It was past sunset when he returned to the Table chamber, and the chamber itself was empty. The door to the hidden chambers was closed, but he would leave that aspect of matters…for the moment.
13
After using the Table from Norda to reach the one in the Hall of Justice in Elcien, Dainyl made his way from the Table chamber up and out of the hall. He stepped out into an afternoon far warmer than it had been in Norda. He was still bemused by the fact that when he traveled by Table, he crossed Corus faster than did the sun. He had left Norda after sunset and arrived in Elcien by mid-afternoon.
After hailing a hacker on the boulevard, he took the coach to Myrmidon headquarters. There he dropped his gear in his study and knocked on the marshal’s door before stepping inside, since his Talent-sense revealed that no one was with Shastylt.
The marshal looked up, a momentary expression of annoyance crossing his face. “You’ve returned early, far sooner than might be wise.”
Dainyl looked tiredly at Shastylt. “I’m far from done, but I’d like it reported…or let it be known…that I’m here.”
“You do look a bit worn. I hope that the duties of your position don’t prove overtaxing, the way they did with Tyanylt.”
Dainyl smiled politely. “Normally, it wouldn’t be any problem at all, but my arm and leg are not quite fully healed. I have run into a wild translation on one Table and an inadvertent assassination attempt in Norda, because the assistant to the recorder feared I might be a wild translation. In addition to that, I had to deal with…I have no idea what to call it when a Recorder of Deeds gets possessed by something through the Table. There wasn’t much I could do except let events take their course.”
“Yes…I did receive a report from the High Alector of Justice…something about the Recorder of Deeds in Alustre having apparently died around the time of your departure. Most unfortunate, I fear.”
“From my point of view, it could have been even more unfortunate…”
“You look like you’ve survived well enough.” Shastylt’s smile was perfunctory. “What have you learned?”
“That you have every right to be concerned, and that there’s no proof at all of anything.”
The marshal frowned. “That seems to be contradictory.”
“Brekylt made an interesting comment. We were standing over his gardens the other night, and they are magnificent. He observed that one must often work with what is, rather than base actions on a plan developed centuries before. He concluded by noting that we had to be gardeners as well as administrators. After that, he would only talk pleasantries.”
“Ah…I understand. Everything is so precisely as it should be.”
“And Brekylt has put out the word, if quietly, that younger and more able alectors without contacts who do not wish to be Myrmidons will be rewarded for their ability if they chose to serve in the east.”
For the briefest moment, Dainyl could sense surprise from Shastylt, although the marshal’s facial expression changed not in the slightest. “That is not surprising.”
“Not in itself,” Dainyl agreed pleasantly. “Also, Alcyna has been transferring Myrmidons from company to company, and not just subsequent to promotions.”
“To reduce loyalty to the company and increase loyalty to her, no doubt.”
“I thought that might well be the reason.” Dainyl was far from sure it was the only reason, but he saw no point in saying that because he didn’t know what else the other submarshal had in mind.
“You had said you were not finished. What do you plan?”
“After catching up on various reports, a good night’s sleep, another day here, and then, at the beginning of next week, some more unannounced inspections and tours in the east. While everything is controlled from Alustre, nothing will be discovered there.”
“You intend to travel by Table from Elcien on a regular basis, instead of going from Table to Table in the east?”
“I intend to alternate. For the moment, that would seem far more effective.” Dainyl laughed. “I need to check some matters here for a day or so. When I return to the east, I will be rising very early.”
“So you will. How long will you pursue such a course?”
“Until I learn what you need to know, sir.” Dainyl paused. “Submarshal Alcyna issued standing orders to Majer Noryan on how to deal with the ancients several months before there were encounters with any ancients.”
Shastylt did not bother to conceal his surprise. “You’re sure of that?”
“She indicated she had issued orders, and Noryan confirmed the timing. Oh…you might know this, but she also has been sending reports on the ancients directly to Lyterna.”
“Do you know to whom?”
“She did not say, and there was no record of those reports in any of the files. I did not press.”
“That was wise. I should have you visit more places. Do keep me posted, Submarshal.”
Dainyl understood the dismissal. “That I will, sir.” He inclined his head, stepped out of the study, closing the door behind himself.
As he walked back to his own study, he reflected on Shastylt’s reaction. The marshal clearly had known that Alcyna was sending reports to someone in Lyterna, yet he had not known that she had been aware of the danger posed by the ancients before any of the attacks on Myrmidons and pteridons. He also had not known about Brekylt’s efforts to recruit alectors personally loyal to him and not necessarily to the Duarches. More important, Shastylt continued to conceal his own agenda—and that of High Alector Zelyert.
Dainyl did not bother to close the door to his own study. Even after only five days, reports were stacked on Dainyl’s table desk. For a long moment, he just looked at them. Then he turned and walked to the archives, where he began to search through the older reports, searching for the Fourth Company reports filed about the loss of pteridons in Scien. In less than a quarter glass he had found them—and they read exactly as had those he had read in Alustre.
Was his memory failing him? He distinctly remembered that there had been two separate reports of losses.
He continued to search, but found nothing that supported his recollections. Then he checked the writing of the report, but it was the same as all the others in the Fourth Company file, and it matched what Majer Noryan had said. That suggested the first reports had been wrong in some fashion—and had been replaced with the correct ones after the fact. Was that because someone knew Dainyl would be inspecting in the east? Had Alcyna originally wanted to conceal her strategies for dealing with the ancients?
Dainyl shook his head. How could he prove that Alcyna—or Brekylt—had managed to replace false reports with accurate ones? And since the reports had been his direct responsibility at the time, even mentioning a substitution that he could not prove would do him little good and much harm. No one was about to listen to the fact that he’d been sent to Dramur during that time.
Finally, he turned and walked back to his study, still convinced the original reports had been replaced. But by whom?
Back in his study, his eyes fell on the stack of reports. It looked taller than when he had left. Slowly, he sat down and began to read. The majority of the reports, he just glanced through and set aside. He was looking for any information dealing with either past areas of difficulty, areas where signs indicated emerging troubles, or anything dealing with the ancient soarers. The report on Dramur was favorable. Majer Dohark of the Cadmians appeared to have matters well in hand there. The Fourth Cadmian Battalion, Mounted Rifles, was on its way to Iron Stem, suggesting that problem was still not fully under control. No more skylances had vanished from Dereka.
While Dainyl looked for any information on Hyalt, the only reference was in the report from the Cadmian headquarters. Third Battalion, under the command of a Majer Mykel, was being dispatched to complete the pacification of the area and the training and rebuilding of a local garrison.
Dainyl smiled uneasily. Based on what Mykel had accomplished in Dramur, the maje
r was doubtless the most qualified for the assignment, but the majer was far from conventional in his tactics and approach. Given the fact that the Hyalt situation had been created by a wild lander Talent, and that Mykel possessed latent Talent, Dainyl reminded himself to follow the Cadmian effort in Hyalt closely as it developed…assuming he could, with Shastylt’s preoccupation with what was happening in Alustre.
Even though he forced himself to read through the reports, what Dainyl really wanted to do was to go home to Lystrana. He needed to discuss what he had discovered with her. He also looked forward to having an uninterrupted night’s sleep.
14
Almost immediately after dinner, one where Dainyl and Lystrana discussed the weather and other pleasantries, they made their way up to their bedchamber, leaving the two serving girls to clean up. Dainyl made certain that the door was closed before he removed his boots, tunic, and trousers, and stretched out on the long bed. “It feels so good to take the weight off that leg.”
“You have more on your mind than that.” With a smile, she added, “And more than me, and that’s unusual when you’ve been gone.”
“I’m worried.”
“You’re always worried these days.”
“Let me tell you what happened, first….” Dainyl recounted his visit, event by event, including the matter of the altered reports—and the wild translation that had not disintegrated.
“The translation—that happens sometimes,” said Lystrana. “I’ve heard of that. Despite their appearance, it’s as if the translation changes them from alectors into landers…or something else related to them.”
“I wonder how that happens.”
“I don’t know. Asulet might.”
Dainyl nodded. If he ever saw the senior alector again in person, he could ask—if he remembered.
“What do you think about the reports?” she asked.
“The Third Company reports had to have been changed recently,” he pointed out, “when someone let Alcyna know I’d be coming east.” He stopped. He was so tired, but he should have seen the obvious. “Dhenyr. He’s the only one in headquarters who knew what I’d be doing. He either did it, or told someone who did.”
“Someone had to use a Table, if the reports are written in the same hand.”
Dainyl liked that not at all. “Then…that means a high alector or someone like you, a chief assistant.”
Lystrana nodded.
There was little enough he could do about that, except watch. He had held back one matter until the last. “…Oh, I also met with Kaparyk in Alustre. He had nothing but compliments about you. He did say to tell you that Chief Engineer Rensyl in Fordall has adopted the same accounting systems as Azerdyl once used, in dealing with transport and road maintenance accounts of the eastern region.”
Lystrana stiffened. “Did he say it that way?”
“Exactly. He also did not answer when I asked him if this might be of interest to the marshal. He said, instead, that it was complex and that you could explain it far better than he could. That suggested to me that some sort of military equipment is being fabricated under the rubric of road construction.”
“Azerdyl led the abortive eastern rebellion two centuries back. He was the head alector of finance in the east, and the High Alector of the East was under his personal shadowmatch.”
“But Kaparyk used the words ‘accounting systems.’”
“That suggests that Rensyl is using them under Brekylt’s direction.” She frowned. “You’re right to be worried.”
“Some aspects are clear enough, but others…I can’t see where they’re coming from.” Dainyl stifled a yawn.
“You’re tired. It’s been a long day, and you’ve traveled the Tables as well.”
“I am tired,” he admitted, “but too worried to sleep yet. Not well, anyway. Then there’s Shastylt. He knows Alcyna and Brekylt are plotting something, and yet he’s not doing anything.”
“Oh…but he is.”
Dainyl laughed softly. “What am I doing? Upsetting matters enough to provoke them into premature action or forcing them to postpone their plans? Or worse yet, setting myself up as a target, thereby providing Zelyert and Shastylt—through my death—with a rationale and a means to guide both Duarches?”
“What do you think?”
“The third. Shastylt’s reactions don’t make sense otherwise.”
“Unless that’s what he wants you to think,” Lystrana offered, settling herself onto the corner of the overlarge bed.
“Why would he make it so obvious? What deeper motive could he have?”
“What about setting up Zelyert? Then he can advise the Duarches—and he still would have direct control over the Myrmidons, especially with Alcyna gone.”
“So…that’s his way of warning me without actually saying so, because he doesn’t want to take anyone into his confidences? He figures that I’ll be loyal out of necessity, if I survive. If I don’t, I can’t reveal anything along the way.”
“He also knows you’ll be honest and loyal out of personal integrity.”
“Isn’t that what the Views of the Highest says? That we won’t survive without integrity or some such?”
Lystrana laughed ironically. “Shastylt should reread it.”
Dainyl shook his head. The higher he rose in the Myrmidons, the more complex—and the more deadly—the plots and intrigues became. “You didn’t seem to think it was military equipment that Rensyl was hiding in the transport accounts. What else could it be?”
“Road-building equipment. That’s under the Myrmidon control and guarded by Alcyna.”
Dainyl only had to think briefly about the road-building equipment he had viewed in Alustre before nodding. “Will it bring down a pteridon?”
“It might. It also might be sufficiently powerful to destroy an ancient.”
“You’re suggesting that Brekylt is worried about the ancients, and that he feels the Duarches aren’t taking the potential threat seriously enough?”
“Are they?”
“Not from what I’ve seen.” Dainyl looked at Lystrana, seeing for the first time the circles under her eyes. “You’re tired, too.”
“Carrying a child, even this early, is tiring. She presses for more lifeforce.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s the way it is, dearest.”
If he hadn’t been so exhausted, with pains shooting through both his right arm and left leg, and seeing Lystrana so drained, Dainyl would have laughed, if ruefully.
The High Alector of Justice was afraid that transferring the Master Scepter to Acorus would not only destroy the world before its time, but reduce his power and influence. The High Alector of the East and Alcyna wanted the Master Scepter transferred, but only after removing Zelyert and Shastylt, in order to gain influence, and they well might be building weapons to use against the ancients, presumably because they feared that ancients might block the transfer of the Master Scepter. The Duarch of Elcien wanted the transfer because he feared worse if the Master Scepter went to Efra instead of Acorus. And no one talked about any of it, or why it was better for it to be transferred to one world rather than the other.
But then, according to the Views of the Highest, there was only one best alternative.
Dainyl slowly rose to get ready for bed—and sleep too long delayed.
15
On Octdi morning, just after dawn, Mykel stood on the wide goldenstone pier that held the Duarches’ Honor. With a length of more than two hundred yards and a main deck that rose a good fifteen yards above the pier, the vessel towered over Mykel and the men and mounts of Third Battalion as they waited to board. The greenish gray metal of her hull plates gleamed dully in the light of a sun that had barely risen and struggled to shine through hazy clouds. As with all of the great ships of the Duarchy, there were no masts and no sails, and no coal was taken aboard. So the propulsion system could not be one of the rare steam engines such as those used in the manufactories of Faitel, the city of a
rtisans and engineers where Mykel had grown up.
Mykel glanced to his right at the long ramp that angled from the pier into a hatchway several decks below the main deck, and then at Undercaptain Dyarth, who stood holding his own mount, waiting to lead the troopers and mounts of Thirteenth Company up the ramp.
The faintest halo of yellow-brown surrounded the mount, that aura that enfolded all living things—or the larger living creatures—but was visible only to Mykel and the soarers, and perhaps a few others. Dyarth’s aura was stronger than his mount’s, an orangish yellow. As Mykel had quietly concentrated on sensing such auras over the past few weeks and become more adept, he had come to realize that the auras of most people—at least all those he had encountered—seemed to contain some shades of brown, but there was a wide variation, while the more limited auras of other creatures seemed very similar. All horses seemed orangish yellow. He hadn’t been able to sense auras for small creatures, but he had no idea whether that was because creatures below a certain size had none or that he could not discern them.
From behind Dyarth, Mykel could hear the low murmurs of the rankers.
“…rather ride than take a ship…”
“…easier on the mounts this way…say it’s only two and a half, three days by sea. Take us more like a week just to ride to Southgate.”
“Something happens on land…know where you are. Something happens at sea, and where are you?”
“That kind of thinking, be glad you’re not a Myrmidon.”
Several rankers laughed.
“What’s the farthest you’ve had to carry a battalion?” Mykel asked the deck mate who stood beside him, a gray-haired and wiry man close to the age of Mykel’s own father.
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