Cadmians Choice (4 page)

The walls of the
Table chamber were of white marble, and the floor was of green. Two sets of
double light-torches set five yards apart in bronze brackets on each side wall
provided the sole illumination. Unlike other Table chambers, the one in the
Hall of Justice had no furnishings, just the Table itself. The Table itself
looked like any other Table—a square polished stone pedestal in the center of
the room that extended a yard above the stone floor. The stone appeared black
on the side, but the top surface bore silvery shimmer that was mirror-like.
Each side of the table-like pedestal was three yards in length, and because the
Table extended below the floor, its actual shape was closer to a cube. Visible
only through Talent was the purple glow that emanated from the Table.

After taking a firmer
grip on his saddlebags, Dainyl took a long step onto the Table, then a slow and
deep breath, concentrating on reaching out with his Talent to the well of
darkness below and within the Table. He could feel himself dropping into ...

... a torrent of
turbulent purplish blackness that buffeted him. Intense cold invaded every span
of his body, sweeping through his uniform and flying jacket as if he had been
unclothed. He saw nothing with his eyes, but reached out with his senses for
the dark gray locator, bordered in purple, that identified Alustre. The closest
locator was the bright blue of Tempre, and there was also one of crimson gold
that beckoned. Dainyl used thought and Talent to press himself toward the more
distant wedge of dark gray.

After what felt like
a glass, he began to sense the closeness of the locator wedge he sought, even
as other locators swirled by him—wedges of amber, brilliant yellow, green,
gray. . . . Well beyond, in a sense he could not have explained, stretched a
distant purple-black wedge—the long translation tube back to Ifryn with a sense
of distance so overpowering that Dainyl felt almost nauseated.

He continued to
concentrate, focusing on the dark gray, now so near—and yet not quite so close
as it seemed—before reaching with his Talent to link himself with a line of purple
Talent to the dark gray locator wedge that was Alustre. With an abruptness that
still nearly stunned him, he felt the dark gray hurtling toward him, even as
silver loomed before him, then shattered around him.

Dainyl had to take a
lurching step before he regained his Balance. He stood on a Table in another
windowless chamber. His entire body shivered, and frost had appeared on his
flying jacket and uniform, then vanished, melting as quickly as it had
appeared.

Like the Table
chamber in Lyterna, the room was empty. Unlike it, there was a set of rich
black-and-silver-bordered hangings on the walls, each with a scene holding an
alector. A long black chest was set against the wall across the Table from the
single entrance—a square arch, in which a solid oak door was set. It was clear
that Dainyl had arrived in the residence and administrative center of the High
Alector of the East.

He stepped off the
Table and walked to the archway. Again, he had to release a Talent-lock before
he could open die door. Outside, in the corridor on each side of the arch, were
two alectors, both wearing black-and-silver uniforms, rather than the
blue-and-gray of Myrmidons.

The guard on the left
held a lightning-edged short sword ready, the weapon used for guard duty inside
buildings. His eyes scanned the uniform and the stars on Dainyl’s collar. Then
he said, “Submarshal, sir?”

“I’m here to see
Submarshal Alcyna. She is expecting me.”

“Yes, sir. There
should be a duty coach at the west portico. If you go to the end of this
corridor and take the stairs there, and then turn right when you reach the main
level...”

“Thank you.” With a
smile, Dainyl departed, but used his Talent to extend his hearing, hoping to
learn something.

“... wouldn’t want to
be around headquarters after he gets there ...”

“Why not? Submarshals
and marshals come and go.”

“Most of them worry
about the politics, and who’s who. They wouldn’t know one end of a skylance
from another. He’s the one Captain Josaryk was talking about. Came all the way
up from ranker... crushed that revolt in Dramur...”

“... brass bitch won’t
like that...”

Dainyl concealed a
wince and kept walking. Although he couldn’t help wondering what the rankers
who had served under him called him behind his back, he wasn’t certain he
wanted to know.

The main corridor
leading to the west portico was floored in a shimmering silver-gray marble, the
octagonal tiles outlined with thin strips of black marble. The walls below the
black marble chair railing were also silver-gray marble. Above the railing, the
walls were a textured white. At intervals, silver-and-black-bordered hangings
decorated the walls, with each tapestry showing a scene from somewhere in the
east of Coras.

He heard several
children laughing as he passed an open archway. Walking toward him was a
slender alector wearing dark silver trousers, a black belt, and a black
shimmersilk tunic. The man took in Dainyl’s uniform and stars, then nodded
politely as he passed.

Dainyl had forgotten
how Alustre had affected the silver and black, as opposed to the greens and
blues of the west, but the colors took on a new significance in light of
Marshal Shastylt’s concerns—those both voiced and unvoiced.

At the archway that
separated the interior of the residence from the portico stood two alector
guards, also attired in black trimmed with silver. Both barely looked at him,
but Dainyl was well aware of their scrutiny as he passed and stepped out into
the stiff spring breeze. Despite the fact that it was afternoon in Alustre, the
air felt cooler than in Elcien, but that was because of the wind, since both
had similar climates, even a continent apart.

The pavement of the
portico was not marble, but white granite, unyielding underfoot, and the
columns were smooth circular pillars, also of white granite, and unadorned, not
even fluted.

Dainyl glanced toward
the waiting area farther west, then nodded. As the Table guard had said, a duty
coach was indeed waiting at the west portico, with the Myrmidon colors on the
door. The driver smiled as the submarshal approached.

“Submarshal, sir. I
was hoping you’d arrive on my duty.” The Myrmidon ranker smiled. “Undercaptain
Chelysta is a cousin. If you see her when you get back to Elcien, would you
tell her that Granyn sends greetings?”

“I’ll be happy to.
Are you from Alustre?”

“No, sir. My parents
are on the regional alector’s staff in Lysia. My mother’s sister is Chelysta’s
mother.”

With slightly less
than a thousand alectors on Acorus, running across relations was scarcely
unheard of. What was unusual was mentioning it, and that suggested that Granyn
was new to the Myrmidons. “Is this your first posting?”

“Yes, sir.”

Dainyl smiled. “We’d
best be going.”

“Yes, sir.” Granyn
grinned.

Before Dainyl entered
the coach, he turned and looked back at the residence. Unlike the Palaces of
the Duarches in the west, which soared into the silver-green sky, the eastern
residence was long and solid, only three stories showing above ground level,
with two wings angling from the central rectangular core. The outer walls were
of a white granite, reinforced with lifeforce, almost slablike. The only
exposed columns Dainyl had seen were those supporting the roof of the west
portico, although, given the symmetry of the residence, there were doubtless
columns supporting the east portico as well.

Once he was inside
the coach, Dainyl considered— again—what lay ahead. The question was not
whether Alcyna and Brekylt were plotting, but what they were plotting.

As he considered what
he might do to tease out information, Dainyl watched as young Granyn drove them
along the divided boulevard that ran from the hilltop residence overlooking
Alustre itself to the ring-road that encircled the main sections of the city.
Like the eastern residence itself, Alustre sprawled more than did either Elcien
or Ludar, with more space between dwellings and structures—except for the
warehouse and commercial area directly around the wharves. The bulk of the city
lay east of the river and north of Fiere Sound. While there were piers across
the river, they were far smaller, and served mainly the fishing community
there.

The eastern Myrmidon
headquarters were on a bluff, east of the city proper, and less than a vingt
southeast of the park-like grounds surrounding the residence. The walled
compound overlooked both the river and the ocean—and the Cadmian compound even
farther to the south.

Granyn guided the
coach to a smooth halt directly adjacent to the long mounting block serving the
headquarters building, also constructed of perfectly cut and fitted white
granite, with blackish green roof tiles that shimmered in the midafternoon sun.

As he swung out of
the coach, his gear in hand, Dainyl looked up at the driver. “Thank you,
Granyn.”

“My pleasure, sir.”
The young alector smiled broadly.

The duty officer was
waiting in the entry corridor even before Dainyl stepped into the building. “Submarshal,
sir, welcome to the eastern headquarters.” She was an under-captain, and her
violet-green eyes met Dainyl’s evenly.

“Thank you,” he
replied gravely.

“Submarshal Alcyna
requested that I convey you to her study immediately, sir, but would you like
to leave your gear here at the duty desk? I can have it taken to the visiting
senior officers’ quarters for you.”

“I would appreciate
that.” As he handed her the saddlebags, Dainyl had no doubts that they would be
inspected, at least through Talent, but they held nothing beyond necessities.
He also reflected that one of the disadvantages of Table travel was that he was
totally on his own. Then, that explained, in a way, why the higher alectors
were so Talented. No one without Talent-strength could use the Tables and
survive. Was his trip to Alustre another test? He repressed a snort. Was there
any doubt of that?

He followed the
undercaptain down the corridor— which had a green marble floor, the same as
headquarters in Elcien, and the first similarity he had noticed.

Stopping short of the
open doorway at the very end of the hallway, the undercaptain gestured. “Submarshal
Alcyna’s study, sir.”

Dainyl entered the
study, a space even larger than Mar shal Shastylt’s spaces in Elcien. Except
for a single depiction of the city of Alustre—in black ink on white paper and
framed in black and silver—the walls were bare. There were no coverings on the
polished and shining green marble floor. The main furnishings were the wide
ebony table desk, a circular conference table, also of ebony, and an ebony
bookcase two yards high and three long. The eight wooden armchairs were all
finished in silver, with five set around the conference table, and three before
the table desk, with a larger chair set behind the table desk.

Alcyna did rise from
behind the table desk, if somewhat belatedly, after Dainyl closed the study
door behind him. She was short for an alectress, barely two yards in height,
with eyes as black as her hair. Her smile was perfunctory.

“Good afternoon,
Alcyna.”

“Good afternoon,
Dainyl. I cannot say that I’m extraordinarily pleased to see you.”

“I understand.”
Dainyl certainly did. Alcyna had to have felt that she should have been the one
tapped to succeed Marshal Shastylt, but that would never happen. In all the
centuries the Myrmidons had existed, no alectress had ever risen higher than
submarshal, and Alcyna was only the second to hold the rank. He smiled. “And
you will understand if I tell you that I was not extraordinarily pleased to
have been ordered to Alustre.”

He settled into a
chair in front of the desk and gestured for her to seat herself behind her
desk. His eyes went to the wide south window. “You have a lovely view of the
sound.”

Alcyna remained
standing, looking at Dainyl, then pressing a Talent-probe at him, a probe that
was fully as strong as any of Shastylt.

Dainyl merely smiled,
letting the line of purple, invisible to any without Talent, sheet away from
his shields, even as he gestured once more for her to be seated. For all the
power she had displayed, he could sense that Alcyna had held back some of her strength.
“I’m not here to deliver orders or bad news or anything like that.”

“ You have sheids
worthy of a High Alector, Dainyl. It’s too bad you have little else, but that
makes you a perfect tool for Zelyert and Shastylt.” Alcyna finally seated
herself.

“You already knew
that. Otherwise ...” He shrugged. “It would have been difficult to cover up my
death in your study.”

“Better and better.”
Alcyna laughed.

Dainyl was amazed at
the warmth of her laugh, so at odds with the coldness he sensed within her.

“You have learned a
great deal from Lystrana, haven’t you?” noted Alcyna. “Does she wish to be the
first woman to hold the Duarchy?”

“Not any more than do
you.” Dainyl watched her closely, with both eyes and Talent.

“Oh ... so she wishes
to advance you.”

“No more than you
wish to advance Brekylt, or... perhaps a great deal less.”

“Now that we have all
that out of the way,” she replied brightly, “why are you here? Officially, that
is?”

“I told you. Shastylt
ordered me to come here and meet with you, and to see what you and the
Myrmidons are doing. I also wanted to learn more about the pteridons we’ve lost
in the last two seasons.”

“Don’t tell me you
don’t know how that happened, Dainyl.” Her voice was mocking, but with a
gentleness of tone that was almost disarming. Almost.

“Oh ... I know that
it had to be the ancients. What I was interested in was the circumstances
surrounding each loss.” As he finished speaking, he could sense both curiosity
and disinterest, but he waited for her to reply.