Alector's Choice (15 page)

Men in green,
carrying Cadmian rifles, appeared at the top of the walls and began to fire at
the troopers. Only a handful flattened themselves against the stone, most
remaining standing.

Within moment, most
of them were down, one way or another.

Rachyla shook her
head, as if trying to clear her senses, and started to scramble away. Mykel
grabbed her arm and dragged her back down the steps toward the first squad.
“Hendyl! Tie her up, and don’t let her get away.”

After thrusting
Rachyla at the ranker, Mykel scrambled back into the saddle, but by the time he
was mounted, the attackers had vanished. “First squad! Hold position. Take out
anyone who fires! Second and third squads, follow me!”

Mykel turned the
chestnut and headed back out through the entry, two squads following him. As he
had thought, some of the seltyr’s men were fleeing toward an orchard. “Rifles
away. Sabres out!”

Mykel was adequate
with a sabre. Riding down men who ran from him, he didn’t have to be better
than that.

When the two squads
re-formed just short of the orchard a quarter glass later, only a handful of
those who had fled had escaped. Another half score had been wounded or
captured.

“Back to the villa.
Get the prisoners moving.”

Another quarter glass
had passed by the time Mykel and the two squads and the prisoners were back
inside the walls. Only half of first squad remained in the courtyard, with the
mounts of the other half score. The bodies of two troopers had been strapped
across their saddles, and two others were having their wounds bound.

“The majer took a
half squad into the place, sir,” Hendyl reported.

Mykel nodded. “Just hold
here, rifles ready.” He raised his voice. “Second squad. Hold here for backup!
With the prisoners. Third squad, we’re headed for the stables.” The whole
situation was a mess, but he could only do what he thought best

By the time he
reached the stables, fourth and fifth squads had already re-formed, with fewer
than ten prisoners that the squads were herding back past the outbuildings to
the main house. Mykel saw a good score of bodies sprawled on the open space
around the stables.

“Sir! There were a
good two squads worth out here,” announced Bhoral. “Not any good with the
basics. They couldn’t shoot that well.”

“Cadmian rifles,
too?”

“Yes, sir. We got
those collected.”

“How about
casualties?”

“One dead, maybe
three wounded. We’ve got everything secured here, sir.”

“Good. Thank you,
Bhoral. Stand by here. I’ll take third squad back to the villa.”

“Yes, sir.”

As he turned the
chestnut back toward the villa, Mykel surveyed the road to the gates and the
surrounding areas. He saw no one moving, except for Cadmians. It had been a
mess, but it could have been worse, much worse. All the in-formation he had
been given had been about smugglers and escaped prisoners, but no one had even
hinted that the rebels—or those who had broken the Code and obtained smuggled
Cadmian rifles—were the wealthy seltyrs of Dra-mur. That worried him more than
the attack itself had.

When he returned to
the villa courtyard, Majer Vaclyn and the half of first squad he had
commandeered were returning from within the villa, ushering three servants, who
carried a dead man dressed in ornate green—the seltyr Ubarjyr, no doubt. On the
steps, her hands bound behind her, Rachyla stood, her eyes hard and cold. She
did not look in Mykel’s direction, but at the majer. Had her eyes been a rifle
or a crossbow, the majer would have been dead.

Vaclyn turned to
Mykel. “Your report, Captain.”

“We captured or
killed almost a company’s worth of retainers. We’ve lost three men—so far—and
about that many wounded. They were using Cadmian rifles. Squads four and five
are holding the stables and outbuildings.”

Vaclyn nodded
grudgingly, then said, “We need a complete search of the buildings and grounds,
Captain.” He paused but for a moment, “Just one contraband rifle, now?”

Mykel thought about
pointing out that he had never felt that there had been just one, only that he
had not seen the wisdom in taking Rachyla into custody at that point. He
decided against correcting the majer. “Quite a few, sir. Would you mind if we
used two squads to search, one to guard the prisoners, and two to make sure
that we don’t get attacked by any more of this seltyr’s retainers?”

“That sounds most
prudent, Captain. I will be accompanying you personally. I would suggest that
you observe the seltyr’s study.”

Mykel turned to
Gendsyr. “Send a scout to Bhoral at the stables. He’s to use one squad to
search the buildings for contraband and one to stand guard. Have first squad
stand guard here.”

“Scout to the senior
squad leader, yes, sir.”

The captain caught
Chyndylt’s eye. ‘Third squad will search the villa for contraband. No looting,
and no souvenirs!“

“Yes, sir.”

Mykel dismounted and
let the majer lead the way along the covered walkway from the portico to the
main entrance to the single-level villa. The roof of the walkway was supported
by columns of ivory marble, and between the columns were raised planters
containing a profusion of small purple-and-gold flowers. The walkway itself was
of plain ivory marble.

Double doors, of
solid golden oak and carved with half reliefs of vines and grapes, stood ajar
at the villa’s entrance. Just inside was an oblong foyer, only four yards deep
but a good eight from side to side. On the walls were hung tapestries with
interlocking designs of purple and gold, woven with threads that seemingly
matched the colors of the flowers bordering the walkway.

Majer Vaclyn walked
through the archway opposite the entrance and down another marble-floored
corridor, the sound of his boots muffled by the heavy green-and-gold carpet
runner that covered the middle of the corridor floor. The right side of the
corridor was composed of a waist-high half wall, with regularly spaced
structural marble pillars, that separated the corridor from the covered section
of the central courtyard. Inward from the covered area was an open area holding
five fountains, and four herb gardens, one in each corner.

“The next door is the
study,” announced the majer.

Just outside the
study, Mykel saw a body that had been pulled to the side of the corridor,
leaving a series of blood smears on the polished white marble. He bent down.
The dead woman was the one who had accompanied Rachyla. “Sir? Did Fifteenth
Company shoot this woman?”

“No… not that I saw,
Captain. She was dead when we got here.”

Vaclyn thought he was
telling the truth. So who had shot Astylara?Why?

The seltyr’s study
measured ten yards by fifteen, with bookshelves on all the walls. Less than a
quarter of the shelves held books. Most of the spaces were filled with
decorative objects—golden vases, small statues of horses, one of a pteridon
with spread wings, the bust of a beautiful woman wearing an elaborate golden
choker adorned with emeralds and diamonds.

The single desk was
of black oak, and completely bare except for an open ledger.

At one end of the
study—in a weapons rack—were three Cadmian rifles, all polished and shimmering.
Suspecting that the magazines were full, Mykel checked. They were, as was the
magazine of the rifle lying on the faf end of the heavy Indyoran carpet that
covered most of the marble-floored study. The splotches of blood on the top of
the barrel had dried.

Just beyond the
rifle, a bookcase was swung away from the wall, revealing a chamber beyond.
Several books lay on the marble floor. Two were open, pages loose from where
bullets had hit them. Blood was splattered on the floor as well.

“Seltyr Ubarjyr was
coming out of that chamber there when we came through the door. He didn’t get
his rifle up in time.”

Mykel could tell the
majer was lying. Ubarjyr had been holding the rifle, but he’d never raised it.
He would have tried to make a deal, and Vaclyn wasn’t interested in deals. He
wanted the dead body of a rebel landowner. A dead body with contraband rifles
around was much more convenient. Mykel did wonder why the majer had used a
rifle, rather than his beloved knives.

“You should look in
the chamber, Captain.”

Mykel did, although,
from Vaclyn’s tone, he knew what he would find.

Four cases of Cadmian
rifles were stacked on one side of the long and narrow room. On the other were
close to forty smaller cases of ammunition.

“Quite a bit of
ammunition here,” Mykel observed, knowing that the majer would need an
acknowledgment.

“There is, isn’t
there?” Vaclyn looked hard at Mykel. “What have you learned today, Captain?”
The majer’s voice was low and hard.

“There’s more rebel activity
here than meets the eye, and it’s not just escaped prisoners.”

“That is brilliantly
obvious.” Vaclyn snorted. “You could have lost your entire company! The only
reason that you didn’t is that these rebels hadn’t learned to use their weapons
well. There is a reason for following the Code directly. From now on, Captain,
you take anyone with any contraband into custody. I don’t care if it’s the
local justicer or the wealthiest grower in Dramur. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“One more incident
like this, and I will recommend that you stand court-martial for
insubordination and recommend your dismissal in disgrace.”

“Yes, sir.” Mykel
managed to keep his face immobile, furious as he was.

“Your talents
obviously lie more in direct action, Captain. Tomorrow, Fifteenth Company will
ride to relieve Fourteenth Company, and you will patrol the area north of the
mine, and you will capture or kill, as necessary, the escaped miners.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We will search the
rest of the villa. With a room like this, we probably won’t find any more, but
we need to look. We’ll take whatever wagons the estate has to transport
contraband back to Dramuria.”

Mykel searched the
hidden room, but found nothing more than the rifles, the ammunition, and five
locked chests, doubtless containing golds, although he did not break the locks.
By shifting them, he could hear and feel the coins move.

Then, once Majer
Vaclyn had left, he went back to the desk and looked at the open ledger,
studying the entries. He saw nothing about rifles or ammunition, but the number
of golds spent on various things, from bolts of cloth to horses and even iron
rods, was staggering. One entry alone for bolts of cotton was two hundred
golds—four times more than the cost of a factor’s great house in Faitel.

For Mykel, the
question remained—why had Ubarjyr risked everything to smuggle in so many
rifles and so much ammunition? It didn’t make sense, not with what Mykel knew.

He shook his head. He
needed to get back to overseeing his men. Although he had assigned squad
leaders whom he trusted not to loot, it would be better if he were supervising
what the men were doing.

As both the majer and
Mykel had suspected, a search of the estate buildings revealed no contraband
besides that already found in the secret chamber off the study. It did reveal a
hidden storeroom filled with recently sewn uniforms in green with gold trim and
with several score cartridge belts, along with the leather cut for several
score more.

Once Fifteenth
Company had gathered the wagons filled with rifles, ammunition, uniforms, and
cartridge belts, Majer Vaclyn had returned the estate to the care of the
steward—with severe warnings about supporting smuggling and handling contraband
weapons. Then the majer had accompanied Fifteenth Company, the prisoners—
fifteen of the men in the green uniforms and Rachyla—and the wagons for several
vingts southward. Mykel had really wanted to talk to Rachyla, but he wasn’t
about to try that with the majer around, not when Vaclyn already thought he’d
initially let her go because she was attractive.

She was, Mykel
admitted to himself, but that had not been his reasoning, not that he’d ever
convince the majer. So he kept riding, and listening to Vaclyn.

“Some of these
growers… they’ve been a law unto themselves, and they have to learn that the
Code applies to them just like everyone else… and it applies to us as well,
Captain. I don’t want you forgetting that.”

“No, sir.” Mykel
wasn’t about to forget how Vaclyn thought about that.

After another quarter
glass, the majer turned in the saddle once more, his eyes on Mykel. “Here is
where I leave you, Captain. I’ll be heading directly to Dramuria to report on ,
this to the Myrmidon colonel. I expect you to ride straight through with the
prisoners and the evidence. Be alert! Someone might try to ambush you to get
the weapons.”

“Yes, sir.” Mykel had
thought of that already. He had two lines of scouts out.

“Good day, Captain.”
With that, the majer had nodded and ridden ahead with the squad from Thirteenth
Company.

Mykel and Bhoral rode
silently until the majer and his squad were well out of sight.

“What do you make of
all this, sir?” asked the senior squad leader.

“It seems clear that
someone among the alectors had a good idea that something was about to happen
here.”

“If they knew that,
why did they send us?”

“Maybe they didn’t
know who had the guns and where they were, just that they’d been smuggled to
Dramur. Pteri-dons aren’t very effective if you don’t know where to point those
lancers. You could burn up a lot of villas and destroy a lot of estates and not
get anything.”

“So we’re doing the
grunt work, sort of moving targets to flush these rebels out?”

Mykel offered a
rueful laugh. “It’s beginning to look that way.”

“I still don’t see
why the seltyr just didn’t open up the villa and invite you and the majer in.
We couldn’t have found those hidden rooms, not without bashing holes in the
walls, and even the majer wouldn’t have done that.”

Mykel wasn’t sure
about that.

“If we came back,
ready to do that, we wouldn’t have found anything,” Bhoral concluded. “Or they
would have set up a real ambush.”

Thoughts along those
lines had occurred to Mykel. “I think I’ll see if the young woman might answer
some questions.”

“Good luck, Captain.
She looked like she’d be happy to see us all flogged and flamed.”

Mykel turned his
mount back along the road until he reached the wagons and the string of mounts
that carried the uninjured prisoners. Although Rachyla still had her hands tied
behind her, she rode more easily than did Mykel as he eased his mount around
and up beside her.

She kept her eyes
straight ahead, ignoring the captain.

“Good afternoon,
Rachyla.”

Rachyla did not look
at Mykel, nor did she answer.

“Since you’re not
responding to pleasantries, perhaps you’d like to tell me why your father
gathered all those rifles. He had to have known it was against the Code.”

Rachyla said nothing,
and she continued looking at the troopers before her and the road.

“Did you think I
could just let you go on breaking the Code? Or that the majer would allow me
to?”

She still said
nothing.

“How could you—or
he—believe you could stockpile all those Cadmian rifles without someone finding
out?”

There was no
response.

“He was building his
own army. There were uniforms and cartridge belts. How could he possibly have
thought he could get away with it?”

She turned in the
saddle and stared directly at Mykel. “You are an idiot, Captain. He was
betrayed by those he trusted, just as you will be.” Then she turned away,
looking directly ahead of her at the long and gently winding road that led back
to Dramuria.

Mykel tried another
long string of questions, but the one response was all that he got from her.
After riding beside her for more than three vingts, he finally rode back to the
head of the column, where he eased his mount up beside that of Gendsyr.

“Captain?”

“I just had a few
questions, Gendsyr, about what first squad was doing with the majer. I’ll have
to write a report on it, and I wasn’t there.” Mykel offered an embarrassed
smile.

“Wasn’t really all
that much. After you took care of the ones firing at us, he ordered half the
first squad to follow him. Didn’t take all that long before he was back, and so
were you.”

Mykel should have
realized that Gendsyr would have been left holding the courtyard. “Who went with
the majer who could tell me what happened?”

The squad leader
turned in the saddle. “Halomer! Ride up here!”

“Coming, sir.”
Halomer was an older ranker, probably older than Mykel, who rode well and
slipped his mount between those of the captain and the squad leader.

“Captain here wants
to know what you did in the villa with the majer.”

“We just followed
him. Everyone pretty much got out of the way until we got to that study. Some
servant tried to stop us, and the majer clubbed him aside and charged inside.
That was the first time there were any shots.”

“Did anyone from
first squad fire their weapons in the study?” asked Mykel.

“No, sir. The majer
went in first, and he had his rifle out.”

“So he killed the
seltyr?”

“I didn’t see that,
sir. I was behind the majer. He fired, and when we got in there, the seltyr was
down. He was dead.”

“You searched the
rest of the villa after that?”

“No, sir. The majer
looked around the study. Then we went back to the front under those pillars.
That was when you came back. We didn’t do any searching until you ordered it.”
¦ Mykel nodded. “Thank you. That’s all.”

“Yes, sir.”

As Halomer let his
mount drop back, Mykel turned to Gendsyr. “Is there anything else I missed that
I should know?”

The squad leader
frowned. “Don’t think so, sir.”

With a faint smile,
Mykel nodded. “Thank you.” He eased the chestnut forward to rejoin Bhoral in
the van.

Why had the majer
killed the seltyr? Was it because he knew that the man would somehow escape,
because of his connections and wealth? Vaclyn had certainly seen enough to be
that cynical, and he was zealous enough to want to see the Code upheld, almost
at any cost. That he had certainly made clear to Mykel.

Ubarjyr had been
betrayed by those he had trusted. That Rachyla had believed. But how could
anyone trust smugglers or whoever dealt in contraband weapons?

Had the Cadmians in
Dramuria been involved? Was that why Majer Herryf had been unable to supply any
detailed information? That was certainly a possibility. But he had no proof,
although that sort of conspiracy would certainly explain many of the strange
aspects of the Third Battalion’s deployment to Dramur, including why Majer
Vaclyn had made sure that the seltyr had been killed.

All Mykel could do
was keep his eyes and ears open— and try not to trust anyone. He shifted his
weight in the saddle and took a deep breath.