Legacies (20 page)

The entire north wall of the study was composed of shelf upon shelf of ancient tomes, with the shelves running from the floor to the four-yard-high ceiling. A small walnut book ladder rested in the corner. The Matrial and a thin red-haired woman in a purple-and-green uniform tunic sat on opposite sides of the small circular table on the west side of the study. The Matrial frowned as she set down the written report and looked up. “This says nothing.”

“Yes, Matrial. No one in Southgate will commit anything to writing.”

“They do not seem able to commit to anything involving us.”

“No, Matrial. They cannot afford to trade with us, nor to fight. So they say little.”

“They fear the traders of Dramuria that much?”

“Most of their wealth comes from acting as the midpoint between Dramur and Lanachrona. We could, as I recommended, block the high road to Tempre to traders coming out of Southgate.”

“Not now. The old Lord-Protector is failing, and his son might well use that as a way to consolidate his power. We cannot afford to fight in the north and the south at once. We must finish the conquest of the Iron Valleys first.”

“As you wish, Matrial.”

“Do any in Southgate say why they will not trade directly with us?”

“Ah…there are rumors…”

“Of what?”

“Seltyr Benjir says that his faith will not allow him commerce with a land that places collars upon its manhood.”

The Matrial's lips tightened momentarily before she spoke. “So…he can chain and whip his women, and that is acceptable. We merely collar men so that they can no longer do violence, and that is not?”

“Matrial…I can only tell you what I have been able to discover. You had requested that we attempt to procure the alyantha more directly…or to discover why we could not.”

“I did, and my anger is not at you, Sulythya. We create a land where men and women are at last equals, where unthinking muscle does not rule everything, and we can gain nothing through trade—only through force. Our golds are rejected, and where accepted, we must pay twice what the traders of any other land must…”

“Yes, Matrial.”

The Matrial stood, leaving the report on the conference table. She forced a smile. “You may go. You have done what I requested, and done it as well as possible.”

“Thank you, Matrial.” The woman bowed, and then retreated, from the private study through the foyer, and out through the guarded doors.

Only when the outer doors had closed did the Matrial turn and depart the study, crossing the main sitting room and stepping through the arches and out into the enclosed garden. Her lips were tightly pressed together.

The garden-girl bowed, then slowly backed away, not taking her eyes away from the alabaster-skinned ruler.

Ignoring the girl, the Matrial glanced at the row of bright yellow and white daisies, nodding in the slight breeze that dropped from the open silver-green sky above. Her eyes lighted upon a squat cactus, set in the drier and sunnier northeast corner. She looked at the cactus, frowning, her violet eyes seeming to darken.

Behind her, the garden-girl slipped through the small doorway into her room, quietly closing the door.

The Matrial stared at the cactus for another long moment. Then the tip of the yard-high barrel browned, then blackened. Swiftly, blackness swept down the desert plant like a growing shadow. Behind the wave of blackness, the cactus shriveled. Putrid water oozed onto the sandy soil, then vanished into the sand.

For an instant, bluish flames played over the blackened remnant of the plant. Within moments, all that remained was a circle of black on the soil.

The Matrial nodded to herself, then took a long and deep breath, alone in the enclosed garden.

In time, she turned and walked slowly back to the study.

The week of furlough flew past, or so it seemed to Alucius. He spent most of the week herding, and helping his grandsire with various projects that required two bodies, such as reinforcing the doors on the main nightsheep shed, or a great deal of time and effort, such as carting barrels of flour and dried fruit and water down into the hidden fortified room beneath the house, a room even with an equally separate and concealed ventilation system.

He did spend Novdi—half of it—visiting Wendra, and helping her, as he could, and staying close, but out of the way, when he could not. Then came Decdi, with a few more chores, and a huge dinner, and a supper not much smaller—and a few tears from his grandmother, who tried to conceal her fears that it was the last time she would see him.

All Alucius could do was give her a careful and warm embrace and tell her how he'd think of her all the time he was at Soulend.

All too soon, it was a very dark and very early Londi, and Alucius was on his way south to Sudon. Although his night vision and Talent helped, he was still glad for the smoothness of the old road south to Iron Stem. He was also glad that the air was still. He could feel the folded square of nightsilk inside his tunic, the skull-mask his mother had pressed on him before he had left that morning, and he wondered if he would be able to use it, not sure whether he worried about wearing it or not wearing it more.

The town was dark and silent when Alucius rode up to the side door of the cooper's shop nearly two glasses before dawn. As he dismounted, he hoped that Wendra would be awake, for he was earlier than he had said he would be—on reflection and on Royalt's advice about cutting his travel time too close.

He did not reach the door before it opened. Wendra held a candle-lamp that, despite the glass mantle, flickered in the light and cold wind. She wore a heavy sheepskin jacket, and her hair was pulled back. Even in the dim light and from several yards away, he could see the warm smile, and feel the relief.

“I'm sorry. I'm early, and I was afraid…”

“Come into the shop. It's chill, but not so cold as out here.” She stepped back, holding the door. “Father said you would be early. I didn't sleep. I kept waking up.”

“I didn't get much sleep either,” he confessed. “I can't stay long, but…I don't know when I'll get furlough, and I wanted to see you before I reported.”

“I'm glad you did.” Wendra eased the door shut, set the lamp on the barrel inside the door, and then lifted her lips to his, despite the chill of his face and lips.

The kiss and embrace did not last nearly long enough, not for Alucius, before he stepped back. “It's still a long ride.”

“I know.” She kissed him on the cheek, then stepped back and reclaimed the candle.

Alucius opened the shop's side door and stepped back into the cold. He untied the gray and mounted, his eyes still on Wendra, standing in the partly open side door. Finally, with a wave and a last smile, he turned the gray back toward the square and the road south.

He was nearing the outskirts of the southern side of Iron Stem when he saw a rider ahead, one wearing a cavalry winter parka.

The other rider glanced back. “Kypler?”

“No…Alucius.”

The other rider slowed his mount, and as Alucius neared, he recognized Velon.

“I waited for Kypler in the square,” Velon explained, “but I got worried. So I started out.”

“I didn't see him either,” Alucius confessed.

“When did you get up? Midnight?”

“A little after.” He didn't mention his stop along the way. “The first couple of vingts are slow. That's before you reach the main road.”

“Some of them, like Retius, were talking about reporting last night,” Velon said.

“I'd thought about it—but not for very long.”

“Did you stop at Kyrial's this morning?” asked Velon good-naturedly.

“Of course. But only for a few moments.”

“She's beautiful. I saw her last Quattri when we were bringing in some late juice for the square market. I had to pick up some half-barrels, and she had come in from somewhere.”

Alucius couldn't help but feel slightly anxious, even though he could sense that Velon was being only friendly. “She's wonderful.” He gave a rueful laugh. “It's going to be a long three years that way.”

“I can see why, but I wouldn't worry.”

Alucius hoped not.

They didn't see Kypler, or anyone else, on the main road as they continued south. Most of the snow of the previous week had vanished, and by the time they turned their mounts westward from the old stone highway, a cold white sun had lifted cleared of the horizon and shone out of a clear silver-green sky.

As they neared the gates to the camp, Velon cleared his throat. “Alucius…you know anything about second squad?”

“I've met Delar before, and my grandsire has heard he's a solid cavalry leader. That's about all.”

“But six replacements out of a twenty man squad?”

“Could be that some were promoted to squad leader, or that they've been transferred to one of the new companies.”

“Let's hope so,” suggested Velon.

Within himself, Alucius agreed.

Estepp was waiting outside the barracks at Sudon, checking off names as the new militia cavalry returned. Alucius and Velon put their gear in the chests and spaces of their old bunks. Alucius lay down and promptly went to sleep, only to be awakened in what seemed moments, by the chiming of the bell.

He and Velon hurried back to the assembly space of the barracks, just in time to see Estepp appear. “Form up, close interval. By assigned company squad!”

Alucius found himself as the guide for the other five who would be joining him in Third Company's second squad.

“As some of you already know,” Estepp said, “you won't be leaving until tomorrow at dawn. Today, after this briefing, put on work tunics and then form up in a quarter glass in the wagon yard. You'll be working with the new foot to load the supply wagons. After we load out, you'll form up here again for a briefing on what to expect at the various companies. Now fall out and get ready for work duty.”

When he reported to the wagon yard, Alucius and his squad-mates found themselves detailed to roll flour barrels from the farthest warehouse to one of the wagons, and then lift and stack them. After the flour came ten barrels of salted pork, and then three of dried apples. In time, Alucius lost track of what they stacked and lashed in the wagons.

He was exhausted when they all reformed in the barracks, possibly because he'd only had the bread and cheese he'd carried for the ride from the stead.

Estepp waited until he was certain everyone was listening.

“For those of you being assigned to Third Company at Soulend—it's the coldest station in the Iron Valleys. I wasn't joking when I suggested warm undergarments. It's likely you'll see the most action this winter. The company has seen attacks on steads somewhere in the area once or twice a week. You'll have more scouting patrols than many companies, and you could run across brigands at any time. Most of them are Reillies, and for those of you who don't know, they usually wear a black-and-yellow plaid cloak of sorts. They're good shots. That's because many of them have older Lanachronan rifles that have to be reloaded after every shot. They have to make every shot count. They also carry hand-and-a-half blades, not sabres, and they use them very well. You either need to back off so that a flanker can shoot them or move in close where your sabre can actually do some damage.

“Those of you going to the Fifth Company at Emal will also find it cold, because you're close to both the plateau and just above the river…

“Those of you going to the Eighth Company…

“Tenth Company is in the middle of nowhere…”

Alucius stiffened as Estepp finished with his briefing on Tenth Company.

“…and don't ever let yourself be captured by the Matrites if you ever want to see the Iron Valleys again. They put Talent-twisted collars on their captives, and turn them into troops fighting the Lanachronans…”

Alucius had heard something like that before, but never so clearly stated.

“Those of you going to Eleventh Company…

“You can fall out for supper. You're free to do what you want until the second glass of night. Then you'll turn in. Dismissed.”

Retius, a stocky black-haired man from east of Dekhron, turned to Alucius. “You're from up north, Alucius. Is it as cold as he says?”

“Colder, at times, even where I live, and Soulend is another hundred and thirty vingts north of our stead.”

Retius shivered.

Alucius was thinking more about eating, and then getting some sleep. The day had been all too long, and the next would be longer.

On Duadi, the bell rang at an hour before dawn, and Alucius had to struggle to get up and washed and to breakfast. Surprisingly, it was egg toast with mutton, and dried apples and hot cider—by far the best breakfast Alucius had seen in the cavalry.

While he had seen Dolesy and Ramsat from a distance, they had stayed away from Alucius, and that had been fine with him. Alucius had no illusions that Dolesy had either forgiven or forgotten, and he didn't like the idea of being even in the same company as the man. He couldn't help wondering why they hadn't been placed in different companies—especially based on what Estepp had said. But then, did Estepp control the assignments, or were they made by some officer? There was still so much Alucius didn't know.

Gurnelt had the replacement cavalry for Third Company mounted and in column before dawn. His eyes were as gray as the sky, and as cold. “We have a long ride ahead. I expect order and discipline. North of Iron Stem, we could run into raiders. If we do, you'll be expected to follow orders, either to pursue, or not to pursue—as I decide. On the open road, you can talk, quietly. No talking in ranks when we ride through any hamlet or town. Look sharp there, and no slouching in the saddles. Understand?”

The column began moving eastward out of Sudon just before dawn, and they rode eastward, into a hazy and cold day. The haze reduced the glare of riding into the rising sun, but it also meant the sun gave little warmth.

Even with the slower pace required by the heavy wagons, and a brief stop at the public pump on the south edge of Iron Stem for rations, they made the main square in Iron Stem by early afternoon. Alucius thought he saw Wendra standing on the porch of the cooper's shop, but Gurnelt took the column around the far side of the square, and Alucius couldn't be certain. He would have liked to have gotten a glimpse of her, but he hadn't counted on it. Already, he missed her green-golden eyes, her laugh—and, he had to admit, her kisses and the feel of her body as he held her.

As they rode northward out of Iron Stem, Akkar, riding beside Velon, just in front of Alucius and Kypler, pointed to the green-faced stone tower. “What's that?”

“That's the tower,” Alucius said. “It's from the old days. The low building in front of it is the Pleasure Palace.”

“Awful small for a palace,” quipped Akkar. “Wouldn't think they'd have one of those in Iron Stem.”

“Many wish that they didn't,” Kypler said dryly. “It's been here since before the Cataclysm.”

“And probably the women in it, too,” came a voice from several ranks behind Alucius, a voice that he recognized as Dolesy's.

“That kind never learns,” Kypler murmured to Alucius.

As they rode past the dustcat enclosures, Alucius wondered if Dolesy or Ramsat would say anything about scutters—or if the two even knew what they were passing.

From somewhere ahead, the singing began.

Riding and singing helped in taking Alucius's thoughts away from Dolesy—and Wendra.