Scepters (20 page)

The
marshal had clearly sent someone ahead to announce their arrival because, once
they followed Eighth Company through the wide stone gates of Krost Post, just
west of the city, a full squad was lined up to welcome them, with a senior
squad leader in the front. Alucius, Feran, and Fifth Company had reined up
barely inside the gates of the post when three officers in blue-and-cream
uniforms hurried out into the paved courtyard and stiffened before Marshal
Frynkel.

Almost
as quickly, a young-faced Southern Guard captain hurried at not quite a run past
Eighth Company and came to attention opposite Alucius. “Captain Zenosyr, sirs.
The captain-colonel asked me to make sure you and your men are settled in.”

“Captain-colonel
Jesopyr?” asked Alucius.

“No,
sir. He was sent to Madrien in command of three companies. Captain-colonel
Jorynst is post commander.”

“I’m
Majer Alucius, and this is Overcaptain Feran. He commands Fifth Company.”

“Majer,
Overcaptain.” Zenosyr bowed his head briefly, then smiled and gestured. “You
must have had a long ride. The front section of the stable is set aside for
your lancers. I’ll just walk with you. It’s not that far.”

Alucius
refrained from saying that he’d been at Krost Post before, and merely nodded.

Fifth
Company followed the captain to the massive stable, which had spaces for close
to four hundred mounts. It was far more crowded than the last time Alucius had
passed through, and only about a quarter of the stalls were vacant. The other
stable appeared almost as full. From the stable, while Feran dealt with the
squad leaders, Alucius carried his gear back across the courtyard, following
the young captain to a two-story graystone structure a good hundred yards in
length and up a set of steps to the upper level containing the officers’
quarters.

Zenosyr
opened the third door. “These are a colonel’s quarters, but as a force
commander with three companies, you rate them. If there’s anything you need,
let me know.”

“I
will, Captain, but I think it’s unlikely.”

“The
captain-colonel would request your presence at the supper honoring the marshal
in about a glass and a half.”

“I’ll
be there.”

Once
the captain left, Alucius frowned, thinking. It was clear that the captain had
no real idea who Alucius was, other than another majer. While Alucius was well
aware that fame vanished quickly, he would have thought that someone might have
briefed the captain, and he had to wonder why it had not been done.

He
glanced around the room—a good ten yards by four—with an antique desk, a
double-width bed of equally ancient vintage, a double armoire, a carved
weapons-and-boot rack, wide, shuttered windows, and an attached washroom. It
could have been the same room he’d been in before, although he thought that
room had been closer to the headquarters building.

He
decided to get cleaned up. He could puzzle over the strangeness as he did.
First, he racked his weapons and hung up his clothes and gear before heading to
the washroom with the tub and the spigot that provided ample volumes of
lukewarm water. When he had finished washing himself, he washed out dirty
uniforms and garments, then dressed and seated himself at the antique desk.

The
last times he had passed through, the post that could have held between ten and
fifteen full companies had housed only a company or a company and a half in
residence. Now, it was more than half-f, but the honest Captain-colonel
Jesopyr was gone. Had all the officers been transferred? That might explain why
no one knew Alucius. Abruptly, he laughed. Why would anyone have cause to know
him? “You’re taking yourself too seriously,” he said in a low voice to himself.

With
a smile, he set to work writing out the exercises he planned to use to test the
Southern Guard companies he would be commanding. He was still writing when
there was a knock on the door.

“Alucius?”
called Feran.

“Come
on in.”

The
older officer slipped inside the quarters. “Not bad. It’s about twice the size
of my pantry.” He paused. “We are supposed to add two companies here, aren’t
we? Wasn’t that what you told me?”

“That’s
what the marshal told me.”

“That
captain’s senior squad leader wanted to know if we were being sent west to
fight the Matrites. I said that we had another fighting assignment. He just
nodded.”

“Captain
Zenosyr didn’t seem to know who I was and why we were here. I didn’t tell him.
I thought it might be more interesting to see what happens at supper.” Alucius
closed the folder that held his draft plans and orders, pushed back the armless
desk chair, and stood.

“I
never did like that word,” Feran replied.

“Interesting?”

“Things
are always interesting around you. No offense, most honored Majer, but too
often interesting just means dangerous.”

“I
know. But… if the officers here don’t know, that’s for a reason.”

“I’d
say it’s because the marshal didn’t want it known that those companies would be
serving under a Northern Guard officer. I’d feel better if I knew why.”

“Would
you?” Alucius raised his eyebrows, then laughed. “We’d at least know what we’re
up against, besides a revolt. We might find out more at supper.”

“I
wouldn’t wager on that.”

“Neither
would I, but we shouldn’t keep the captain-colonel and the marshal waiting.”
Alucius followed Feran out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Zenosyr
was standing in the courtyard below, outside the building that held both
officers’ quarters and the officers’ mess. Young as the man looked, Alucius
realized that he himself was only a few years older than the captain, if that.

The
two Northern Guard officers followed the captain in through the double oak
doors and down a short hallway floored in blue-and-white marble tiles shaped
like diamonds. Although the mess itself had space for a good twenty tables, a
single long table was set up with white linen and cutlery and with places for
fifteen officers.

Perhaps
ten Southern Guard officers were standing around the marshal, talking quietly,
if insistently. Only a single officer, a majer who looked vaguely familiar to
Alucius, even looked toward Alucius and Feran, and he glanced away quickly.

“Captain-colonel
Jorynst, here are our Northern Guard officers,” said the marshal more loudly,
looking toward Alucius. “Majer Alucius and Overcaptain Feran.”

“Welcome
to Krost Post,” offered Captain-colonel Jorynst, a square-faced man with thin
brown hair and bright green eyes. “You’ll pardon me if I don’t attempt to
introduce everyone at the moment.”

Alucius
just nodded an affirmation, smiling politely, adding, “We’re pleased to be
here.”

“Now
that everyone is here…” Jorynst gestured toward the head of the table. “If you
would do the honor, Marshal… Majer Alucius?” The colonel nodded at the seat to
the marshal’s left while moving to the one to the right. The other majer sat
beside Jorynst, while Feran was to Alucius’s left, with the three other
overcaptains next on each side of the table, followed by the captains.

Alucius
noted that Zenosyr was the most junior captain, sitting at the last position on
the left side of the table.

“In
following the noble tradition set by my predecessor,” Jorynst began, standing
and moving to the table against the wall behind him, “I am pleased to offer one
of the best white wines, that is, the best that the mess can afford.” With a
laugh, he uncorked one and then two of the amber-colored bottles, half-filling
the marshal’s goblet. Then he handed the bottle to a steward in white, who
continued down the table filling the officers’ goblets.

Once
the goblets all held the near-colorless wine, the colonel looked to the
marshal.

Frynkel
smiled politely and raised his goblet. “To the officers of the Southern and
Northern Guards, and to their triumphs, wherever they maybe.”

Alucius
raised his goblet to the toast, then took a small sip of the wine. It was far
better than anything he had tasted in recent years—since the last time he had
been in “old” Lanachrona.

Three
troopers in white jackets appeared, quickly setting plates before each officer.
On each plate was fish fileted into thin strips and covered with a yellow
glaze. As he had expected, the first course was lemon-almond oarfish.

“Majer
Alucius,” said Jorynst after a time of silence, “this is Majer Fedosyr. He’s my
deputy here. In addition to being most efficient and organized, he’s also quite
adept with the sabre and other weapons.”

Fedosyr—Alucius
now recalled that the man had been an overcaptain when Alucius had passed
through Krost before. That was why he had seemed familiar, and from Alucius’s
covert scrutiny of the other officers at the table, he thought that Fedosyr was
the only officer he had met before. “We met most briefly several years ago,
when we were both overcaptains. It’s good to see you again.”

“And
you, too,” Fedosyr replied.

Alucius
could sense a darkness about the other majer, and a darkness that he thought
might bear a hint of purpleness, but that was so faint a feeling he wasn’t
certain. But he did not recall that darkness from their previous meeting. At
the same time, the colonel showed neither darkness nor light, nor any spark of
Talent. He was a senior officer probably on his last command.

“The
colonel mentioned your efficiency. From that, I take it that you are in charge
of the training going on here,” Alucius ventured.

“The
colonel has allowed me to do what I can—”

“Nonsense!”
interjected Jorynst. “He’s good at it, and he’s in charge of it all. I just
approve everything. What’s the use of good officers if you don’t have them do
what they’re good at?”

“Precisely,”
said Frynkel. “That is the nature of command, to use the tools best fitted for
the tasks at hand.” He looked directly at Alucius. “You, the colonel, and I
will meet in the morning to discuss such weighty matters. They can wait until
then.” He lifted his goblet. “In the meantime, this wine is a tool for a good
meal.” He laughed and took a swallow.

A
very small swallow, Alucius noted, which was in keeping with the effective
prohibition on discussing why Alucius was at Krost Post.

After
the fish came a marinated lamb, with spices that gave it an aftertaste that was
too close to prickle for Alucius to enjoy it, especially given too-heavy lace
potatoes smothered in cheese. With the heavy food also came light
conversation—or conversation that avoided why Alucius was in Krost.

“…
say that this Council in Deforya won’t last long…”

“…
could be… go through several before they realize…”

Alucius
understood that. The Council hadn’t wanted to accept reality and had toppled
the Landarch. If they accepted reality, they’d be toppled. If they didn’t,
reality would force their hand, and they’d be toppled—somewhat later. His lips
quirked into an ironic smile, but he continued to listen more than talk.

“…
Denorst’s cousin says that the grapes are going to be the best in years…”

“…
liked that red he had last time we were there…”

“…
still think that the bays handle the cold better… coats are thicker…”

“…
hard to find a good farrier…”

In
time, the marshal smiled and stood, and slipped away. Shortly thereafter, so
did Alucius and Feran. Neither spoke until they were outside the door to
Alucius’s quarters and Alucius had opened the door.

“What
was all that about?” asked Feran quietly, stepping into Alucius’s quarters and
closing the door. “The marshal as much as ordered us not to talk about why we’re
here.”

“I
don’t know,” Alucius admitted. “But I didn’t want to say why we’re here, not if
the marshal and the captain-colonel didn’t want to talk about it.”

“I
can see that. Why didn’t he?”

“Something’s
wrong here, and…” Alucius had almost said that he felt Majer Fedosyr was the
problem, but he didn’t know that. “… I don’t think anyone wants to face it. It
could be that they resent my coming in here, that it’s somehow a glove across
the face.”

“It
wouldn’t have to be,” Feran said, “but it hasn’t been handled right.”

“Or
someone doesn’t want it handled right,” Alucius suggested.

“There’s
a lot of that,” Feran pointed out.

“There
always has been. We saw that in the militia, even when Clyon was colonel.
People want things the way they want them, not the way that would be best.”
Alucius shook his head and laughed softly and ironically. “That doesn’t even
count the problem of knowing what is best.”

“You’re
right about that.”

“We
won’t get to the bottom of this tonight. I’m supposed to meet with the marshal
and the colonel in the morning. They may not have wanted to say anything until
they had a chance to meet. You’re the deputy commander of this force. I’d like
you to get both Southern Guard companies out on the maneuver field one glass
after muster. I should be there by then, but if not, just tell everyone that
those are my orders, and that I’ll be there as soon as I can be.”

“What
about Fifth Company?”

“Tell
them they can take the day off, but to get their gear in shape. The mounts need
the rest anyway. We’ll bring them into this on Septi. That’s when they’ll earn
their pay.”

“You
don’t make things easy.”

“I’d
prefer to do things more gently. It won’t work. So… what I’m suggesting will be
easier than trying to talk everyone into cooperating. I can tell that none of
the officers are in the mood to be cooperative. So… we establish that we’re in
charge, and then we go after cooperation after that.”

“I
hope it’s that simple.”

So
did Alucius.