If she were, thought Dainyl, she’d be among the few of the Myrmidon commanders in the east who was.
They both rose, and Dainyl followed her from her study through the Table chamber and out through unguarded doors. The corridor to the staircase had been cut through solid stone, unlike most of the other Table chambers. Beyond the doorway at the top of the steps was a walled courtyard. The warmth of the sunlight was more than welcome, but the air was moist, and he suspected that, even for him, Lysia in summer might be too damp.
“What’s Captain Sevasya like?” asked Dainyl as he and Sulerya crossed the paved compound courtyard. His eyes took in the immaculate pteridon squares, and the cleanliness of the walls and windows. “Her reports are always precise, but they don’t convey much beyond great and quiet competence.”
“You obviously have not met her,” replied Sulerya.
“No. My service has been in the west.”
“I’ll let you decide for yourself, Submarshal.”
“You’re just like your father,” Dainyl replied with a laugh. “He only said what he wanted and not a word more.”
“That may be.” Sulerya grinned. “I am glad you’re not like your mother.”
Dainyl didn’t bother to conceal the wince. “You’ve met her?”
“Once. That was a number of years ago, long before you joined the Myrmidons.”
Dainyl decided not to say more for the moment. His mother had always had a way of making an impression, not always one useful to Dainyl.
The duty officer bolted upright as the two entered the small, one-story stone structure. “Submarshal, sir! Recorder.”
“We’re here to see the captain, Ghedyn,” offered the recorder.
“Yes, sirs,” replied the Myrmidon. “She’s in her study.”
Sulerya turned left and led Dainyl to the second doorway. It was open.
“Sevasya…one of your superiors arrived while I was on duty.” A mischievous smile followed Sulerya’s words. “So I escorted him here. I’m certain you two have Myrmidonish business to discuss, and I will leave you in his capable hands.”
Dainyl—not totally pleased with that introduction—stepped into the study with a smile, still holding his shields.
Before he could speak, Sulerya added, “If I’m not in the chamber when you return, Dainyl, wait a moment. I may have more information for you.” With that, she closed the study door, leaving the two Myrmidons alone.
Captain Sevasya was broad shouldered, and taller than Dainyl—one of the few alectors or alectresses of such height besides the Duarch Khelaryt. She also radiated Talent, much as her father did, even as her black eyes appraised him.
“Submarshal Dainyl, how good to see you.” She smiled, exuding warmth—but with cool confidence behind it.
“It’s good to see you, Captain. It’s especially refreshing to arrive here welcomed.”
“Are you here because you support Asulet, or my father?” She delivered the question, bluntly phrased, with the same warmth.
“I’m not certain whom I should support, except that it won’t be Brekylt or Alcyna,” he replied dryly.
“You sound somewhat skeptical, Submarshal.”
“There are times for that, especially when dealing with the Duarch’s daughter.”
“And when little is as it once seemed?” Sevasya’s eyebrows arched.
“I’m not sure the past was ever what anyone thought.”
“How might I help you?”
“Any information you have on actions Brekylt and Alcyna have taken against the Marshal, the Highest of Justice, or your father would be useful.” Dainyl took the chair across from her table desk.
Sevasya sat as well, an amused smile still in place. “Isn’t that the problem, sir? I can point to no single action that would confirm that they have planned any adverse actions against any of their superiors. Oh…there are individuals who have suffered mishaps, and those who have died. There have been unusual transfers of personnel. In no case is there any link to the Highest of the East that could not be supported as a justifiable act in the course of duty.”
Dainyl waited, a pleasant smile upon his face.
“There’s no doubt that they plan some sort of treachery, as you well know. But to remove them—or for them to suffer a mishap—without some form of proof would have large numbers of faithful alectors in the east rising against the Duarchy—or whoever was perceived as its agent. Right now, you are the one suspected of being that agent.”
That wasn’t exactly a surprise to Dainyl, but her words still sent a chill through him. “What do you suggest I do, then, Captain?”
“Finish your inspection tour, and wait until an opportunity arises. It will, because Brekylt will have to act in order to gain whatever power or control he desires. It won’t happen immediately, however. If you do nothing upon your return to Elcien, except to issue a report extolling the state of readiness in the east, that will confound them.”
“What about visiting Dereka…and those insignificant other difficulties facing me?” Dainyl offered the question dryly.
Sevasya laughed. “Submarshal, sir, I am quite certain you will manage, as you have all along. Visiting Dereka should pose no problems, now that Colonel Dhenyr serves in Elcien as your replacement.”
“Do you think he had anything to do with removing firelances, say, in order to weaken Fifth Company?”
“I doubt he had anything to do with that. With other matters, yes, but handling firelances under those conditions would require Talent and initiative, and he was selected for lack of such.” Sevasya’s voice was both warm and ironic. “Especially after his predecessor showed that lack of obvious Talent did not necessarily preclude initiative and effectiveness.”
“Dereka is the closest Myrmidon company to Lyterna,” mused Dainyl.
“It is, and I’m very fond of both Captain Elysara and Captain Fhentyl. You might find the visit to Dereka enjoyable, even informative, sir.”
That answered another question, even as it raised a third. “Why?”
“I’m certain I couldn’t say, sir, but it is the oldest city on Acorus.”
In short, Dainyl should go, and the Duarch’s daughter, whether she was technically under his command or not, wasn’t about to say why…or much more about anything.
He stood. “I would very much appreciate it if you would give me a tour of Eighth Company.”
“I’d be delighted, Submarshal, and everyone will be pleased to meet you.”
Those words were genuine, and heartfelt, and that disturbed Dainyl as well, although he could not have said exactly why.
With a smile, he opened the study door and stepped into the corridor, waiting for the captain.
23
Slightly past midmorning on Quinti, Mykel reined up next to Bhoral as the third squad of the First Hyalt Company wheeled into a firing line, a very ragged firing line. Some of the troopers seemed uncomfortable, if not unsteady, in the saddle. Most had never been on a mount a week earlier, and that meant extra time in teaching them about horses. Mykel couldn’t begrudge that. He’d needed that instruction years back.
For a time, he watched as the squad continued to practice standard mounted maneuvers. Then he turned to the battalion senior squad leader. “They’re improving. It’s slow, but even as soon as it is, I can see some improvement. You’re getting results, especially with what you have to work with.”
Bhoral gave a faint smile. “They’re beginning to realize that they can do something, and that they’ll get regular rations and pay. A good lot of ’em never have.”
That was true of all too many of the locally raised Cadmian forces, Mykel had come to realize, and why he and Third Battalion were in Southgate. “How are matters working out with getting supplies?”
“After the first day or so, all of a sudden, we stopped having problems. Couldn’t say why, but I’m not complaining.”
“Good. Still…be as pleasant as possible.”
“I’ve laid that on heav
y with the squad leaders. They know.” Bhoral gave a creased smile. “Hope you don’t mind that I told ’em what you said to the officers.”
“No. It holds true for all of us.” All Mykel had said to his officers was that no one was to treat anyone in the compound with disrespect. If they had a problem, they were to bring it to him. He’d only had to go to the overcaptain once, and that was to explain the need for extra fodder and water because of the longer use of the mounts. Fodder was a problem because the area around Southgate wasn’t all that fertile, not compared with other areas supporting Cadmian mounted companies.
“I’m going to see how the combat squad-on-squad drills are going.” Mykel nodded to Bhoral and then eased the roan around the north edge of the main drill field to the east side. There, Fourteenth Company’s squads were taking on the squads of Second Hyalt Company, using rattan sabres.
Again, Mykel reined up, this time beside Captain Culeyt. Once more, he watched for a time, before saying anything.
“What do you think?”
“Sir…half of them still think a sabre’s an axe.”
“Many of us did at one time,” Mykel said with a laugh. “They’re looking better. It’ll help your men, too.”
“The recruits aren’t any threat.”
“No,” Mykel replied, “but when your men have to explain what they’re doing, and then keep doing it, it reinforces their skills.” He grinned. “But…to make sure they don’t get sloppy, tell them that they’ll be running a drill with the rattan sabres against Sixteenth Company the day after tomorrow.”
“Sir? Sixteenth Company?”
“You’re the one who just said that the Hyaltans were no threat.”
“Yes, sir.” Culeyt shook his head.
Mykel continued his rounds of observation for another two glasses, before riding back to the compound, where he unsaddled the roan and brushed him out before he walked back to the headquarters building.
He settled behind the battered wooden table desk in the study provided for his use—he didn’t really think of it as his—and began to write. He’d decided to make more changes in the training schedule, based on what he’d observed, deciding to beef up the individual weapons training. Some of the unit maneuvering training could be incorporated into the ride to Hyalt, but doing that with weapons would have been far more difficult—and time-consuming.
Less than half a glass later, he looked up to a knock on the half-open door. “Yes?”
“Overcaptain Sturyk would ask a moment of your time, Majer.” The squad leader was far more precise and respectful than he had been when Mykel had first introduced himself. “If you would not mind?”
“That would be fine.”
Mykel had barely set down the pen before Sturyk appeared, and he stood. “Overcaptain.”
“Majer. You’ve been so involved with your training that I thought I had best catch you when I could, sir. If this is convenient?”
“This is fine.” Mykel gestured toward the chairs in front of the table.
“Oh, no, sir. This will only take a moment.” Sturyk paused. “Before that…It’s said that you acquired…a certain appellation…as a result of your efforts in Dramur, Majer, sir. I would not wish to pry…”
Was that why there had suddenly been such a change in attitude and so much cooperation? Mykel offered a smile he hoped was ironic, or wry, or self-deprecating. “I’ve been told that I did acquire a name—one having to do with ancient knives that cut the user as deeply as the one attacked. It wasn’t something I sought.”
“That explains much. There have only been a handful of men called daggers of the ancients.” Sturyk shook his head. “I do not envy you, Majer. Both the ancients and the alectors will try to break you.” The overcaptain forced a smile. “That was not why I requested a moment of your time.” He extended an envelope. “I must explain. That is an invitation. Every spring, just before summer, the Council of Southgate holds a ball, a dance, if you will. As a matter of courtesy, the commander of the compound and any senior officers in residence are always invited.”
A ball was the last thing Mykel felt like attending. He tried not to show that feeling as he took the envelope, of heavy parchment, and sealed in deep blue wax. He did not open it.
“I realize that you’re working hard, sir, but I fear…”
“They pay for the compound’s expenses, don’t they?”
“Yes, sir.”
Mykel could see the relief on Sturyk’s face. “I’ll be there, but I’ll have to be in uniform.”
The overcaptain chuckled. “That’s what they want. It will be formal, and everyone will say a few words about how much they appreciate your coming, but it’s as much to show that they’re on speaking terms with the Cadmians as anything else. This year…they’ll appreciate it more, because you’re not married, and that means you can talk and dance with their eligible daughters.”
“I doubt they’d want a Cadmian for a husband,” Mykel pointed out, thinking of Rachyla.
“Of course not, but they’ll feel very wicked in having met you, especially…” Sturyk’s words trailed off.
“Does everyone in Southgate know?”
“No, sir. Only a few, but, by the time of the ball…”
Mykel wanted to groan. He couldn’t dance, except a few folk dances his sister had taught him years before, and he was going to be on exhibit as the dangerous “dagger of the ancients.” How many other aspects of command were there that he had no idea of and had yet to face?
“It should be very interesting.” He managed a smile.
“It’s likely to be very long, sir. My wife dreads it, but it is one of the responsibilities that accompany command here.” Sturyk managed a long-suffering smile.
That expression was convincing enough that Mykel actually believed Sturyk’s words. Had Mykel not been in Dramur—and experienced the condescension and near-contempt of the seltyrs there—he might not have.
“That’s all, sir.” Sturyk nodded. “By your leave?”
“Thank you.”
Mykel did not open the envelope until he stood alone in the study. Then he broke the seal and extracted the heavy card, reading it slowly. “The Council of Southgate requests the honor of the presence of Majer Mykel, Commanding, Third Cadmian Battalion, Mounted Rifles…”
He shook his head. At least, he had almost four weeks before he had to worry about that. A ball, for the Duarches’ sake!
24
Dainyl returned to headquarters late on Quattri. Sulerya had provided no more information and had told him that finding out what she had in mind would take longer than she had thought. When he reached Elcien, Dainyl saw neither the marshal nor Lystrana that night. She had left a note at their home explaining that she’d be spending the night in Ludar because she and the High Alector of Finance had an early-morning meeting with the Duarch of Ludar to apprise him of some “irregularities” in the engineering accounts in the east.
Had she tracked down proof of what Rensyl was doing? Was the eastern engineer actually fabricating weapons based on road-building equipment? When Dainyl and Lystrana had last talked, he had not known of the possible involvement of the Duarch of Ludar with Brekylt. He hoped his wife would be safe while she accompanied her Highest.
He slept uneasily.
As a result, he was up early and in his study at Myrmidon headquarters well before morning muster—and that was after a quick inspection of the compound and First Company.
Just after he finished with fourth squad, he recalled something and turned back to Undercaptain Chelysta. “I forgot to mention that I ran across one of your cousins last week.”
“Sir?”
“Granyn. He’s a junior ranker at Myrmidon headquarters in Alustre. He’s a driver, waiting for a place as a flyer. He said to send his greetings.”
Chelysta shook her head. “That imp. I’ve only seen him once—that was when he was barely walking. He was always getting into things.”
“He might get into Third Compan
y under Majer Noryan.”
“Majer Noryan?” Chelysta shook her head. “I never thought he’d make majer. Thin as a rail and not much taller than me. He was a translation orphan, you know. Didn’t have many friends. More at home with horses. Came from a tiny place where his foster mother was the only alectress around. I didn’t even hear he’d joined until later.” Chelysta shook her head. “And Granyn…that’s hard to believe.”
“Your cousin has that air, still, but he works hard. Anyway, I promised I’d let you know.” Dainyl smiled. “How are things going?”
“Some of the dispatch runs have been tight until first squad got replacement pteridons from Sixth Company in Lyterna. Captain Elysara sent word that there weren’t any more spares at Lyterna—or anywhere else. Can’t believe we lost two of them.”
“It happens. Not often, but it does,” Dainyl replied.
“But how, sir?”
How was he going to answer that without revealing the role of the ancients? He offered a rueful smile. “You know that pteridons can only fly so high before they reach an altitude where there’s no lifeforce?”
“Yes, sir.”
“There are places, usually in the mountains, where there’s no lifeforce, and sometimes no one knows that they’re there. Under certain conditions”—like an ancient being present and unfriendly—“a pteridon and rider can’t escape.”
The undercaptain winced. “I suppose we’re lucky that there aren’t too many places like that.” She paused. “Is there any way to tell?”
“The only way I know is that the few I know about were near ruins of the ancients in the mountains.”
“No one ever mentioned that.”
“There aren’t many,” Dainyl said. “Do you have dispatch duty tomorrow?”
“No, sir. Not until Octdi.”
“I hope you get good weather.” He nodded and then turned.
As he walked back to his study, he considered what Chelysta had said. Noryan was certainly not rail thin and short. Could there be two with the same name? He spent a quarter glass going through all the rosters, but there was only one with that name, and he came from the area near Lysia. Chelysta must have been talking about when he’d been a youth.
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