Scepters (73 page)

Extending
her Talent to the door, she tried to move the door lever, but it did not budge.
Was there a lock somewhere? Alucius had mentioned something.

She
could sense a greenish radiance behind her and looked toward the window. When
she looked back, the soarer had appeared within a yard of her. The soarer’s
shape was shrouded by the golden-tinged green mist that acted as a garment, but
her form was feminine. Her brilliant green eyes were clear, and deep… and very
old, so old that Wendra took an involuntary step backward—until Wendra saw that
in the soarer’s arms rested a smiling Alendra. From the lifethread, Wendra
could tell that her daughter was healthy and happy, but she rushed forward and
swept Alendra into her arms.

“Why
am I here? Why?” Wendra’s words echoed through the tower room. “Why did you
take my daughter?”

The hidden city. It is not for you. Not once you are prepared to
do what must be done. We only took your daughter because she awoke before you,
and we did not wish her to be distressed
. Although the soarer did not
speak her words aloud, they were as clear as if she had.

“But
why?”

Because it is necessary.

“Necessary?”

We will teach you all that we taught your mate, while he searches
for you.

“Why
did you take me?”

You are the key to whether your people survive, and we would have
you survive, if only for our own foolish pride
. Dry humor colored the
words.
Pride is what little remains to us
.

“Me?
How can I be key? Alucius has the great Talent. Not me.”

You have the same potential as does he. The ifrits must be
stopped. They should not be allowed to destroy world after world. Your mate
will do only what he must. He would not have acted in time, had we not taken
you.

“That
is evil…” Wendra protested.

Well that may be, but it is an evil less ill than watching our
—
and your
—
world be bled to death
.

“What
if he doesn’t find me?”

He will not find you.

The
certainty in the soarer’s words chilled Wendra.

You must learn greater use of your Talent. We will try to teach
you. If you learn, you may rejoin him in his efforts against the ifrits.

“How
do you know he will fight them?”

He has no choice.

“What
if I cannot learn what you want?”

Then, in time, you also will perish, for the ifrits will seek you
out and use your body and expunge your mind. In greater time, all that you know
and love will also perish.

Wendra
was silent, trying to assimilate what the soarer had said. If she did not
learn, she and all she loved would be lost?

Now… you will learn more about the threads of life, and how they
may be mended
—
and unraveled… and how you may do so
more quickly
…

Wendra
swallowed. But she listened, and she held Alendra tightly.

Alucius
had heard nothing about Halanat on Septi, nor during the day on Octdi. Nor had
the feeling from the wristguard changed. He tried not to pace too much in his
small study, but he couldn’t help but worry about Wendra—and about Tarolt, the
shadowy trader that everyone followed but was never seen. Alucius had to believe
that Tarolt was another ifrit, but he was hesitant to confront another trader
immediately. He had the feeling that the meeting would be just like the one
with Halanat—and that only one person would leave. Having two traders drop dead
after meeting with him within days wasn’t something he wanted to deal with, and
the alternative was worse. At the same time, he worried about what might happen
if he didn’t do something fairly soon. He didn’t want to deal with an attack by
the Regent and whatever Tarolt might be planning at the same time.

He
struggled through more inventories and planning, and reports, all the while
trying to reach some decision on how to deal with Tarolt. Finally, late on
Octdi, Alucius looked into Feran’s study for the third time in less than a
glass, but this time Feran had returned.

“Yes?”
asked the older officer. “Did you need something? I was out going over some
things with Faisyn, and the schedule for replacements from Sudon.”

“How
about some supper at the Red Ram? I’ll pay.”

“That’s
a hard offer to refuse,” Feran replied with a grin, “even for a newly affluent
majer.” He set aside the dispatch he had been reading and stood. “That can
wait. It’s basically a report from Soulend saying how cold it’s been and how
nothing has happened since harvest.”

“What
does Sordet want?”

“Replacement
lancers for those whose terms are up, and some assurance for two squad leaders
that they can actually get stipended.”

“The
Lord-Protector pays the stipends these days, but Frynkel’s been delaying them
by a season. He hasn’t said whether that applies here. I don’t like doing that…”

“But
you’re thinking about it?” asked Feran.

“I
worry that we don’t have enough experienced squad leaders and that the ones we
promoted to captain need all the experienced squad leaders they can keep for at
least a month.”

“So
that just before the Matrites attack, we get rid of the stipended ones?” Feran’s
voice was dry.

“You’re
right. Do you think we ought to promote early, and overlap?”

“That
might not be a bad idea.” Feran reached for his riding jacket. “You’d better
get your jacket. It’s as cold as Soulend outside.”

“Winter’s
supposed to be ending.”

“Tell
the wind out there that.”

Alucius
reclaimed his own riding jacket, and the two walked out of the headquarters
building, across the courtyard, and through the narrow archway in the south
wall, turning west toward the tavern.

Despite
the signboard with the ram upon it, more a nightsheep painted in red than a
town sheep, most of the Guard officers called the old red-stone building on the
corner after the proprietress—Elyset’s.

The
graying Elyset was the one to meet Alucius and Feran. Her eyes sparkled, and
she looked at the insignia of both collars. Then she smiled. “You two have come
up in the world—especially you, Colonel. The last time you were here… was it
majer?”

“It
was.” Alucius couldn’t help grinning. “The last time I was here, you told me
about the chicken, but I’d been hoping for quail.”

Elyset
laughed, but the sound died away quickly. “I didn’t remember last time, but you
were the one who stopped the barbarians in Deforya and got decorated by the
Lord-Protector. Right?”

“Unfortunately.
Then, after a couple of years, he ordered me south, then back here.”

“Good
thing. Guard hasn’t done so well since then.”

“That’s
what I heard.” Alucius paused, then added, “Might just be me, but I missed
Colonel Clyon.”

Elyset
snorted. “So did the few old-time officers left. Got word that they’re happy to
see you.” So far.

The
proprietress turned to Feran. “You should have come here more often. Gheravia
was asking about you.”

“Now
that I’m a majer, you mean?” parried Feran.

“She
liked you when you were a captain, Majer.”

Feran
shook his head, as if to deny it.

“She
did, but… I’d better get you two settled.” Elyset turned and escorted them to a
corner table, one adjoining the hearth, in which several large logs were
burning on a deep bed of red and white coals. “Good table here for a chill
evening.”

Alucius
settled himself into one of the four armless wooden chairs, the one of the two
that afforded a view of the front entrance. Feran settled into the other one.

“Don’t
have quail today, but the noodles and fowl are good. Cutlets are tough. Wouldn’t
even have ‘em to serve, except some of the senior rankers, they won’t eat
anything else.”

“Habits.”
Alucius laughed.

Elyset
bent down, leaning toward Alucius, and lowered her voice. “Tarolt and Halanat
been talking about you, I think… herder majer and then colonel… Don’t know why…
thought you ought to know.”

“Thank
you. Can you tell me what Tarolt looks like? “ Alucius kept his voice low.

“White-haired,
sturdy, eyes sort of purple, white skin—got little hands and a mean smile.
Always wears black. Built a new place out on the point. Only house there, now
that Hanal’s place burned down. Didn’t tell you that.” Elyset shrugged and
straightened.

“Appreciate
the tip about the cutlets,” Alucius said loudly, winking and managing to slip a
silver from his wallet and into Elyset’s hand.

“You
don’t like something, and you don’t come back. We always need people to come
back.” She grinned. “Even if it takes some herders years and becoming a
colonel.”

“But
they remember,” he returned.

“That’s
what we hope. Grenna will be along in a few moments.”

Despite
the banter that had surrounded Elyset’s warning, the whole exchange left a cold
feeling in Alucius’s guts, especially since the proprietress had no sense of
purpleness. He glanced around the Ram, but only two other tables were taken,
one by a grizzled crafter with a woman clearly not his wife, and the other by
two bravos in brown.

“What
did she say?” asked Feran.

“Told
me that Tarolt and Halanat had been talking about me.”

“Speaking
of Halanat… Sanasus said he died yesterday. Found him dead last night. Didn’t
you go see him yesterday morning?”

“I
did. He was the trader, or his wagons were, who was supplying the prophet. They
had the same silver-wheel sign. I found that out. We exchanged a few words, and
then I left. I don’t think he was very happy with me.” Again, everything
Alucius said was true, but not the whole truth.

“Must
not have been. Word is that he got so angry his heart stopped.”

“It
couldn’t have happened to anyone who deserved it more,” Alucius said dryly. “Not
that it will stop his son from doing the same sort of trading if he gets the
chance. I also think Tarolt’s tied up in it all, but there’s no real proof
there. I’ll have to look into that before long.”

“Like
everything else?”

“What’ll
you have?” asked Grenna as she stopped at the table. Despite her obvious
physical charms, the server was a woman barely out of girlhood.

“What
do you have?”

“Drinks
are same as always—wine, ale, lager. Today, the stew is boar, better ‘n usual.
Vedra chicken with the thick noodles. Lamb cutlets… and lymbyl.”

Alucius
could do without the lymbyl. “The ale… and… ah… fowl and noodles.”

“Make
that two,” added Feran. “Ale also.”

“Be
three coppers for the chicken, and one for the ale.”

Alucius
showed a silver, leaving it on the table.

“Be
back with the ale, sirs.” With a nod, Grenna moved away from the window table.

The
day had been long, and Alucius was tired. The chill with the wristguard
bothered him, especially because he didn’t know what it meant or what had
happened. The silence surrounding Halanat’s death wasn’t all that good, either,
he thought. And spring was coming, with all the possible problems with a
Matrite attack. He looked down at the surface of the table.

“Rather
deep in thought, aren’t you?” suggested Feran.

“I’ve
been thinking—about a lot of things.” Alucius paused. “What do you think about
moving the Guard headquarters to Iron Stem?”

“You
want it closer to home?” Feran grinned.

“That
makes it harder to do, in a way. It’s more because of the way things have
changed. We really don’t have to worry about the Vedra as a boundary, but it
takes a day longer to get dispatches from the west here, and more than a day
longer to send supplies west.”

“And
you wouldn’t have to worry so much about the factors and their plots.”

“I
won’t be colonel forever,” Alucius said. “It would make things easier for
whoever follows me.”

“You
thinking about riding off?”

“No.”
Alucius shook his head. “I’m just trying to get things to work better.”

“Your
ales, sirs.”

Alucius
looked up. He’d hadn’t noticed Grenna’s return—and that wasn’t good. “Thank
you.” He offered the silver.

“I’ll
take them when I bring the chicken.”

Alucius
took a swallow of the ale. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he’d been until he
was looking at a half-empty mug.

“Little
thirsty there,” said Feran.

Alucius
looked at Feran’s equally depleted mug.

Both
men laughed.

Alucius
saw Grenna approaching and watched as she set a crockery platter with a full
half chicken and a pile of noodles smothered in a cream sauce before him, then
before Feran, along with a basket holding two small loaves of still-warm bread.

“Be
four coppers each, sirs.”

Alucius
tendered a silver and a smile. “Thank you—and two more ales.”

She
handed back two coppers. Alucius left them on the table.

From
the first bite, he liked the chicken. He almost could put aside his concerns
about the ifrits and how to deal with Tarolt. His worries about Wendra were
something else, and he could only hold to the fact that his herder’s wristguard
had shown no sign of injury to her. But he still worried.

Two
more mugs of ale arrived before he’d even gotten a third of the way through the
chicken. Alucius sent Grenna off with five coppers.

“Being
colonel, it’s not like what you thought, is it?”

“I
think I knew, but
being
colonel is harder than just
knowing.”

“True
of everything,” Feran mumbled. “Don’t get shot at as much here.”

“Maybe
you don’t.”

“You’re
the kind that gets shot at everywhere,” Feran pointed out.