Soarers Choice (28 page)

“To
Dereka and back. I chose to escort the new RA. I admit to a certain proprietary
interest in her safety, but knowing she is safe in Dereka will allow me to
concentrate without distractions on resolving the difficulties in Blackstear.”

“Since
it took little time,” Zelyert replied, “that is acceptable.” His voice
hardened, a touch. “We can’t leave the Table inactive. When the Archon shifts
the Master Scepter, that will put too much stress on the grid. We don’t know
when that will be, but it won’t be all that long.”

“I
know. But without a Table, when I take First Company to Blackstear, it won’t
take that long to flush them out.”

“You
think you should leave Elcien? You personally?”

“It
will be quicker if I go. If you don’t want me to, I’ll send Alcyna. If I go,
though, I should be able to return by the Table. We’ll have to leave Myrmidons
to guard the Table, and we’ll have to take most of those lightcutters you have
under seal. I don’t imagine the Myrmidons from Ifryn will have left either
guards or weapons.”

“When
would you leave?” pressed Zelyert.

“This
morning,” replied Dainyl. “We’d overnight in Klamat and attack tomorrow
morning.”

“You
don’t think any of them will escape?”

Delari
laughed. “It’s already winter there. The harbor’s frozen in, and so is the
river from Klamat. There’s nowhere to go and no way to get there.”

“I’ll
have Seventh Company shift two squads from Tempre here to cover dispatches and
emergency transport. It would help if one of your assistants could translate
the orders to Tempre ...” Dainyl went on to offer a brief outline of what he
planned, trying not to be too specific, but also including the need for fully
charged lightcutters for the Myrmidons to use inside the Table building.

He
wasn’t looking forward to frigid cold-weather flying — or what waited at the
end of the flight.

A
wind that sounded far more like winter than fall whistled outside the
headquarters building. Mykel stood as Rhystan walked into the study, carrying a
rifle.

“I
have this feeling ...” offered Mykel.

“It’s
worse than that. This is what third squad found with the dead Reillie.” Rhystan
handed a Cadmian rifle to Mykel. “Take a close look.”

Mykel
took the weapon, turning it and examining it closely. There was neither a
maker’s mark nor a serial number on the rifle, yet it was almost brand-new,
with few scratches on the stock or barrel, and clearly a Cadmian rifle, made in
either Faitel or Fordall. “Another contraband weapon. How many do you think
they have?”

“Who
knows?” replied the older captain tiredly, letting himself slump slightly in
the chair. “I’d say a lot. Maybe even enough to arm all of them. I wouldn’t
wager against their also having enough ammunition as well. They’re already
gathering to the west of Wesrigg. The scouts say that they’ve got more than a
thousand men.”

“How
could they come up with that many after all these years?” Mykel sat on the
corner of the small writing desk.

“
‘Men’ is a relative term. Their women ride and shoot as well as the men, and
that’s with hand-forged, single-shot weapons. The boys — and the girls — can
shoot before they’re grown. They do tend to use the girls more as long-range
snipers. Our big advantage has been in weapons and tactics.

Now
they’ve got better weapons than they ever had, and a larger force.”

“They’re
still angry with us, and with Majer Hersiod,” Mykel added. “Do we know where
they’re headed?”

“After
us.”

“I
don’t think that they’ll attack directly. They never have. They’ll feint, then
get us to follow them and set traps and ambushes all along the way.”

“That
points to Borlan eventually. There’s a bridge there, and Iron
Ste.
and Wesrigg are pretty poor. If they wipe us out,
they can loot Borlan and retreat into the Westerhills for years.”

“But
they’ll want to hit us first, or make us chase them?”

“Either
way, we’ll end up chasing them,” Rhystan pointed out.

“How
good is Nineteenth Company?”

“What
do you have in mind?”

“Ride
in force out the high road to Wesrigg,” Mykel said. “The road’s open enough
that they’d have trouble ambushing us. If they attack, then we’ll do whatever’s
necessary. If not, we’ll start after them. They’ll ride like the storms. That’s
when we’ll back off with Third Battalion, and set up along what looks to be
their planned track southward. We’ll have Hamylt pursue — at a leisurely and
careful pace.”

“And
you’ll have Hamylt chase them toward us?”

“That’s
the hope.”

“You
don’t like playing others’ games, do you?”

Mykel
never had. “I don’t know if it will work, but let’s see what else the scouts
can find out.”

“The
local inholders won’t like us pulling out the patrols against the predators.”

“They’d
like it even less if the Reillies and the Squawts came in and took over Iron
Stem,” Mykel replied.

Rhystan
laughed ironically. “They won’t see it that way.”

He
was doubtless right about that, Mykel thought. “Just get all the scouts
together, along with the company commanders, say, in a glass, and we’ll go over
things. Maybe some of them have already noticed small things that will make it
clearer.”

“Could
be.” Rhystan sounded less than convinced.

Mykel
was the one to laugh, so dour had Rhystan sounded. “You may be right, but we
can hope.”

“Just
so long as we don’t rely on hope, Majer.”

After
Rhystan left, Mykel stood and stretched, thinking.

Were
the manufactories in Faitel producing rifles for the Reillies and the Squawts?
Why? It almost seemed like the alectors were out to destroy both the hill
peoples and the Cadmians. Rachyla had said that the alectors had their own
purposes, and the soarers had indicated the same. What had the soarer “said”
exactly on that night in Hyalt?

He
concentrated, bringing back the words, more like thoughts planted in his own
mind.

The
invaders, the ones you call alectors, will kill you if they sense what you are.
They wish no rivals to their ability... They will bleed the world dry long
before its time.

Were
the Cadmians rivals to their ability? Had Mykel and Third Battalion been too
effective in dealing with the rebel alectors in Tempre? Or was something else
happening, as had occurred with the rebel alectors in Hyalt and Tempre?

Alcyna
looked up as Dainyl stepped into her study.

“We
have a problem,” he announced, brushing unruly black hair back off his
forehead. “Foot Myrmidons came through the Table from Ifryn and stormed
Blackstear. They hold the Table building, but the recorder escaped, and the
Table’s been temporarily inactivated. The High Alector wants us to take it back
so that the recorders can reactivate the Table before the Master Scepter is
transferred.”

“That
soon?” Alcyna’s eyes widened only slightly.

“I
don’t know. I don’t know that it could be more than weeks or a few seasons at
most. Zelyert doesn’t know, either. That’s why he’s worried about the Table.”

“When
did all this happen?”

“Yesterday.
The High Alector found out early this morning.”

“I
can’t say I’m totally surprised,” Alcyna replied. “There or Soupat would be
logical. They’re the most isolated. Do you want me to take First Company to
Blackstear?”

“Not
this time. The Table’s been inactivated. That means they’re trapped there, but
the High Alector wants the Table back on the grid as soon as possible. We can’t
do that until we retake Blackstear. While I’m gone, you’re in command here.”
Dainyl smiled wryly. “Why don’t you work out a plan for Seventh Company — and
some of Fifth, if necessary — to deal with something like this happening
elsewhere? Like in Soupat. You’ve already pointed out that there’s nowhere else
more isolated in the west than Blackstear. In the east, they might target
Prosp, but if they do, Brekylt and Noryan will have to deal with it. At least
for now.”

“You
don’t think the Ifryn Myrmidons were sent information by Brekylt?” asked
Alcyna.

“It’s
possible, but I don’t think so.” Dainyl paused. “Do you?”

“No.
That’s not his way. He’d have no control,” she pointed out. “When are you
leaving?”

“In
a glass, if we can manage it.”

“That’s
pushing it. You have cold-weather gear?”

“In
my study. I stopped and picked it up on the way back from the Hall of Justice.”

“You
would.” Alcyna laughed sardonically. “I hope you get back before anything else
happens. I’d rather not deal with the Highest. He’s not all that fond of
women.”

“I’d
rather you didn’t have to, either. I’ll be back to you before I head out.”
After a nod to her, Dainyl left her and walked down the corridor toward Captain
Ghasylt’s study. He’d noted the captain had been there when he’d first entered
headquarters.

Ghasylt
immediately stood as Dainyl appeared. “Marshal, sir?”

“We’re
leaving for Blackstear — all of First Company — in one glass. A company of foot
Myrmidons from Ifryn stormed the Table in Blackstear. The recorder escaped, and
the Table is shut down. That leaves the rebel Myrmidons trapped in Blackstear,
but the recorders can’t reactivate it until we retake it from them.”

“It’s
winter up there already, sir,” Ghasylt said, his voice even.

“I
know. It still has to be done. That’s one reason why I’m coming with First
Company.”

The
company commander nodded. “We’ve got two fliers from third squad out on
dispatch runs. They won’t be back until late this afternoon.”

“That’s
fine. They can fly urgent dispatches until the squads from Seventh Company get
here tomorrow afternoon. Then they can fly to rejoin us.”

“A
glass might be pressing it, sir. We’ll have to make sure everyone’s got all
their cold-weather gear.”

“Do
the best you can. I’ll have to get mine together as well.”

“Sir
... ?”

“Yes.”

“You
don’t have to say if you can’t, but for a company of Myrmidons to take a long
translation to Acorus ... I mean, most of us have never even seen a Table ...
it’d seem to me that things aren’t good on Ifryn.” Ghasylt shifted his weight
from one foot to the other, but kept his eyes on Dainyl.

“I
honestly don’t know,” Dainyl replied, “but my judgment would be the same as
yours. There have been more wild translations and refugees coming through the
Tables. Some of them have come through armed and firing weapons and had to be
killed. I’d imagine conditions on Ifryn are anything but good and getting worse,
but the Archon has said nothing to anyone here.”

“Thank
you, sir.”

“I
wish matters were different, Captain, but Acorus won’t last long either, if
thousands of alectors translate here in the next few weeks.”

Ghasylt’s
eyes widened as he understood the implications of Dainyl’s words. “No, sir, but
it seems a terrible waste.”

Dainyl
nodded. “I don’t like it, either. All we can do, right now, is keep matters
from getting worse. That’s probably all anyone can do.”

“We’ll
be ready, Marshal.”

“I’ll
join you shortly.” Dainyl turned.

A
terrible waste. Ghasylt’s words ran through Dainyl’s mind as he headed back to
his study to go over the last-moment preparations for the immediate deployment.
For the past few years, Dainyl and Lystrana had talked about what might happen,
and how Efra and Acorus could not take all the alectors living on Ifryn and how
many would die in the long translation and how many would become wild
translations and die. In a sense, the words had been just that — words. Now,
real alectors and alectresses and children were dying, even before Ifryn died.
Yet, as Khelaryt had said, what could he do to save them without dooming all
alectors?

Why
had it come down to this? Could the Archon not have planned better? Did the
Archon and the High Alectors regard the majority of alectors in the same
fashion as alectors viewed the indigens? Or was it inevitable so long as the
oldest alectors drew so much lifeforce? Or was it that no one wanted to
consider events before they drew near, when it was too late to even mitigate
the situation?

There
is no higher calling for a people than to create beauty and structure where it
has not existed previously. In its time, every world in the endless universe
will be formed, will exist, and will perish. Some will perish even before their
creation is complete, and others may endure the long life of the universe. Upon
many of those worlds, there will be no life. Upon others, that life will
consist of lichens, algae, and other minute forms that will never progress toward
intelligence. Upon still others, there will be animal and plant life, but
sentience will not appear.

Only
upon a comparative handful of worlds will sentience appear, and in many cases,
with the advent of technologies that enable widescale warfare, will come a
decline that will destroy that sentience before it has barely begun to learn
what intelligence is and could be. That occurs all too often because sentience
without individual and societal self-mastery enables destruction more readily
than creation.

Sentience
rewards those who possess it and master it — with creations of beauty and joy,
with an understanding of what the universe is and will be, and with mastery of
the worlds in which those intelligences find themselves. Yet, at the same time,
sentience exacts great demands upon any world on which it arises and upon any
society that reveres sentience.

What
do all these possibilities have to do with being a responsible alector?
Everything, for the thinking alector must understand that sentience of a lasting
nature is rare, and that no price is too high to pay for the perpetuation of a
society that enshrines sentience. We must never forget that we, too, as a
society will be called upon periodically to pay the price in blood for our way
of life, and that at such times, not all will survive. Should we forget that
price, and what it entails, all that we are, and all that we represent, will
perish as surely as will we....