Scepters (8 page)

Alucius
had a feeling he wouldn’t like what was coming.

“…
just before he had the place ready, it caught fire. He died in the blaze.
Kustyl started asking around, quietlike. Been five fires like that in the past
year and a half.”

“Sounds
like the traders are getting organized and finding ways to kill people who get
in their way,” Alucius admitted. “But they’ve always put golds ahead of people’s
lives. That’s what got us under Lanachronan rule.”

Royalt
shook his head. “It’s not the same. They tried to run Dekhron the way they wanted,
and sometimes they wasted golds doing it. They’re not doing foolish things
anymore, and there’s another thing. They’ve started a cooperative wagon run to
Borlan and down the high road to Krost. Maybe farther. Sharing the cost. They’re
bringing back Vyan Hills wines cheaper, and they’re running them out to Dereka
once a season.”

“If
they’d been that smart five years ago—” began Lucenda.

“It
wouldn’t have worked with the tariffs between the Iron Valleys and Lanachrona,”
Wendra said. “Father looked into it, because he heard the cost of barrels was
so high in Borlan and Salaan. The tariffs cost more than the barrels.”

“Kustyl
told me one more thing,” Royalt said slowly. “Several of the old-line
traders—they’ve died in the past year. Three or them. Died in their sleep.
Kustyl said it didn’t feel right.”

When
a herder said
something didn’t
feel right, he was
almost always correct, Alucius knew, and Kustyl, old as he was, was certainly a
herder who was no one’s fool.

“Is
someone trying to take over the old traders’ council?” asked Lucenda.

“He
doesn’t know,” Royalt admitted. “He just says the whole city feels strange.”

Alucius’s
stomach tightened, but he didn’t comment. All too many things were feeling
strange around the Iron Valleys.

Royalt
finished a large mouthful of stew before glancing at Alucius. “Lucenda said you
two took the flock well east. No more creatures?”

“We
didn’t see or feel anything. Not a hint of anything. Haven’t in more than a
week. We told you that.”

“You
did… but we’ve never seen any Talent-creatures here, except soarers and
sanders.” Royalt frowned, then asked, “How are the shoots there?”

“They’re
good. Didn’t see any sanders or sandwolves,” Alucius replied. “We probably
ought to take them there more in the next few weeks.”

“Good
idea, but we’d better have two of us with them.” Royalt nodded. “Feel like it’s
going to be another dry winter. Been too many lately.”

“How’s
the ramlet?” Alucius asked his mother.

“He’s
doing fine—for a lamb born six months too late to a mother who’s got no milk. I’d
appreciate it if you’d crush some more of the quartz in the morning, and if you
could get it really fine. He can tell the difference.”

“I’ll
take care of it,” Alucius offered.

“I’ll
feed him in the morning,” Wendra promised. “You both wanted to get to town
early, didn’t you?”

“That
would help,” Lucenda admitted. “The rest of the barrels are supposed to be
ready, and that way Royalt and I could get one of them filled with flour at the
mill…”

Alucius
relaxed more as the conversation drifted back to the night-sheep and the stead.

Less
than a glass later, after dishes had been done and the nightsheep and stables
checked, Alucius closed the bedchamber door and eased off the nightsilk-covered
herders’ vest, slipping it into place on the clothes rack in the corner.

Wendra
sat on the side of the bed and looked up at her husband. “You’re worried, aren’t
you?”

“I
am. The last time something started to look this bad, I ended up spending four
years in the militia and Northern Guard.”

“You
didn’t say much about it looking bad,” she pointed out. “Not tonight. Why not?”

“You
know why, dear one,” he said gently. “We have Talent-creatures and soarers
showing up. We haven’t seen them in years, and some are the kind no one has
seen before. Now… something strange is happening in Dekhron as well, a
different strangeness.”

“You
think they’re connected?”

“I
feel they are, but I don’t know why.”

“And
because you don’t… you think this will all go away?” Wendra asked, again
gently.

“No.
Things like this don’t go away. But I don’t have an answer. The last time, when
the Matrites invaded, at least we could see the problem. I wasn’t all that
smart. I was going to save the Iron Valleys and be a hero so that I’d be
respected. Well… my mother was right. I was a hero of sorts, and the more I
did, the more people wanted to kill me. Almost all of my time in the militia
and Northern Guard was away from you. I nearly got killed at least five times,
and Dysar wanted to have me executed for desertion because I didn’t commit
suicide after I was wounded and the Matrites captured me. I guess I’m worried,
too, because I feel selfish. I’d like to be a herder, a long-lived one, and
spend my life with you. I’ve lost interest in being a hero.”

“You
couldn’t have had this time with me,” she said quietly, “not if you hadn’t done
what you did. We’d all be slaves to those… ifrits…” She paused. “You think that
they might be behind this… ?”

“I…”
Alucius almost said that he didn’t know, but there was no point in that,
because Wendra’s Talent would tell her that he was lying. “… I’m worried that
they are.” He shrugged. “I still have the feeling I should do something, but…
what? Just running back to Colonel Weslyn and saying there’s a problem, and
throwing on a uniform… what good will that do? Besides, I’m not sure that
Weslyn isn’t part of the problem. He certainly wouldn’t do anything to solve
it, not if it might cost his trader friends any golds.”

“Could
you go to Dekhron with Grandpa Kustyl and look around? That might tell you
something.”

“It
might,” Alucius conceded, easing off his undertunic.

“I
could go, if you—”

“No!
You have to think…” He glanced at her midsection. “I’ll go the next time he
heads down there. I will. I promise.”

“You
don’t…” Then she laughed. “Sometimes it’s hard, isn’t it?”

“When
you don’t want to tell the truth? And you know the other person will know you’re
lying?” he asked. “Yes… it can be.”

She
rose gracefully, stepped toward Alucius, and put a hand on each cheek, almost
cradling his face. “We can’t avoid the world forever, dearest.”

“How
about… just for tonight?” Alucius bent down and kissed her.

Dekhron, Iron Valleys

The
colonel who stood behind the wide desk had broad shoulders, blond hair that was
nearly half silver, and fine wrinkles running from the corners of his eyes.
Those wrinkles were especially pronounced as he looked at the gilt commission
in his hands, one signed and sealed by the Lord-Protector of Lanachrona. After
studying the document, he cleared his throat gently and looked up at the senior
officer in the uniform of a marshal of the Southern Guard. “Sir… this is
rather… expansive.”

“Yes,
it is. The Lord-Protector is most thorough,” replied Marshal Frynkel. “He finds
that there is less confusion that way, Colonel Weslyn.”

“He
is known for such,” temporized Weslyn.

“Why
don’t you sit down?” suggested the marshal, gesturing to the colonel’s chair
and seating himself in the wooden straight-backed chair in front of the colonel’s
desk.

“Ah…
yes, sir.” The colonel laid the document on the desk before him and seated
himself.

“The
Lord-Protector thought that there should be no confusion, Colonel Weslyn. You
have reported that you have been unable to muster more lancers or foot under
the conditions set forth by the Lord-Protector, and given the parlous situation
facing all of Lanachrona, the Lord-Protector thought that an inspection tour
might be the best way to confirm your reports. In order to allay any suspicions
by those in southern Lanachrona, you understand.” The tic in Frynkel’s right
eye twitched.

“I
understand. Especially since the union has not been that longstanding. The
timing was… rather unexpected.” Weslyn added quickly, “Then, there have been
concerns in the north here, as well, about the use of the Northern Guard… and
the costs.”

“I
can see that. We all bear costs in troubled times. The commission, as written,
is one of those. In other times, it would not have been necessary, and the
Lord-Protector would have wished it otherwise, but to send a messenger, then
wait for a reply… there was not time, not when we expect a winter offensive by
the Regent. That was another reason for the powers delegated to me. The
Lord-Protector did not wish to have me beholden to messengers if I needed
additional authority. That is why the commissions vest me fully with his authority
in all matters. All matters,” Frynkel repeated the last words.

“Might
I ask…?” began the colonel.

“You
can ask,” replied the marshal with a smile. “As I have said, I am here on an
inspection tour. I will be inspecting a number of posts, including this one,
the staging post in Wesrigg, and perhaps those in Soulend and on the midroad. I
may or may not inspect the ones farther north and west. I may or may not make
decisions on postings or use of forces, and I could make some suggestions. All
that depends on what I find.”

“I
can see that, sir.”

“I
am sure you can.”

“You
have more than an entire company with you.”

“That
is true. We would not wish to burden the Northern Guard.”

“You
are most considerate.”

“We
have tried not to inconvenience you. At least not any more than necessary.”
Frynkel smiled once more. “That being the case, I will dispense with the
formalities. To begin with, I would like to see the postings of all companies
in the Northern Guard, as well as their officers.”

“Now?”

“Now.”
Frynkel leaned back in the chair. “There are a number of matters we can discuss
while you have those records gathered.”

Alucius
turned ana stood at the railing of the porch, looking eastward, out over
Westridge and up at the Aerial Plateau, looking so close for all that it was a
good thirty vingts away. Although the shadow of twilight covered the Iron
Valleys, green-tinged light flashed from the crystal escarpments of the western
edge of the Plateau.

“It’s
beautiful,” Wendra said from beside her husband, her hand covering his where it
rested on the railing.

“Beautiful…
and sad, in a way,” reflected Alucius. “To think that there’s a city up there,
somewhere, almost deserted, and dying. There might even be more than one, but I’d
wager that all the others are completely deserted and dead.”

“You
don’t think it was just that city?”

“No.
There was too much sadness deep within the soarer, and no reason to deceive me
about that. Also, we see so few soarers, yet they’re a part of history and
everything else. Why else is there a soarer queen for leschec?”

“Leschec’s
a game. There’s also a sander king, and no one ever thought sanders were smart
enough for that.”

“Everything
else in the game has proved to be real. You’ve even seen them all.”

Wendra
tilted her head. “I haven’t seen an alector.” A faint smile played across her
lips.

Alucius
shook his head. “I’m safer when I don’t make big general statements.”

“We
all are. But you’re right. There are references to alectors in the old
histories.”

“You’ve
read those?”

“I
used to. Grandpa Kustyl has a whole shelf of them. No one else was interested.
I didn’t tell anyone but him.”

Alucius
smiled. He’d been married to Wendra for close to five years and known her for
more than three before that, and she’d never mentioned the histories. Was
marriage like that, always discovering something new? “Did those histories say
anything else about the soarers?”

“No.
They didn’t say anything about soarers or sanders. The writers mentioned the
Myrmidons, the alectors, the sandoxes, the pteridons… even Cadmians. I always
thought that was strange, especially when I was younger. I’d seen soarers and
sanders, and they weren’t in the books, and the creatures that were in the
books were ones I’d never seen.”

Alucius
squeezed her hand, gently. “Some of the books I read in the quarters’ libraries
in Madrien said that the soarers were mythical creatures, that they didn’t
exist. I wondered if that was because they never lived in the south.”

“They
must like the cold more.”

“I
don’t think they like it where it’s warm and damp.”

“There
couldn’t have been very many of them, ever, do you think?” asked Wendra.

“The
soarer told me that Corus used to be colder and drier. There were probably more
when it was. There had to have been more soarers then than there are now. I got
out of the room I was in, and I saw enough to know how empty that city was.
They wouldn’t have built a city if there weren’t enough soarers to live there.”
But had he seen enough? Or had he only seen what the soarer wanted him to see?

“Did
she ever tell you why they were dying off?”

“No…
only that they were, and that there were very few of them, and that before long
there wouldn’t be any left.”

“They
live a long time. So that might be a while.”

Abruptly
an intense green light—a line narrow as a wand—flared skyward from the Plateau,
its width constant, and for a moment, as it lanced toward the small green disc
of Asterta, it was brighter than the setting sun had been a fraction of a glass
earlier.

“What
was that?” asked Wendra.

“I
don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“You
think… like your grandmother… herders?”