Soarers Choice (4 page)

“Sometimes
I wonder if any of the senior officers do.”

“They
have their own ideas.” Mykel smiled faintly.

“And
it doesn’t seem to matter what it costs us.”

“Has
that ever changed?”

“No.”
Rhystan studied the compound for several moments before speaking again. “Do you
know where we’ll be posted after we finish here?”

“Unless
we get different orders, we report that we’re ready to turn the compound over
to Cismyr and Matorak. Then we get specific orders from the colonel as to how
we’re to head back to Northa. The way things are going, we may have to ride the
whole way.” Mykel snorted. “If we’re lucky, we could ride to Tempre, and take a
barge or a boat down the Vedra. That’d make more sense.”

“Don’t
count on it, sir.”

“I
won’t.” Mykel urged the gelding forward. “I need to take a closer look at the
compound.”

Dainyl
did not get home until far later than usual, because he’d discussed with
Ghasylt the need for another Myrmidon to succeed Wyalt in training as duty
driver and flier, as well as catching up on the problems of First Company. Then
he had waited for Undercaptain Zeraylta to return from her dispatch run from
Ludar. Dainyl had asked her to try the position as assistant operations
director on a temporary basis — without giving up her pteridon — to see if she
would be happy with it.

She’d
agreed, with reservations. “The writing part doesn’t bother me, sir, and I’ve
been doing most of First Company’s scheduling for the captain, but... for all
the companies?”

“In
practical terms, right now you’d be mainly scheduling First Company, and
occasionally Seventh Company out of Tempre.”

“Tempre,
sir?” Zernylta’s black eyebrows lifted.

“They’ve
been transferred there from Dulka. Why don’t you give it a try, and we’ll talk
at the end of next week. If it works, you’ll be promoted to captain.”

Dainyl
hadn’t mentioned that she and Ghasylt would be the senior officers in
headquarters anytime he was absent — at least until he dealt with Alcyna.

By
the time he left headquarters, he was a good glass and a half late, and he
didn’t feel that badly about using the duty coach. It didn’t hurt that Wyalt
was cheerful.

When
he walked in the door, Lystrana was waiting in the foyer. Her frown vanished,
and the relief in her deep violet eyes was obvious.

She
stepped forward and embraced him. “I was worried. I heard from Chembryt that
you’d had to brief the High Alectors and the Duarch. And when you weren’t here
...”

“I
had to wait for Zernylta to return from Ludar. I twisted her arm a bit to get
her to try being assistant operations director.”

“There
isn’t anyone else, is there?” She took his arm. “Dinner is waiting.”

“I’m
sorry.”

“I
think I’ll be getting used to it.”

“How
is Kytrana?” His eyes dropped to the slight swelling of her abdomen.

“She
was a bit upset when I got worried. She can sense that.”

“That’s
a sign of Talent. Were you like that?”

“Why
do you ask?”

“Because
I certainly wasn’t,” he replied with a laugh, reaching out and tousling her
shimmering black hair, cut short, just above her elegant neck.

The
sun was so low in the west that while the sky was still light, both the dining
room and the sunroom were shadowed by the courtyard walls. Both Zistele and
Sentya — the blond lander serving girls — were already setting the platters on
the table when Lystrana and Dainyl entered the room.

He
looked through the archway into the sunroom and to the courtyard beyond, with
its garden and fountain, then turned to the girls. “Do we have any ale?”

“Yes,
sir,” replied Sentya. “Would you like some?”

“Please.”
Dainyl sat slowly.

“Your
stomach is a little uneasy?” Lystrana settled herself across from him.

He
nodded. “It’s been a long day.”

“I
hope the fowl isn’t too dry. There is a cream sauce. I had Zistele make it to
go with the noodles.”

“You
didn’t get home all that early yourself, did you?”

She
grinned at him. “No. We had some problems. I’ll tell you later ... when you
tell me about your day.”

“Here
is your ale, sir.” Sentya placed a pitcher and beaker on the table, not quite
beside the pitcher of cider for Lystrana.

“Thank
you so much.” Dainyl served Lystrana and then himself. He took two small
swallows of ale before he began to eat.

“The
weather has been wonderful. I hope it stays this warm into fall.”

“So
do I,” he replied.

As
was their custom, neither talked of their work while they ate, nor until they
retired to their bedchamber on the upper level — and the girls had gone to
their quarters on the lower level.

Lystrana
had slipped into a gown and robe and stretched out on the large bed while
Dainyl slowly disrobed and hung up his blue and gray shimmersilk uniform.

“How
did it go with Khelaryt?”

“I
briefed him first, and gave a shorter presentation to the three High Alectors.
I don’t know why Ruvryn was there. He didn’t look that happy, and he asked a
few sharp questions.”

“He
was there because he’d been summoned by both Khelaryt and my Highest about more
irregularities in the engineering accounts. I’ll tell you about them when
you’re done.”

“I
was a little nervous. I’ve briefed the Duarch before — once — but never any of
the High Alectors, except Zelyert — and he wasn’t there.”

“I’m
sure he felt he knew what you had to say.”

“He
knows more than I said, and he may not have wanted to reveal anything.” Dainyl
paused. “It’s worse than I thought. Everyone just nodded at the story of the
limited revolt. It’s as though no one wants to admit that there’s a bigger
problem. At the end, Khelaryt commended me for limiting lifeforce losses and my
efforts to make sure that the Master Scepter comes to Acorus.” He shook his
head. “I really thought he understood that it’s effectively been decided that
it’s going to Efra. But it’s as if all the High Alectors know, and not a single
one of them will point that out to him.”

“Would
you?”

“With
his Talent-strength? That would be dangerous, but... they’ve all worked with
him for years and years. With the shadowmatch conditioning, I don’t think he
can ask the right questions. And all those around him know it, and unless
there’s something else I don’t know, they don’t want to tell him what he
doesn’t want to hear.”

“Did
you really expect it to be much different, dearest?”

“No
... not about them not wanting to tell him unpleasant news, but I had thought
he could entertain the
i.e.
that the Master Scepter
would not come to Acorus.” Dainyl sighed, then offered a wry smile. “But it’s
clear he cannot even do that.” After a moment, he added, “I can’t believe how
much Talent he has.”

“That’s
why he’s Duarch. With the way everyone plots and schemes, no one without that
kind of strength could survive.”

That
certainly made sense. “Oh ... I had another question. What do you know about
the copper and tin mines around Soupat? I’d always thought they were marginal.”

Lystrana
inclined her head, concentrating for a moment. “They’re not the most
productive, but there’s been more demand for copper in the west from the
engineers for work in Faitel. Why did you want to know?”

“One
of Shastylt’s last acts, while I was in Hyalt, was to deploy a Cadmian
battalion there to protect the mines against mountain brigands. There’s nothing
in the records to indicate why.”

“I
don’t know about that. I do know that Ruvryn was insistent that he needed more
production, especially of copper.”

“Copper?”
Dainyl didn’t like that at all. Copper tended to be used more in crystal-based
weapons — such as Myrmidon sidearms. “That makes the kind of sense I don’t
like.”

“Weapons
and road-building equipment?”

Dainyl
nodded.

“That
only confirms what you already know about him.”

“All
too true.” He paused. “Speaking about what I already know and can’t bring to
light, I’m going to go to Alustre tomorrow. I can’t put that off any longer.”

“I
worry about that, too.”

“Try
not to. If not for yourself, for the little one.” Dainyl pulled on his robe and
sat on the corner of the bed, facing her. Neither had lit the lamps, but with
alectors’ night vision, no lamps were necessary.

“Are
you certain that you want Alcyna as submarshal here in Elcien?”

“Unfortunately,
yes. What else can I do? Her official record is outstanding. She sent Seventh
Company to attack me and Fifth Company in Hyalt, but those orders were never
put in writing, and the officers who received them are dead. Even if there were
some documentary proof, she’d claim that all she knew was that the regional
alector was under attack.”

“In
your command area,” Lystrana pointed out.

“She’d
already sent a protest about my actions, but she was clever enough to say that
Shastylt sent me without justification, and Shastylt’s dead.”

“You
really want to deal with her on a daily basis?”

“I’d
rather do that here, than have her keep working with Brekylt in Alustre. By
removing her ...”

“But
you’ll have to promote Noryan, and he’s from Ifryn.”

“He’s
a bull, and strong-willed, but he’s not so devious. He’ll do what Brekylt tells
him, but what else can I do?”

“You
can hope she’ll attack you, or Brekylt will.”

“You
have great confidence in my shields, dearest.”

“I
do, but don’t let your guard down, especially when they’re not around.” Dainyl
laughed, then eased up beside her.

An
alector who wishes to be a responsible administrator must always keep in mind
the difference between expectations based on facts and careful analysis, and
expectations based upon a desired outcome.

All
beings capable of some degree of thought speculate upon outcomes — those that
are most probable, those that are least probable, those that are most desired,
and those that are least desired. A truly intelligent individual first gathers
all facts and all manner of knowledge that may affect an outcome, even such
knowledge of the sort that cannot be quantified in numerical or objective
terms. Then the intelligent alector assesses that knowledge and constructs a
probabilistic analysis of the possible outcomes, weighing all the factors on as
objective a basis as possible.

Subjective
factors can and must be analyzed objectively, and this is one area where even
the most rational of alectors can mislead himself. Just because an alector does
not allow excessive emotion to affect his choices and decisions, that does not
mean that steers or less perceptive alectors will not be affected by emotional
factors. In addition, positive influences that cannot be quantified affect
outcomes, such as a desire for excellence.

Even
when both objective and subjective components are factored into the assessment
of an outcome, however, an alector who must make a decision may be influenced
by the desire to see a particular outcome. Usually, this outcome-influence
results in the decision-maker weighing the component factors in such a fashion
as to produce a prediction of the desired outcome. If the alector in question
dislikes an outcome that will likely occur if subjective factors are weighted
correctly, then the subjective factors will be dismissed or denigrated because
they cannot be accurately quantified.

In
similar fashion, when quantifiable factors truly outweigh the subjective
factors, the alector who favors a subjective-influenced outcome will tend to
minimize the impacts of the quantifiable factors, often on the basis that
beliefs or feelings have a stronger impact than can be accurately assessed.

In
the end, the judicious alector must work to assure that his expectations do not
influence his analysis, but that accurate analysis and study form the basis for
his expectations.

—
Views of the Highest Illustra W.T. 1513

Quattri
morning found Mykel in what would be the quarters of the senior visiting
Cadmian officer in the new compound. For now, he was that officer. Officially,
Captain Cismyr, the commanding officer of the First Hyalt Company, was the
commander of the compound.

Mykel’s
quarters were on the upper level of the main barracks, but at the rear. All the
officers’ quarters were accessed by an outside stairway. The space was empty,
except for a bunk and a thin pallet mattress. The companies were scheduled to
move from the old garrison to the new compound on Sexdi — if all went well, and
the weather continued dry. Mykel would have liked to have moved everyone
sooner, but the interior of the stables needed work, and he really wanted more
of the courtyard paved.

Mykel
sat on the bunk, using a square of wood balanced on his knees as a writing
desk, trying to complete the last few lines of his report to Colonel Herolt.
From through the open window, he could hear the sounds of clay being tamped in
place, and rock chunks, gravel, and finally sand, as a base for the redstone
paving for the courtyard. Farther away was the rhythmic droning of a saw,
cutting planks — or timbers for the roofing of the headquarters building, the
last structure in the compound to be completed. He’d made arrangements with
craftmaster Poeldyn for the stone paving of a narrow road from the compound to
the high road, although most of that work beyond the area immediately outside
the south gates would have to wait until the stone work in the compound was
completed.

Finally,
Mykel put aside his makeshift desk and the completed report and stood. He still
had to make a copy for his personal files, but the harder work of drafting a
report that was complete — without disclosing matters that would create trouble
for himself and without revealing that there were such omissions — was done. He
had another day to make the copies he needed before the biweekly sandoxen coach
made its next trip through Hyalt.