is a cousin. If you see her when you get back to Elcien, would you tell her that Granyn sends greetings?”
“I’ll be happy to. Are you from Alustre?”
“No, sir. My parents are on the regional alector’s staff in Lysia. My mother’s sister is Chelysta’s mother.”
With slightly less than a thousand alectors on Acorus, running across relations was scarcely unheard of. What was unusual was mentioning it, and that suggested that Granyn was new to the Myrmidons. “Is this your first posting?”
“Yes, sir.”
Dainyl smiled. “We’d best be going.”
“Yes, sir.” Granyn grinned.
Before Dainyl entered the coach, he turned and looked back at the residence. Unlike the Palaces of the Duarches in the west, which soared into the silver-green sky, the eastern residence was long and solid, only three stories showing above ground level, with two wings angling from the central rectangular core. The outer walls were of a white granite, reinforced with lifeforce, almost slab-like. The only exposed columns Dainyl had seen were those supporting the roof of the west portico, although, given the symmetry of the residence, there were doubtless columns supporting the east portico as well.
Once he was inside the coach, Dainyl considered—again—what lay ahead. The question was not whether Alcyna and Brekylt were plotting, but what they were plotting.
As he considered what he might do to tease out information, Dainyl watched as young Granyn drove them along the divided boulevard that ran from the hilltop residence overlooking Alustre itself to the ring-road that encircled the main sections of the city. Like the eastern residence itself, Alustre sprawled more than did either Elcien or Ludar, with more space between dwellings and structures—except for the warehouse and commercial area directly around the wharves. The bulk of the city lay east of the river and north of Fiere Sound. While there were piers across the river, they were far smaller, and served mainly the fishing community there.
The eastern Myrmidon headquarters were on a bluff east of the city proper, and less than a vingt southeast of the park-like grounds surrounding the residence. The walled compound overlooked both the river and the ocean—and the Cadmian compound even farther to the south.
Granyn guided the coach to a smooth halt directly adjacent to the long mounting block serving the headquarters building, also constructed of perfectly cut and fitted white granite, with blackish green roof tiles that shimmered in the midafternoon sun.
As he swung out of the coach, his gear in hand, Dainyl looked up at the driver. “Thank you, Granyn.”
“My pleasure, sir.” The young alector smiled broadly.
The duty officer was waiting in the entry corridor even before Dainyl stepped into the building. “Submarshal, sir, welcome to the eastern headquarters.” She was an undercaptain, and her violet-green eyes met Dainyl’s evenly.
“Thank you,” he replied gravely.
“Submarshal Alcyna requested that I convey you to her study immediately, sir, but would you like to leave your gear here at the duty desk? I can have it taken to the visiting senior officers’ quarters for you.”
“I would appreciate that.” As he handed her the saddlebags, Dainyl had no doubts that they would be inspected, at least through Talent, but they held nothing beyond necessities. He also reflected that one of the disadvantages of Table travel was that he was totally on his own. Then, that explained, in a way, why the higher alectors were so Talented. No one without Talent-strength
could use the Tables and survive. Was his trip to Alustre another test? He repressed a snort. Was there any doubt of that?
He followed the undercaptain down the corridor—which had a green marble floor, the same as headquarters in Elcien, and the first similarity he had noticed.
Stopping short of the open doorway at the very end of the hallway, the undercaptain gestured. “Submarshal Alcyna’s study, sir.”
Dainyl entered the study, a space even larger than Marshal Shastylt’s spaces in Elcien. Except for a single depiction of the city of Alustre—in black ink on white paper and framed in black and silver—the walls were bare. There were no coverings on the polished and shining green marble floor. The main furnishings were the wide ebony table desk, a circular conference table, also of ebony, and an ebony bookcase two yards high and three long. The eight wooden armchairs were all finished in silver, with five set around the conference table, and three before the table desk, with a larger chair set behind the table desk.
Alcyna did rise from behind the table desk, if somewhat belatedly, after Dainyl closed the study door behind him. She was short for an alectress, barely two yards in height, with eyes as black as her hair. Her smile was perfunctory.
“Good afternoon, Alcyna.”
“Good afternoon, Dainyl. I cannot say that I’m extraordinarily pleased to see you.”
“I understand.” Dainyl certainly did. Alcyna had to have felt that she should have been the one tapped to succeed Marshal Shastylt, but that would never happen. In all the centuries the Myrmidons had existed, no alectress had ever risen higher than submarshal, and Alcyna was only the second to hold the rank. He smiled. “And you will understand if I tell you that I was not extraordinarily pleased to have been ordered to Alustre.”
He settled into a chair in front of the desk and gestured for her to seat herself behind her desk. His eyes went to the wide south window. “You have a lovely view of the sound.”
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