Alector's Choice (14 page)

After a long day’s
patrol on Sexdi, Mykel had done two things. First, he had made inquiries in
Enstyla about Rachyla and Stylan Estate and obtained directions to the estate.
Then he had written up his report for the day and dispatched it with a scout to
Majer Vaclyn, who had set up a makeshift headquarters in the nearby hamlet of
Eltorana. The report had included a summary of all the patrols, al-though the
single rifle taken from the well-attired woman was the only direct evidence of
any illegal or rebellious activities among all those riders and wagons observed
or stopped.

Early Septi morning,
more than a glass before dawn, the scout returned with written orders to
Captain Mykel that Fifteenth Company was to suspend patrols for the day and
await the majer’s arrival “for further orders.” Mykel passed the order to
Bhoral to have the company ready to ride when the majer arrived.

Majer Vaclyn did not
arrive until the ninth glass of the day, when he summoned Mykel to meet him
outside the barn used by Fifteenth Company. The majer stood in the shade
afforded by the northeast corner of the structure, well away from the squad
from Thirteenth Company that had accompanied him.

Mykel approached on
foot and nodded. “Good morning, Majer.”

“It is morning,
Captain. I am not convinced that it is good.” Vaclyn’s right hand dropped to
his belt, his fingers briefly touching the hilt of the throwing dagger sheathed
there in place of the standard Cadmian belt knife. There was a second dagger on
the other side of his belt. Neither was regulation, but, so far as Mykel knew,
no one had ever said anything about the weapons.

Mykel waited, sensing
the majer’s anger.

“You have not even
set up a proper study—or a command position, I see, Captain.”

“I’ve been riding
with the various squads, Majer.”

“And how could they
reach you in the event you were needed?”

“Each squad leader
knew where to find me, sir.”

“I’m sure.” Vaclyn
extracted several folded papers from his riding jacket. “I have your report
here, Captain. I cannot say that I understand it. You found a woman with a
contraband rifle. You took the rifle, but you did not take her into custody.”

“We confiscated the
rifle and warned her of the offense, Majer.”

“We have been
searching for contraband. She had a contraband rifle. Yet you saw fit not to
bring her in, Captain? On what authority and on what basis did you decide to
ignore both your orders and the Code?” Vaclyn’s voice was cutting.

“I believe I wrote
that out in my report, sir—”

“What you wrote has
no basis in regulations or in the Code. Could you explain to me, again, this
time in terms I might understand, why you didn’t?”

“Yes, sir.” Mykel
nodded, politely. “The woman was dressed very well, in the kind of clothes that
showed she had golds. She was accompanied by an older woman, also well dressed,
and she was driving a horse cart, the kind that was almost new and well kept.
She was shocked that I would ever dare to stop her. The single rifle was the
only piece of contraband.”

“And that was why you
didn’t punish a violation of the Code?”

“No, sir. The rifle
had no numbers, and that indicated that it was not stolen from a Cadmian unit.
Either it was an unauthorized gift, or it is an indication of a much greater
degree of smuggling. Because of those possibilities, seizing and punishing the
woman did not seem to justify the risks. She seemed very well placed in Dramur.
We are already being seen as more of a danger to people than are the rebels and
smugglers. I did not see how punishing her would help matters. I had thought
that a visit to her estate, and a quiet explanation to either her father or
husband, might well gain more information and results than punishing her
immediately. I did obtain her name and location and verified them.”

“And I suppose you
intended to make that visit?” Vaclyn’s tone was cutting.

“No, sir. I will, if
you think it best, but I had thought that someone with greater position and
authority, such as you, might make a better impression and gain more.”

“We’re here to uphold
the Code, Captain.”

“Yes, sir.” Mykel
managed to keep a polite expression on his face.

“Explain to me again
how letting this woman go upholds the Code.”

“I could not have
proved that she even knew the rifle was there.” That was stretching things, but
not by a great amount, because the woman was the kind who could easily claim
that before a justicer. “It was under the bench seat of the cart. She was not
holding it, and she never looked at it. There was no other contraband in the
cart, even hidden on the underside. Since she was obviously well connected,
possibly to someone of great wealth, and since the rifle had no numbers, I felt
that prudence was called for. Had she brandished the weapon, or used it in any
fashion, then there would have been no question about applying the Code.”

Vaclyn frowned. “But
you had a squad there who observed the weapon.”

“She had an aunt,
also well attired, and most proper. We are foreign Cadmians. I may have
misjudged the situation, sir, but I felt it wiser to err on the side of
caution, rather than excess. If there are rebellious activities taking place on
her estate, they could not be concealed that quickly. If there are not, then
taking someone respected into custody might easily push the landowners into
supporting the rebels.”

“I can see your
concerns, Captain, but people must learn that the Code is the Code, and that
the laws are the laws, and position does not excuse breaking those laws.”

“Yes, sir. Do you
wish me to take Fifteenth Company to her estate and convey a warning to her?”

“Do you even know
where this estate is, Captain?”

“Yes, sir. As I told
you, I verified its location and her name. She is the eldest daughter of the
landholder, a man named Ubarjyr. The estate is some thirteen vingts north of
the center of Enstyla, and two vingts west.”

“Then perhaps we
should make a call on this Ubarjyr, although it well may be too late, given the
fashion in which it has been handled.”

Mykel merely nodded,
although he had few doubts that handling it in the manner suggested by Majer
Vaclyn would have been worse than the way in which he had handled it.

In less than a
quarter glass, the troopers of Fifteenth Company—and those in the squad from Thirteenth
Company that had accompanied the majer—were riding northward through a cool and
breezy morning.

The majer did not
offer any information or conversation for the first five vingts.

“Could you tell me
how matters are faring with the other companies?” asked Mykel, after the long
silence.

“Seventeenth Company
is patrolling the area on each side of the road to the mine. They have
apprehended two escaped prisoners.”

“And the others… ?”
prompted Mykel politely.

“Sixteenth Company
has been patrolling the east-west road to the south of here. They have so far
been unable to apprehend anyone or anything. Thirteenth Company has been
providing security at Eltorana. Fourteenth Company has been patrolling the
highlands to the north and west of the mine. They have encountered resistance
and have taken some fire. They have killed several of the insurgents, but have
not yet taken any prisoners to obtain information.”

“Would you judge that
the majority of the insurgents are in the area being covered by Fourteenth
Company?”

“That remains to be
seen, Captain. It is clear that Fourteenth Company has been most successful so
far.”

If getting shot at
was a measure of success, Mykel wasn’t so certain he wanted that kind of
success. The majer was not about to offer more information, not without Mykel’s
prodding, and that prodding would just upset Vaclyn more. So he rode quietly
beside the majer.

They continued
northward to the lane to the estate and westward on it until they came to a
pair of elaborately carved wooden gates blocking the lane. There were two small
raised guardhouses, set on heavy timbered bases in back of and overlooking the
closed gates. A timber stockade extended roughly fifty yards on each side of
the gates. The one on the right side ended at a pile of boulders that filled
the gap between the stockade and a rocky hillside rising thirty some yards
above the lane. On the left the stockade ended partway down a gully filled with
brush olives.

“You!” the majer
snapped at the man in the left guardhouse. “Open those gates!”

“Sir, these are the
lands of Seltyr Ubarjyr. We do not admit anyone he has not invited.”

“We are here on the
orders of the High Alector of Justice. Open the gates.”

“I do not know this
High Alector of Justice. I know that you have not been invited.”

“Ready rifles!”
ordered Vaclyn.

“Ready rifles!” Mykel
repeated.

More than one hundred
rifles appeared in the hands of the troopers.

“We are not anyone^
snapped the majer. ”I am Majer Vaclyn, and we are here under the express orders
of the Marshal of Myrmidons and the High Alector of Justice. If you don’t open
those gates by the time I finish speaking, you three will be very dead guards.“

The three guards at
the closed gates looked at the line of mounted riflemen.

One of them murmured,
“… dead men, either way.”

“Open the gates!”
ordered the taller guard.

After several
moments, the gates creaked open, revealing a stone-paved if narrow lane heading
due south beyond the gates. Some fifty yards beyond the gates, the lane was
bordered by trees, which provided an arching cover of foliage. In the distance,
upon a low hill, Mykel saw an extensive villa, with brilliant blue tile
roofing.

“Third squad,
Thirteenth Company!” ordered the majer, “hold here and keep the gates open!”

“Yes, sir! Holding
here.”

“Forward!” called
Vaclyn.

Fifteenth Company,
forward!“ Mykel repeated.

As they neared the
house, they passed a long and low stable. Mykel noted that several stableboys
who scurried back into the stable had been oiling the wood of a horse cart— the
one used by Rachyla or an exact duplicate.

Ahead was the villa,
surrounded by a sandstone wall slightly more than two yards high, with the only
entrance an opening marked by two sandstone pillars, on which were hung a set
of decorative iron gates, drawn open. Beyond the gates was a paved entry
courtyard, with a circular fountain set directly between the gates and the
roofed portico that stood at the top of the wide stone steps. Behind the
portico was a covered walkway leading to the villa itself.

A darker-skinned man
in washed-out blue trousers and shirt appeared at the top of the sandstone
steps. His eyes darted from side to side as he looked at the two officers and
the company drawn up in the outer part of the courtyard.

“You can announce us,
Captain.”

“Majer Vaclyn,
Captain Mykel, here to see Ubarjyr and Rachyla,” Mykel told the man.

“Ah… they are not
here.”

Mykel smiled
politely, and directed his rifle—one-handed—in the general direction of the
man. “That’s not true. I happened to see Rachyla’s cart outside the stable, and
it was being cleaned and oiled.”

“I meant that Seltyr
Ubarjyr was not here, sir.”

“Then we will begin
by seeing Rachyla until the good seltyr returns,” replied Mykel.

“I cannot… make her
appear… officers…”

“She has a choice,”
Mykel said reasonably. “She can invite us in, or we can invite ourselves in
with our rifles.”

Suddenly, the
dark-haired Rachyla appeared under the portico. Although she stood in the
shade, to Mykel, she seemed almost luminous. “What are you officers doing
here?”

“We came to see you
and the seltyr,” Mykel replied. ‘To talk over a few things.“

“I cannot imagine
what such matters might be,” the woman replied. “We have nothing of interest to
you.”

Mykel could sense the
untruth, yet she did not exactly reek of duplicity. She had stated something
that was not true, yet projected her words with utter conviction. He wanted to
smile at her effrontery. “You have a great deal of interest to us, especially
after your trip south on the road to Enstyla yesterday.”

“You must be
mistaken, officers,” Rachyla replied. “I never left the estate yesterday.” Her
smile was guileless.

Mykel sensed her
satisfaction in confronting them. She was up to something. What?

Abruptly, he turned
in the saddle. “Bhoral! Take fourth and fifth squads! Surround the stables.
Rifles ready! Return any fire you receive!”

“Fourth squad!”

“Fifth squad…”

“What—” began the
majer.

“She’s stalling us,”
Mykel said in a low voice. “The only reason for that is to allow her sire to
escape or to bring in reinforcements.” He rode forward, practically to the base
of the steps, his eyes surveying the pillars and the wall behind them.

For the first time,
Rachyla looked uncertain.

Mykel vaulted out of
the saddle, rifle in hand, and went up the stone steps two at a time.

Crack.‘ Crack!

He was less than a
yard from Rachyla when the first shots echoed from beyond the courtyard wall.

“All squads, fire at
will!” he ordered.

The next shot went
past his ear, just as he grabbed the woman’s forearm and pulled her behind one
of the pillars—away from the line of fire from the eastern side of the portico.

“Shoot to kill!”
yelled the majer.

“Let me go!” demanded
Rachyla, aiming a kick at his groin.

Mykel took her boot
on his outer thigh, then grabbed the boot and yanked, dropping her on the
stone—hard. For the moment that she was stunned, he brought the rifle up and
turned, firing instinctively in the direction from which he had been attacked,
willing his shots to strike.