“Why would you…Oh.”
“Exactly,” replied Dainyl. “If the drop-off preceded the unrest, we could look at passages as a sign, but it sounds like people just reacted to what had happened.”
Dainyl asked more questions, from the state of the roads to barge shipping to the ports, but Zulanyt had little more of interest to offer. After little more than half a glass, Zulanyt escorted Dainyl to the east wing, and to the eastern regional alector of finance, Kaparyk, then took his leave.
Kaparyk, while the image of the typical alector with his shimmering black hair, broad face, and purple eyes, greeted Dainyl with both a broad smile and a sense of warmth that required little Talent for Dainyl to sense.
“Submarshal Dainyl…I’m pleased to meet you. I have met Lystrana upon a number of occasions. An impressive woman, your wife.”
“I was fortunate.”
“She has that rare ability to hold almost all the accounts in her head, and the rarer capability of knowing what they mean.” Kaparyk laughed. “Once the staff saw what she could do, there haven’t been nearly as many problems with the accounts, either. She’s the best chief assistant to the High Alector of Finance that I’ve known.”
“How long have you been in your position?”
“Twenty-five years and a quint.”
“You have seen a few.”
“Five. The last one….” Kaparyk shook his head. “He got dizzy and fell off a pteridon on the way to somewhere—Arwyn, as I recall. Poor fellow, it was probably better that way. He’d made a terrible mess of the audit of the engineering accounts. Took your wife a quint to set it right.”
The “unfortunate” assistant hadn’t made a mess, Dainyl recalled. He’d tried to conceal the theft of certain engineering equipment that had been under his wife’s supervision. When she had disappeared, her successor discovered the discrepancies. Then Davalt had had his “accident.”
“But enough of that,” Kaparyk went on. “What can I do for you?”
“I don’t know. Not in a definite way, that is.” Dainyl quickly explained his tour and concluded, “So I’m introducing myself and asking if there’s anything I should know that would benefit the Myrmidons and the High Alector of Justice in carrying out our duties.”
Kaparyk’s eyes twinkled. “I imagine you know that already, from Lystrana.”
Dainyl shrugged. “Certainly about finance, but she wouldn’t see what you do here in Alustre on matters impacting finance indirectly that might also affect the Myrmidons.”
“I can’t imagine any of that being very useful. There are more Cadmians in Norda, Dulka, and Lysia, and none left at Scien, and that’s probably a good thing. The winters at Scien meant that the maintenance and supply costs there were a third again that of any other Cadmian compound of equivalent size.”
“They’re still more at Lysia,” offered Dainyl.
“Seems strange to me,” said Kaparyk. “Do you know why there are more forces there?”
“It was ordered long before I became submarshal.” Earlier, Dainyl had checked the records to see if he could discover why there were two full battalions of Cadmians in Lysia, as well as a Myrmidon company, when Lysia was a relatively isolated seaport, serving an area with little history of unrest and no particularly remarkable resources. He had found nothing, except spare directives ordering various unit transfers. In that light, the continued buildup in Lysia worried at him, but Kaparyk had effectively admitted he didn’t know why. Was it because it was isolated enough that Brekylt could built a power base there?
Dainyl asked a handful of other questions, all answered easily by the eastern regional alector of finance.
“Oh,” interjected Kaparyk, “I almost forgot. You might mention to Lystrana that chief engineer Rensyl in Fordall has adopted the same accounting systems as Azerdyl once used, in dealing with the transport and road maintenance accounts of the eastern region.”
Noting the slightest emphasis on the words “accounting systems,” Dainyl replied, “I’ll be sure to pass that along. Is this something likely to be of interest to the marshal?”
“It’s rather complex, and I’m certain that your talented wife will be able to explain it far better than I ever could.”
Dainyl feared that Lystrana could indeed, and that Kaparyk had doubtless survived by such indirection. “Then I will let her.” He smiled.
Kaparyk had little else to offer, and after leaving the finance alector’s ample study, Dainyl walked to the nearest archway and then created his Talent-based sightshield, the ability he was not supposed to have, before making his way to the staircase that led down to the Table chamber. While he kept the sightshield around him, he also walked along the side of the corridor.
The staircase and the lower hallway leading to the Table were so deserted he scarcely needed the sightshield—not until he reached the pair of guards stationed outside. Neither of the two young alectors looked in his direction. Nor did either say anything for a time.
“Quiet morning.”
“Always quiet here.”
Dainyl waited, listening, but neither spoke. Finally, he dropped the sightshield and cleared his throat.
Both alectors stiffened.
“Sir! We didn’t see you.”
“That was obvious,” Dainyl replied dryly.
“Ah…sir?”
Dainyl stepped forward and released the Talent-lock on the outer doorway, then opened the door and stepped into the foyer, closing the door behind him.
He remained in the foyer, extending his Talent-senses back into the corridor in order to listen.
“That’s the other submarshal?”
“He’s the one.”
“Swear he wasn’t here, and then he was.”
“They’re like that. You don’t want to cross them.”
“What do you do if one’s after the other?”
There was a low laugh. “Do as little as you can, and stay out of the way.”
“Josaryk’s wagering on this one.”
“Majer Noryan is backing the other one.”
“That’s because—”
“Enough. Shouldn’t be talking about it. Not really.”
The guards were silent, and Dainyl released the second Talent-lock and stepped into the Table chamber. For a time, he stood there, just letting his senses range over the Table, trying to get a feeling of how the Table felt. Lystrana had told him that the Tables could also be used for communications, and Asulet had suggested that they had other purposes as well.
Dainyl could sense a node of something within the Table, and he probed slightly with his Talent. Abruptly, a purple glow appeared above the black surface of the Table.
Dainyl leaned forward. Was someone about to arrive? From Elcien?
A vague and indistinct image appeared, seemingly within the Table, of gray walls. He squinted—and found himself viewing the outer walls of the Myrmidon headquarters in Elcien. But, while he could see a carriage pass by the front gates, he did not see any Myrmidons, not a one, nor any pteridons.
The glow above the Table intensified, and a rush of chill air cascaded over Dainyl as an ugly pink-purple mist expanded above the middle of the Table. He stepped back, his hand dropping to the lightcutter at his side. Absently, he noted that the image of headquarters had vanished.
With another wave of chill air, a…. creature—that was the only word for it—appeared on the Table, a composite of alector and pteridon, alector from the mid-chest down, and pteridon above that, with crooked and truncated wings that barely fit within the chamber. Without warning, it lurched toward Dainyl, blue crystal beak jabbing downward.
Dainyl yanked out the lightcutter and fired, throwing up Talent-shields in front of himself. The lightcutter beam shimmered and reflected off the pteridon-like head of the creature. It slashed forward with its beak, striking his Talent-shields. The impact hurled Dainyl back into the stone wall.
The creature whirled, looking for others. In that moment, Dainyl used the lightcutter be
am to aim for the middle of the chest—the human part of the monster.
A sharp hiss followed, and the monster collapsed in a heap.
Holding the lightcutter ready, Dainyl looked at the corpse, a twisted figure with the head and winged shoulders and beak of a miniature pteridon. Beneath the head was an alector’s body in the green trousers and purple tunic usually worn by senior fieldmasters.
He waited several moments, but the hideous form did not move, and Dainyl sensed no lifeforce. He extended a Talent-probe. Nothing, and the dead creature was not disintegrating, either, the way alectors usually did.
Now what? If he hadn’t made his presence known to the guards, he could have raised Talent illusions and just left. But then, if he hadn’t been trying to work with the Table, the wild translation wouldn’t have focused on him. Could he use the Table to cart the dead alector to a Table less frequently used?
He climbed up onto the Table and grasped the shoulders of the repulsive form that had once been an alector, then concentrated. The Table turned to black mist beneath him, and he plummeted down…
…into chill darkness. The lifeless form of the wild translation was a leaden weight, not on his arms, but his mind, and he searched for the purple-edged green locator that was Norda. After endless instant moments, he could sense the purple and green. He extended a Talent-probe. Instead of the rushing sense he had felt before, the green locator crept toward him, slowly, ever more slowly, but the silver-green barrier finally loomed closer and closer, and then shattered around him.
Dainyl staggered several steps, and dropped the wild translation onto the Table. Ice had coated its form, although a misty fog immediately began to rise in the warmer air of the Table chamber.
A figure in green by the door to the chamber began to turn toward the Table.
Dainyl concentrated and dropped back into the blackness.
He plunged downward into and beneath the Table. His entire body shuddered, as though it had been coated with ice that pressed in upon him. For an endless moment, he did nothing, wondering what he was doing in the chill, trying to sort out the confusion, even as his legs and hands lost their sensation.
The dark gray locator, bordered in purple, that was what he sought, and his thoughts reached for that locator wedge.
In time, seemingly forever, gray-silver sprayed away from him, and……he stood back on the Table in the chamber in Alustre, his lungs gasping for air, his entire frame shivering as he climbed down from the Table and leaned against it, trying to catch his breath and warm up. For a time, misty fog enshrouded his entire form before dispersing. Slowly, he began to regain his strength, but decided to wait before leaving the chamber.
He still did not understand why the wild translation had not immediately turned to dust—or fire. His eyes traveled across the stone walls of the windowless chamber, unmarred except for the brackets for the light-torches and hangings. Abruptly, he looked at one light-torch bracket, somehow different, although it appeared the same as did the others to his eyes.
Straightening, Dainyl slowly walked to the bracket, realizing, as he did, that it was a concealed lock, its Talent so muted that it was not obvious until he stood next to it. There was a concealed door within the Table chamber.
Should he try it?
He could feel a ragged grin cross his face. If…if anyone were inside, after dealing with the wild translation and two trips between Tables, he was scarcely in the best condition to take on another challenge. Investigating the hidden door would have to wait, but he would check all the Table chambers he used in the future to see if they had such doors.
He squared his shoulders and walked to the foyer door, opening it, and then re-setting the Talent lock behind him. He opened the outer door.
Both guards stiffened.
“That didn’t take long, sir.”
Dainyl offered a smile. “Sometimes, it doesn’t.” He closed the door and replaced the second Talent-lock. “I hope the rest of your duty won’t be too long.”
As he walked away, he extended his Talent-senses, listening.
“…couldn’t have traveled too far…”
“…some of them use it for other things, they say…”
“Best you keep that to yourself…”
Dainyl kept walking down the corridor toward the steps. He needed to eat, and get some rest before his evening meal with Brekylt and Alcyna. The effort required by his brief Table transits underscored why it was better not to use the Tables too frequently—not until he was more adept, anyway.
As he climbed the steps, trying not to breathe hard, he couldn’t help wondering about the wild translation. Had he caused it by attempting to investigate the Table, or had he just drawn it to him? What about the hidden chamber? Why did the recorders need hidden chambers within largely hidden chambers?
9
Just before sunset, Dainyl made his way from his quarters and across the paved courtyard. To his right, a single pteridon angled in from the south, flared gracefully, and settled onto the stone flight stage, where the Myrmidon flyer dismounted and handed a dispatch case to the waiting duty messenger.
Dainyl followed the messenger into the rear entrance to the headquarters building.
“The weekly report from Fordall, sir,” the messenger announced, handing the dispatch case to the undercaptain at the duty desk.
The junior officer saw Dainyl behind the Myrmidon messenger and rose to his feet. “Submarshal, sir. The duty coach is waiting for you. Submarshal Alcyna will meet you at the residence. She is traveling from her house just outside Alustre.”
“Thank you.” Dainyl nodded and made his way out to the front and the coach. The driver was not Granyn, but a woman, a junior Myrmidon ranker.
“Submarshal, sir. The residence?”
“That’s correct.” Dainyl paused. “Did you come from Transport, driving sandoxen coaches?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What routes? I drove the Hafin-to-Krost leg, and sometimes the Tempre-Syan square.” He laughed. “That was a few years back.”
“The Northern Pass run from Dereka to Passera. Seven years.” Her voice was pleasant, but Dainyl could sense a faint anger and resentment behind the words.
“Sometimes, it takes a while,” he replied. “For me, I drove for almost eleven years.”
“Sir…eleven years?”
“A little more than ten and a half,” he admitted with a smile. “I never thought they’d take me for the Myrmidons.”
The driver looked at him for a long moment before her eyes shifted to his star insignia. Then she laughed. “Guess I shouldn’t complain.”
“I didn’t get your name,” Dainyl said.
“Olyssa, sir.”
“How long have you been here at headquarters?”
“Just a year, sir. Well…four quints, actually.”
“I’d judge it’ll be another three quints before there will be an opening for a flyer here in Alustre, but you never know what might come up. You’re next in line after Granyn?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How do you like it here?”
“Much better than being a sandoxen driver, sir, and I’ve been helping Vresnyl in the armory.”
“With all the changes in the handling of skylances, you mean?”
“Yes, sir, and learning about crystal replacements and testing.”
“Did you help with the testing of the lances used against the ancient?”
“Oh, no, sir. The submarshal and Vresnyl did that.”
“I suppose they had to replace some of the crystals.”
“Yes, sir, but I don’t know how many. Vresnyl keeps those under lock, and he said that I wasn’t supposed to say much about it, except to my superiors.”
Dainyl suspected that, at the time, no one had thought he might be visiting. “That’s wise of you both.” He smiled. “I suppose we should be getting to the residence.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dainyl stepped from the mounting block into the coach
, closing the door behind himself. As the coach passed out through the compound gates, he nodded. His inquiry had been a thrust in the dark, but Olyssa’s answers confirmed that more than a few details were not being reported to the marshal. Alcyna had mentioned sending a report to Lyterna about the ancients, and when Dainyl had been in Lyterna in late winter, Asulet had told him that too many of the senior alectors were interested in power rather than understanding and that High Alector Zelyert played “little games.” Was Alcyna using the reports about the ancients to turn Asulet against Zelyert and Shastylt? Or merely fomenting unrest?
Dainyl snorted. That wasn’t the question. Rather the question was exactly how she had done so. He also worried about the finagling in accounts suggested by Kaparyk, particularly since there was no reason for an alector to amass golds other than to fund some sort of covert operation.
This time, the duty coach slowed to a halt under the central portico of the residence, actually a raised entry on the second level on the front of the structure that allowed Brekylt and his guests and visitors to avoid the administrative and government studies and functionaries on the main level.
Dainyl opened the door and slipped out of the coach.
“I’ll be back in two glasses, Submarshal, and wait until you’re ready to depart,” Olyssa said immediately.
“That won’t be a problem?” While Dainyl knew it was the ranker’s duty, he didn’t want to appear too callous or accepting.
“No, sir. I’d just be waiting at headquarters, otherwise.”
“I’ll see you then.”
When Dainyl turned and stepped off the mounting block, a young alectress moved forward from where she stood beside one of the unfluted stone columns flanking the covered colonnade that led to the receiving rotunda. She wore the black-trimmed silver tunic and black trousers that signified she was attached to the residence staff—or to Brekylt’s personal retinue.
“Submarshal Dainyl, High Alector Brekylt sent me to escort you, since you haven’t been to the private quarters of the residence before.” She inclined her head slightly.
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