Scepters (11 page)

There
was another long silence.

“I
might as well get on with fixing supper. It’ll be a bit late.” Lucenda looked
to Wendra. “I won’t need help yet.”

“I’ll
be there in a bit,” Wendra replied, as Lucenda slipped through the front door,
closing it behind her.

“Need
to check the shed,” Royalt added. “What with all the commotion, not sure I
locked everything tight.” He turned and headed down the steps, back toward the
outbuildings, leaving Alucius and Wendra alone on the porch.

Wendra
looked at Alucius, her golden-flecked green eyes meeting his silver-gray orbs.

After
a moment, she said, “I know you have to do this. I could feel it.”

“I
don’t want to,” he said, taking her hands in his. “It’s just…”

“…
that you don’t have any choice. You can’t fight off the Matrial’s lancers by
yourself, but if you help the Lord-Protector, you think there’s a chance that
it won’t happen.”

“Chance—that’s
a good way of putting it.” Alucius uttered a sound halfway between a laugh and
a snort. “I’ve seen how many lancers Madrien has. I don’t know how this new
Regent of the Matrial has managed to take over, but she has, and without the
support of the Lord-Protector to block the Regent, Madrien can take the Iron
Valleys in a season. Every year, we have fewer people and fewer golds…” He
shook his head.

“Do
you think the ifrits have anything to do with things getting so bad?” asked
Wendra.

“I
can’t say. I just don’t know.”

“What
do
you feel
?” she pursued.

“I
can’t say why, but I feel that they are.”

“So
do I.I don’t want you to go. I know you have to, but…” Wendra’s eyes were
bright.

Alucius
glanced at the Plateau, a grayish mass that melded with the gray clouds
swirling around and above it. “I wish I knew more.”

“We
never do.”

That
was certainly true, he reflected. That had been true his entire life.

“When
will you leave?” asked Wendra.

“On
Londi. Marshal Frynkel will be taking care of other details.”

“Informing
the colonel?”

“Among
other things.” Alucius took the narrow envelope from within the nightsilk
jacket he had never shed and handed it to Wendra. “You need to read this. It’s
from the Lord-Protector.”

He
stood and waited as she opened the envelope and read the words put to pen
there.

Finally,
she looked up. “Commander of the Northern Guard? Why?”

“Because
things are worse than we know.”

She
just looked at him. “Will you accept that as well?”

“That’s
a road I won’t reach for a while.” He forced a smile. “Anyway, that would mean
I would be in Dekhron, and commanders don’t undertake the nasty missions.”

She
raised her eyebrows. “Colonel Weslyn doesn’t. Colonel Clyon did. Who was the
better commander?”

Alucius
concealed a wince. “That road can wait. Anyway, it could be that things in
Hyalt won’t take that long.”

Her
laugh was a short bark. “Then what? The Lord-Protector will want something
else… or you’ll be tied up in trying to rebuild the Northern Guard.”

“You
think I should have refused?” he asked softly.

“No.
It wouldn’t have been right. I don’t know if exactly what you will be doing is
right, but I’ve seen the Talent-creatures, and you can’t stay here and pretend
they don’t exist or that life will go on as before. And even if they aren’t
involved, Colonel Weslyn is almost as bad in his own way. I just wish you didn’t
have to be the one to put things right.”

“I
know, and I could be being sent to the wrong place…”

“That
could be.” Wendra offered a tight smile. “If that is so, then I’ll have to do
what you would have done.”

“There
are some more things I need to show you.”

She
just nodded, then stepped forward and put her arms around him. “You can do
that… tomorrow.”

Hieron, Madrien

The
Regent sat on the south side of the circular ebony conference table, as had her
predecessor the Matrial, with the wide glass windows behind her. The deep
violet of her tunic did not quite match her eyes, but the green emerald choker
glimmered as if lit from within the gems, setting off her near-alabaster skin.
She leaned forward, intently listening to the officer who sat on the far side
of the table.

“The
Lord-Protector is overextended, especially in the north,” the blond marshal
said. “We have pushed the Northern Guard back from Arwyn, and we may be able to
retake Harmony by winter’s end.”

“I
had thought that was possible.”

“For
me, Regent, that is difficult to believe. Especially so soon after… the
disaster. Even with the training plans and the other… information you have
obtained.”

The
Regent smiled, an expression both cold and calculating and warm simultaneously.
“Gold can bring forth much information, especially if offered to those with
greater dreams than their abilities.”

“How
many… in all Lanachrona? Might I ask?”

“Not
that many. They are not ones to be noticed. Majers and the like, high enough to
know what we need to know and low enough that few would suspect them.”

“I
still cannot believe—”

“The
lamaial vanished,” replied the Regent. “We suspect that he was the overcaptain
who defeated the barbarians in Deforya, but that is uncertain. What is more
certain is that he is no longer in the Northern Guard. Our informants suggest
that he has returned to being a herder and has no interest in arms, unless the
Iron Valleys are threatened. That is not a mistake we will repeat. Anyone who
has ever attacked them without all other threats removed has regretted it most
bitterly.” The necklace flashed, and she laughed softly, yet with a hard edge
to her voice. “Even under the Duarchy, they were the last to submit and the
first to rebel, and so it will be again. So… we will only push so far as to retake
Harmony, and only as you can do so prudently with more limited forces. Can you
send more lancers to the south?”

“A
few more companies. Some of the auxiliaries as well.”

“And
the second crystal spear-thrower?”

“You
wish me to use it against Southgate? That would pose some risk if the Northern
Guard sends additional lancers to its forces.”

“Where
do you think Colonel Weslyn will find more lancers? The Lord-Protector forbid
him to conscript herders, and the traders will protest if he conscripts heavily
from their communities.”

“So
he will not have many reinforcements.”

“Exactly.”
The Regent added, “That will allow you to place the crystal spear-throwers so
that both are used against Southgate.”

“We
can only fire one at a time.”

“I
know. But if one is on the north side and one on the east…”

Marshal
Aluyn nodded. “You wish none of the Lord-Protector’s troops to escape?”

“As
few as possible. Those he does not have cannot return to invade Madrien. The
same is true, to a lesser degree, of the Northern Guard.”

“You
have risked much, Sulythya… Regent.” Aluyn’s eyes flickered to the dark hair of
the Regent, hair that had once been far redder and lighter.

“Not
so much as I must risk, Aluyn. Marshal. The times are changing, and we must be
prepared for those changes.”

“Have
they changed that much, Regent? Or do we see the change we wish to see?”

“Times
will change, Marshal, more than we can imagine. More than we can possibly
imagine.”

The
slightest frown crossed Aluyn’s face, then vanished, but she did not respond.

In
the gray light of the moments just before dawn, Alucius and Wendra walked down
from the house to the smaller of the two lambing sheds.

“He’s
doing much better. It won’t be long before he can go with the flock,” Wendra
said. “I’ll have to watch him more, though.”

“Don’t
take him when you have the flock by yourself,” Alucius suggested. “Not until he’s
even stronger. You’ll have enough to worry about.”

“I’ll
be careful.” Wendra slid the bolt that unlocked the shed.

“That
wasn’t exactly a promise,” Alucius observed.

“No.
It wasn’t.” Wendra grinned. “If you’re going to ride off to do what you think
is best, then you can’t exactly expect me to stay here and do anything but what
I think is best. Can you?”

Alucius
shook his head ruefully and closed the lambing shed door.

“Now,”
Wendra said. “What was it that you wanted to show me without your grandsire
around?”

“He
can’t do this.”

“And
I can?”

“You
should be able to. You can sense lifethreads. And lifeforce.”

“I
know. It’s still hard to believe that he can’t.”

“Most
herders can’t.” So far as Alucius knew, he and Wendra were the only ones who
could, but that might have been because the soarers had worked with him and he’d
worked with Wendra. It wasn’t something that he felt comfortable sharing, except
with his wife, and that, too, was a feeling. “This is something… I can tell
you, and I can show you in a way… but there’s no way to actually let you
practice it.”

“You
make it sound so mysterious.”

“I
want you to look at the ramlet there… with your Talent. Look at his lifethread,
really closely.” Alucius concentrated his own Talent so that he could feel the
reddish black lifethread of the ramlet who looked up at them from the inside
pen. Already, the ramlet had the nubs of horns that would grow into razor-sharp
and curled weapons, and his lifethread had thickened and strengthened over the
past few weeks so that it was as strong as that of a normal ramlet—except that
he’d been born out of season, and that meant a hard winter for him.

“What
about it?”

“Can
you see all the little threads?”

Wendra
frowned. “Little threads?”

“The
main lifethread is made up of smaller threads, and they’re all twisted
together. There’s a thicker spot, just out from the body, and it’s, well,
usually right out from where an umbilical cord would be.”

“I
can feel, sort of see, really, the thicker spot.”

“That’s
a lifethread node. If you form a kind of lifeforce probe, like the darkness,
except it has to be more green—”

“Like
this?”

A
wavery greenish black probe appeared, reaching out from Wendra.

Alucius
blocked it with a shield.

“Why—”

“Because,”
Alucius said quickly, “if you had touched that node with it, you could have
severed his lifethread and killed him.”

“You
can
kill
that way?”

“Oh…
yes.” Alucius paused. “It’s very exhausting, though. That was what I had to do
against the Recorder of Deeds in Tempre, the one that the ifrit took over, and
I was so tired that I could barely move. Doing too much that way could kill
you. It almost did me. Bullets are better for most things, especially for
Talent-creatures.”

“Then
why do you want me to learn this?”

“Because
bullets don’t always work against the ifrits. The other thing, what I was
trying to tell you, is that they can also block the kind of probe that you
tried if you just use it like a knife or a spear. Like I just did, except they’re
stronger. What you can do is use it to unravel the lifethreads at the node,
because the threads are made up of smaller threads, and those are made of even
smaller ones.”

Wendra
shivered. “They could do it to us, then?”

“I
suppose so—except they never tried.” Alucius frowned, trying to recall his
encounters with the ifrits. No… they had never tried to unravel his
lifethread—only to squeeze it or slash it. “They might not know how… or maybe
they never had to worry about that.”

“I’d
wager on the second,” Wendra replied.

So
did Alucius. He cleared his throat. “That’s it. I mean… that’s what I wanted to
show you and what I wanted you to know. I’d thought about it earlier, but,
well, it didn’t seem like you’d need it. I didn’t need to use it here on the
stead…” His words trailed off.

Wendra
stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek. “I understand.”

Alucius
hoped so. He really should have showed her earlier, but he sometimes felt that
he was always realizing what he ought to have done later than he should.

Dekhron, Iron Valleys

Two
men sat at a corner table in the Red Ram. One was Colonel Weslyn, wearing the
blue-trimmed black of the Northern Guard; the other was the round-faced trader Halanat,
in his blue and gray.

“I
don’t like it,” said Weslyn, lowering his mug to the table. “I don’t.”

“Why
not?” asked Halanat. “This Alucius is being sent to Hyalt, and that is as far
as one can get from the Iron Valleys. He’s likely to cause far less difficulty
there than here.”

“He
wasn’t causing any trouble at all,” replied Weslyn. “He liked being a herder,
and that was fine with me. He was the kind who cared more for results than what
happened later. Short-term ideals, and no thought of living with the outcome.”

“Young
officers are often like that.”

“I
can’t see why the Lord-Protector would insist on sending a marshal all this way
to call up an overcaptain and promote him to majer. He and his marshals never
do anything without a reason, especially one that benefits them. It doesn’t
make sense.”

“It
might make great sense from their point of view,” suggested the trader.

“How?”

“The
Lord-Protector has a revolt on his hands. If he brings in his own Southern
Guard to put it down, how does that look?”

“It
has to be put down. Even I can see that.”

“That’s
true, but no one wants the cost to fall on them. So… he sends a marshal up
here. Didn’t this Marshal Frynkel say that he was on an inspection tour? That
way the Lord-Protector can claim that he sent one of his highest officers to
see about reinforcements. He can also blame Frynkel.”