Darknesses (32 page)

“Thank
you, sir. I think Captain Feran, Captain Koryt, and I would very much
appreciate that.”

“Until
then, Overcaptain, Captains. Captain Dezyn will help you and answer any
questions.”

At
the colonel’s nod, the slender blond captain stepped forward. Weslyn smiled broadly
before heading back into the headquarters building.

“Sir…how
many troopers…”

“One
hundred and sixty-one, plus three squad leaders, ten wagoners, and seven
wagons. And three officers. Also, ten spare mounts.” Except they hadn’t been
spare until after the fight with the nomads. “We’ve got troopers assigned to
three companies, but they came from four.”

“Yes,
sir. The best barracks are the north ones, and they’re empty and clean…”

Alucius
nodded.

It
took more than a glass to get the mounts stabled and the troopers settled, and
Alucius found himself escorted up the steps to the top level of the officers’
quarters by Captain Dezyn, carrying both rifles and saddlebags.

Dezyn
looked at the pair of rifles, but said nothing until they reached the top of
the steps. “You have your pick, sir, but the second quarters are the best.”

“I’ll
take them.” Alucius hoped they would be clean, and the bed decent.

“Ah…sir.
The colonel will meet you below in just over half a glass.”

“Thank
you for reminding me.” Alucius forced a smile. As tired as he was, he dreaded
having dinner with the colonel, but his tiredness was probably why the colonel
was insisting—and including Koryt and Feran. “Would you mind telling Captain
Feran and Captain Koryt?”

“No,
sir. I’d planned to.” Dezyn opened the second door off the balcony. “The key is
on the desk, and linens are already here.”

“Thank
you.” Alucius stepped inside and closed the door.

The
room was clean, and larger than any quarters Alucius had seen in the Iron
Valleys—a good six yards by four, with a double-width bed, a large writing
desk, twin wall lamps, an armoire, a weapons rack, boot trees, and an attached
washroom. But then, he’d never been put in senior quarters before. That worried
him—almost as much as having dinner with the colonel.

All
he really wanted to do was get back to Wendra and the stead. He had been able
to handle—if barely—nomads and raiders and battles. What he hadn’t been able to
best was golds and intrigue, and he worried that somehow getting back to the
stead and his wife was going to be far harder than it seemed, even if he didn’t
know why.

Slowly,
he hung up his gear and undressed, before walking to the washroom.

It
took the full half glass just to wash up and clean off his uniform as well as
he could.

After
dressing, he rebelted his sabre and walked to the door. He took a deep breath
and stepped out into the late afternoon. The colonel and a dapper majer with
smooth black hair and deep blue eyes were waiting at the base of the stairs up
to the senior officer’s quarters. Feran and Koryt had already joined them.

Weslyn
nodded to the majer. “Overcaptain Alucius, this is Majer Imealt.”

Alucius
inclined his head. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

“The
pleasure is mine, Overcaptain. Tales of your exploits are already legend.”

“I
fear that I could not live up to any such tales,” Alucius demurred. “I’m just a
herder who’s tried to do his best.”

“Would
that we had more such.”

“You
don’t mind walking a few yards, do you?” asked the colonel. “I had thought we
would go to Elyset’s. The board says it’s the Red Ram, but everyone calls it by
her name. I sent someone over to have her hold the large corner table for us.”

“You
know where it might be best,” Alucius replied. “So long as it’s not too far.”

“It’s
close, and very friendly,” Majer Imealt added.

“I
take it that it was a long ride back,” commented Weslyn, walking beside Alucius
and leading the way toward the smaller south gate, an archway in the wall,
guarded by but a single trooper, large enough only for those on foot.

“More
than two weeks. We had to stop a few days at Fort Senelmyr. Both the men and
the horses needed the rest.” Alucius offered a head-shake. “I didn’t realize
how barren it is to the east. There’s nothing there.”

“It
is a long road, I’ve been told,” Weslyn said. “How did you find the Lanachronan
majer?”

“He
was a bit doubtful at first, but, in the end, we got along well. I’d say he was
a good officer. He was just unlucky enough to be caught in the wrong place in
the final battle.”

Weslyn
was right about one thing. The Red Ram was less than a hundred yards south of
the post, an old redstone building set on the corner, with ancient and narrow
windows. Elyset met them at the door. The graying proprietress smiled
professionally at the colonel. “The corner table’s ready for you, Colonel.”

Alucius
could sense that she didn’t care much for Weslyn, smile or not, and that the
colonel knew it and didn’t care.

“Thank
you, Elyset.” Weslyn gestured to Alucius. “This is Overcaptain Alucius. He’s
the one who led the force that turned back the nomads.”

Alucius
smiled and inclined his head, projecting warmth and friendliness. “We did what
needed to be done. I’m pleased to meet you.” He grinned. “What’s the tastiest
thing you have tonight?”

Elyset
laughed, as Alucius hoped she would. “He’s a real trooper, Colonel!” She turned
to Alucius, and said in a lower voice, “there’s some quail. Girls won’t tell
you, but tell ’em I told you.”

“I’ll
tell them.”

Weslyn
repressed a frown and forced a smile. “I told you he was.”

Alucius
nodded toward the two captains to the right of Majer Imealt. “So are they.
Couldn’t have done it without them.”

“Let’s
get you seated.” Elyset moved away from the officers, leading the way toward
the corner beside a cold hearth covered with a wicker screen. “Here you go.”

The
majer and the colonel moved to seat themselves in the armless wooden chairs on
each side of Alucius. While he might have avoided it, he decided to be
oblivious to the maneuver.

Lagging
slightly behind the others, Feran caught Alucius’s eye and raised his eyebrows.
Alucius returned the gesture with the slightest of nods at the moment when the
colonel and majer were seating themselves. Feran grinned, then wiped the
expression from his mouth.

“What’ll
you swells have?” asked the server, a woman neither young nor old.

“What
do you have?” asked Imealt.

“You
know the drinks. Tonight…there’s stew. Always stew. Lamb cutlets, and the Vedra
chicken with the heavy noodles. And lymbyl.”

“Lymbyl
with the good red wine,” Imealt ordered.

Both
captains chose the chicken with ale, and the colonel had the lymbyl with ale.
The server looked at Alucius.

Some
folk couldn’t get enough of lymbyl, but Alucius had never liked the eel-like
fish. “The ale…and…ah…Elyset mentioned something about quail…”

“Might
be some. Let you know.” With that, the server was gone.

Imealt
turned to Koryt. “You’re commanding the Third
and
Eleventh Companies?”

“What’s
left of them, sir. Fifty-seven troopers in all.” Koryt waited.

“You
said you had something like a hundred and sixty men left out of four hundred?”
Weslyn inquired of Alucius, almost absently, as if he had to ask something.

“That’s
about right. About a third of our losses came in the Barrier Range, after the
Deforyans withdrew and left us holding Black Ridge. The rest came after we
fought clear and got back to Dereka and had to defend the city. Aellyan Edyss
had somewhere over a hundred companies. And the pteridons.”

“Pteridons?”

Alucius
could sense the colonel’s surprise, and that bothered him because he’d already
mentioned the pteridons. Hadn’t the man been listening? “We didn’t find out
about that until we met the Southern Guards at Senelmyr. We were all worried
when Majer Draspyr told us.” Alucius decided against mentioning that the
pteridons had routed the forces of the Praetor of Lustrea. “That was one reason
why they wanted the Northern Guard. We carry heavier rifles, and they thought
that anything that was good against a sander might be better than what they had
against a pteridon.”

“I
gather it was,” Weslyn suggested.

“Not
as good as we’d have liked, but we managed.” Alucius picked up the beaker of
ale the server had set before him and took a slow swallow.

“I
understand that you and the Deforyans routed the nomads, and they returned to
Illegea.”

“Not
exactly, sir,” Feran replied before Alucius could. “The nomads tried to
encircle everyone. The overcaptain used a tight formation, we broke free. Let
us shoot down the pteridons and catch the blue bastards from behind.”

“Blue…”

“Oh,
the nomads wore blue breastplates,” Feran replied. “We killed so many that the
Landarch covered his courtyard wall with them. Deforyans aren’t all that good.”

“Ah…”
Imealt glanced at Koryt. “You haven’t said much, Captain.”

“Not
much to say, sir. Captain Feran had it right. Without the overcaptain, we’d
have been slaughtered. Instead, we did the slaughtering. Lost a lot of
troopers, but they lost a lot more.” Koryt took refuge behind his beaker of
ale.

“The
dispatch from Marshal Wyerl said that the nomads brought over a hundred
companies against you.” Weslyn’s voice conveyed polite doubt.

“I
don’t know the exact number,” Alucius admitted. “But the Landarch recovered
something like six thousand breastplates. There could have been more, but
that’s how many he had attached to the walls.”

“Quite
an accomplishment,” Weslyn replied. “No wonder the Lord-Protector wishes to see
you…”

“Here
you go!” The server slid platters in front of each of the men.

Alucius
noted that he had gotten his quail. He waited only until the others had theirs
before cutting and taking a bite. He was hungry, and the fowl was tasty—and
tender.

For
a brief time, no one talked, but it wasn’t long before Weslyn finished a sip of
his wine and looked once more at Alucius. “It’s a very rare honor, even in
Lanachrona, to be summoned to the Lord-Protector.”

“I’d
heard that.”

“And
you are representing the Northern Guard—all of us, so to speak. It’s at a time
when golds are short here in the north…”

“They’ve
always been short,” interjected Feran dryly.

“Ah,
yes. That they have, but perhaps with the performance that you all have
achieved the Lord-Protector might look upon us more favorably and more wisely
than did the Council…”

Alucius
wondered if it were possible to have looked less wisely than had the Council.

“…future
assignments…promotions…all those hang in the balance at present…

As
Weslyn continued to talk, pressing Alucius to provide favorable information to
the Lord-Protector, Alucius took in two traders, one round-faced and in a dark
blue tunic, and the second, white-haired and in black, who sat at a wall table
less than three yards away. Although they talked to each other, and ate, they
also listened, often intently. Alucius made a point of not looking at them,
even as he wondered why they were interested—and what exactly they wanted. More
than once, he could feel their eyes on him.

“…important
that the Lord-Protector can believe that the Northern Guard is trustworthy as
well as effective…”

For
the rest of the meal, Alucius mainly listened—and ate—and tried to keep from
yawning too often, tired as he was.

No
one spoke much on the way back to the post.

Outside
the visiting officers’ quarters, Colonel Weslyn offered last words. “I’ll see
you all in the morning, after the regular muster, but you and your men are
excused from that.”

“Thank
you,” Alucius replied, waiting and watching until the colonel and the majer
left.

After
that, Alucius made sure that Egyl and the squad leaders knew that they and the
troopers did not have to muster, although, if they wanted to eat, they’d still
have to get up early. Then he climbed the steps to his room. Even before he had
done more than loosen his sword belt, there was a knock on the door to
Alucius’s quarters. Alucius could sense Feran even before he opened the door
and motioned for the other to enter.

“What
do you think?” asked Feran, glancing back at the closed door.

“Weslyn’s
worried. The traders don’t trust him; the Lord-Protector doesn’t trust him. I’d
be worried too.”

“You
think they’ll still send Fifth Company to Eastice?”

“Not
immediately, I’d guess. They’ll have to consolidate companies. They might merge
Twenty-first Company and Fifth Company—if they let me go back to being a
herder. If they do that, I’d guess you’d get—we’ll all get a month of furlough,
then light duty for a month, and then they’ll send you someplace like Wesrigg
for a season…”

“And
then
to Eastice?”

“Or
Soulend for an attack on Madrien,” Alucius suggested.

“You’re
always so cheerful. You really think they’ll let you go?”

“I
worry about it,” Alucius admitted. “I worry a lot.”

“How
could they hold you?”

“Threaten
to raise tariffs on nightsilk, or on the stead lands. Or the Lord-Protector
could just order me to stay.” Alucius shook his head. “Just what could I do if
they did any of that?”

“You
couldn’t.”

“Exactly.”
Alucius paused. “But, if it comes up…and I can, I’ll see what I can do for you
and Fifth Company.”

“You
don’t—”

“Who
else? I’d rather have you with Fifth Company—and Twenty-first.” Alucius stifled
a yawn.

“You’re
tired.”

“Aren’t
we all?”

“Get
some sleep.” Feran smiled. “I’ll see you in the morning.”