Scepters (72 page)

Wendra
jerked her head around and tried to pull away from the sander. Although the top
of its head came but to her shoulder, its hand held her arm so tightly that she
could not break free. She lashed out with her knee, driving it into the creature’s
body. Her knee felt as if she had rammed it into a stone wall, and a wave of
pain seared up through her thigh and down to her toes simultaneously.

As
she tried to pull back from the sander, a second ironlike grip took her left
shoulder. Another sander had appeared from nowhere, seemingly sliding out of
the sandy soil and leaping onto the porch.

Trapped
and held tight by the two sanders, Wendra glanced toward the soarer, who still
hovered in at the end of the porch.

“What
do you want?”

Neither
the sanders nor the soarer answered.

“Why
are you doing this?”

Again,
none of the three replied.

“Why?”
Wendra demanded. “Why me?” She gathered together her Talent-force and began to
reach out for the life-node, as Alucius had taught her.

Do not
… The soarer wrapped a greenish force around Wendra’s
probe.
We mean you no harm, but you must come
.

The
two sanders said nothing, but then, Wendra had not expected that. Not even as
they lifted her—each using but a single arm and hand—and carried her down the
steps as if she were a lamb or a child. They walked northeast—toward the
Plateau—and away from the southeast, where Royalt had ridden out a good glass
earlier.

Wendra
did not scream or yell. There was no one within vingts who could have heard
her.

Slightly
more than a glass after morning muster on Octdi, Alucius returned from the
strong room, where he and Sanasus had counted out and checked the payroll.
Normally, and once things were more settled, that would be handled almost
entirely by Sanasus, but Alucius still felt that he needed a better
understanding of some of the mechanics of how headquarters worked.

Not
for the first time, he was beginning to see why Royalt had never even
entertained the idea of making a career out of the militia—and probably would
not have, even if he had not had the stead to return to. Everywhere Alucius
looked, there were reports, and accounts, and he couldn’t do much of anything
himself—just order and advise and wait… and hope that things were done right.

With
a deep breath, he picked up Sanasus’s report on logistical needs for the next
two seasons. He was not looking forward to reading it, but he needed to know,
especially if he wanted to carry out his project of moving the Guard to Iron
Stem.

A
chill, bitingly cold, slashed across Alucius’s wrist. He looked down, even as
his Talent enfolded the black crystal of the wristguard. Although the
wristguard remained chill, not quite unbearably so, he could sense that Wendra
was healthy. But why the chill?

Had
something happened to Alendra?

For
a moment, he felt that he could not breathe, but he pushed that thought away.
The chill had to be related to Wendra. He swallowed. It felt almost like the
times when he had used the ifrits’ Tables. But there weren’t any Tables in the
northlands. Were there?

He
just looked at the wristguard. The chill continued. That it did told him that,
whatever was happening, it wasn’t a Table, because the Table transport was
faster. But what could it be?

He
just sat there behind the desk, looking at and sensing the crystal, but the
chill continued.

After
a time, he looked down at Sanasus’s careful handwriting and the column of
figures below. The letters danced before his eyes, and they made no sense
whatsoever.

Finally,
he stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the hazy sky.

Abruptly,
as suddenly as it had come, the chill lifted from the wrist-guard, and the
pulse from the crystal remained strong—and somehow warm. That was only slightly
reassuring for the young colonel.

Alucius
looked at the wristguard, but it offered no answers beyond indicating that
Wendra was healthy. He did feel that, had anything happened to Alendra, there
would have been some continuing sign of distress from Wendra. Beyond that, he
could only hope and trust that Wendra and Alendra were not in danger.

He
couldn’t just ride out—not when what he did with the Northern Guard might
affect their future as well—and even if he did, it would be a long day and well
into the night before he could reach the stead. And if Wendra had been
transported by a Table… going home wouldn’t help at all.

But
the chill, and what it might have meant, nagged at him.

Dekhron, Iron Valleys

At
the sound of the knocker on the door, the white-haired man in black left the
study and walked across the foyer. He frowned as he looked through the side
window and saw the figure standing outside in a heavy winter coat. After a
moment, he opened the door and stepped back. The younger man stepped inside the
foyer, ushered in by a wintry blast of chill air, and Tarolt closed the door.
He did not offer to escort the newcomer beyond the foyer. “Yes?”

“Tarolt…
I know I should have come earlier. I felt I had to come,” began Halsant, “but…
I didn’t find out until late last night. I was working
late
on the ledgers at the warehouse… and it was only when I came by the house and
saw the lamp on. You know… Father got most angry if anyone entered his study,
even with Mother.”

“Halsant.
What happened?”

“Father’s
dead. It must have happened after the colonel came.”

“After
the colonel came? Could you please tell me what happened? In order, if you
could manage that?” Tarolt’s firm words verged on cold and cutting.

“Colonel
Alucius came by yesterday morning. By the warehouse, I mean, and he was looking
for Father. He said several people had suggested he talk to Father, but he didn’t
say who. I told him Father was at home. He thanked me, and he left.” Halsant
blotted his brow, sweating despite the chill from which he had emerged. “Mother
said he—the colonel—came to the house. He didn’t stay long. Mother heard a
thump, but she didn’t think much of it, because Father threw things sometimes.
Especially when he was angry, and the colonel would make any trader angry these
days. Anyway… Father hadn’t left the study, and she was worried, but…”

“But
what?”

“She
wouldn’t go in. So I did. He was dead. There wasn’t a mark on him. I think…
whatever the colonel said must have made him so angry that his heart stopped.
You know what a terrible temper he sometimes had.” Halsant blotted his face
once more. “Anyway, I thought you should know, but it was well after dark last
night. So I came first thing this morning.”

Tarolt
nodded slowly. “I appreciate your riding out here to tell me. It must be a
terrible loss to you and to your mother.”

“She
doesn’t know what to do.”

“I’m
certain you can take care of everything, and I will certainly offer any advice
and support you need.”

“Thank
you.”

Tarolt
looked toward the door. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your family right
now. They’ll be needing you, and once you’re more settled we can talk. We will
talk.”

A
faintly dazed expression crossed Halsant’s face at Tarolt’s last words.

“You’ll
talk to me before you do anything with his study, of course.”

“Of
course.”

“Now…
you need to see to your family.”

“I
need to see to my family.” Halsant nodded dazedly and turned.

Only
after Tarolt had watched the young trader ride back eastward toward Dekhron did
he return to the study.

“What
was that all about?” asked the pale and stocky man in a maroon tunic.

“We
had a visitor, Sensat. He had to tell me something. Most important.” Tarolt
glanced around the oak-paneled study, his eyes flicking across the hundreds of
books shelved there before dropping back to the other. “Have you found anything
else?”

“No.
I doubted that there would be even before you purchased all those volumes from
Borlan. I told you that. Those who wrote books wouldn’t be the ones who knew
where the scepters might be. Or even where the old maps would be.”

“There
must be a hint… somewhere… about the scepters.”

“You
said we did not need them. Rather firmly, I recall.”

“That
was not quite what I said, Sensat. I said we would not need them
if
the ancient ones and the herder colonel did not become
involved. More precisely, we do not need them, but they could be dangerous in
the hands of the herder.”

Sensat’s
fine black eyebrows arched as he tilted his head and placed the volume bound in
burgundy leather on the long table beside which he stood. “And they have
suddenly become involved?”

“Halanat
was killed earlier today. His son and widow say that he was visited by the
colonel just before that.”

“Murder’s
still a crime. That would solve dealing with the colonel.”

“It
would be hard to prove. Halanat’s heart stopped. There wasn’t a mark on him. He
had a heart attack. They all think he was so upset by the colonel that it
happened after the colonel left.”

“It
didn’t, of course.”

Tarolt
snorted. “His lifethreads were severed, I’m sure. That was what the colonel did
to Enyll. Even for an Efran, that’s hard to tell unless you’re present. The
traces are faint and vanish soon. No one here would be able to tell anything
except that his heart stopped. It did, of course, but not in that order.”

“You
don’t think it was an ancient one?”

“No.
It had to be the colonel. I would have felt it, even from here, if there had
been a lifeforce drain, at least from them. So it was just a severing.”

“What
do you plan? Are you going to see Trezun and use the Table?”

“I
think I’ll wait until the colonel comes to see me. He will, sooner or later,
and it is always better to deal with Talent from a position of strength.”

“What
if he does not come to you, the way he did to Halanat?”

“Then
one way or another, we’ll ride to Salaan and entice him into following. He
might anyway.”

“You
want him to know that there is a Table in Salaan? He has no reason to suspect
that, and you want to let him discover that?”

“We
cannot assume that he is that ignorant. Not now,” Tarolt pointed out. “He
destroyed one Table. Besides, he will sense a Table there, and that will be a
great temptation.”

“He
destroyed the Table in Tempre.”

“That
was an ancient Table, one weakened by age and misuse. We would have had to
replace it shortly, in any case. Waleryn and you are supposed to be working on
that, are you not?”

“Waleryn
should be in Norda, but he has not finished rebuilding the Table there. You had
said he was to work on the Table in Tempre after Norda.”

“You
hope
Waleryn is in Norda?”

“There
is no way to tell, Tarolt. You know that.”

Tarolt
offered a cold smile.

Sensat
frowned. “Do you think it is wise to let the colonel near a Table? That could
be risky.”

“Only
to him. Besides, where could he go? To Prosp? Or to one of the inactive Tables?
Translating there could kill him. In any event, one fully translated Efran
should be more than enough, even to deal with an ancient one. I would rather
deal with him here, but if he does not come close here, we will not take
chances. We will deal with him from even greater strength in Salaan.” Tarolt
glanced toward the door to the study.

“While
we wait, might I continue perusing these?” Sensat gestured toward the burgundy
volumes on the table.

After
a moment, Tarolt laughed. “You will have plenty of time. The colonel has begun
to learn patience, though it will avail him little.”

The Hidden City, Corns

Wendra
woke. She was lying on a bed wide enough for two, in a cramped fashion, looking
up at a ceiling of amberlike stone. She scrambled upright, looking for Alendra.
The carrypack on her chest was empty. She bolted for the doorway, but the
silver door lever was unmoving, as solid as if it had been carved from
amberstone in one piece with the door itself.

She
turned, forcing herself to take in the room around her. The walls were of the
same polished amber as the ceiling. The room’s single window showed the
cloudless silver green sky of Corus. For a moment, she looked dully at the
window. Then she realized that she had never seen glass so clear, and that it
was set not in wood, but in a shimmering silvery metal that could not have been
silver.

Wendra
hurried to the window. She pressed the flat bracket to one side and slid the
window open. A blast of winter-cold air whipped around her, and as quickly as
she had opened the window, she closed it. So cold was that air that even her
nightsilk undergarments, her winter shirt, and vest were insufficient to offer
much protection against that rush of frigid air.

Standing
at the closed window, she looked out. Immediately, she could see that she was
in a tower. Below were other buildings that extended a good vingt from the
tower. The buildings ended at a circular wall, and both wall and buildings were
of the same amber stone. Beyond the wall was white sand that shimmered and
glittered in the afternoon sun. Even farther to the west was a rampart of dark
rock, along the top of which ran green-tinted crystal oblongs.

Wendra
turned from the window, looking back into the room, wedge-shaped and far
narrower at the end with the door. She walked to the door, golden wood without
windows or peepholes, and a single lever handle of the same metal as the window
casements.