Legacies (31 page)

While Alucius had slept better in the ordered prison barracks, the captives were rousted out early on the next morning, and spent the next two nights in waystations. Three days later found the Matrite convoy entering the town of Harmony, again in the late afternoon. Alucius was sure of the town's name because they had passed several oblong stones set beside the road, with the name and the number of vingts from the stone to the town. The town proper lay on the south side of a narrow river in the middle of a flat land so far west of the Westerhills that the hills had vanished behind the eastern horizon two days earlier. Alucius knew that they had to come to the Coast Range sooner or later, but they had been on the road for more than a week, and after close to eleven days of riding in the wagon and walking behind for what seemed at least half the time, his feet were sore and hurt more than his shoulder, which did not hurt at all at times. His obvious head injuries seemed to have healed, although he still sensed nothing—neither sanders nor sandwolves—and no soarers.

The waystations where they had stayed since the first unnamed town had not had washing facilities, and the bunks had been pallets, but they had been under roof, if chilly roofs. The captives had not been rechained, but the wrist guards with links had not been stricken off, either.

“Think they'll have the fancy bunks here?” asked Lysal, a trooper not much older than Alucius, but one he had not met earlier.

“Course they will.” Jinson gave a low laugh. “They want us to arrive in good shape.”

Like the earlier towns and hamlets, the dwellings in Harmony were of well-dressed stone, with clean and shining glass windows, framed by brightly painted shutters. The midroad was flanked by curbs and stone sidewalks, and the roads and sidewalks were well swept. The air was also fresh, if chill, and spiced with the scent of baking and cooking. Unlike the other towns, there were more men about in the streets, but Alucius noted that the men were either older, graying with age, or boys and youths younger than fourteen or fifteen.

They rode by a market square, and there Alucius noted that in several cases an older man seemed to be in charge of younger children, some barely knee-high. In the middle of Harmony, the midroad intersected another of the ancient eternastone roads, one heading north-south. The convoy turned south, and, once through the town, stopped at another outpost that could have been almost a duplicate of the one where their chains had been partly struck off—even to the yard and a half high redstone walls and unguarded gate.

Barely had the wagons come to a halt in the stone-paved courtyard and the captives scrambled out of the wagon bed when a Matrite squad leader rode up to the wagon.

“You two!” The squad leader pointed to Jinson and Alucius, and then to the two captive troopers behind them, “And you two. Follow me!” He turned his mount, expecting the four to follow.

Jinson looked at Alucius. Alucius returned the glance. The four captives followed the squad leader to the northeast corner of the courtyard, where three wagons stood—the two which contained the broken sections of the crystal spear-thrower and an empty, and far larger, six wheeled wagon with heavier axles and larger wheels. The engineer stood waiting.

“The engineer needs you to move things. Do what he asks,” the Matrite squad leader ordered.

“Everything needs to go in the larger wagon,” the engineer explained. “Start by emptying the front wagon. Don't drop anything, and don't throw it. Set it down gently.”

One by one, the four took their turns with carting items from the forward wagon to the larger wagon. Alucius said nothing, just followed directions, until they began emptying the rearmost of the two smaller wagons.

Alucius took care to make sure that he had the last piece of equipment, a small silver box, which he placed most carefully in the large six-wheeled wagon. Then, he studied the mass of broken equipment, and moved several pieces, so that they would not fall or be further broken if the wagon went over curbs or rough ground.

“As soon as you're through, form up!” ordered the Matrite squad leader.

Alucius moved another piece of equipment, then looked up to see the engineer watching. “I just wanted to make sure nothing broke anymore.”

“I appreciate that,” Hyalas said grudgingly.

Alucius did his best to project childlike, innocent curiosity. “Engineer, sir, how did it…all end up like this…with so many men with…these collars…here in Madrien?”

“Don't ask silly questions.” Hyalas gestured to the torque around his own neck. “You know what would happen.”

“Why do they…the women collar…even respected men like you?”

“Think that they should rule? Why not? They've taken the first words of the prophecy.”

Alucius looked as blank as he felt. “Prophecy?”

“
The Legacy of the Duarchy—
the words go something like this…

“They believe that the ways of men betrayed them?” asked Alucius cautiously.

“The Matrial has said so. She is eternal and unaging. Would you question her?” A sardonic smile crossed the face of the engineer. “Now…you'd better get back to your group.”

“Thank you, engineer.” Alucius bowed his head in respect, then turned and hurried after the others, trying to ignore the squad leader who was riding toward him.

“Move it!” snapped the Matrite squad leader.

Alucius realized something else. The squad leader really didn't want to punish Alucius. He'd even waited and let the engineer talk to him.

In the early winter evening, just before supper, the silver-haired herder looked across the table at Lucenda. “I talked to Kustyl.”

“Alucius…is he hurt?”

“He was wounded and captured…by the Matrites.”

“But he is alive?” asked Lucenda.

“Before the Matrites took over the whole area around Soulend, some of the scouts claim they saw him in one of their wagons.” Royalt took a slow and deep breath. “Good sign that he was alive when they carted him off to wherever they take them.”

“Will they find out he…is a herder.”

“Let us hope not. That's why I didn't want him to have a herder's wristguard…and he looks young. That might help.”

“Can we ransom him back when this is over?”

Royalt did not meet her eyes. “Madrien doesn't ransom…the Matrites put funny collars on captives and train them as workers or cavalry,” he finally said.

“What can we do?”

“We keep running the stead, and hope that Alucius can find a way home, in body, and not just in spirit,” Royalt said. “And we don't tell Veryl. If she asks, we say that he was wounded, and he's recovering. That much is true.”

Lucenda nodded. “She keeps hoping…”

“So do we all, daughter. So do we all.”

Another four days of riding and marching southward on what the Matrite troopers called the east range road had brought Alucius and the other captives to the town of Arwyn, similar to Harmony, but slightly larger, with the same kind of captive barracks—and the same neat, well-dressed stone dwellings and buildings. From Arwyn they had continued southward through hills that had turned into low mountains in places, and then back to hills by early on the afternoon of the third day. Once south of the higher peaks, the air had warmed considerably, so much so that Alucius had unfastened his winter parka. The hills held leafless trees and silver-brown grass, but no snow and no evergreens.

“Oh…” someone murmured.

Seated facing the rear as he was, Alucius had to turn in the wagon to look southward. The convoy had emerged from between two hills and moved along a causeway that rose above the steep grassy slope toward an eternastone bridge that arched over the river ahead. The bridge was twice as wide as the highway, with a low stone curb in the middle of the roadway.

Beyond the river lay a city, a city larger than any Alucius had seen.

“That's Hieron,” offered one of the squad leaders riding beside the wagon. “Where you'll find out what you'll be doing for a long time.”

Alucius didn't like the idea of being in Madrien for a long time, not at all, but the squad leader moved ahead of the wagon.

Alucius looked back at the river, nearer than the city, and more than one hundred and fifty yards wide, a smooth expanse of shimmering gray-green water, framed in stone. Each bank was a stone levee that rose more than thirty yards above the water's surface. Upon the top of the levee was a broad highway, three times as wide as the old highways of the Iron Valleys, but made of the same imperishable eternastone. Gleaming silver-gray, the levee-highways stretched as far as Alucius could see, either upstream to the east-southeast or downstream to the west-northwest, and the one on the south side of the river formed the northern boundary of Hieron.

Alucius could tell that the Matrites had not built the bridge nor the levees; the sense of age and the resemblance to the ancient high roads were far too great. As the wagon rolled across the wide bridge, he looked downstream, taking in the straightness of the riverbank levees. He also noticed that there were no wagons and no riders heading downstream on those wide highways, although he could see riders and wagons heading upstream, as well as seven or eight wagons rolling northward across the bridge on the pavement on the other side of the stone center curb.

The high road which they had been traveling continued southward beyond the southern bank of the river, a raised causeway which effectively split Hieron in two. Alucius turned back around to look westward. On a hill to the west of the highway-causeway, just above and beyond the neat streets and stone-dressed dwellings, was a wide and low hill that appeared to be a spacious private retreat, a structure that hugged the line of the hill, no more than two or three stories in height, with low stone walls and trees and fountains.

Once on the south side of the river, which had to be the River Vedra, from what Alucius recalled of his geography, the riders and wagons turned eastward on the levee-highway. Alucius looked beyond the levee to his right, taking in what he could of the city of Hieron, stretching for at least a vingt east and west along the southern bank of the river. Beside the levee, the houses were smaller, but still well turned out, with the same painted shutters he had seen elsewhere in the towns of Madrien, and with people moving in all the streets, most on foot, but some mounted, and a few in small carriages drawn by a single horse.

On the wide river were barges using the current, and guided by huge wooden sweeps, sailing craft, using the wind to move upstream, and a handful of boats powered by oars. Alucius was too far from the smaller craft to tell whether the rowers were men or women.

The river had cut a wide swath through the Coast Range, and the effect was that Hieron sat on the west side of the low mountains, the same range along whose east side the east range road had been built ages before. To the southeast of the city, the mountains climbed once more. In a way, it made sense to Alucius, because Hieron was a pivot point of both geography and trade.

Hieron had wide parkways, with silvered grass and green shrubbery in their centers, and open greens or squares in any direction where Alucius looked. He had to admit to himself that Iron Stem looked small and poor, and even mean, by comparison. He could sense that others shared at least some of his feelings, and those captives in the wagon were even more silent than usual, without even murmurs or whispers.

Even with the wide spaces, Alucius already felt closed in—confined—and he knew it would get worse. It had to. At that moment, he felt more like a herder than he had in weeks, and he missed the open spaces and endless silver-green skies.

The column traveled close to half a glass before turning southward on a slightly declining ramp from the levee-highway. Alucius could see that the ramp was not of eternastone and bore traces of wear.

Less than two vingts southward on the road paved with something like limestone, which was also showing traces of wheel grooves, the column turned into another compound—similar to those in Harmony and Arwyn, but larger, with walls almost half a vingt in each direction, and more impressive. The stone walls were three yards high, enough to deter an easy escape, but certainly not so formidable as the levee-walls bordering the river. Unlike the river levees, the walls around the fortress, if that were indeed what it happened to be, were of smoothed redstone.

“Out of the wagons and in through the square arch! In through the square arch!” came the order, repeated by all the Matrite troopers.

Inside the arch was a large stone-walled room, larger than the inside mustering area had been in the barracks at Soulend, although there were only a few more than twenty captives. Once all the captives were in the room, a blonde woman Matrite officer with an insignia Alucius had not seen—a gold four pointed star with an arc over the top three points—stepped up onto a stone block that resembled a mounting block. She surveyed the captives slowly, before speaking in accented Lanachronan.

“You are captives of war. Unlike most lands, we provide you a second chance. For some of you that chance will be better than for others, depending on your skills. We welcome artisans and those skilled in engineering. We also seek skilled troopers. Those of you who lack those skills will become public laborers, building and rebuilding Hieron, or perhaps gardeners. Those of you who cannot accept such occupations will eventually die.”

Alucius watched and listened intently. Although he wasn't certain, because Lanachronan was not her first language, and because he still had no Talent-senses, the officer seemed to be telling what she believed to be the truth, and that was as disconcerting to him as the size and scope of the city itself.

There was a long silence before she continued. “Someone, perhaps several people, will talk to you. You may be tested in various ways to determine your skills. You will be broken into groups of five. I wish you well.” She paused again. “I remind you that disobedience is punished.” Then she stepped down, and five junior squad leaders moved forward, breaking the captives into four groups of five and a group of three.

The group of five to which Alucius was assigned consisted all of younger men close to his own age, although Alucius was the youngest and the tallest, and the only one he knew on more than a name basis was Lysal. Because the room was far warmer than outside, Alucius had taken off his winter parka and cap, and folded the parka across his arm. So had all the others except Lysal.

“Follow me,” ordered the stern-faced and clean-shaven Matrite squad leader.

Given the situation, Alucius followed. So did the others. The Matrite walked through an archway in the middle of the southern wall, and down a corridor a good five yards wide. Both the floor and the walls were of polished redstone. They walked a good thirty yards until the squad leader halted before a closed door.

“You will be interviewed. Do not attempt to lie. You will be found out.” The Matrite pointed to Lysal. “Inside the door.”

It was a simple five panel door, of dark oak, and oiled, with a brass door lever. Lysal opened it gingerly.

“Come in. Don't waste time,” offered the firm, but not cutting, voice of a woman.

Alucius watched as the door shut.

“Wonder what—” began someone.

“No talking.”

Alucius was third.

“Your name?” asked the gray-haired and square-jawed officer who sat behind a wooden table with a stack of papers on one side and a smaller stack on the other.

“Alucius.”

“Sit down.”

As he sat on the armless stool, the woman riffled through the papers, picked up one, and read it. She smiled, a friendly smile, but Alucius could see the calculation behind the expression. He also had the feeling that she was one of those officers with Talent…a feeling that was reinforced by the slightest sense of darkness around her. Was he beginning to regain his abilities, or learn to use them beyond the confines of the torque around his neck? Would he ever recover his previous Talent-abilities? Abruptly, he realized that the grayness he had sensed in the Matrite troopers—before he had been injured—had to have come from the collars, and perhaps the collar he wore also had affected his abilities. It was something he had not considered, and he silently reproached himself for his slowness.

“You wear expensive undergarments, Alucius of Iron Valleys. The nightsilk is not usual for a common trooper. You are perhaps a herder?”

Alucius wondered how she knew about his undergarments. Had they taken notes on all the captives? Someone had rolled back his sleeves and opened his parka when he had still been unconscious after he had been captured. “No, honored one—” Alucius inclined his head and, following the example of the male Matrite troopers, did not look directly at her.

“Overcaptain,” the woman corrected.

“No, overcaptain. My father died many years ago, and my grandsire is a herder. When I was conscripted, he gave me the undergarments in hopes that they might help protect me.”

The overcaptain laughed. “Against blade, perhaps, but not against a collar—or against a rifle. If you are accepted to be trained as a horse trooper, you may keep them. It would be a waste to try to retailor them, and we would like you to be a long-lived trooper. So would you.” She frowned. “Do you have skills as an artisan, an engineer?”

“I don't believe so.” Alucius managed to keep his face regretful. If he admitted to skills with machines, it would come out that he was a herder in all but name, and he had a feeling that was not good. He tried to project both worry and truthfulness, but not strongly.

“You don't believe so?”

“Honored overcaptain, I don't know what skills you mean. I can do some leatherwork, and know how to tan. I've made leather vests, and belts, but they were not of good quality. I worked at carding wool before I became a trooper, but I never really learned spinning…” All that he said was certainly true.

“Then who would inherit your grandsire's stead?”

“My mother was of the opinion it should be sold to buy my way out of conscription, but that would have left my grandparents without a way to live.”

“I don't believe you answered the question, Alucius.”

“I don't have an answer, honored overcaptain. I was not a herder. My mother and grandsire were looking for a suitable wife—”

“How would that help?”

At least Alucius had an answer for that. “Herders do not have to be men. The stead was held by my grandsire's mother, and her mother before her.”

The overcaptain laughed. “Apparently, the Iron Valleys do have a few redeeming traits.” She looked down at the sheet. “Does your head still hurt?”

“Only at times, overcaptain. Less so every day.”

“Do you still have any bruises?”

“My shoulder was sore from where I fell—”

“A mounted trooper, and you fell?”

“I was struck in the back of the head, overcaptain. I could not see properly for days. I believe I fell. My shoulder was most sore when I finally woke.”

“You speak well. How many years of schooling have you had?”

“I lived on the stead. I was sent lessons from the school in Iron Stem from the time I was seven or eight until I was sixteen.”

The officer thrust a sheet of paper and a flat board at him. “I'll hand you a grease stick. I want you to write what I say.”

Alucius took the paper, the board, and the grease stick.

“The best weapon is a prepared mind, and the greatest error is relying merely upon the strength of weapons and the thickness of fortifications…”

Alucius wrote as quickly as he could, and as well, but he was a good sentence behind when the woman stopped.

“Let me see.”

He handed back the sheet, and the board and writing implement.

“Your penmanship is adequate, your spelling good, and your memory clear.” She nodded. “You may go.”

“Yes, overcaptain.” Alucius inclined his head before standing, and bowing again.

Alucius waited outside with the others. Lysal glanced at him and raised his eyebrows. Alucius shrugged. He still wasn't certain about the interview, but he had the sense that the officer had at least a small amount of Talent, if not more, and had been using it. He could only hope he had deceived her.

The last man was a Reillie that Alucius had not met or talked to, and when he returned, he handed sheets of paper—five or six—to the squad leader.

“Let's go.” The squad leader turned, and continued down the corridor until they reached the first intersecting hallway, where they turned and stopped at the third door.

The squad leader looked at the sheet, then spoke. “Ondomin, you go in here.”