Scepters (19 page)

Alucius
could imagine that. The Lord-Protector had more than enough problems already.

“It
still doesn’t tell us why this is happening now. Do you have any thoughts on
that, Majer?”

“Something’s
happening. It has been going on since Aellyan Edyss and the pteridons. It could
have started before that, but it’s been more obvious in the past few years.
There were the pteridons used by Edyss, and there were those that attacked us
on the Deforyan road. Herders in the Iron Valleys have reported strange kinds
of sanders on the steads. The Regent of the Matrial came up with the crystal
spear-thrower. There are probably other things I don’t know that you do.
According to the histories, none of these things has happened since the Cataclysm.”
Alucius shrugged. “It means something. I just don’t know what.” Again, what he
said was true. He didn’t
know
, but he had a feeling
that it was all tied to the ifrits, if he could but figure out how and why.

“You
talk about feelings, Majer. What do you feel?”

Alucius
thought for a moment. “It could be that the True Duarchists are right, that the
times are changing again, and that there could be another duarchy.”

“Is
that what you feel?”

Alucius
forced a laugh. “I feel that the times are changing. That’s what I feel. How or
why… I couldn’t say.”

Frynkel
nodded slowly. “There are limits to those herder feelings.”

“Yes,
sir. That’s why we don’t say much.”

“I
can see that.”

“Sir,”
called Geragt. “The cooks are working on a stew… but it will be more than a
glass.”

“Well…
come on and join us. We might as well go over tomorrow’s ride.”

Alucius
had no illusions that the marshal had given up on trying to see if he could use
Alucius’s senses as a herder to discover more about the dangers facing
Lanachrona and the Lord-Protector. Frynkel wasn’t the kind to give up.

At
Marshal Frynkel’s request, on Londi midmorning, Alucius rode at the head of the
column beside the marshal. The sky had cleared and was a brilliant
silver-green. A pleasantly warm breeze wafted out of the southwest. Asterta was
well above the horizon, but barely visible against the brightness of the sky.

Frynkel
spoke softly, and he did not look at Alucius. “Several years ago, I talked to
an overcaptain of the Northern Guard before a dinner at Arms-Commander Wyerl’s
home. He seemed intelligent, hardworking, knowledgeable, and extremely skilled
in the use of weapons. He was tactful and could disagree so graciously that it
was hard to get angry with him. Then, he went to an audience with the
Lord-Protector and vanished. Now… this has been known to happen, I hate to
admit. The difference was that the Lord-Protector was not relieved, but quietly
upset. Several weeks later, the officer returned, unshaven, unkempt, and
several other matters came to light. First, there was an explosion in the
chamber of the Recorder of Deeds, and the Recorder died. Second, the health of
the Lord-Protector’s consort improved greatly, against all medical advice and
understanding, and third, the overcaptain was rewarded and discharged as he had
requested.”

Alucius
remained silent, wondering where Frynkel was leading.

“The
Lord-Protector has expressed concern about not having the information that the
Table once provided, but he has not raged over its absence, even though its
lack has created many difficulties for him. Now… we are seeing many
manifestations of great Talent in Corus—and the Lord-Protector agreed to the
recommendation that the Northern Guard officer be requested to return to duty…”

Recommendation?
Who could have made that recommendation? Alucius wondered, then decided to
gamble. He turned in the saddle. “Why did you recommend that?”

Frynkel
smiled. “Someone else made the suggestion. I thought myself wise enough to
recognize its wisdom. Does who brought up the idea matter?”

“It
might,” Alucius replied, trying to think through the situation. Neither the
Lord-Protector nor the arms-commander would need to recommend anything to
Frynkel, and who else even knew what had happened?

“I
had thought that myself, but we examined the idea closely, Marshal Alyniat and
I did, and we thought it was good enough to bring before the arms-commander.”

Alucius
almost froze in the saddle as he considered the most likely person to have made
that recommendation.

“You
look a bit… pensive, Majer,” mused Frynkel, his tone verging on the ironic.

Alucius
focused his senses and Talent upon the marshal before he spoke again. “Might I
ask if the one who suggested this was Waleryn, the brother of the
Lord-Protector?”

“Why
would he come to us?” replied Frynkel.

Because
Waleryn must have wanted me away from the Iron Valleys, Alucius wanted to say,
and that meant that the Lord-Protector’s brother had been more deeply involved
with the ifrits than Alucius had realized. Instead of revealing that, Alucius
merely said, “You would know that far better than I, Marshal.”

“And
I had to ask myself,” the marshal went on, as if he had not asked Alucius
anything, “why would the Lord-Protector so readily accept the mere hope of
services of a relatively obscure officer, enough to send a marshal on a journey
of some five hundred vingts?”

Alucius
waited, glancing at the long and straight road ahead, and at the scouts who
rode a half vingt ahead.

Frynkel
turned in the saddle, fixing his deep black eyes on Alucius.

“It
wasn’t a hope, Marshal,” Alucius answered. “If we wish to be honest, I must
point out that it would have been foolish, if not idiotic, for me to refuse
that request. You know that, and so do I.”

“Ah…”
Frynkel continued. “That is even more to the point. And how does a former
officer who is a herder know this?”

“Because
he is a herder. Because the prices of nightsilk reveal more than any talk by
officers or officials. Prices and their future contracts do not lie.”
Not for long
, Alucius temporized silently.

For
a moment, Frynkel was silent.

“People
tend to forget that herders operate a business that relies not only upon unique
animals, but also upon equipment and processes with very high operating costs.
We have to look to the seasons and years ahead. A herder who does not will lose
his stead.”

“In
that case, to what do you, as both herder and officer, ascribe your presence
here? And mine?”

“More
than a few people of power wish me here,” Alucius replied. “That is most clear
and does not require any great foresight.”

“And
why would they wish you here?” Frynkel pursued.

“The
Lord-Protector and, I presume, the arms-commander wish me here because they
trust I can deal with the revolt in a way that will not weaken Lanachrona’s
defenses against the Regent of the Matrial.”

“And
what of others? Say, Lord Waleryn, since you did mention him.”

“He
wishes me here for his own purposes, which are not those of the Lord-Protector.”

“I
see you share the high opinion of Lord Waleryn held by a few others.”

Alucius
did not respond, since he had not actually been asked a question.

“What
purposes might be ascribed to Lord Waleryn?”

“Anything
that might enhance his stature or power.”

“So
he wishes you to fail, you think?”

“He
may, but I would think he would prefer that I succeed, and that he judges my
success will achieve the result he desires.”

“For
a comparatively young officer, you are cynical, Majer. Now… there is one other
matter that has troubled me. The matter of the Table. The Table seemed
impervious to most damage, If the records are correct, on more than one
occasion over the centuries, large blocks of stone fell on it, yet it showed no
damage. Then, seemingly for no reason at all, it exploded. And you returned to
the palace. Equally striking is the fact that the destruction of the Table was
taken so calmly by the Lord-Protector. “

Alucius
shrugged. “I only met the Lord-Protector briefly, but he struck me as a man who
would not brood or rage over what he could not control.” He hoped—vainly, he
suspected—that the marshal would not continue his probing for the rest of the
journey to Tempre.

“That
may be, but what role did you play in the Table’s destruction?”

“Just
how could I destroy something that had lasted centuries?” Alucius laughed. “You
do me far too much honor, Marshal. I am a herder. I do know a little about
Talent. All herders do, but I know nothing about how such a Table might work,
and, in truth, I did not even know such a thing existed before I came to
Tempre.”

“I
had hoped you would. There were reports that you were the one who dragged Lord
Waleryn to safety when the Table exploded.”

“I
can tell you in all honesty,” Alucius replied, “that I do not know how a Table
works, but I pledged the Lord-Protector that I would say nothing to anyone
about the task he assigned me. I can say that he did not task me with anything
involving the Table or its use.”

“So
he did have a task for you.”

Alucius
nodded.

“And
you will not say more?”

“Not
unless the Lord-Protector requests that I do, and I would not do so unless he
did so in person.”

“You
are indeed cynical, Majer.” Frynkel shook his head, then gestured to his left
at the long expanse of rolling meadows, with grass still green, despite the
harvest season. “Now… do you know why that expanse to our left is called The
Folds?”

“I
had not heard the name, sir.”

“It’s
called that because in the early years of Lanachrona all the herders gathered
their herds and flocks to winter over…”

Alucius
refrained from taking a deep breath. The ride to Krost was long, and getting
longer.

Alucius
spent at least half of each of the next four travel days riding with the
marshal, who had come up with what seemed hundreds of ways to approach the same
set of questions—just what had Alucius been doing for the Lord-Protector and
what did it have to do with the destroyed Table?

On
two of the nights, the companies had slept out on very hard ground, in areas
posted for lancers. South of Borlan the flatlands had turned into rolling hills
that were far more lush, and in the bottomland between the hills were more
meadows still green even in early harvest. The fields were bringing forth
beans, maize, oilseeds, and the hillsides carried vingt upon vingt of almond
orchards. The wooden stead houses and outbuildings were as well kept and
numerous as Alurius recalled, and the high-road traffic was even thicker than
he remembered.

With
the warmer and moister air, Alucius had gone back to drinking more and more
from his water bottles, and by late afternoon, his uniform was damper than he
would have liked from all the perspiration.

Late
on Quinti afternoon, Alucius, Feran, and Fifth Company, following Eighth
Company, were approaching Krost from the north, nearing the post where he was
supposed to add two recently trained companies to his force. Southeast of Krost
were the hills covered in rows of staked green vines, the northernmost of the
wine-producing Vyan Hills, as Alucius recalled. Directly ahead was the
crossroads where the two high roads intersected. At the crossroads, they would
turn west to reach Krost Post.

“How
good do you think these trainees are?” asked Feran.

“Not
so good as they should be,” replied Alucius. “Nor as good as they will be,
between the two of us.” He grinned and turned in the saddle. “And Egyl.”

“Sir…”
protested the senior squad leader.

Alucius
gave an exaggerated shrug before turning back to look at Feran.

“You’re
going to have another problem… sir,” Feran ventured.

“The
way you tacked on the honorific,
overcaptain
, says I’m
going to have a significant problem. Pray tell me.” Alucius smiled.

Feran
smiled back. “They’re barely more than trainees. They don’t know squat about
anything. They’ve been told for years that the Northern Guard is a ragtag
outfit of herders who had to be bailed out by the Lord-Protector.” Feran held
up his left hand. “We know it’s not true, and probably whoever’s been training
them lately hasn’t been saying that, but I’d wager that’s what they all
believe.”

“You’re
probably right. I’ve been thinking about that. It’s going to be hard on the
trainees, but we’ll set that right.”

“Oh?
Just like that, sir?”

“Just
like that,” Alucius replied. “We’ll run a company-on-company exercise, and we’ll
use rattan blades, and you’ll let it be known to Fifth Company the way the
trainees probably feel. Or Egyl and the squad leaders will.”

Feran
winced.

“And
then, I’ll take on whoever thinks he’s the best blade in the trainees.”

“What
if he’s really good, a former duelist?”

“I
doubt I’ll have to. Someone that good won’t be in with trainees. If he is, I’ll
cheat,” Alucius said bluntly. “He won’t know it, though.”

“Whatever
happened to that innocent young officer who believed in doing the right thing?”

“I
still believe in doing the right thing. I hope I’m not quite so naive.” Alucius
looked southward, taking in the three tall chimneys that marked the glassworks,
then, to the southeast, south of the other high road, the odd-shaped hill that
had been cut away for the sand that fed the glassworks.

“Then,
there’s hope for us all.” Feran laughed sardonically.

Ahead
of Fifth Company, the marshal and Eighth Company had reached the crossroads in
the center of Krost and turned westward. Fifth Company followed along the high
roads that ran amid the old buildings, several as much as four stories tall.