Alector's Choice (24 page)

Over the days since
he had received his latest instructions from Marshal Shastylt, Dainyl had flown
twice to the peak of the ancients, after sensing something, but the soarer and
her creatures had vanished long before he arrived. Could she sense him as well
as he could her? Most probably. He wanted to learn more, but since he had not,
he started the weekly report the marshal had hinted would be appropriate,
including a few words stating that he had discovered a tunnel of the ancients
venerated by at least some of the indigens near where he had been shot.

He had received no
reports from either majer since Va-clyn had briefed him on Fifteenth Company’s
elimination—or massacre—of the rebels in Jyoha. By occasionally talking with
Benjyr or Meryst, he had discovered that while attacks on the mine road had
decreased, other attacks had not, and mine production continued to decline. His
patience with the majers and the situation was more than wearing thin.

On Tridi morning, as
he was leaving the officers’ mess after his early breakfast, he saw Majer
Vaclyn and Majer Herryf headed toward him. He had no doubts that something had
gone wrong, but he stopped and waited, smiling patiently.

“If we could have a
moment of your time, Colonel?” asked Vaclyn.

“I presume you would
prefer a less public place,” replied Dainyl. “If so, I would suggest Majer
Herryf’s study. There is more space there.”

“Thank you, Colonel,”
replied Vaclyn.

As he followed the
two majers back to the headquarters building, Dainyl wondered what had gone
wrong. Once they were inside Majer Herryf’s office, Dainyl faced the two. He
did not seat himself, partly to make them uncomfortable and partly because he
didn’t feel like cramping himself into too small a chair.

“We have a problem,
Colonel,” offered Vaclyn.

Both majers had more
than one, but Dainyl just nodded.

“One of the Cadmian
rankers from Fifteenth Company shot a cot holder out on the north road. The man
wasn’t doing anything. The company captain happened to be with the squad. His
report, and it’s supported, states that his ranker just shot the man in cold
blood. The evidence seems straightforward. The situation is not. The ranker
claims that he’s being blamed and that a comrade did the shooting. He is also
one of the few rankers from Dramur…”

Dainyl listened as
Vaclyn described the situation and concluded,“… if I hold a court-martial and
find him innocent, the locals will find it unacceptable. If I find him guilty,
after all the snipings and insults, the battalion will think that matters will
just get worse, and they’ll be tempted to shoot at anything that looks
dangerous. If Majer Herryf holds the court-martial, much the same thing will
happen, except worse.”

Dainyl could see both
sides of the problem.

Vaclyn handed Dainyl
a thick envelope. “In there is our request that you act as justicer in this
matter. The captain’s full report is also enclosed. As an observer and a
representative of the Duarches, you will be seen as impartial in a way that
neither of us would be.”

Much as he disliked
the situation, Dainyl had to admire the manner in which the two had acted. By
presenting the matter to him, they could portray themselves as acting in the
highest and best manner, while avoiding the worst of the repercussions. Dainyl
had the duty to represent the Duarches as impartial and just. If he turned his
back on the matter, he would only convey that the Duarches did not care about
justice or about the Cadmians’ discipline.

Dainyl laughed.

The two majers
managed to maintain their facades, but Dainyl could sense the worry. He waited
a moment before speaking, letting the silence draw out.

“You have both
managed to avoid dealing with this, and you have created a situation where it
is in the best interests of the Duarches for me to act as justicer.” He smiled
again. “You have both been most clever, and I will serve as justicer in a
court-martial, but… the local Dramurian justicer will sit close at hand so that
I may consult with him about local matters.” He could sense the relief of both
majers.

“The court-martial
will begin the day after tomorrow,” Dainyl added. ‘This is not a matter that
should be delayed. I will need a list of all who witnessed the event,
especially the captain and the squad leader. The relatives of the dead man
should also be informed. They will be present at the court-martial.“ He turned
to Herryf. ”You will arrange for the local justicer to be here. You will not
tell him why, except that I desire his presence.“

“Yes, sir.”

After he left the two
majers, Dainyl walked back to his quarters, pondering. He could not imagine how
the two majers had put aside their differences, but perhaps necessity and
ambition did occasionally surmount personal feelings.

On Quinti morning,
Dainyl was in the small hall being used for the trial well before the eighth
glass of the morning. He had a folder containing his notes, some questions, the
request from Majer Vaclyn, and the report from Captain Mykel.

Cadmian troopers were
lining up benches. One table and two chairs had been set on a dais, and a
narrower table with three chairs placed to the left of the dais. One of the
chairs pn the dais actually had been made to seat alectors. As he glanced
around the hall, Dainyl was surprised to find Stur-wart there, at one side of
the hall, talking to a darker-skinned man with iron gray hair. Behind them were
four locals—a gray-haired woman, a younger blonde woman, and two men slightly
past youth. They had to be relatives of the slain cot holder.

Sturwart turned.
“Colonel! I’d like you to meet Justicer Alveryt.”

Dainyl crossed the
hall, then stopped a yard or so from the pair.

“You had asked for me
to be present, sir,” said the older man.

“I’m pleased to see
you. As you may have heard, it is a court-martial for murder.”

“Serious as that is,
an alector and a senior Myrmidon officer does not require a mere local justicer.”
Alveryt smiled politely.

“Need is not the same
as wisdom,” Dainyl replied, smiling and projecting a sense of friendliness. “As
a justicer, you can explain to others why matters were the way they were. Also,
I have some questions about the trooper accused of the murder, and I may need
you to interrogate him in matters about which I do not have any knowledge.
Finally, were I not here, it is possible that this might have come before you,
and I thought you should be here.”

Alveryt bowed. “You
are most considerate.” He smiled. “It also serves your purposes.”

“Of course,” Dainyl
admitted.

“There will be a
record of the trial?”

“I have arranged for
that.” Dainyl might have a few sections removed from what was given to the
justicer, but that would probably be unnecessary.

“That will prove most
useful,” suggested Sturwart. “Many people are upset about the patrols by the
Cadmians.”

“The Cadmians are
upset that people are shooting at them.”

“Is that not just
talk? Except for Seltyr Ubarjyr, that is?”

“I have not seen the
latest numbers on casualties, but I know that there are ten or twelve dead
Cadmians and as many who have been wounded in the past few weeks.”

“That many?” Sturwart
was honestly surprised.

“I am most certain
that the numbers are higher now.” At the sound of boots on the stone, Dainyl
turned. A Cadmian captain—doubtless Captain Mykel—and a squad of Cadmians had
appeared and were taking places on the benches. A single trooper sat in the
chair for the accused, with two armed Cadmians behind and flanking him.

“If you will excuse
me,” Dainyl said politely to Sturwart.

Turning to Alveryt,
he added, “I would appreciate it if you would take the other chair at the
table.”

Alveryt laughed
softly. “I can see which chair is mine.”

Dainyl couldn’t help
but like the justicer. Dainyl’s Talent showed that Alveryt was honest and
direct, but, as Dainyl had learned many years before, that might not be enough.

As he and Alveryt
took their places at the table on the dais, three Cadmian rankers settled at
the narrow table to the left, with pens and stacks of paper, ready to record
the proceedings. Within a few moments, Majer Vaclyn appeared, followed by
Herryf. Both majers settled into the pair of chairs to the right of the dais.

Dainyl looked to
Vaclyn. “Is everyone present?”

“Yes, sir.”

Dainyl waited a
moment for the murmurs among the Cadmians to die away. “This is a Cadmian
court-martial. All procedures of justicing will be followed. Cadmian trooper
Polynt, of the third squad of the Fifteenth Company of the Third Cadmian
Battalion, has been charged with the murder of holder Casimyl of Lecorya.
Trooper Polynt, stand and step forward.”

Polynt did so, his
eyes meeting those of the colonel.

“You have been
charged with murder. How do you declare?”

“I did no murder,
sir. I declare that I am innocent.”

“The man charged has
declared his innocence. Let it be so noted.” Dainyl nodded to Polynt. “You may
be seated until called again.”

Polynt sat without
speaking.

“A moment, if you
would, Colonel?” murmured Alveryt.

Dainyl turned and
leaned toward the justicer. “Yes?”

“I did not recognize
the name of the trooper,” said Alveryt in a voice that barely carried to the
colonel, “but he is indeed from Dramur. He was a laborer in the dyeworks at
Santazl. His name then was Apolynt. He was called Pol. He murdered his uncle
and took his golds and fled Dramur. An abandoned boat was found, and everyone
thought he had drowned.”

“How did you know
him?”

“He was sent to the
mines before that for lifting coins from a potter. I heard the case.”

“Thank you. We’ll get
to that later.” Dainyl turned back toward the Cadmians. “Captain Mykel,
commanding officer, Fifteenth Company, step forward.”

The blond and lanky
lander captain stepped forward, stiffened, and offered a slight bow.

“You were with third
squad when the shooting took place, Captain?”

“Yes, sir. I was
riding at the front of the patrol.”

“Did you see the
holder before he was killed?”

“Yes, sir. He was
working on a stone wall, but he stopped as we neared. He looked at us. He
wasn’t pleased to see us, and he murmured something like, ‘Brave, brave,
Cadmians.’ I watched him for a moment, but he just stood there.”

“How did you know he
had been shot?”

“I didn’t know who
had been shot, but there were two reports from a rifle at the rear of the
squad, and I told Chyn-dylt to hold the front of the squad, and I rode toward
the rear to see what had happened…”

Dainyl watched the
captain closely, Talent-sensing as well as listening while the captain
explained his actions, and how he had determined who had fired the shots. Two
things were obvious. First, the captain was telling the truth and had acted
relatively quickly and decisively, for which Dainyl was grateful. Second, the
captain might well be a latent Talent himself, although he was clearly unaware
of that ability. In that respect, he would have to be watched, another headache
for Dainyl.

“… then Polynt said
Mergeyt had switched rifles. I checked the numbers on each rifle immediately
and had trooper Rykyt verify the numbers. When we got back to our temporary base,
I cross-checked those numbers. The ri-fle that killed the holder was the one
issued to Polynt. It was the one he was holding when I rode up.” The captain
stood waiting.

“Did you see anything
to suggest that the rifles were switched before you got there?”

“No, sir. There was
more than a yard between their mounts.”

Dainyl paused, then
asked, “In the past, did Polynt ever use his rifle on bystanders—or men who had
surrendered? Or behave more violently or less predictably than other troopers?”

“No, sir. If
anything, he was cooler and more levelheaded than many.”

“Thank you, Captain,
that will be all for now. You may be seated.”

Mykel bowed, and
returned to his seat.

Dainyl looked to the
accused. “Trooper Polynt, would you please step forward?”

Polynt rose and took
two steps forward. His eyes met Dainyl’s easily.

“Tell us what
happened on the lane when the holder was killed.”

Polynt shifted his
weight from one boot to the other, ever so slightly, but continued looking
directly at Dainyl. “It was like this, sir. We were riding patrol. We’d been
riding patrols all over Dramur. Every place we rode, people would yell at us or
say things in low voices. They’d tell us to go home, or to leave honest folk
alone. I’ve heard that before. You get used to it, but I was riding with
Mergeyt, and we were in the last rank that day. Been a long day, sir, and we’d
been shot at twice. Luck would have it, no one got hurt that day, but we’d
already lost maybe ten men in the company, and another ten or so been wounded
trying to track down the rebels and troublemakers. We saw this old fellow
working on a stone wall. He stopped working, just watched us as we rode up.
Sort of sneered, he did; then he said something to the troopers a cou-pie of
ranks up. I didn’t hear what he said, but they sort of got stiff. One of ‘em, I
think it was Sofolt, put his hand on his rifle, but he didn’t do anything. We
got close, and the old fellow looked at me and Mergeyt, and he said something
like, ’You’re such brave Cadmians. You think you’re so brave, but you’re as
useless as teats on a boar. Go on, brave, brave Cadmians.‘ Well, before I could
even think to say anything, Mergeyt took out his rifle and plugged the fellow.
Took two quick shots. That was all. I looked at him, and then he threw the
rifle at my chest. ’Course, I caught it, and quick as I couldn’t believe, he’d
grabbed mine. Then, the captain rode back, and I was sitting there in the
saddle with a hot rifle.” Polynt paused, then added. “That’s what happened,
sir.” His eyes had never left Dainyl’s.

The most frightening
thing about Polynt’s statement was his belief in his own words.

“Did trooper Mergeyt
say anything?” asked Dainyl.

“He might have, sir.
I don’t rightly recall.”

“Captain Mykel wrote
a report, which will be included as part of the record. In that report, he
noted that the rifle that you held, the one that had been fired, was your
rifle, that the maker’s numbers matched those of the rifle issued to you. If
trooper Mergeyt had used his weapon, that rifle should have borne his numbers,
not yours. How do you explain that, trooper?”

“Sir, I can’t explain
that. I just know what happened, just like I said.”

“I will have further
questions for you later, trooper. Please take your seat.”

“Yes, sir.”

‘Trooper Mergeyt.
Please step forward.“

Unlike Polynt,
Mergeyt was nervous, shaking slightly as he stepped forward. “Yes, sir?”

“Please tell me what
you saw.”

“Yes, sir. Wasn’t
like Polynt said, sir. Not exactly. I mean, well, there was the old fellow. He
was laying stone, and he said stuff, but I wasn’t paying no attention. Not
until he looked at Polynt, and he said something like, ‘Worthless pup, come
back to foul your own den?’ Hiding behind a Cadmian uniform, now. Such a brave,
brave Cadmian.‘ Polynt didn’t say nothing, just took out his rifle and shot
him. Had to turn in the saddle, sideways. After that, the captain came riding
back, and he had his rifle out, made both us give our rifles to Rykyt…”

As Mergeyt finished
talking, Dainyl managed to keep from nodding. Nervous as the trooper was, he was
telling the truth, even if he had kept looking away from Dainyl. “Thank you.
You may sit down.”

Dainyl looked at
Polynt. “Step forward.”

Polynt did. “Trooper
Mergeyt has said that the holder said that you’d come back to foul your own
den? Why would the holder have said that?”

“He didn’t say that,
sir. He just talked to Mergeyt.”

“Is there any reason
why he would have said something like that?”

“He didn’t say that,
sir.”

“Aren’t you from
Dramur, trooper?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you know the
holder?”

“No, sir.”

“Please take a seat
and remove your left boot, trooper.”

“Sir?”

“You heard me. Remove
your left boot.”

Polynt stiffened ever
so slightly, and just momentarily, before sitting down. Slowly, he removed the
left boot.

“Lift your trouser
and show us your ankle.”

Polynt did.

“Would you please
explain the number on your ankle?” Prom the corner of his eye, Dainyl saw
Sturwart’s mouth open, but the colonel kept his concentration on the trooper.

“I can’t, sir. I just
can’t.”

Dainyl could sense
both the truth and the frustration in Polynt.

“Do you see a number
there?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Has it always been
there?”

“I… don’t know, sir.”

“Do you know how it
got there?”

“No, sir.”

“You may put your
boot back on.” Dainyl turned. “I would like Justicer Alveryt to explain the tattoo
on the trooper’s ankle, and how it came to be there.”

Alveryt nodded
slightly and cleared his throat. “Until I saw the trooper this morning, I did
not realize who he was. His name is Apolynt, and he is from Santazl. He was
convicted of theft from a potter h’ere six years ago. After his term in the
mines, he was suspected of having committed a murder, but he ran into the
night. When an overturned boat was found in the gulf, several days later, he
was believed dead.”

‘Trooper Polynt, is
your name Apolynt?“

“That’s what my
father called me. I never used the name.”

“Are you from
Santazl?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Were you sentenced
to the mines?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Were you not asked
if you had been convicted of a major crime when you joined the Cadmians?”

“I don’t rightly
recall, sir.”

“Are you not aware
that concealing a crime to join the Cadmians is a flogging offense?”

“No, sir. I never
heard that.”

Once more, Dainyl
could sense the internal confusion in the trooper, a confusion that bore a
sense of Talent-manipulation.

“You may be seated.”

Polynt reseated
himself.

‘Trooper Rykyt, step
forward.“

The trooper who
stepped before the dais was older.

“Please describe what
you saw concerning the killing of the holder.”

Dainyl listened
carefully to Rykyt and the other troopers he called, but nothing any of them
said cast the slightest shadow of doubt on what Captain Mykel had reported.
After all the witnesses had been heard, slightly before noon, Dainyl let the
silence draw out for a time as he studied Polynt.