Scepters

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “I never did like that word,” Feran replied.

  “Interesting?”

  “Things are always interesting around you. No offense, most honored Majer, but too often interesting just means dangerous.”

  “I know. But…if the officers here don’t know, that’s for a reason.”

  “I’d say it’s because the marshal didn’t want it known that those companies would be serving under a Northern Guard officer. I’d feel better if I knew why.”

  “Would you?” Alucius raised his eyebrows, then laughed. “We’d at least know what we’re up against, besides a revolt. We might find out more at supper.”

  “I wouldn’t wager on that.”

  “Neither would I, but we shouldn’t keep the captain-colonel and the marshal waiting.” Alucius followed Feran out of the room and closed the door behind him.

  Zenosyr was standing in the courtyard below, outside the building that held both officers’ quarters and the officers’ mess. Young as the man looked, Alucius realized that he himself was only a few years older than the captain, if that.

  The two Northern Guard officers followed the captain in through the double oak doors and down a short hallway floored in blue-and-white marble tiles shaped like diamonds. Although the mess itself had space for a good twenty tables, a single long table was set up with white linen and cutlery and with places for fifteen officers.

  Perhaps ten Southern Guard officers were standing around the marshal, talking quietly, if insistently. Only a single officer, a majer who looked vaguely familiar to Alucius, even looked toward Alucius and Feran, and he glanced away quickly.

  “Captain-colonel Jorynst, here are our Northern Guard officers,” said the marshal more loudly, looking toward Alucius. “Majer Alucius and Overcaptain Feran.”

  “Welcome to Krost Post,” offered Captain-colonel Jorynst, a square-faced man with thin brown hair and bright green eyes. “You’ll pardon me if I don’t attempt to introduce everyone at the moment.”

  Alucius just nodded an affirmation, smiling politely, adding, “We’re pleased to be here.”

  “Now that everyone is here…” Jorynst gestured toward the head of the table. “If you would do the honor, Marshal…Majer Alucius?” The colonel nodded at the seat to the marshal’s left while moving to the one to the right. The other majer sat beside Jorynst, while Feran was to Alucius’s left, with the three other overcaptains next on each side of the table, followed by the captains.

  Alucius noted that Zenosyr was the most junior captain, sitting at the last position on the left side of the table.

  “In following the noble tradition set by my predecessor,” Jorynst began, standing and moving to the table against the wall behind him, “I am pleased to offer one of the best white wines, that is, the best that the mess can afford.” With a laugh, he uncorked one and then two of the amber-colored bottles, half-filling the marshal’s goblet. Then he handed the bottle to a steward in white, who continued down the table filling the officers’ goblets.

  Once the goblets all held the near-colorless wine, the colonel looked to the marshal.

  Frynkel smiled politely and raised his goblet. “To the officers of the Southern and Northern Guards, and to their triumphs, wherever they may be.”

  Alucius raised his goblet to the toast, then took a small sip of the wine. It was far better than anything he had tasted in recent years—since the last time he had been in “old” Lanachrona.

  Three troopers in white jackets appeared, quickly setting plates before each officer. On each plate was fish fileted into thin strips and covered with a yellow glaze. As he had expected, the first course was lemon-almond oarfish.

  “Majer Alucius,” said Jorynst after a time of silence, “this is Majer Fedosyr. He’s my deputy here. In addition to being most efficient and organized, he’s also quite adept with the sabre and other weapons.”

  Fedosyr—Alucius now recalled that the man had been an overcaptain when Alucius had passed through Krost before. That was why he had seemed familiar, and from Alucius’s covert scrutiny of the other officers at the table, he thought that Fedosyr was the only officer he had met before. “We met most briefly several years ago, when we were both overcaptains. It’s good to see you again.”

  “And you, too,” Fedosyr replied.

  Alucius could sense a darkness about the other majer, and a darkness that he thought might bear a hint of purpleness, but that was so faint a feeling he wasn’t certain. But he did not recall that darkness from their previous meeting. At the same time, the colonel showed neither darkness nor light, nor any spark of Talent. He was a senior officer probably on his last command.

  “The colonel mentioned your efficiency. From that, I take it that you are in charge of the training going on here,” Alucius ventured.

  “The colonel has allowed me to do what I can—”

  “Nonsense!” interjected Jorynst. “He’s good at it, and he’s in charge of it all. I just approve everything. What’s the use of good officers if you don’t have them do what they’re good at?”

  “Precisely,” said Frynkel. “That is the nature of command, to use the tools best fitted for the tasks at hand.” He looked directly at Alucius. “You, the colonel, and I will meet in the morning to discuss such weighty matters. They can wait until then.” He lifted his goblet. “In the meantime, this wine is a tool for a good meal.” He laughed and took a swallow.

  A very small swallow, Alucius noted, which was in keeping with the effective prohibition on discussing why Alucius was at Krost Post.

  After the fish came a marinated lamb, with spices that gave it an after-taste that was too close to prickle for Alucius to enjoy it, especially given too-heavy lace potatoes smothered in cheese. With the heavy food also came light conversation—or conversation that avoided why Alucius was in Krost.

  “…say that this Council in Deforya won’t last long…”

  “…could be…go through several before they realize…”

  Alucius understood that. The Council hadn’t wanted to accept reality and had toppled the Landarch. If they accepted reality, they’d be toppled. If they didn’t, reality would force their hand, and they’d be toppled—somewhat later. His lips quirked into an ironic smile, but he continued to listen more than talk.

  “…Denorst’s cousin says that the grapes are going to be the best in years…”

  “…liked that red he had last time we were there…”

  “…still think that the bays handle the cold better…coats are thicker…”

  “…hard to find a good farrier…”

  In time, the marshal smiled and stood, and slipped away. Shortly thereafter, so did Alucius and Feran. Neither spoke until they were outside the door to Alucius’s quarters and Alucius had opened the door.

  “What was all that about?” asked Feran quietly, stepping into Alucius’s quarters and closing the door. “The marshal as much as ordered us not to talk about why we’re here.”

  “I don’t know,” Alucius admitted. “But I didn’t want to say why we’re here, not if the marshal and the captain-colonel didn’t want to talk about it.”

  “I can see that. Why didn’t he?”

  “Something’s wrong here, and…” Alucius had almost said that he felt Majer Fedosyr was the problem, but he didn’t know that. “…I don’t think anyone wants to face it. It could be that they resent my coming in here, that it’s somehow a glove across the face.”

  “It wouldn’t have to be,” Feran said, “but it hasn’t been handled right.”

  “Or someone doesn’t want it handled right,” Alucius suggested.

  “There’s a lot of that,” Feran pointed out.

  “There always has been. We saw that in the militia, even when Clyon was colonel. People want things the way they want them, not the way that would be best.” Alucius shook his head and laughed softly and ironically. “That doesn’t even count the problem of knowing what is best.”

  “You’re right about that.”

/>   “We won’t get to the bottom of this tonight. I’m supposed to meet with the marshal and the colonel in the morning. They may not have wanted to say anything until they had a chance to meet. You’re the deputy commander of this force. I’d like you to get both Southern Guard companies out on the maneuver field one glass after muster. I should be there by then, but if not, just tell everyone that those are my orders, and that I’ll be there as soon as I can be.”

  “What about Fifth Company?”

  “Tell them they can take the day off, but to get their gear in shape. The mounts need the rest anyway. We’ll bring them into this on Septi. That’s when they’ll earn their pay.”

  “You don’t make things easy.”

  “I’d prefer to do things more gently. It won’t work. So…what I’m suggesting will be easier than trying to talk everyone into cooperating. I can tell that none of the officers are in the mood to be cooperative. So…we establish that we’re in charge, and then we go after cooperation after that.”

  “I hope it’s that simple.”

  So did Alucius.

  37

  Hieron, Madrien

  The Regent stood between the conference table and the wide windows that displayed the southern part of Hieron as well as the southern quarter of the Park of the Matrial. Her violet eyes followed the east range high road southward to the point where it vanished into the harvest haze. Then she turned to the marshal. “You say that the second crystal spear-thrower should have reached the forces moving south from Dimor?”

  “Yes, Regent,” replied Marshal Aluyn. “Unless something unusual has occurred, they should be ready to begin the assault.”

  “I would not like that.”

  “Nor would we, Regent. But the Lord-Protector cannot bring any more lancers into the south.”

  “Cannot or will not?” asked the Regent.

  “If he does, he risks losing the north more quickly or even his own south. If the revolt in Hyalt spreads to Syan, Soupat will be cut off, and that will limit the lead available to the Lanachronans, both for their bullets and their crystal trade.”

  “How are your efforts proceeding in that?”

  “There are more weapons being shipped into Hyalt along the old Coast Range trails, and the revolt there continues to grow.”

  The Regent nodded, then asked, “And the torques? How many have we repowered?”

  “We have concentrated on repowering those of former captives and those in and around Hieron.”

  “How many, Aluyn?”

  “Less than a quarter. It takes time. We only have a few truly Talented officers. The new crystal is not as strong, not yet. We dare not send any recently trained captive lancers too far from places where we have Talent-officers.”

  “The crystal grows more powerful with each day.”

  “The Talent-officers have noted that, but you ordered us to concentrate on retaking the south.”

  “I did. That I did.” The Regent nodded. “You may go. Let me know when we have word on our progress.”

  The marshal bowed. “Yes, Regent.”

  After the conference room door closed behind the departing marshal, the Regent turned back to the windows. She looked southward in the golden light of the time just before sunset. Her fingers touched, briefly, the dark green emeralds of the choker. The gems flared deep within at her touch, and her smile hardened.

  38

  Sexdi morning, immediately after breakfast and morning muster, found Alucius in Captain-colonel Jorynst’s study along with Marshal Frynkel. The three sat around a circular conference table in one corner of the study, a corner flanked by two man-high bookcases filled with leather-bound volumes. As he shifted his weight in the wooden armchair, Alucius couldn’t help but notice that all the volumes were dusty, as were the bookshelves themselves.

  “The marshal was telling me that you were attacked by strange creatures on the road south to Krost,” offered the colonel. “Never heard of such a thing.” He looked directly at Alucius.

  “It was a surprise to us,” Alucius replied. “I’ve never heard of anyone being attacked on a road like that. Not in the middle of Lanachrona, certainly.”

  “It happened to you and not to anyone else,” said the colonel. “You were not terribly successful in protecting the Eighth Company, successful as you may have been with your own lancers. Command is not about protecting just one part of a force; it requires one to handle all the companies as one.”

  “That is true, Colonel,” Alucius replied as politely as he could, despite the growing rage seething within him. What business did Jorynst have in chastising him? “At that time, I was only in command of Fifth Company, and I did not receive any orders from Marshal Frynkel.”

  “Shouldn’t need orders for that. Your job was to protect the marshal.”

  Alucius debated for a moment, deciding whether to point out that he was not and had never been under the colonel’s command. He decided against doing so and said calmly, “That was what we did. We stayed and fought the beasts. We killed them all, and that way none of them reached the marshal.”

  “You didn’t do that much for the fourth and fifth squads of Eighth Company, now, did you?”

  Alucius could not figure out why the colonel was attacking him—and why the marshal was allowing it—except that it was clear Frynkel had always had his own agenda. Alucius tried again, keeping his voice level. “We did the best we could, sir, and we did keep the other Eighth Company squads from taking casualties.”

  “That still left some thirty dead and wounded—almost a third of Eighth Company.”

  From what Alucius could sense, the colonel was angry, but Alucius couldn’t figure out why. Jorynst hadn’t been there. Eighth Company did not belong to Krost Post, but was stationed out of Tempre, according to the marshal. So Alucius just waited, without saying more.

  “Your pardon, Marshal,” offered Jorynst, nodding to Frynkel and turning back to Alucius, “but many strange things have happened around you, Majer, and you have an extremely high rate of casualties. I will do as ordered and place the Twenty-eighth and Thirty-fifth Companies under your command, but I cannot say that I am pleased. I am not pleased at all, and I cannot understand why this step is necessary. But I am a faithful officer and will do as directed.”

  Deciding that the abuse had gone far enough, Alucius forced a polite smile. “Then, Colonel, we feel exactly the same way. The last Southern Guard officer under whom I served managed to lose almost his entire company to the last man, and I was forced to watch as tactics I thought were unsuitable were employed. I managed to defeat an enemy that outnumbered our forces by close to ten to one. It is true that we suffered casualties in the range of thirty to forty percent, but that was far better than Majer Draspyr’s ninety-eight percent. I am here at the request of the Lord-Protector. I did not ask to be here, and I did not ask to be sent to put down an internal domestic revolt in Lanachrona, a revolt with which the Iron Valleys have no connection. Because I, too, am a good and faithful officer, as always, I will do my very best. In the past, it’s been far better than the Southern Guard has managed.”

  Jorynst’s eyes almost bulged out, and he opened his mouth, then closed it. Finally, he spoke. “You…that is…insubordination…”

  “Yes, sir,” Alucius replied. “If telling the facts as they are constitutes insubordination, then I am insubordinate.”

  “I cannot believe that you—” began Jorynst.

  “Colonel…” Marshal Frynkel said, firmly. “Majer Alucius is a Northern Guard officer. His record is impeccable. He is the only man in the history of Corus to receive the highest decorations from Deforya, Lanachrona, and the Iron Valleys simultaneously. He is also the only officer ever to engineer an escape from Madrien and, with less than a company of half-trained recruits, defeat between four and six experienced companies. He prefers the truth in a less varnished fashion and speaks more directly than the subordinates to whom you are accustomed. You may note that he replied most courteously and politel
y in his manner of speech time after time, when you were the one who was abusive. You took offense to what he said, and to the substance of what he said, I fear there is no rebuttal.” Frynkel smiled coldly and turned to Alucius. “What are your training plans, Majer?”

  “Do they need any more training?” asked Jorynst. “The Twenty-eighth and Thirty-fifth Companies have been preparing since we received word from the arms-commander.”

  Alucius couldn’t believe that the colonel was still objecting. Was he that stubborn? Or was he just trying to set up Alucius? “We’ll need at least several days to work with them and to assess—”

  “They’re good lancers—” said Jorynst.

  “I’m certain that they are,” the marshal interjected, “but the majer needs to work with them to make sure that the command structure works and to know how they do what they do, and they need to know how the Northern Guards do what they do.”

  “I suppose that’s true…” The colonel’s words were grudging.

  “Colonel,” Frynkel said almost amiably, “Majer Alucius understands his task. We should let him get on with it. There are a few matters that we need to discuss.” Frynkel looked at Alucius. “If you wouldn’t mind, Majer.” After the briefest pause, he extended a folder. “Here are the rosters and squad assignments for your new companies. Your command begins as of now.”

  “Yes, sir.” Alucius didn’t mention that Feran had probably already established that command. He stood. “By your leave, Marshal?” He did not look at Jorynst.

  “You have my leave, Majer.”

  Alucius left, closing the door behind him. He paused, but heard nothing, then stepped past the ranker seated at the desk in the anteroom. He wished he knew exactly what game the marshal was playing, but by the end of the meeting it had been clear to Alucius that the marshal had used Alucius against the colonel and had been quietly pleased. Alucius didn’t like being used that way, but there was little he could do until he knew more.

  He made his way to the armory, where he arranged for three hundred rattan blades to be ready on the following morning. Then he hurried to the stable, where the gray was waiting, already saddled. He took several moments to study the rosters, and then slipped them inside his tunic before leading the gelding out and mounting.