Scepters (60 page)

A
reluctant smile crossed Frynkel’s face. “None of them, as you know. That was
why Marshal Alyniat breveted you on the spot. That’s been protested, also. All
of those protests have been denied. I’d like to send Sarthat against the
Matrites, but I don’t want to lose scarce lancers with him. Hubar dispatched
his protest before he was killed.”

“And
you’ve been pressing me… just to see how I react?”

“Mostly.
And to give you a feeling of just how unreasonable people in authority can be.
That also goes for factors or merchants who feel they have authority. You’ll
have to face them as commander of the Northern Guard.”

Alucius
nodded. If the Lord-Protector still offered that, Alucius would need to ask for
some additional authority for the position.

“There
are still times when it pays to say that you understand someone’s concerns and
that you’ll look into them,” Frynkel said. “Most people aren’t reasonable. They
think they are, and they rationalize what they want, but they’re selfish. We
all are. It’s a wise man who knows what his own selfishnesses are and who can
set them aside.”

“That’s
difficult.”

“No.
For you, it’s clear that it’s not. In a sense, that’s one of the greatest
problems you’ll face. You have fewer delusions than most. I’m not certain that
you understand just how many delusions most people have. Most people are more
like Majer Fedosyr than like you, although they usually aren’t so direct as to
cross blades. People have an image of themselves, and they’ll do almost
anything to maintain that image. I wouldn’t be that surprised if Colonel Hubar
just managed to get himself killed because you did too much damage to the image
he had of himself.”

That
was something Alucius hadn’t even considered.

“Now…
the official ceremony is tomorrow, and I’ll present the commendations on behalf
of the Lord-Protector.” Frynkel paused. “You
do
have
to wear this one, Colonel, at least on your dress uniform. It’s sufficient, and
you’re wise not to wear the stars. That’s becoming modesty. In late afternoon,
you’ll have your audience with the Lord-Protector, and then you’ll have an
early supper with him. After that…” The marshal shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m
sure you’ll be returning to Dekhron fairly soon, but that’s in the hands of the
Lord-Protector.”

“I
can see that.”

“That’s
all I have.” Frynkel stood. “By the way, your rank as a majer-colonel in the
Southern Guard has been made permanent.”

“Thank
you, sir.” Alucius rose.

“Don’t
thank me. For all that you’ve done, you’ll go through at least as much holding
the rank as getting it. Until tomorrow.”

Alucius
inclined his head. “Until then.” As he left Frynkel’s study, the older officer’s
words reverberated through his thoughts. While he doubted that he could take
more wounds than he’d already taken and survive, that hadn’t been what Frynkel
had meant. In a way, he appreciated the example that Frynkel had presented
without warning, because it had illustrated how suddenly people changed from
reasonable to less reasonable as something dear to them was threatened.

After
the meeting with Frynkel, Alucius had met with Feran and the two captains, then
spent much of the day arranging for everything from riding rations to
replacement uniforms. Every single item had to be obtained from somewhere else,
and each required a different form. By the end of Lundi, Alucius was exhausted,
and his ribs had begun to ache once more.

He
and Feran had a quiet supper in the senior officers’ mess, bringing the two
captains as guests. When supper was over, Alucius excused himself and retired
to his quarters. There, he wrote a lengthy letter to Wendra and climbed into
the overlarge bed.

Lundi
had not been a short day, and before long Alucius was asleep.

When
he woke, it was still dark. He struggled out of the bed and toward the bath
chamber. But when he stepped through the doorway, he found himself in the hall
with the pinkish marble walls, tinged with purple. The half pillars of
goldenstone seemed larger than before, and the ceiling, if of the same pink
marble, was lower. All the stonework was precise, so precise that even with
Talent, he could detect neither joints nor mortar. His bare feet felt chill on
the polished stone floor.

He
looked down at the octagonal sections of green marble and their inset
eight-pointed stars of golden marble, but when his eyes lifted, the walls had
shifted closer to him. Again, he could discover no windows, no doors, and the
walls began to press in on him.

In
moments, the cold marble walls were inexorably contracting toward him,
viselike, and not even his Talent could find him a way out.

Sweat
poured down his forehead. He had to get out… somehow. He had to—

Alucius
shuddered… and found himself standing beside the bed in the senior officers’
quarters. His forehead was soaked. In fact, he was damp all over.

Why
was he still having the dream? He was in Tempre, and, presumably, after his
audience with the Lord-Protector, would be headed back to the Iron Valleys,
either to Dekhron or to Iron Stem.

Or
was it because he feared going to Dehkron, of being hemmed in there as colonel?
Or because no matter what he did, no matter how successful he was, he still
seemed to have no choices, and those he did have just restricted him further?

What
could he do to change that?

He
would have to do something. He had to… Didn’t he?

He
took a slow, deep breath, and blotted his forehead with the back of his
forearm, ignoring the twinges in his ribs.

On
Duadi morning, Alucius stood just north of the rear portico to Southern Guard
headquarters, at the front of the lancers of the three companies, waiting for
Marshal Frynkel to appear. The other three officers stood in a row behind him,
with Feran in the center. Captain Wasenyr and Majer Keiryn stood on the top of
the steps of the portico.

“Think
we’ll have to wait long, sir?” asked Feran.

“He’ll
be on time, or close to it,” Alucius suggested.

Almost
as Alucius finished his words, the marshal appeared from the archway off the
portico and moved forward to the edge of the steps. From there he surveyed the
lancers formed up below.

“Ceremonies
should not be too short or too long,” Frynkel began. “If they are too short,
the importance of what they reward is lost. Too long, and that importance is
trivialized by boredom.” He paused. “I will try to be neither too short nor too
long.”

Alucius
wondered how one judged whether something was too short or long, or did Frynkel
just gauge the reaction as he proceeded?

“It
is not often that three companies are sent out to do a task that others have
judged impossible. It is even less often that they succeed in accomplishing the
task. It is less often than that that they do so and return. It is unheard of
for three companies to do that twice, and in less than a season…”

Frynkel
went on to summarize what the three companies had done in both Hyalt and in
Southgate, clearly using Alucius’s reports as the basis for his remarks. Then
he added a few words about the unit commendation and about how few lancer
companies received the award.

“…
These were not only notable achievements, but were achievements absolutely
necessary to preserve Lanachrona as a land of freedom and prosperity, and
achievements most worthy of special attention and honor. For this reason, you
all unreservedly deserve the commendation of the Lord-Protector and will be
awarded that commendation. In addition, because lancers cannot live on words
alone, the commendation also comes with a bonus of two weeks’ pay, which you
will receive on your next payday.” Frynkel permitted himself a smile. “And in
keeping with my promise to be neither too terse nor too verbose, I will close
by saying that both the Lord-Protector and I appreciate your efforts. We
commend you for efforts well-done and honorable, and we are greatly honored by
your service, accomplishments, and dedication. Well and bravely done!”

Frynkel
inclined his head to the lancers below and to the officers. “Carry on.” He
turned and reentered the headquarters building.

Alucius
turned. “Dismissed to company officers.”

“Dismissed
to squad leaders.”

The
three officers eased toward Alucius.

“The
men’ll like the bonus,” Deotyr said.

“Half
of ‘em will have it spent before they get it,” Jultyr suggested.

“Half
of them? “ asked Feran so sardonically that all the others laughed.

“They’ll
still have the commendation when the coins are gone,” Alucius pointed out, “but
for now they can enjoy the coin.”

“And
they will.”

“So
will I,” Feran said. “We get the same bonus. I know. I asked.”

Alucius
couldn’t help smiling. “That’s all for now. I won’t know more about what we’re
doing until after I meet with the Lord-Protector this afternoon. I’ll let you
know tomorrow morning—if I know—before muster.”

After
Jultyr and Deotyr left, Feran waited, then asked, “Do you really think we’ll be
headed back?”

“I
think it’s very likely.”

“Why?
Because they don’t like us making them look bad?”

“Twenty-eighth
and Thirty-fifth Companies did well, and they were little more than recruits. I
don’t think the Southern Guard lancers are bad. Not so good as ours, but better
than most other lands.”

“You
know what you’re saying, honored Colonel, don’t you?”

Alucius
raised his eyebrows. “That they’ve got too many political officers? Yes.
Marshal Alyniat said he’d taken a great amount of criticism for promoting
senior squad leaders to captain and stipending off colonels, and not promoting
majers.”

“He’s
got the right idea. Whether it will last beyond him is another question.”

Alucius
nodded.

The
two turned and walked toward the barracks.

Alucius
conducted an informal inspection, something he had often done, but not
recently, for obvious reasons, then spent a good glass in the stables with
Feran, assessing the state of their mounts. He wanted a solid sense of what
Fifth Company needed before he met with the Lord-Protector. Then he went back
to his quarters to write down his observations and what he and Feran had
determined was necessary for the return to Iron Stem. While he might never
mention them to the Lord-Protector, he would need to request those items from
someone, and while he had what he needed in mind, he began to write a draft of
those needs.

Before
all that long, or so it seemed, Captain Wasenyr had appeared to escort him to
the palace, and the two walked back down to the stables.

“What
happened to Captain Deen?” Alucius asked, recalling the rather charming verbose
captain who had last briefed him on an audience with the Lord-Protector.

“Deen?”
Captain Wasenyr frowned, then nodded, “He’ an overcaptain now, works for Majer
Ashynst. Talks to people, gathers ideas… I think that’s what he does…”

Deen
had been good at talking, but Alucius had his doubts about his listening.

“You’ve
had an audience with the Lord-Protector, Colonel, and you’re on the preferred
list. You really don’t need much briefing. Captain-colonel Ratyf is still the
director of appointments. You know that no weapons are allowed in the audience
chamber, except for your sabre. It’s considered a ceremonial weapon. Your
audience is private. Almost all with Guard officers are these days.”

Once
they reached the stables and mounted, the two officers rode around the east
side of the building and through the outer gates. From there, they turned
right. Their mounts carried them westward toward the river and the Grand Piers
and green towers that lay beyond the Lord-Protector’s palace.

Alucius
glanced at the gardens that flanked both sides of the boulevard. Despite the
winter season, the grass was green, as were the hedges, even those trimmed into
the shapes of animals, but the flowers that he had seen before were absent.
Guards in cream-shaded uniforms were posted at intervals along the low stone
walls bordering the boulevard, and others walked along the stone paths, but Alucius
had the sense that there were fewer guards than before. He also saw only a
single woman with a child, and one couple. It might have been the cooler
weather, but the gardens were far less attended than upon his previous visit.

“You
are familiar with the Lord-Protectors’ gardens?” inquired Captain Wasenyr.

“I
saw them on my last visit. They look as well kept as then, but fewer people are
enjoying them.”

“That
might be so. These are harder times for all.”

Ahead
of them, beyond both the gardens and the palace, the green towers flanking the
Grand Piers were clearly visible, spires identical to the one in Iron Stem and
those in Dereka.

Alucius
took a last look at the gardens as he rode past the wall on the right side of
the boulevard, a stone wall a good four yards high, which marked the beginning
of the palace grounds. On the left side, the gardens—although divided by the
Avenue of the Palace running northward from the high road—continued westward to
the Grand Piers.

“Here,
sir.” Captain Wasenyr gestured to the first entrance.

The
palace entryway was a portico only slightly larger than that of the entry to
Southern Guard headquarters. Waiting for them was a half squad of guards in
dark blue uniforms trimmed with silver. There were also two stableboys standing
by as the two officers reined up. At the top of the steps above the mounting
blocks stood another captain. Like Captain Wasenyr, he wore blue braid across
his shoulders. Alucius felt he had met the man on his last visit but did not
recall his name.