One of the Southern Guards took the reins from Alucius. “He’ll be stabled in back, sir.”
“Thank you.”
Even before Alucius reached the golden oak door, it opened. A round-faced woman with golden hair in tight-curled ringlets stood there. “You must be Overcaptain Alucius. I’m Queyela. Wyerl said you’d be here any moment. Do come in.”
Alucius bowed. “Thank you.” He stepped though the doorway into a golden-tiled foyer three yards on a side.
A girl who looked to be ten or twelve stood in the archway on the left side of the foyer.
“Elizien…”
Before the girl’s mother could finish, Alucius moved forward several steps, stopping well short of the girl, who might have reached midchest on him. “Elizien, that’s a beautiful name. Do you like it?” Alucius grinned.
“It is my name,” the girl replied.
“Mine is Alucius.”
“I know. You’re an officer who was a herder in the north.”
“I’d still like to think I am,” Alucius replied.
“Did you really kill a pteridon?”
“Several, actually.”
“Why? They’re awfully rare. Father says that there haven’t been any in Corus since before the Cataclysm.”
“I didn’t have much choice. The pteridons’ riders were trying to kill my troopers.”
“Couldn’t you have stopped them some other way?”
“Elizien…if I had known any other way…” Alucius shrugged helplessly. “If they hadn’t been trying to kill us, I wouldn’t have wanted to do anything to them.”
“That’s sad.”
“Elizien…” offered the girl’s mother gently, “your father is expecting the overcaptain.”
“I know.” Elizien bowed, then slipped back down the corridor and out of sight.
“Do you have children, Overcaptain?” asked Queyela.
“No. I expect we will…at least I hope we will.”
“No matter what you think, you’ll be surprised,” the woman said with a laugh. “They’re expecting you out back. If you come this way…”
Alucius followed her to a door open to the rear terrace where the two marshals stood, looking at the garden beyond.
Alucius did his best with his Talent-senses to pick up what they might be saying.
“…here he comes…Recorder claims he’s the most dangerous man in Corus…”
“…that was last month…good officer…Recorder doesn’t like them…”
“…don’t interrogate him long, Frynkel…want a pleasant meal…”
“…just a few moments…”
Alucius kept a pleasant smile on his face as he stepped out onto the terrace.
“Alucius!” Wyerl smiled broadly.
Alucius could detect neither malice nor caution behind the words. “Marshal…you’re most kind to have me here.”
“Kind, perhaps, but we always have motives. Submarshal Frynkel wanted a few words with you. I’ve told him to be brief, but he wished to speak with you before your audience with the Lord-Protector tomorrow.”
“It may indeed be brief. I doubt that there is much I have not already told someone.”
“I will bring you something to drink. What might you have?”
“Ale or white wine.”
“We do have some rather fine ale.” Wyerl turned away, leaving Alucius with the other officer.
Submarshal Frynkel stood a span or so less than did Marshal Wyerl, and had already lost most of the hair on his head. What remained was fine and black. His face was dominated by a sharp nose and deep and intent black eyes.
“Overcaptain Alucius. The hero of Dereka.” The words were gently spoken, not quite mockingly, but not totally seriously.
“Others may have said such.” Alucius laughed. “I only claim to have survived.”
“Surviving is often all any of us can claim. Yet your men say little. Did you know that?”
“I cannot say I am surprised. Few would wish to talk about a campaign where they lost so many comrades. Nor one so far from home.”
“They would lose more to protect you, Overcaptain,” Frynkel added. “That loyalty is most rare.”
“They’re good troopers, sir, and we’ve been through much together.”
“You lead your men from the front, Overcaptain. Do you know how many officers last through a year of battle in that position?”
“No, sir.”
“I’ve had my staff look into it. There are many things we keep track of. I’m sure you’ve come to notice that.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That is not something that we keep track of. So I have sent letters to every commander that I can trust. Do you know what the responses I have received indicate?”
Alucius had a very good idea, but merely answered, “I would not wish to guess against your diligence, sir.”
“I wish I had captain-colonels who could tell me ‘no’ that gracefully.” Frynkel laughed, then added, “Not one could recall any officer who consistently led from the front and survived. I’d be most interested in your explanation as to how you have survived something like three years of combat in leadership.”
“What else could it be, but luck, or fortune, sir? I’ve been wounded a number of times, and some of those wounds could have been deadly had they been a span in one direction or another.”
“That would have been my first thought. That is, until Captain-Colonel Omaryk and I had supper together. You led at least four charges through vastly superior forces, as the point rider, just at the battle of Dereka. Even nightsilk shouldn’t have saved you.”
“Sir, I can’t explain that. Herders are a shade tougher, because of our training, but I’ve been cut, bruised, wounded, and burned enough to know that I’m as mortal as any other man.” That was absolutely true, so far as Alucius knew.
“You won’t get more than that, Frynkel,” suggested Wyerl, handing Alucius a tall beaker of pale amber ale and a second one to the submarshal.
“I was hoping. I did have one more question.”
Alucius nodded as he took a small swallow of the ale.
“Would it be better for Lanachrona to honor your obligation and release you, or request your service for another year?”
Alucius tilted his head slightly. “That is another question I can’t answer. I’m a good officer. There are doubtless others as good. Most of the Northern Guard officers know my situation. If the arms-commander or the Lord-Protector extended my service against my wishes, or created conditions where I had no choice but to agree, I would judge that the effect on other officers in the Northern Guard would be less than desirable. Whether what I might accomplish would be worth that is not something I have the knowledge to weigh.”
Wyerl smiled broadly, shaking his head. “What the man is saying, Frynkel, is that he’s accomplished miracles and survived, just in hopes of going home. If we extend him, half the officers in the Northern Guard will lose all desire to act as officers should. I wouldn’t be surprised if that didn’t spill over to our Southern Guard.”
With Wyerl’s comments, and the heartfelt emotions behind them, Alucius was totally confused. Why had he been ordered to Tempre? Just for information and to be thanked? He doubted that, yet…
“You’re probably right,” Frynkel admitted, “but I was requested to explore that possibility.”
“Enough. We have a wonderful meal planned, and we are going to enjoy it.” Wyerl gestured toward the garden. “This is Queyela’s herb garden, or rather the right section is. I don’t imagine the ground and climate in the Iron Valleys allow this sort of thing, do they?”
“South of Iron Stem, I’ve seen a few, but on the quarasote flats, and below the Plateau, where we live, the ground is too dry and sandy for that.”
“Is the Plateau truly as tall as they claim?”
“It’s higher than the Upper Spine Mountains. My grandsire told me once that the edges rose close to seven thousand yards straight up above the Valleys�
�”
Wyerl nodded.
Alucius understood that the marshal had meant what he had said, that the meal would be just that, and he hoped that he would enjoy it.
“Here’s Elizien.” Wyerl turned and watched as the brown-haired girl smiled, then beckoned to her father. “I told her she could join us for supper. You don’t mind, do you?”
“I’d like that.” Alucius smiled. Perhaps he could enjoy the meal.
98
Tempre, Lanachrona
“You are kind, Talryn.” Alerya, her countenance ashen, looked up from the pillows of the high bed at her consort. “I am so sorry. I had hoped this time…It would have made your tasks easier. Now…everyone will know, and matters will be more difficult…”
“Having an heir has little impact on who can attack and whom I can trust. The trustworthy remain so, as the untrustworthy remain untrustworthy.” The Lord-Protector shook his head slowly. “There are always too few of the former, and too many of the latter.”
“You are meeting with the herder overcaptain later this morning, are you not?” Alerya’s voice was low, yet forced.
“I am.”
“What will you do? Have you decided?”
“Reward him, of course. You knew that. What else can I do? Should I allow his service to be shortened as well?”
“He is a Talent-wielder, is he not?”
“He was successful against the pteridons, and they were most certainly Talent-creatures. At the least he must have a way with them. Enyll claims he is, but I trust Enyll’s motives not at all.” The Lord-Protector looked at his weak and exhausted consort. “What would you have me do?”
“Tell Enyll that you wish him in the audience chamber for just a moment, to observe the overcaptain and to slip out before you speak. Then ask Enyll afterward what he observed. That will tell you much of what you wish to know.”
“And then what?” The Lord-Protector smiled down on his consort, reaching out and caressing her pale cheek. “I should not tire you.”
“You have someone give the overcaptain a tour of the palace, of all the palace.”
“And you think that will—”
“There are…” she winced, then continued, “the overcaptain could be like Enyll, or he could be as we believe, a man compelled to do what he believes best, even if he wishes otherwise. Whatever happens or does not will tell you much. If the overcaptain is merely a good man, he will accept your graces and be thankful and return to the Iron Valleys. If he is more, he may act, or not. Or, if he is more, Enyll may act. Ask the overcaptain to wait for you to ready a missive to his colonel. Then…you must watch, and be prepared to do what is necessary.” Her smile faded. “I…am tired…so tired.”
The Lord-Protector lifted the bell on the table by the bed, then bent down beside Alerya’s ear. “I am so sorry. I did not mean to tire you…”
“You…did not…”
He held her hand, and they waited.
99
True to his word, Captain Deen arrived early on Londi, pacing outside the senior officers’ mess when Alucius came out after eating breakfast.
“Good morning, sir.” Deen bowed as he hurried toward Alucius.
“Good morning.” Alucius waited for Deen to join him before he turned down the wide corridor toward the stairs up to his quarters, knowing that he had at least a glass before he had to get ready to leave for the palace.
“I just wanted to brief you on the formalities of an audience with the Lord-Protector,” the captain began. “There are a few aspects…”
“Go ahead. You might as well start now.”
“You must be there, and present yourself to Captain-Colonel Ratyf at least half a glass early. Captain-Colonel Ratyf is the director of appointments. You may wear your working uniform, since there is no fully formal Northern Guard uniform, and your sabre; it’s considered a ceremonial weapon, but no other weapons, belt knives excepted, are permitted in the presence of the Lord-Protector. I’m not allowed to accompany you into the audience. This is a private audience, not a public one. There will still be guards behind the screens, and the Lord-Protector’s secretary will write down what is said, but you won’t even see him…really quite an honor, a private audience…only a few granted every year…”
Alucius continued to listen as they climbed the stairs to the third floor and turned back westward toward his quarters, passing the duty guards.
“…the Lord-Protector is always addressed as ‘Lord-Protector.’ Sometimes he allows his senior ministers and marshals to call him ‘sir,’ but that is a privilege he must grant…and he seldom does…”
As they entered the senior officers’ quarters, Alucius turned to the captain. “If you would just take a seat here somewhere, while I wash up and get ready?”
“Oh…yes, sir.”
Alucius closed the door to the sleeping chamber firmly but quietly. Alone there, he debated, then slipped off his tunic. After washing up, he returned and slid the nightsilk vest into place, and then the tunic. He already wore the nightsilk undergarments. In fact, he never went anywhere in public without them, not after all the wounds they had saved him.
The Lord-Protector wanted something, and he didn’t want it made too public. Or was the private audience because he didn’t want to make too much of a furor over what could have been a disaster in the east while he was overcommitted in the west? Or was it something else entirely? He wouldn’t find out until he met the Lord-Protector, and, in some ways, he wasn’t certain he wanted to discover what the Lord-Protector had in mind.
Alucius glanced out the window toward the palace. There was also no sign of the purpleness he had felt earlier, nor had there been anytime he had looked.
Finally, he rejoined Captain Deen in the sitting room. “Shall we go?”
“Perhaps we should. We might be early, but better that than to be late. Especially today.” Deen stood quickly and turned.
Although he wondered what Deen meant by “especially today,” Alucius let that pass for the moment and followed the captain out and down to the courtyard. When Alucius reached Wildebeast’s stall, he discovered that his saddle and other tack had been thoroughly cleaned and oiled and rubbed dry and polished.
The stallion tossed his head slightly when Alucius led him out into the courtyard—as if he happened to be pleased to be out of the stall and into the open air.
“There…you’ll get a ride. Not a long one, but a ride.” Alucius mounted and waited for the captain to join him.
Then the two officers rode around the east side of the building. Outside the gates of the headquarters buildings, they turned right, westward toward the river and the Grand Piers that lay beyond the Lord-Protector’s palace.
“Why wouldn’t it be a good idea to be late, especially today?” Alucius finally asked.
“His consort has been…ill.”
“Ill?”
“Well…she was hoping for an heir…and…” Deen shrugged helplessly. “They’re young, though.”
Alucius nodded, not in agreement, but in understanding, while hoping that the Lord-Protector wouldn’t take any emotion he might have out on Alucius.
On both sides of the boulevard were what appeared to be gardens. A number of guards in cream-shaded uniforms were posted at intervals along the low stone walls bordering the boulevard, and others walked along the stone paths, many bordered with rows of brilliant blooms and greenery, some of it trimmed into the shape of animals. Alucius saw one tall bush that depicted a rearing horse. Fountains spaced irregularly sprayed into the air. Several women with small children, and at least one older man also walked the paths.
“These are the Lord-Protectors’ gardens. They were begun by the Lord-Protector’s grandsire. Anyone may come here,” Captain Deen said.
“They look well kept,” Alucius said.
“They are. The Lord-Protector tariffs anyone who harms them or despoils the flowers or trees.”
“If they cannot pay?”
“Then they must wor
k in the gardens at the rate of a laborer until the tariff is paid.”
“I imagine few despoil the gardens,” Alucius suggested.
“Very few. Many enjoy them. There are flowers from all across Corus, and some even from the western isles. Others come from places one could never imagine, while others…”
Beyond both the gardens and the palace, the green towers flanking the Grand Piers were clearly visible, spires identical to the one in Iron Stem and those in Dereka.
“What is inside the towers?” asked Alucius.
“Nothing, sir. The insides are empty, and so far as any know, they have been so since the Cataclysm. There are not even steps or signs of supports for them, only a single entrance at the base. And there are no windows.”
“There is one in Iron Stem, and it is exactly the same.” Alucius wondered, briefly, what function the towers had served for the Duarchy. In his travels, all that the Duarchy had created to last, such as the eternastone high roads, had been built for a purpose. “Does anyone know why it was built?”
“No, sir, unless it was to mark the piers.”
The gardens ended at a wall on the right side of the boulevard, a stone wall a good four yards high, which marked the beginning of the palace grounds. On the left side, the gardens—although divided by the Avenue of the Palace running northward from the high road—continued all the way to the Grand Piers.
“We enter here, sir.” Captain Dean gestured to the first entrance.
The entryway to the palace was a covered portico little larger or more impressive than that of the entry to Southern Guard headquarters, except that there was a half squad of guards in dark blue uniforms, trimmed with silver, rather than with the cream of the Southern Guard. There were also several stableboys, waiting as the two officers reined up.
Another captain waited at the top of the steps above the mounting blocks. Like Captain Gueryl, he wore blue braid across his shoulders.
Captain Deen did not dismount. “I leave you here, sir.”
“Thank you, Captain. I’ll find my way back somehow.”
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