Darknesses (49 page)

“I
find this tale of possession difficult.”

“You
do not have to believe me.” Alucius shrugged. “You can believe whatever and
however you like, sir. If you find it more to your liking, you can simply state
that the Recorder was plotting to replace you. You can name your brother or
not. That is your choice.”

The
Lord-Protector nodded, reluctant, and clearly not totally pleased. “And you?”

“As
I said before…all I wish is to go home, in the way you promised before.”

“And
you will—”

“I
will do as I promised. The Iron Valleys can no longer stand alone, but the
herders need to remain.”

“You’re
a most unusual officer, Overcaptain.”

“That
could be because I never sought to be one, sir.”

The
Lord-Protector lifted the bell from the desk. “We could talk more, but I do not
think either of us would add much.”

“I
think not.”

The
older man rang the bell.

Majer
Suntyl appeared, as if he had been standing beside the door, which he had,
Alucius knew.

“Majer…Overcaptain
Alucius has returned from a mission on which I had sent him, somewhat earlier
than I had thought. Would you have his mount saddled and readied for him—and
summon an escort for him back to the Southern Guard headquarters…”

As
he let the Lord-Protector talk, Alucius still wondered about the wisdom of
leaving Waleryn alive.

Still,
Alucius and his family had to live in the Iron Valleys, and the Iron Valleys
were ruled by Lanachrona—and while Alucius had been asked to deal with the
Recorder, he doubted that the Lord-Protector would have been that pleased to
find his brother dead, unless the Lord-Protector knew more than Alucius thought
the ruler did.

The
majer departed, and the Lord-Protector looked to Alucius. “Majer Suntyl will
return when your mount and escort are ready.”

“Thank
you.” Alucius bowed slightly.

“I
am sure we will both be pleased to see you return to the Iron Valleys.” The
Lord-Protector laughed softly, but not harshly. “I had not realized the
disadvantages of so effective and devoted an officer.”

“Like
weapons that never fail?”

“Something
like that,” the Lord-Protector admitted.

“I
am not that infallible, sir, nor do I wish to be considered as such.”

“I
may find it difficult to change my views,” the Lord-Protector replied, “but I
will honor, most willingly, my promises.”

Alucius
could sense that the man wished to—he just hoped that circumstances did not
change those wishes.

Tempre,
Lanachrona

T
he
Lord-Protector hurried
through the foyer of his private apartments and
into the main sitting room.

Alerya
was not at her desk but standing before the open door to the balcony. She
turned with a wide smile.

“Dearest…are
you…?”

“I’m
fine. I’m better than fine.” She paused, then spoke more slowly, reflectively.
“Talryn…the strangest thing happened today.”

“Not
so strange as what happened to me, I’d wager. Did you feel when the palace
shook?”

“Yes.
It felt like the earth moved.”

“The
Table exploded, and the overcaptain returned. He said he had been in Prosp.”
Talryn frowned. “He was not lying. Yet no horse could have gotten him there and
back in little more than a month. He said Enyll had used the Table to send him
to Prosp. Then he returned and fought with Enyll and killed him. He said that
some sort of evil creature had possessed Enyll. He did not say much more, no
matter that I pressed him, and since he would not, I did not.”

“I
knew it! Enyll didn’t feel right. I told you that.”

“I
am glad that you and the overcaptain agree,” Talryn said dryly. “It may be
difficult to explain.”

“Not
at all. Enyll tried to move the Table—unwisely. It exploded. He died. You have
told me often that the other Tables exploded when they were moved. Those who
know the Tables know that is so, and no one else need know.”

Talryn
nodded, then looked closely at his consort. “I have not seen such strength in
you since…”

“Not
ever, dearest. Not ever. That was what was so strange. This afternoon…I was
sitting at my desk…I was trying to write a note to Mother. She is still at the
summer house in Lesyna, you recall.”

“Yes,
go on.”

“Suddenly,
I felt very weak, and I fainted, right at the desk.”

“That
was good?”

“Yes,
dearest. When I woke, it was almost two glasses later, and I was as I am now.
It is as if I had never been ill.” Alerya smiled. “I know…I know…that…you…we…”

“Let
us wait and see,” Talryn offered, cautiously.

“I
will wait, but you will see.” Alerya threw her arms around him—forcefully. “You
will.”

“How…?”
murmured the Lord-Protector, more to himself than to Alerya.

“Does
it matter, dear one?”

A
slow smile crossed Talryn’s face. “No…for once…it does not. It most certainly
does not.” His arms tightened around her gently, protectively.

“You
will not have to treat me as fine porcelain, now.”

“For
a time, yet.”

“Only
for a time.”

They
both smiled, but the Lord-Protector’s eyes drifted eastward, toward the
headquarters of the Southern Guard.

N
ot
to Alucius’s surprise,
his discharge orders arrived early the next
morning—a Sexdi, he discovered. He was somewhat more surprised to discover that
Faisyn and third squad had remained in Tempre. He would have written Wendra,
but it was more likely that he would arrive long before any letter would…but he
did write a page or so…just in case.

Much
as Alucius had enjoyed the luxury of a hot bath and shaving, and of completely
clean uniforms, he was more than ready to leave Tempre when he and third squad
formed up in the rear courtyard of the Southern Guard headquarters compound at
midmorning.

“Third
squad, present and ready, sir!” Faisyn snapped out, a broad smile following the
crisp words.

“Let’s
head home, Faisyn.”

“Yes,
sir! Third squad, forward!”

No
formal escort preceded them as they rode around the eastern end of the
headquarters building, out through the gates, and southward onto the Avenue of
the Guard. The air was so warm that Alucius found it hard to believe that
harvest season was almost over, and it was but a few weeks until the turn of
fall.

The
small force rode past the eastern end of the formal gardens of the
Lord-Protector, and Alucius turned in the saddle, glancing back at the palace
and at the hills beyond it—the hills without dwellings, fences, walls—or
anything near them. What looked to be two lines of ridges joined, just behind
the palace.

Abruptly,
he laughed, seeing for the first time, with eyes and Talent-senses, the world
lifethreads that ran there. Clearly, the ancient ifrits had built the Tables
where those threads intersected near the surface of the land.

In
time, could he or others build Tables for transport? Now, that was a poor idea,
because it would open Corus to another attack from the ifrits. But…in the
future? Or would there always be too great a threat and a danger?

Alucius
couldn’t have said that he knew the answer.

“Sir?”
asked Faisyn.

“It’s
hard to explain…” Alucius shook his head.

“Can
you tell us, sir,” Faisyn asked, “about the commission that the Lord-Protector
had for you. No one said anything about what it was. Not at all. Just that he
had tasked you with it.”

“I
wish I could, Faisyn,” Alucius replied. “But that wouldn’t be good for either
of us. Let’s just say that it was dangerous, that I was wounded and captured,
and lucky to escape and finish the mission, and that I’d never want to do
anything at all like that again.” And that was certainly true.

“We
be getting furlough when we get back?”

“Colonel
Weslyn said you would,” Alucius replied. “As far as I’m concerned, you were all
on duty in Tempre.”

“Yes,
sir. Thank you, sir.”

As
they rode south on the Avenue of the Guard and past the dust palace, Alucius
glanced over at the imposing structure, seeing no one except for a single guard
in green livery, the greenish white marble walls bright in the harvest morning
sunlight. When he had first seen Drimeer’s marble mansion, Alucius had found it
hard to believe that the dustcat warrens outside of Iron Stem spawned such
corrupt luxury. Upon reflection, it didn’t seen so unbelievable, especially not
compared to what he’d learned about the Duarchy in the past few months.

He
shifted his weight in the saddle, glad to be riding out of Tempre, glad to be
heading homeward.

T
he
ride back from Tempre to Dekhron was long,
still hot, late as it was in
harvest, and, thankfully, totally uneventful. All the Southern Guard officers
were courteous along the way, but not terribly curious, as if the surprise of a
Northern Guard officer being summoned to Tempre had passed and been accepted.

Alucius
and third squad reached Salaan in midafternoon of the second day of fall. A
faint drizzle had begun to drift down from the low clouds as the small force
rode over the River Vedra bridge from Salaan into Dekhron. In the drizzle, only
a single cart, its pony led by a graying woman, headed southward. She did not
even look at the riders of third squad. Despite the clouds and moisture, the
river remained low, with the same cracking mud banks that Alucius recalled from
early in harvest. Below the bridge, the barge piers were empty, the warehouses
shuttered.

Even
with the misty drizzle, the air in Dekhron smelled dusty. While most of the
shops on the main street that was the high road were open, Alucius saw few
buyers and but a handful of people on either the streets or the porches.

Alucius
and Faisyn turned westward on the street short of the main square—also nearly
deserted from what Alucius could see—and third squad followed. The mist
thickened as they neared the headquarters post, but the drizzle lessened.

The
two troopers on guard merely nodded when they caught sight of Alucius’s
insignia, but by the time Alucius and third squad had reined up outside the
stables, Colonel Weslyn appeared, followed by Majer Imealt.

“Welcome
back, Overcaptain!” Weslyn’s voice was warm and hearty.

Alucius
sensed the concern and worry behind the façade. “It’s good to be back, Colonel.
Before I forget, I have some dispatches for you from the Lord-Protector
himself. Once we’re settled, I’ll bring them to you.” Alucius wasn’t about to
hand them over without watching the colonel open them.

“That
would be good. We have much to discuss, Overcaptain. I will see you shortly.”
With another smile and a nod, the colonel stepped back, then turned. Majer
Imealt followed.

Alucius
made certain that all mounts were stabled, and all the troopers quartered,
before he carried his gear to the senior officers’ quarters, again following
Dezyn, the same blond captain who had assisted him a season before. Alucius
spent but a few moments washing up and brushing off road detritus before
gathering himself together and heading down to meet the colonel.

Weslyn
was waiting, seated behind his desk, but only gestured for Alucius to enter,
and said nothing until Alucius closed the door.

Alucius
did not wait for an invitation, but extended the two sealed dispatches and
seated himself in the chair across the desk from the colonel.

Weslyn
set them before him, but made no movement to open either. “The last dispatches
we had,” he began smoothly, “indicated that you had been commended, and had
been requested to remain as an aide to the Lord-Protector for several weeks.”

“That’s
true. He wanted to know more about the Northern Guard, and about the Matrites.
They haven’t had that much knowledge about Hieron in recent years,” offered
Alucius.

“The
commendation?”

“Oh…”
Alucius eased the medal from his belt wallet. “The Star of Honor. The
Lord-Protector said it had been a generation since it had been awarded.”

“And
he presented it personally?”

“In
his audience hall, yes, sir. He sent those to me later, by messenger.” Alucius
gestured to the two folded and sealed dispatches. “They’re for you.”

“You
act as if I’m supposed to open these while you’re here.”

“It
might be best,” Alucius suggested.

Weslyn
frowned. “You know what is in these?”

“I
didn’t unseal either, sir. I was told that I have a copy of one, the one that
orders my release upon my return to Dekhron.”

Weslyn
said nothing as he lifted the first, broke the seal, and read the single sheet
with the embossed seals at the bottom. Finally, he looked up. “The
Lord-Protector must think highly of you, Overcaptain. You are released to
return to your stead, with full pay to the end of the year.” A half-rueful
smile followed. “And you cannot be recalled to any duty without the express
written authorization of the Lord-Protector.”

That
surprised Alucius.

Weslyn
opened the second and read it before speaking again. “The Northern Guard has
also been ordered not to conscript any more herders, again without the
permission of the Lord-Protector. Do you know why?”

“No,
sir. I never said anything to the Lord-Protector about conscription. He only
asked what herders did and what our lives were like.”

“You
must have been rather persuasive.”

“I
asked for nothing except my timely release.”

“Can
you tell me what duties you performed for the Lord-Protector?”

“He
requested that I not speak of such, sir, but I can say that it had nothing to
do with anything that affected the Northern Guard, the Iron Valleys, or you
directly.”

“Directly?”
Weslyn raised his fine blond and silver eyebrows.

“Anything
the Lord-Protector does may affect us all indirectly.”

“That
is most true. Most true.” Weslyn offered a forced chuckle.

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“Have
you had any word on Fifth Company and Captain Feran?”

Weslyn
nodded. “Fifth Company is holding the outpost at Soulend. In the spring, if
necessary, they may join the attack on Arwyn, if the Lord Protector so
requires.”

“Thank
you.”

“Both
Captain Feran and the Northern Guard will miss you, Overcaptain. You could be a
majer in another five years, and with the support of the Lord-Protector,
commandant some day.”

Alucius
smiled. “I’ll miss both, Colonel, but I’m a better herder than an officer, and
it’s time to get back to that. You’re more comfortable being commandant than I
ever would be.”

“There
are many who would dispute that, Overcaptain; but the Lord-Protector has made
his wishes known, and that is what will be. You can leave in the morning, if
you would like.” Weslyn stood.

“I
would, and I do appreciate that, Colonel.” Alucius stood and bowed. He could
sense both worry and relief—warring within the commandant of the Northern
Guard.

As
he walked back to his temporary quarters, he could not help but wonder at the
colonel’s easy acquiescence. Had Weslyn feared that Alucius had been seeking
the position of commandant? Was that why the colonel had suggested that Alucius
could be commandant? Or was that an obligatory pleasantry?

Weslyn
was so adept at masking his feelings that Alucius could not tell, not for
certain. What Alucius could tell was that he was ready to leave the Northern
Guard and ride home. More than ready.