Scepters (9 page)

“The
death of a soarer?” suggested Alucius. “It could be. I don’t know why they
would commemorate it the same way we do. We want Selena in the sky, but only
Asterta is now…” He broke off his words, considering what the soarer had told
him years before.

“What
is it?”

“They
helped make us what we are. You could be right. We might be following their
example, except for the choice of moon.”

“Asterta’s
green. So are soarers,” Wendra pointed out. “Their lifethreads and radiance,
anyway.”

“I
wonder…” mused Alucius.

“Maybe
all herders are soarer’s children. You are.”

“So
are you,” he pointed out.

“Those
with Talent, then.” Wendra continued to look at the Plateau, but the single
line of green light had vanished, and the crystal parapets of the towering
Plateau were shrouded in shadow, no longer reflecting the sun.

Alucius
also watched, and the porch was silent for a time.

“I
wonder.” Alucius paused. “The soarer said that we had been brought here by the
ifrits. Did I tell you that?”

“No.
You mean people? Not us, but people a long time ago?”

“Yes.
She said that… that we were meant to be like cattle for the ifrits.”

“Where
did they bring people from?”

“She
didn’t say. She said so much that was new—I didn’t ask. I should have.”

“It
makes sense,” Wendra mused. “The ifrits feed on lifeforce, or they use it.”

“That’s
true.”

“What
I don’t understand is… well… most people have lifethreads that are brown or tan
or amber, except herders. Most herders are black shot with green. You’re green.
I’m green, but we didn’t used to be, did we?”

“No,”
he admitted. “You were black with flashes of green. I didn’t know how to look
at myself then, but I’d guess I was, too.”

“But
we’re green now. Why?”

“Because…
somehow, greater use of Talent turns the lifethread green. That’s a guess, but
it seems to be true. Herders with more Talent have more green in their
lifethreads. Maybe it shows a greater tie to all of Corus. The soarers have
been here forever… a long time, anyway, and they’re green.”

“What
about the sanders?” Wendra asked.

“I
never looked that closely, but I always thought of them as red-violet.”

“And
the ifrits are purple?”

“Both
feed on lifeforce,” mused Alucius. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.” He shook
his head once more. “Then, there are a lot of things I didn’t think of before I
met you.” He turned to face her directly, grinning.

“I’m
sure you did,” Wendra replied, blushing.

“Supper’s
ready, you two,” Lucenda’s voice carried out from the kitchen.

“We’ll
be right there,” Alucius promised, taking a last look at the Plateau, wondering
what other mysteries lay there, and what else he should have asked the soarer
when he had had the chance.

Tempre, Lanachrona

As
he settled into the chair across from the settee where his consort and wife was
seated, the Lord-Protector looked over at the infant at Alerya’s breast. He
couldn’t help but smile. “He’s happy.”

“Contented,
at least. He wasn’t so good earlier. Not nearly so good,” replied Alerya. “How
did your meetings and briefings go?”

“As
well as I could expect.” Talryn shook his head. “It’s hard to drag things out
of people when they don’t like telling you bad news.”

“You’re
most worried, are you not?”

“More
than I’d ever admit to anyone but you, dearest. Nothing seems to be going
right. We’re close to losing Southgate. The Northern Guard has been pushed back
toward Harmony. The traders have already begun to petition me about the higher
tariffs being levied by the Deforyan Council. The revolt continues in Hyalt,
and some of the believers have been agitating in Syan. The nomads in Ongelya
slaughtered a trader’s caravan. Then this business with Waleryn. He’s always
been difficult. You know how he was plotting with Enyll, and with all this
going on, I get a note from him saying that he’s on his way to Lustrea
concealed as a trader, and that I’ll be pleased to learn what he has discovered
when he returns.” Talryn snorted. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was behind
half of this and was leaving before I discovered it.”

“How
could he be?” asked Alerya.

“I
don’t know. But if it were possible, he would be.” Talryn stood and walked to
the sideboard, from which he took out a bottle and half filled a goblet. “Would
you like some?”

“If
you will water it down.” Alerya made a face.

“I
know, but too much wine…” Talryn poured the ruby wine into a second goblet,
then added the boiled and cooled water from the crystal decanter. “Here.”

“Just
set it there, beside me, dear, if you would.”

Talryn
set his wife’s wine on the end table, then, taking his own goblet, seated
himself across from her.

“Have
you had any word from Frynkel? About the overcaptain?” asked Alerya.

“I
don’t expect word anytime soon. It’s a long journey.”

“Do
you think that the overcaptain will accept your request?”

“I
hope so, especially now. I gave Frynkel some latitude in what he could offer.”

“Such
as?”

“Some
terms that might help me a great deal.” Talryn smiled, but did not say more.

“You
can be… difficult, Talryn.” Alerya smiled. “But… so can I… in my own way. Perhaps
young Talus needs my company tonight.”

“That’s…”

“Blackmail?”
Alerya’s smile turned mischievous. “It is indeed.”

Talryn
began to laugh. After he stopped, he added, with a grin, “I suppose I deserved
that.”

“You
did.” She raised her eyebrows. “What terms?”

“Oh…
Colonel Weslyn has not been exactly effective, and I don’t trust him. I
suggested that Frynkel offer Alucius the command of the Northern Guard if he is
successful in quelling the revolt in Hyalt.”

“You
are a true schemer, my love.” Alerya shook her head. “You know the poor
overcaptain—or majer—will have to accept, if only to save his people.” She
frowned. “You will honor that promise if he succeeds?”

“I’d
be pleased to honor it. He’ll go off as a majer, and if he’s successful, I’ll
send a full company of Southern Guards back to Dekhron with him, along with his
own companies. No one could possibly complain—not too much, anyway—if I promote
the greatest hero in Northern Guard history. Besides, he inspires his officers
and men, and Weslyn inspires no one, except the conniving traders in Dekhron.
Young as Alucius is, he’ll be far better than Weslyn.”

“And
you’d have a much more cooperative Northern Guard? Or at least one better run
and more reasonable?”

“Those
were my thoughts. ‘Better run’ would be a great improvement.” Talryn’s grin
broadened. “You did tell me to be generous. I hope you will be.”

Alerya
burst into laughter.

After
a moment, so did Talryn.

Late
on Octdi afternoon, under high gray clouds, Wendra and Alucius were nearing the
eastern base of Westridge, guiding the nightsheep flock back to the stead.
Wendra was riding lead, with Alucius bringing up the stragglers. After all of
his precautions for the past three days, neither Alucius nor Wendra had seen
any sign of any Talent-creatures or even sandwolves. Nor had Royalt on the day
he had taken the flock. All they had seen or sensed were grayjays, scrats, and
one or two sandsnakes.

Then,
Alucius reflected to himself, they had prepared for the Talent-creatures, and
usually the worst dangers and difficulties he had encountered were those for
which he had not foreseen or prepared. That just seemed to be the way of the
world.

“Alucius!”
Wendra called back.

He
looked toward her, then saw, farther west, his grandsire just below the crest of
Westridge, riding downhill and toward them, far more quickly than usual. After
several moments, it was clear that the older herder was heading toward Alucius.

Had
something happened to his mother? Alucius forced himself to concentrate on
moving the stragglers along and up toward the main body of the flock so that he
wouldn’t have to worry as much about them if he needed to hurry the flock.
Other than that, he certainly couldn’t do anything about whatever spurred
Royalt on until he heard what his grandsire had to say.

As
he neared Alucius, Royalt gestured toward Wendra, urging her to join them.

That
made sense, because the lead ram was already on the path that led home and to
the shelter of the stead barns. If any of the flock faced danger, it would be
the stragglers, although most sandwolves were unlikely to attack close to a
stead, especially with three herders nearby.

As
Royalt neared Alucius and turned his mount to parallel Alucius and the gray,
Wendra urged her mount back toward Alucius and Royalt.

“What’s
wrong?” Alucius asked. “Has something happened at the stead? Has something
happened to Mother?”

“No
one’s hurt. Nothing’s broken, but things are looking… not so good,” Royalt
said. “I’d like Wendra to hear what’s happened.”

Alucius
refrained from asking again, although he wondered why Royalt didn’t want to say
immediately, then tell Wendra when she joined them. Both herders kept moving
the stragglers up the slope, waiting until Wendra rode up on the other side of
Royalt, so that the older herder rode in the middle.

“What
is it?” asked Wendra.

“It’s
for Alucius, but I thought you both would like a little warning. There’s a
Southern Guard officer waiting to talk to you, Alucius. Brought more than a
whole company of Southern Guards and a couple of Northern Guard scouts. Says he’s
a marshal. Named Frynkel.” Royalt glanced at his grandson. “You know him?”

Alucius’s
whole body stiffened, and he tried to make his words even, measured. “There is
a Marshal Frynkel. Well, he was a submarshal then. I met him. I even had dinner
with him and the Lord-Protector’s arms-commander. That was Marshal Wyerl. I
suppose he still is.”

“No…”
murmured Wendra, so low that Alucius barely heard the word, although her body
posture told him as much as that single syllable.

“Worse
yet,” said Royalt. “I don’t like it that they’re sending a marshal and one that
you know personally, all the way from Lanachrona. Marshals don’t ride days or
weeks to see herders. Not without the kind of reason I’d rather not hear.”

Alucius
was sure he didn’t want to hear what Frynkel had to say, either, because they
wanted something, and it was likely that they thought he would have to accept,
whatever it was.

“You
have any idea why?” asked the older herder.

“They’ve
got real trouble, I’d guess. But… why would they want me?”

“Because
you’re one of the best troop commanders in the north, and because Weslyn’s too
stupid to know it.”

“He’s
not too stupid. He knows it. He just doesn’t care for me. And the traders who
back him don’t like herders.”

“Same
thing. Officer who lets his personal feelings get in the way is second-rate. At
best.”

“Weslyn’s
not with him?”

“No.
Didn’t see any Northern Guard officers.”

That
meant that the Lord-Protector wanted something, and whatever it was, it was
most likely that he didn’t want the commander of the Northern Guard to know
until afterward. And that would leave Alucius in a very bad position with
regard to Weslyn—unless the Lord-Protector wanted Alucius as an officer in the
Southern Guard, and that could be even worse.

The
three split up to herd the flock back together for the last vingt or so of the
return to the stead, across the crest of Westridge and down the western side.
As they came down the western side of the long rise, Alucius could make out the
riders drawn up in formation between the house and the stead outbuildings,
almost all of them in the blue of the Southern Guard.

When
Alucius was but a few hundred yards from the formation, Royalt rode back over
toward his grandson. “Wendra and I’ll take care of the flock. You might as well
see what he wants.”

Alucius
nodded and turned the gray toward the four riders at the head of the formation.
He reined up several yards short of them, then bowed his head slightly. “Marshal
Frynkel, it’s both a surprise and an honor to see you here.”

“Doubtless
more a surprise than an honor,” replied Frynkel. “I would request a little time
alone with you, if you would not mind.”

“With
your having come so far, I would be happy to grant you whatever time you might
need or think necessary.” Alucius gestured toward the house. “Your men could
stand down. There’s more than enough water in the troughs, and the outside pump
offers good water for water bottles.” He smiled wryly. “I cannot offer to feed
everyone, not on such short notice.”

“We
would appreciate the water.” Frynkel looked to the captain mounted beside him. “If
you would take care of the watering with all due care, Captain Geragt?”

“Yes,
sir.”

Alucius
guided the gray to the pair of stone posts in front of the steps up to the
house, where he dismounted and tied his mount. Frynkel followed without
speaking.

Alucius
turned toward the porch where Lucenda stood, her face set in an expression that
Alucius had seen but once before and had hoped he would not see again.

Frynkel
had dismounted and joined Alucius.

Alucius
raised his voice slightly. “Marshal Frynkel, this is my mother, Lucenda.
Mother, this is Marshal Frynkel. Unless matters have changed, he is one of the
senior marshals of all Lanachrona.”

Frynkel
inclined his head. “I am honored. Your son is the finest battle commander in
Corus, and the most honorable officer I have ever had the privilege of knowing.”