Alector's Choice (22 page)

Octdi morning was
every bit as blustery and chill as Septi had been when Mykel turned in the
saddle of the chestnut gelding to look back down the road at the sagging
barracks behind the two stone walls across the high bluff. To the east of the walls
were the sheds where the prisoners slept. Then he looked ahead again. The road
from Dramuria to the guano mine was paved with rough-cut Sraystone, soft enough
that over the years the iron-rimmed wheels of the wagons carrying the guano to
the port had worn wide tracks into the very stone.

The first ten vingts
from Dramuria were used by holders, by traders, all manner of people, but that
was not the part of the road assigned to Fifteenth Company. Fifteenth Company
was responsible only for the two-vingt stretch that ran a vingt southeast from
the bluff prison compound southeast toward Dramuria and a vingt northwest over
the river bridge and up to the mine—as well as an arc five vingts deep around
mat road, with all the side roads and lanes.

There were stone
walls two yards high on both sides of the road from the prison camp gates to
the mine itself. A stockade surrounded the mining area. Even the sides of the
bridge over the MuraltoRiver were two yards high, but they were of timber,
rather than stone.

In his briefing on
Septi, Majer Vaclyn had been very clear that Mykel was to be out with his
troopers all the time, and that he was not to follow the lax example of the
local Cadmian officers. So, early on Octdi morning, Mykel was leading fifth
squad on the sweep of the road before the local Cadmians marched the prisoners
to the mine.

“Sure wouldn’t want
to be them,” observed Vhanyr, the oldest of the squad leaders in the company.
“Can smell that shit from here, and we’re a vingt away with the wind at our
back.”

“We’ll be smelling it
more than we’d like.” Mykel couldn’t see anyone on the road, or in the rocks
above and beyond the stone wall. At two yards high, the wall was really only
good for slowing most prisoners down, but since the prisoners were shackled in
pairs, two yards of stone should have been enough.

On each side of the
road, a trooper rode beside the wall, close enough to be able to look ahead and
over it, to make sure that no one was on the other side.

“Glad we’re out of
Jyoha,” said Vhanyr. “Those folks were scary.”

That was true enough,
reflected Mykel, but Fourteenth Company had been there earlier, and Majer
Vaclyn had doubtless given Dohark the same kinds of orders he’d impressed upon
Mykel. He’d probably be giving the same orders to Kuertyl for Thirteenth
Company.

Crack!… thwingg! A
bullet ricocheted off the surface of the road, and powdered stone puffed up
momentarily ten yards in front of Mykel.

Mykel jerked his head
to the left, and had his rife aimed. He didn’t see anyone, but the shot had come
from the rocks above the road ahead of them and to his left. It had been aimed
at Dhozynt, the lead scout.

“Eyes open to the
left!” he ordered. “Keep moving!”

He had a feeling,
just a feeling, about where the shooter had to be, and he kept the rifle ready,
his eyes darting back to that spot from each other part of the rocky slope.

He’d ridden another
fifty yards when he saw a flicker.

Crack!… crack! His
two shots were measured, and he had willed each of them to strike, a habit he’d
formed soon after he’d learned how to handle the Cadmian rifle. It worked, for
whatever reason, because he always hit what he aimed for. Shooting was the sole
Cadmian skill at which he could say that he truly excelled.

Abruptly, a gray-clad
form sprawled across a rock, fifty yards upslope, and a rifle clattered against
stone as it skidded downslope.

“You want us to get
the body, sir?”

“I think we’d better.
Without evidence, Majer Vaclyn doesn’t like to believe us,” replied Mykel.- He
realized that he shouldn’t have put it that way, but he was getting tired of
the majer’s arrogance. “I’ll cover them.”

“Palam, Voeret! Head
up there and bring down that body. The rifle, too, and anything that he left.
Captain and scouts are covering you!”

Mykel didn’t feel as
though anyone else happened to be up in the rocks, not right above them or
nearby, but he wasn’t about to relax his guard, not when he was the one who’d
ordered the men up after the dead rebel.

He was not reassured
when the two troopers struggled back with the body and the rifle, even when he
looked down at the gaunt bearded form lying on the graystone road. The dead
rebel wore a dark gray tunic and trousers that blended in with the rocks above
the mine road. On his feet were heavy crude sandals, not boots, and his belt
was a length of rope tied at one side.

“The belt pouch has
cartridges, sir,” offered Voeret. “Not many. The rifle is one of ours. It’s got
a number, not like the ones in Enstyla.”

“Put the body over
the back of a mount. We need to sweep the road ahead.” As he reloaded, so that
he would have a full magazine again, Mykel glanced back toward the prison
compound. The local Cadmians were forming up the prisoners for the march up to
the mineworks. The sniper had delayed the road sweep, and fifth squad needed to
get moving.

Was that the point of
the sniping? To distract them?

When everyone in
fifth squad was ready once more, he nodded at Vhanyr.

Mykel had ridden
another half vingt when he began to feel someone, something in the rocks ahead.
He felt foolish, but he aimed where he sensed something and loosed one round,
then a second, and finally a third. There was silence on the road as the echoes
of the shots died away—but only for a moment.

A volley of shots
ripped out of the hillside.

“Take cover behind
the wall!” snapped Mykel, following his own advice, if belatedly, and easing
the chestnut up beside the wall. He flattened himself against his mount’s neck
and studied the slope.

“Fire at will!” he
ordered, then he aimed and fired, concentrating hard on a patch of gray that
was not quite right in color.

The rebel slumped,
and Mykel began to search for another target.

For a time after the
initial flurry of fire, the shots on both sides were intermittent.

After perhaps a
quarter glass, there was no more fire from the hillside, and—seemingly—no one
remaining up above them.

Mykel waited… and
waited.

In the end, they
found five bodies—all with numbered and marked Cadmian rifles. All had been
dressed in dark gray, with sandals, instead of real boots, and all had miners’
tattoos on their ankles.

The local Cadmians
barely looked at the bodies as they marched the prisoners up past fifth squad,
stationed in two ranks of nine on each side of the gate into the mineworks.

Mykel kept
swallowing, trying to escape the smell of the guano, but he listened to the
murmurs of the squad as they watched the last of the prisoners enter the
mineworks.

“What is it… about
the Captain?”

That was one of the
newer Cadmians. Mykel had to concentrate to remember the man’s name—Herast.

“… always been like
this…”

“… ever get wounded?”

Someone laughed.

Mykel doubted he’d
ever live that down. In his first skirmish as an officer, he’d stood in the
stirrups and half turned to give an order, and one of the Reillies had fired
and bit him in the side of the buttocks, more like the back of his upper thigh,
but the word among the rankers for more than a year was that the undercaptain
finally understood being a pain in the ass.

Finally, the heavy
wooden gates closed behind the last Cadmian guard.

“Let’s head back.”
Mykel nodded at Vhanyr.

“Double column!
Forward! Look lively!”

Mykel had been
bothered by the local Cadmians’ indif-ference to the six bodies, but then,
everything about Dramur was beginning to disturb him—and he still worried about
what to say about what Rachyla had revealed. His fingers dropped toward the
ancient’s knife, but he did not touch it.

Falyna arrived back
from Elcien late in the afternoon on Octdi, bearing a series of dispatches.
Only one was for Dainyl. Along with that dispatch came a sealed letter. Dainyl
slipped the letter from Lystrana into his jacket, to read later.

Falyna had begun to
unsaddle the pteridon, after handing the two other dispatches to Quelyt. In
turn, Quelyt set off on foot to deliver the dispatches for Majer Herryf and
Majer Vaclyn to their senior squad leaders.

“What did you hear in
Elcien? asked Dainyl.

“No one’s saying
much, but there’s a mess out east in Iron Stem,” replied Falyna, undoing the
girths. “Marshal Shastylt was only in Elcien for two days the whole time we were
there. Zorlcyt said that he’d come back to talk to the High Alector of
Justice—more like he was ordered back— and then showed up at headquarters and
dashed off the dispatches and headed back to Iron Stem again.”

“What else?”

“They sent Yuasylt
and his squad to Hyalt, something about brigands in the hills that the local
Cadmian garrison couldn’t handle. Undercaptain Chelysta was complaining that
the duty rosters were too thin, with two squads in Iron Stem, and one in Hyalt,
and us here.”

“They’ve been thinner
than that many times.” Dainyl could recall times when he’d been an
undercaptain, and his one squad had done all the dispatch flying for weeks at a
stretch.

“Not for a while,
though. Folks forget.”

That was true enough.
“Anything more?”

“Not much. One of the
assistants to the High Alector of Justice was taking one of those Tables to
Dereka and got caught in the middle of a wild translation. The Highest will
have to find another assistant.” Falyna looked at the colonel. “If you took
over as his assistant, you could stay in Elcien. I’d wager they’d consider it.”

Dainyl suppressed a
frown behind a laugh. “I’ve met the Highest on one or two occasions. He’s most
formidable. I’ll stay in the Myrmidons so long as they’ll have me.”

Falyna snickered.
“Colonel, I have to admire how you can suggest that another alector would
translate his own mother twice and smile.”

“I didn’t say that.”

The flier just
grinned.

“I’d better find a
quiet spot and read what the marshal has in store for us,” Dainyl said.

“I should have kept
you talking longer, sir.”

Dainyl waved Falyna
off, but with a smile, and headed back to his quarters.

Once he was alone, he
settled himself on the end of the bed and looked at the envelope. It was
addressed to Colonel Dainyl, with no other titles. The Talent-seal had not been
tampered with, and Dainyl opened the envelope, extracted the sheets of the
dispatch, and began to read.

Colonel—

Both the High Alector
of Justice and I have read your single dispatch about the situation in Dramur.
It would appear that the unrest there has been fueled by differing causes, and
your prudence in remaining an observer is to be commended.

The matter of the
unmarked Cadmian rifles has been referred to the High Alector of Engineering in
Ludar, with a request that the manufactory inventory and shipping processes be
reviewed. While a few hundred rifles should not in themselves present an
insurmountable problem to the Cadmians, you are requested to keep a close eye
on these matters in the event that the situation should deteriorate further.

What is most
disturbing is that the local steers would even think to fire upon an alector.
Your immediate action in destroying the would-be attackers is also to be
commended. Such acts cannot be countenanced, particularly now…

Particularly now? Why
was now any different from the generations before? Because the time was nearing
to transfer the master scepter? And because disruptions would count against
Acorus in deciding which world would succeed Ifryn in power and glory?

… You must be especially
alert against anything that might lead to a full-scale insurrection. At the
same time, as has been emphasized, you must not intrude unless and until it is
clear that the Cadmian battalion cannot handle the situation.

Those words were an
indication that Dainyl had read the situation correctly.

I would suggest
weekly dispatches, but that must be dictated by circumstances. Both the Highest
and I count upon your discretion and judgment in these matters.

The signature was
that of Marshal Shastylt.

Dainyl read the
entire dispatch, really a letter of instructions, again. He would indeed have
to be most careful as events unfolded.

Finally, he opened
the letter from Lystrana. Unlike the marshal’s dispatch, the Talent-seal on
hers had been tampered with, but Dainyl had expected that, since Lystrana would
have had to have left the missive with the marshal. He smiled as he read the
salutation.

My dearest,

Although the house is
not large, it feels quite so, and more than a little empty without your
presence. When I wake in the morning, I still look to your side of the bed, and
at night, I often reach out, but find only cool covers. I also miss your warm
smile and enthusiasm for the day…

Thankfully, although
I would rather have you here, as always, I have been much occupied with
reconciling bursars’ and other accounts and financial details occasioned by the
reductions in coal production and the ramifications for all sorts of crafting
and artisan work over the next two or three quints…

Had the disruptions
at Iron Stem been that severe?

… Fortunately,
Zestafyn has provided a great deal of assistance, without which projections for
the Highest would have been most difficult.

Zestafyn? If the head
of the Duarch’s intelligence operations were supplying information to Lystrana,
matters were far worse than the tone of her letter suggested; but then, the
reference might have been for the benefit of the marshal or whoever had
tampered with the seal and read the letter.

.. Your mother
stopped by on Tridi. It was most kind of her. She was quite solicitous and
hoped it would not be too long before you returned. She said that your direct
and practical approach to solving difficult problems usually meant that you
were never away for that long, but that meant you spent much more time afterward
polishing and smoothing displaced scales, and that someday there would be
scales that could not be smoothed back into shape. I said that you always had
to be practical, and that you would choose the best time to act. We laughed
about that, especially when I told her about the calculations over your morning
carriage ride. She was also most complimentary about the improvements to the
house, and quite warm and gracious in talking about you.

I almost forgot to
tell you that I have officially been named as the chief assistant to the High
Alector of Finance. It doesn’t change what I’m doing, but it is recognition. I
look forward to seeing you, whenever that may be.

Above her signature,
she had written, “With all my love.” Dainyl smiled at those words. Then he
nodded slowly as he considered the entire letter. What Lystrana was telling him
was that what he was involved in was extraordinarily delicate, so delicate that
even his mother was worried, and she seldom had expressed worry. He doubted
that his mother had said any such thing, or even visited the house, but it was
Lystrana’s way of making a point in a letter she had known would be read.

The two letters
emphasized what he had feared all along—that far more was going on than anyone
not in-volved knew or even than those involved could or would explain and that
if he took his usual and more direct approach, his troubles would compound
themselves. Yet Lystrana had also suggested, indirectly, that he would have to
act that way… at the right time.

He just hoped he
could recognize that decision point, or points.