Scepters (12 page)

“For
what?”

“Is
this Alucius not rather… effective? Didn’t you say once that he destroyed an
entire band of brigands, something like a hundred of them—and killed every last
man? The Lord-Protector may need that kind of effectiveness. Would he want to
saddle one of his promising Southern Guard officers with such butchery? If it
goes wrong, he can blame this Alucius without tarnishing the Southern Guard.”
Halanat lifted his mug and took the smallest of swallows.

“That
makes sense, but it’s still going to cause problems for me. He’s being promoted
to majer, and that’s over more experienced overcaptains. Compared to them, he
knows nothing.” Weslyn frowned, then pulled at his chin. “That will make him
one of the handful of senior officers in the Guard, and he’s less than thirty
years old. He’s probably closer to twenty-five.”

“If
he is that inexperienced, then dealing with a revolt in Hyalt will prove most
difficult for him. If he is disgraced or does poorly, that will not reflect
badly upon you.”

“And
if he is lucky enough to do well?”

“Then
you take the credit for originally recognizing his abilities and for
recommending him to the Lord-Protector. You point out, most politely, that it was
his choice to leave the Guard and not yours. If he chooses to remain active in
the Northern Guard, you put him in charge of the companies fighting in northern
Madrien. He was not so successful against the Matrial, you said, when he first
fought her lancers.”

“He
was a scout. I cannot gainsay that he is an extremely good battlefield
commander.” Weslyn shook his head. “You have said that his family is good at
business. What if he ends up here at headquarters? If he sees the accounts…”

“Then
keep him in the battlefield and away from Dekhron. His luck cannot last there
forever, and, if it does, in another ten years, he can become Imealt’s deputy,
and Imealt will have to deal with the overcaptain.”

“Majer,”
Weslyn corrected. “Like it or not, he’s now a majer.”

“That
is, if he survives,” Halanat replied. “Rebellions are most chancy affairs. One
never knows from what direction come the arrows and slings—or shots.”

“Most
chancy.” Weslyn nodded. “At least, after he heads south, he will not be my
problem, and the Southern Guard will make the payroll for him and for Fifth
Company while they are south of the River Vedra. At least, that will help.” He
paused. “The real loss is Overcaptain Feran. Good solid officer…”

Late
on Decdi afternoon, Royalt met Alucius when the younger herder was leaving the
nightsheep shed after having brought the flock in and settled them for the
night.

Alucius
nodded to his grandsire. “You look worried. Is everything all right?”

“Things
around here are fine. Been thinking. You’ll be leaving in the morning, and I
wanted to talk a few things over with you before that.” Royalt paused. “You don’t
mind, do you?”

“You’ve
seen more than I have,” Alucius replied. “I can use any thoughts you have.” He
slid the last bolt into place, then turned to walk toward the stead house. “And
you usually have a few.”

Royalt
fell in beside him. “They’re sending you to put down a revolt. That’s what this
marshal said, and he came all the way from Tempre to ask you? That seem strange
to you?”

Alucius
laughed. “You know it’s strange. I know it’s strange. I just don’t think I
could refuse.”

“That’s
right.” Royalt paused, then asked, “You ever think about why people get up in
arms, especially when the ruler’s not that bad?”

“Well…
either the local authorities haven’t done well or there’s something that they
don’t understand… or it’s not local at all, and someone’s stirring up trouble.”

“Could
be all three,” suggested Royalt. “Before you start shooting these so-called
rebels, you need to find out what started the trouble first… You know, one of
the things that caused all the trouble back with the Reillies… maybe even was
what led to your Da’s death… that was that the Council and Colonel Dyalar never
asked what had gotten the Reillies all riled up. Dyalar didn’t even ask, just
sent out a bunch of companies and started shooting. That’s one way to shut down
a revolt—just kill every last one. Problem is that if you miss anyone, then
they’re going to come back and try to kill you and your side. Just keeps going.
Sometimes, with some folk, there’s no other way. But… doesn’t hurt to see if
there’s another way. Lord-Protector doesn’t much care, I’d guess, how you
handle it, so long as everyone gets their property and stuff back and the
troublemakers are taken care of.”

“Probably
not,” Alucius agreed.

“Thing
is… they wouldn’t be calling you in if it were all that easy. Means they think
some folks are going to get killed. Could be that’s what they want.”

“I
think the Lord-Protector is looking for a way to get peace for a long time, and
he doesn’t know where else to turn. That doesn’t mean the Southern Guard thinks
the way he does. I’d wager that they just don’t want to have to take lancers
from anywhere else, and they don’t want the blame laid on them.”

“Glad
to see you understand that.” Royalt barked a short laugh. “You solve this
without a lot of bodies, and everyone’s going to say that anyone could have
done what you did. You kill a lot of folk, and the Southern Guard’ll come back
in and tell everyone you didn’t have to do that, and everyone will behave for a
while just so they don’t bring you back. And the Lord-Protector will thank you
and send you back here. You’ll be known as the Butcher of Hyalt for so long as
you live, and so long as you’re alive, no one’s going to do much in Hyalt to
upset the Lord-Protector. So you’ll have all sorts coming up here to do you in.”

“You
don’t make it sound easy.”

“I’m
probably not telling you anything you don’t already know, but someone has to
tell you, just in case you hadn’t thought about it.”

“Some
of it, I had thought about. Hadn’t thought about people trying to kill me long
after it was all over.”

“Alucius…
nothing is ever all over. Nothing,” Royalt repeated firmly.

Those
words—”nothing is ever all over”—echoed in his thoughts as he continued to walk
toward the stead house, listening to his grandsire.

On
Londi morning, well before dawn, after Alucius had turned in the wide bed and
wrapped his arms around Wendra one last time, he slowly swung into a sitting
position. He looked back at her, taking in her face and the warmth within her.
He swallowed, thinking of what lay ahead of him.

She
slid into a sitting position beside him, leaning against his shoulder for a
time, and Alucius rested his head against hers.

Finally,
he turned and kissed her once more. “I’d better get ready.”

She
smiled. “You said that earlier.”

“I
know. But it’s later now.” Alucius stood and made his way out of the bedroom to
the washroom across the hall. The water was cold, but not so frigid as it would
become as fall followed harvest, and especially when the cold winter of the
north descended upon the stead. After he washed and shaved, he returned to the
bedroom, where he donned the nightsilk undergarments, then the blue-trimmed
black uniform of a Northern Guard officer—with the silver insignia of an
overcaptain, since he had none for a majer.

Wendra
had already dressed and made her way to the kitchen, where she and Lucenda had
breakfast waiting for him.

“Riders
a ways out on the lane,” announced Royalt, entering the kitchen. “You’re
getting an escort this time.”

“They
want to make sure he doesn’t change his mind,” said Lucenda, her voice hard. “Not
that he will.”

“Now…
Lucenda,” offered Royalt. “Not as though he’s got any choice. We don’t either,
not these days.”

“I
know that. I don’t have to like it.” She turned to Alucius, her voice
softening. “You’d better eat. You’ve got a long ride.”

“Longer
than I’d like,” he admitted, seating himself at the end of the table with his
back to the archway into the main room.

Wendra
nodded, sitting down to his right.

Alucius
ate the egg toast and ham quietly and quickly, glancing occasionally at Wendra,
who ate almost mechanically.

“Pretty
clear that they want to get you south quicklike,” observed Royalt after a
mouthful of his ham. “Lord-Protector must have his hands full and then some.”

“He
should have kept them off us,” replied Lucenda tartly.

“Sad
as that is,” countered Royalt, “we’re better off under him than we were with
the last Council.”

“Self-centered
gold-grubbers, and those were the best of the lot.”

“We
herders knew that years ago. Just that no one listened to us.” Royalt took a
swallow of the cider. “Always that way. Greed usually drowns common sense.”

“Can’t
swim the rivers of trouble wearing gold armor,” added Lucenda.

Alucius
and Wendra traded knowing glances. Royalt winked in their direction when
Lucenda turned back to the hot stove.

When
he had finished eating, Alucius stood and walked to the window. “They’re about
here. Better get my gear.”

He
turned and headed toward the rear of the house, and Wendra followed. In the
comparative privacy of their bedroom, he embraced Wendra one more time, with
another lingering kiss.

“You
be careful,” he whispered. “You and Alendra.”

“Shhh…”

Alucius
understood the age-old taboo against using the name of an unborn child, but he
had to voice her name at least once before he left. “Both of you take care.”

“You,
too.”

Reluctantly,
he released her and lifted the saddlebags that held a night-silk vest and his
cold weather riding jacket, as well as his other uniforms and gear—and the
nightsilk skull mask that had proved useful in the past.

Lucenda
had vanished from the kitchen when Alucius walked back through with Wendra, but
Alucius had half expected that, knowing his mother had trouble with his
leaving. She always had, from his first conscription.

Royalt
nodded to his grandson. “Just remember to think it through.”

“I’ll
try.” Alucius gave his grandsire a smile, and with both rifles in hand and
Wendra by his side, he walked out of the house and down toward the stable. The
lead riders of the Southern Guard were less than a hundred yards from the stead
when the two herders entered the stable.

Alucius
saddled the gray quickly but methodically, strapped his gear behind the saddle,
and set the rifles in the double holsters. Then he turned. Even as he put his
arms around Wendra, hers were around him.

“I
love you,” he whispered. “Take care of both of you.”

“I
love you, too. We want you back.”

In
time, too short a time, Alucius led his mount out into the cloudy morning.
Wendra remained by the stable door.

What
looked to be two squads of mounted Southern Guards stood in formation behind
two officers—Captain Geragt and Marshal Frynkel.

Frynkel
rode forward and reined up short of Alucius. “I thought you might have trouble
getting these.” The marshal leaned forward and extended his hand.

“Thank
you.” Alucius took the majer’s insignia, slipping them into a pocket for a
moment while he removed those of an overcaptain, then replaced the old insignia
with the new. Then he swung up into the saddle. “If your men would like to
water your mounts…”

“Ah…
I had them take that liberty. I trusted that you wouldn’t mind.” Frynkel’s
voice was apologetic.

“That’s
fine.” Alucius nodded. “Then we’re ready.”

Frynkel
nodded to Geragt, then eased his mount up beside Alucius’s gray.

“Eighth
company!” ordered the captain. “Forward!”

Alucius
kept his eyes on Wendra until he was past the stable and could no longer see
her without contorting himself in the saddle.

Once
they were on the lane, headed out to the main road, Frynkel looked at Alucius
and at the double rifle holder, as well as the pair of heavy rifles resting
there. His eyes moved to the pack set behind the gray’s saddle. “There wouldn’t
be an ammunition belt in there, by any chance?”

“There
just might be, sir.” Alucius smiled.

“Fifth
Company, Northern Guard, was supposed to have reached Dekhron last night.
Overcaptain Feran conveys his regards.” Frynkel chuckled. “He also said that he
hoped that this campaign would be less adventurous than the last time he served
under you.”

“We
can hope that we don’t run into pteridons and skylances,” Alucius said. “But I’d
like your thoughts on this revolt. From what I’ve seen, the Lord-Protector is a
good ruler. So why are people up in arms against him?”

“We
don’t know. Not for certain. They’re rebels who were living in the hills to the
southwest of Hyalt. They showed up with weapons and mounts on a Decdi morning
at dawn, attacked the two squads of Southern Guards left there, and slaughtered
them to the last man. Some of the wealthier merchants and crafters managed to
escape. They reported that the insurgents, or the invaders, numbered more than
three hundred armed men. They’re mostly followers of a cult that believes in
the return of the True Duarchy, whatever that might mean.”

“A
new duarchy under their guidance,” suggested Alucius.

“That
well might be.”

“Wasn’t
there a post, a fortified one, at Hyalt?” Alucius recalled having breakfast,
years before, with an overcaptain stationed there. The man had seemed a good
sort, and Talent usually allowed a good judgment of character.

“There
was never a hint of trouble. The gates have been open there for years. They
were open that morning.” Frynkel shrugged.

Royalt
had definitely been right, Alucius reflected. “And what sort of support will I
get from the Southern Guard?”