Scepters (10 page)

Frynkel’s
words did little to remove Alucius’s apprehension.

“Your
words are kind, Marshal,” returned Lucenda. “I will leave you to what must be
done.” She inclined her head, then turned, leaving the porch.

“Overcaptain
Alucius,” began Frynkel, “I have been personally asked by the Lord-Protector to
convey a request to you.”

“Why
don’t you come on in?” Alucius suggested. “You can tell me inside.” He walked
up the steps, then held the door for the marshal. After following the senior
officer into the foyer, he led the way to the main room.

“Before
we begin,” the marshal said, “I would ask you to inspect my credentials.” He
extended a folder. “Please read them carefully.”

Alucius
took the folder, trying not to focus on the tic in Frynkel’s right eye, and
concentrated on studying the commission that granted Frynkel the full powers,
rights, and privileges of the Lord-Protector himself in the Iron Valleys. The
second document was a letter with the Lord-Protector’s seal that stated that
the marshal had the right and the authority to treat as necessary with, and in
a manner befitting the greatest of respect for, one Alucius, former and present
overcaptain of the Northern Guard. After a time, the herder handed the folder
back. “If you would like to sit…”

“Thank
you.” Frynkel settled into the armchair that had been the favorite of Alucius’s
grandmother. “Comfortable chair.”

“My
family’s always liked it. Especially my grandmother.”

“She
had good judgment.” Frynkel smiled, leaning forward, his eyes directly on
Alucius. “You know that the Lord-Protector owes you a great deal and that he
respects you greatly.” His eye twitched once.

“He
must have a great need, to send you here,” Alucius replied.

“He
has a request of you. It is a request because he also is a man of his word, and
he promised you that he would not call you or order you back to service. But
the need is great, and he asked me to tell you what that need is in explaining
his request.” Frynkel absently smoothed back the few thin strands of black hair
remaining in the center of a balding head, then pressed the edge of his palm
against his right eye for a moment.

“Please
do.” Alucius could feel a chill settling over him. Whatever it was, the few
Talent-creatures on the stead paled before what was about to happen. What
bothered him most was the feeling of directness and honesty within the marshal.
That
was truly frightening.

“You
may know that the Regent of the Matrial has constructed a second crystal
spear-thrower. That means that there is now one in the northern reaches of
Madrien and one in the south…”

Alucius
had not known that, and he was certain that Frynkel had known he had not.

“…
the Northern Guard is struggling to hold to its gains in northern Madrien.
According to Colonel Weslyn, there are few available men who can be conscripted
into the Northern Guard.”

“From
what I know, sir, that is true. Any more conscription would wreak great harm on
the Northern Valleys. There are already many crafters without sons, and, while
their wives and daughters can carry on now, if too many more are lost there
will be too few to pass on their crafts to the children.”

Frynkel
nodded. “My own inquiries have supported that. Unfortunately, events are
proving most unkind. The Landarch of Deforya has been deposed by the great
landowners there, and they have established a Council of Five. That Council has
doubled tariffs in the east. The warring between Illegea and Ongelya has closed
the southern route, and several caravans have been plundered, their traders
killed. The Regent of the Matrial has retaken Fola and Dimor and is pressing
southward. Somewhat over three weeks ago, a revolt erupted in Hyalt.”

“And
the Lord-Protector’s request?” asked Alucius, dreading the response.

“While
we believe that we can hold Southgate with the forces at hand, we cannot
transfer more than a company or two to deal with the revolt in Hyalt. We
believe that we could transfer but one company from the Northern Guard, and
there are two, perhaps three, Southern Guard companies in training that could
be spared. Yet, if we transfer more than those…” Frynkel spread his hands. “And
if we do nothing, the revolt could spread and block the trading roads.”

“You
haven’t said what the Lord-Protector would request,” Alucius pointed out.

“He
would request your return to duty as a majer in charge of the forces to put
down the revolt in Hyalt. The revolt has been fomented by a group that
advocates a return of the ‘True Duarchy,’ whatever that may be. Most merchants
and crafters—those that can—have fled and have appealed to the Lord-Protector
to restore their lands and town to them.”

“I
can see what the Lord-Protector would gain,” Alucius replied slowly, “and I
would be remiss in not appreciating his courtesy in making this a request.
Still… that asks a great deal, not so much of me, but of my wife and family.”

“The
Lord-Protector understands that as well. His need is great, but so is his
gratitude. He would offer not only the rank and pay of a senior majer, but also
a continuing stipend, in addition to your pay, to your wife, equal to your pay,
while you serve outside the Iron Valleys. He will pay that personally. He also
offers his gratitude.”

Alucius
nodded. There had to be more. So he waited.

Frynkel
leaned forward slightly, his voice lower as he spoke. “He also is deeply
concerned about the future of the Northern Guard. Once you are successful in
Hyalt, he would be most appreciative if you would become the commander of the
Northern Guard.”

“Me?”

“You.”
Frynkel withdrew a narrower envelope from his jacket and extended it. “This is
for you.”

Alucius
took the envelope as though it contained a death sentence, breaking the outer
seal and withdrawing the single sheet carefully.

My
dear Overcaptain Alucius—

As
you may have gathered, the times have become most dangerous for us all, else I
would not have sent Marshal Frynkel to tender my request of you to return to
service. I know that you would prefer to be a herder. You have made that most
clear. I also would prefer that, rather than making this request of you.

Yet…
we are not always allowed our choices, and the times make requests as well. The
Northern Guard is not well served. By accepting my request, you can once more
distinguish yourself, and in a rank that will permit no brooking of your
becoming commander of the Northern Guard once you complete this mission. This
letter, which I suggest you tender to your family for safekeeping, is a written
promise of my faith in and gratitude toward you…

The
signature was that of Talryn, Lord-Protector of Lanachrona, and from what
Alucius recalled from the signatures on his discharge orders, it was indeed the
Lord-Protector’s.

Alucius
lowered the letter, folding it and slipping it back into the envelope. He could
not block the shock on his face, not for a moment, and he said nothing until he
felt he was more in control. “Matters are that bad?”

“They
may be worse since I left Tempre,” Frynkel replied. “I cannot imagine how they
could have improved.”

Did
Alucius have a choice? A real one? Not that he could see. Finally, he nodded,
and asked, “What company of the Northern Guard?”

“The
Fifth, under Overcaptain Feran. That contains what remained of your
Twenty-first.” After a moment, Frynkel went on, “You would also receive the
Lord-Protector’s commission as a senior majer in the Southern Guard. That way,
none could gainsay your authority over lancers from either north or south.”

“That
would also subject me to the authority of the Southern Guard,” Alucius pointed
out.

Frynkel
offered a rueful chuckle. “If you accept, you would be subject to such in any
case.”

“True,”
Alucius admitted. “Could you tell me more about why this need is so great?”

Frynkel
cleared his throat. “The Regent of the Matrial has become even stronger…”

As
the marshal talked evenly about all the difficulties besetting the
Lord-Protector, Alucius listened, but his own thoughts skittered around Frynkel’s
words as well. Truly, he had not understood fully how much the military
situation had changed in Corus in the more than two years since he had left the
Northern Guard. Had the ifrits somehow returned and created the changes,
adverse as they were, or had human nature just taken its normal course?

His
lips turned into a tight and wry smile. Did it matter?

“…
and for all these reasons, the Lord-Protector reluctantly decided to make this
request of you. Will you consider such?”

Alucius
let the silence drag out. Finally, he spoke. “You believe what you say, and I
have found the Lord-Protector to be an honorable man. Only a man blind and deaf
would conclude that he had a choice. Since I am neither, I will accept, but I
cannot leave for at least a few days.”

Alucius
heard the faintest gasp from the kitchen—from his mother.

“We
had thought that would be so. In any case, I will have to make the arrangements
for Fifth Company to be recalled from Wesrigg. As I recall, they were just
recently posted there in preparation to support the defenses around Arwyn.”

Alucius
nodded, waiting to see what else Frynkel had to say.

“Colonel
Weslyn will also need to be informed of the Lord-Protector’s request and
orders, but it will be my pleasure to take care of that.” Frynkel smiled
coldly. “That will require a certain… firmness. But he will not learn of the
Lord-Protector’s eventual intent. Only the Lord-Protector, Marshal Wyerl, and
I—and you—know that or will know it until just before it comes to pass.”

Alucius
could tell that Frynkel cared little for Colonel Weslyn. He also knew that his
accepting the Lord-Protector’s request was foolish and dangerous, especially
since it would establish him as a rival and an enemy of Weslyn, even if Frynkel
did not inform Weslyn about the Lord-Protector’s future intentions for the
commander of the Northern Guard.

The
“request” of the Lord-Protector was intolerable. It didn’t help much that the
alternative was worse.

Alucius
stood on the porch, watching as the Southern Guards rode down the lane, back
toward Iron Stem, or perhaps to Wesrigg. Wendra and Royalt stood by the corral
on the north side of the main sheep shed, watching as the blue-uniformed riders
passed them. Absently, Alucius realized that either Wendra or Royalt had taken
his gray and stabled and groomed the big gelding.

“Alucius…”

He
turned to face his mother.

“How
could you… ?” She looked at her son. “Haven’t you done enough already?”

“I
don’t have any real choice,” he replied. “The Northern Guard can’t hold out
against the Regent of the Matrial without support from the Southern Guard and
the Lord-Protector, and they can’t provide it.”

“Can’t…
or won’t?”

“Does
it make any difference?” he countered.

“Will
it always be this way? Will you always take on what others should do?”

Alucius
didn’t have an answer, not one that he wanted to voice. He’d answered once
before, and it hadn’t exactly helped. Instead, he just looked at her levelly.

After
a moment, she dropped her eyes.

Silently,
as the sun dropped behind the iron-sandy plains and quarasote flats to the
west, Alucius and his mother waited and watched as the last of the Southern
Guard lancers left the stead and as Royalt and Wendra walked from the corral
toward them. No one spoke until all four were gathered on the southern part of
the porch, just outside the door to the house.

“What
did the marshal want?” asked Royalt.

“The
Lord-Protector requested my return to service—as a favor,” Alucius replied. “They’ll
promote me to majer. Senior majer.”

“Senior
majer? They must want you back a whole lot,” said Royalt.

“You
said you would, didn’t you?” Wendra’s voice was soft.

“How
could I not accept?” replied Alucius. “If I refused, before long I’d be asked
again, less politely, and I would have to fight under even less advantageous
conditions… and without the support of the Lord-Protector.”

“How
bad is it?” asked Royalt.

“Worse
than any of us thought, even Kustyl. The Regent of the Matrial has rallied the
lancers of Madrien and come up with another crystal spear-thrower…” As the
others listened, Alucius summarized what Marshal Frynkel had told him earlier. “…
and everywhere there are problems. No one is going to help the Iron Valleys
until they’ve dealt with things closer to their home. I don’t like that, but
that’s the legacy we got from the old Council and the traders in Dekhron, and
we have to deal with what is, not what we’d like.”

“Always
been that way.” Royalt shook his head slowly. “Always will be. Too few herders,
and no one else cares.”

“Not
until it affects them, anyway,” Alucius pointed out.

“You
got another problem,” Royalt said. “This revolt in Hyalt. Anyone who puts it
down, or tries to, isn’t going to be real popular. Especially if you kill a
bunch of folks. Maybe, the Lord-Protector—or his folk—have been doing something
not real popular there. Could be why he wants an outsider to handle it.”

“That’s
possible,” Alucius admitted. Anything was possible. He’d already seen good and
bad officers in the Southern Guard, and a few of the bad ones had been every
bit as bad as Dysar, who had been the worst Alucius had encountered in the
Northern Guard. It was also more than likely that the rebellion had been caused
by poor administration or over-tariffing. But… he’d just have to see.

“Better
remember that for every man you kill, two will come forward to avenge him. That’s
the way those southerners are. Got fire for blood, and not a lot in the way of
brains,” Royalt said.