Scepters (27 page)

“I
am not here to betray my brother. I am here because my brother does not trust
me, and I would work with a ruler who can use what I know. That is far
different from offering to betray a brother. That I do not offer. I offer the
knowledge—”

“And
if I were to torture you for that? “

“Sure
as the week has ten days, you would lose what else I have to offer—freely.”
Waleryn laughed. “Almost freely.”

“Almost?”

“I
ask for good quarters and a modest stipend. Very modest. Less than the engineer
received.”

“What
engineer?”

“The
one who provided you and your sire with the light-knives. The light-knives
whose secrets I also know.”

“Why
should I do this?”

“Because
it is in your interest, Praetor, and because you lose nothing by seeing if I am
who and what I claim.”

“Can
you prove what you say?”

“I
can offer you more proof than you can believe.” Waleryn smiled. “The engineer’s
spaces have not been touched. There is a Table-like mirror hidden within those
spaces. I can find the mirror and call up a scene in that mirror.” He paused. “Will
that suffice?”

“We
shall see.” The young Praetor nodded to the guards. “Take him to the entry of
Vestor’s work area. Then… let him guide us from there.”

In
addition to the two guards flanking Waleryn, four others guarded the Praetor as
the eight men walked from the audience hall to the second floor of the south
wing of the Praetorian palace. They halted before an archway. One took a key
and opened the door.

Once
he was released, Waleryn stepped forward, walking past the main workbench, then
to the empty crystal tanks, where he eased around the last tank to the smaller
workbench in the corner, tucked away out of sight—a bench slightly dusty and
clearly unused for some time.

Waleryn
studied the small workbench for a moment, then slid back the green quartz
surface to reveal a polished and silvered metal circle recessed beneath the oak
that held the quartz top. “Here is the mirror of which I spoke.”

One
of the guards stepped forward, then nodded to the Praetor, who stood well back
of the crystal tanks.

The
Praetor moved past the tanks, but only far enough so that he could see the
mirror. “Proceed.”

Waleryn
took several deep breaths. After
a
time he
concentrated, staring deeply into the ruby mists that appeared, tinged somehow
with both purple and pink. Shortly, the mists cleared and revealed the audience
hall in Tempre, where the Lord-Protector sat upon a white onyx throne, with a
blue crystal glittering at the spire at the top of the back of the throne.

“Another,
if you will.”

Waleryn
concentrated, this time bringing up an image of the audience hall they had so
recently departed, where one of the remaining guards was talking to another.

A
smile crossed the Praetor’s lips.

The
amber crystal set in a small metal fitting beside the mirror began to glow, and
Waleryn stepped back. “That is all it will do for now.”

The
image vanished, revealing once more just the metal, now slightly tarnished, as
if by fire.

“Why
could you not see more?” asked the Praetor.

“This
mirror is not a Table,” Waleryn explained. “Had the engineer made it of glass,
already it would have shattered. For a Table to work, it must be linked within
the earth, as is the one in Prosp.”

“Is?
The building collapsed in the earthquake and destroyed that Table.”

Waleryn
smiled.

“You
dispute that?”

“The
Table that he constructed in Prosp was buried by the collapse of the building,
but it is untouched.”

“How
could that be?” asked the Praetor.

“The
Tables are linked within the earth. So long as the links are not destroyed, a
Table cannot be damaged.” Waleryn smiled once more. “Why don’t you send someone
to Prosp to see? If you have not already. Or send me with them. Or come with
us.”

Tyren
frowned.

“Would
you not like to have the information that your sire had?” asked Waleryn. “To
see what is happening throughout Lustrea without waiting days or weeks for
dispatches? Knowing what did happen without having to trust others, when you do
not know whom to trust? That is the beginning of what I provide. Just the
beginning.”

“And
you wish just a modest stipend?”

“And
the means to continue the engineer’s work, so that you and all Lustrea may
benefit.” Waleryn bowed his head slightly. “And I, of course, if to a lesser
extent.”

After
a moment, Tyren nodded. “We will allow you those privileges, but you will be
watched for a time. Closely watched. I trust you understand.”

Waleryn
bowed again. “I do, honored Praetor. How could it be otherwise? “

In
the late afternoon, Alucius studied the camp. Situated on a low hillcrest, it
lay a good five vingts to the west of the high road—as an eagle flew—and about
five vingts south of where the scouts had sighted the rebel roadblock. The
northern slopes of the hill were more heavily wooded, but the mixed firs,
cedars, and junipers grew out of steep and rocky broken ground that offered a
slow, steep, and treacherous climb for a rider, and much of the lower ground
held spiky thornbush. To the
west was
a long,
sloping ridge, mostly open, and the east offered a bluff nearly fifteen yards
above a narrow stream. To the south, the ground sloped more gradually toward
the narrow road—dirt and barely wide enough for two men riding abreast.

From
the hillcrest, there was enough of a vista that the lookouts Alucius had
ordered posted could see dust from the roads while riders were still several
vingts away. On the ride from the high road, Alucius and the scouts had seen
few tracks in the dusty road, and those had been of single riders and carts,
not even large wagons. On their ride south and west, they had passed close to a
score of long-abandoned steads set on the side of Kills that looked too arid to
support much of anything.

While
the camp was being established, Alucius had dispatched Elbard and ‘
Waris
to scout farther to the
south
and east. Even as far away as three to four vingts south, the two had found no
sign of riders or posts, or much of anything, nor any sign of recent movement
of lancers or large numbers of mounts. That bothered Alucius. Was he being too
cautious? Should he have pressed farther south? Or was he missing something?

It
could just have been that the hilly land was too dry. Alucius doubted that the
lancers could have foraged off the land, even had he wanted them to. The trees
were mainly low junipers and twisted cedars, with largish patches of spiky
thornbush, and the grass, although long in places, was already brown and
sparse, certainly not enough for more than three hundred mounts for long.

“Cookfires?”
asked Feran from where he stood to the left of Alucius.

“Small
ones, but only if they can find dry wood that doesn’t smoke much,” Alucius
replied. “If you’d pass that on to Deotyr and Jultyr.”

“I’ll
do that. I’d already said that was likely.”

“You
ought to be the one in charge.” Alucius smiled faintly. In many areas, Feran
was well ahead of Alucius.

“No,
thank you. I’m fine on the day-to-day things. You’re much better in battles and
fights.”

Alucius
had his doubts, but only replied, “Good thing we’re both here.” He lifted his
eyes toward the south-southeast, in the direction of Hyalt, supposedly fifteen
vingts away. He saw nothing but more of the same cedar- and juniper-covered
hills. His Talent had revealed no one nearby except for those of his own force
and few enough animals. Those were mainly grayjays and rodents of various
kinds.

“Rather
neither one of us had to be,” Feran grumbled. “Sir.” He brushed back a lock of
the graying brown hair.

“I
didn’t exactly want to ride halfway across Corus, either. It’s just that the
alternatives were worse.”

“Why
is it always that way?”

“It’s
not,” Alucius replied with a laugh. “It’s just that way for us.”

“You
are so cheerful, most honored Majer.”

“I
know.” Alucius’s voice turned somber. “How many really good scouts do you have?
Besides Elbard and Waris?”

“One,
maybe two.”

“Is
there anyone from the other companies?”

“Jultyr
says that one of his shows promise. Was raised in the Vyan Hills. Father was a
warden for some wealthy landowner. Son tracked poachers for a while.”

“No
one else?”

Feran
laughed.

“We’ll
do what we can, then. I’ll want them all out early, well before dawn. We need a
quick picture of what’s out between five and ten vingts, not so much near the
high road, but along the hills. There are bound to be steads closer to the main
road, but we need to know what might be along the back route.”

“One
thing that bothers me,” Feran said slowly. “There’s no one out here, but there
are roads.”

“I
don’t know for certain,” Alucius replied, “but you saw all those abandoned
places.”

Feran
nodded.

“There
used to be more people who lived out here. Like the north-lands, I’d wager it’s
gotten drier and drier until holders couldn’t make it here. You also saw some
of those hillsides, with all the stumps? They’re still logging the land, and
probably most of the roads out here are used for that.”

“You
think so?”

“I
don’t know what to think, but it makes sense. Whether I’m right is another
question.” Alucius could only hope he had reached the right conclusion, and not
just about the deserted state of the hillside lands. Time—and the scouting
reports—would tell that.

The
scouts departed well before dawn, briefed as well as Alucius knew how, and he
stood silently as they rode southward. Feran stood beside him. Alucius just
watched, long after the four had disappeared into the predawn grayness.

“You’d
rather be scouting, wouldn’t you?” asked Feran.

“It’s
hard, just watching.” Alucius glanced toward the east, but the sky had not
brightened with the immediate welling of light that heralded sunrise. “Harder
than I realized.”

“That’s
the problem of being in command. It’s harder for you than for anyone else.”

Alucius
suspected he knew what Feran was suggesting, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to
admit it. “Oh?”

“You’re
a better scout than anyone you sent out. You’re a better lancer than anyone you
command. You’re a better company captain than the rest of us. But you’re not
sure that you’re a better force commander. And you have to be the best.” Feran
shook his head. “Me… I just want to be good enough to survive in one piece. I’m
happy to follow you because you don’t do too many stupid things, and you won’t
put men in any danger you wouldn’t face yourself, and you like to tilt the odds
in your favor.”

“You’re
so encouraging, Feran.”

“Admit
it… Majer.”

Alucius
laughed ironically. “You know me too well. I probably am a better scout. I’m a
herder, and I have more experience than most scouts.”

“More
experience than just about all of them. You’ve fought and scouted for every
land in the west of Corus.”

Alucius
knew that was true, but it was the Talent-abilities that made the difference.
He still recalled Geran, the older scout he had worked with in the Iron Valley
Militia. Geran had no Talent and yet could read the land as if it had been laid
out in a book. Alucius still needed his Talent to do that.

“You
have to remember one thing… Majer.” Feran’s voice was low.

“What’s
that?”

“No
matter how good you are, you can’t do everything. You can’t scout and command
at the same time, You can’t always lead the charge and also hang back to see
where you should move companies…”

“I
suppose I needed that reminder.” Alucius still wished he were out with the
scouts. He grinned briefly. “Thank you.”

“My
pleasure, sir.” Feran returned the grin.

As
Alucius walked back toward the center of the camp, he had to wonder. How did a
man ever know when he’d reached the limit of his abilities? The Lord-Protector
had chosen Alucius because of what he’d done mostly as a company captain, and
as an individual operating alone. Could he really command three companies
effectively? He took a deep breath. All he could do was listen, learn, and do
his best.

Light
began to flood across the hilltop, and for a moment the sky overhead was
white-silver before darkening into a bright and cloudless silver-green. There
had been no rain at all since Alucius had left Dekhron, and that had been the
longest time he had spent in Lanachrona without rain. Was that another sign
that times were changing—or just coincidence? He laughed softly. Not everything
was because of the ifrits and the soarers. At least, he didn’t think so.

While
he waited for the scouts to return, he ran through a set of drills with
Twenty-eighth Company, then with Thirty-fifth Company.

Despite
the drills and the debriefing of the captains, the morning passed slowly,
without any sign of riders on the back roads near the encampment. Late morning
arrived before the first scout returned—Jultyr’s Rakalt.

Alucius
hurried down from the hillcrest to meet the scout halfway up the south slope.
He had the lancer—a rangy young man with a narrow face and deep-set and intent
green eyes—dismount and have some water for the short time it took to summon
the other officers. Then he looked at Rakalt. “Tell us what you found out,
Rakalt.”

“I
followed the wider road west, like you said, sir.” Rakalt met Alucius’s eyes,
then swallowed. “It keeps going west, like you thought. Two or three vingts
from here, it crosses a dry creek, then turns northwest. Half a vingt farther,
it splits. The road going north is rutted, but they’re real old ruts. Doesn’t
look like anyone travels it. I didn’t see any new tracks. The left fork goes
southwest. Not many riders and wagons there, but some recent tracks in the
dust. I followed it close to five vingts, like you said, sir. By then it was
heading close to due south. There’s nothing there, sir. Just bare hillsides.
They’ve logged off everything. Gullies everywhere. Won’t support more ‘n rats
and birds, maybe not that. Now… the tops of the hills on the east side of the
road, they got some trees, same firs and junipers.”