Scepters (97 page)

“That
man—if he even is a man—has more Talent-power than the rest of the world. He
can appear without notice and leave the same way. He radiates power. I’m sure
you sensed that. He really didn’t give me any choices at all. None at all, and
I’ve been more than kind to him from the beginning.”

“You’re
upset because he told you, very politely, that you were on your own, that you’d
have to solve your problems without him. After what he’s been through, do you
blame him? Would
you
have wanted to do what he’s
done?” She raised her eyebrows.

Talryn
glared at his consort. “I’m glad you think it’s amusing.”

“It
is. You’re behaving like a little boy who’s had his favorite toy taken away. Or
like a child who’s discovered that his once-little friend has grown larger,
stronger, and quicker. And you don’t like it. You like giving favors. You don’t
like having to receive them.”

“Me?”

“You.”
She laughed. “You said you loved me for my terrible honesty. I’m being terribly
honest. He’s made sure we could have a son; he’s removed Madrien and Aellyan
Edyss as threats and gotten rid of that terrible Enyll. He saved Southgate for
you, and he’s rebuilt the Northern Guard for you. And now, instead of taking
your throne, he’s leaving you alone.” Her eyes fixed on him. “He’s also a
reminder that you’d better act thoughtfully and carefully, and for that you
should be most grateful.”

“For
that?”

“For
that,” she repeated. “You don’t want to end up like Waleryn or the Matrial, do
you?”

Silence
stretched out between the two of them.

“I
suppose I should be grateful for all that,” Talryn finally conceded. “But I don’t
feel grateful.”

Alerya
rose from the love seat. “I am. You should be. You will be.” She took his hands
in hers. “We owe him. Let him be.”

Talryn
nodded, then smiled warmly, as she bent forward and her lips brushed his cheek.

In
the twilight, Alucius and Wendra reined up outside the headquarters building of
the Northern Guard.

Alucius
turned in the saddle. “Noer, if one of you would see my wife to the quarters…
Then you can return to your duties.”

The
lancer looked at the gray-haired figure who had led the half squad from Fifth
Company back from Salaan—and the woman beside him. In the dim illumination of
twilight, both stood out, almost as if the faintest of light-torches shown from
within them.

“Yes,
sir.” Noer nodded.

Alucius
dismounted and tied the borrowed mount to the post. “I need to spend a few
moments with Majer Feran.”

“I’ll
be in the quarters,” Wendra replied.

Alucius
climbed the steps effortlessly and opened the door, stepping into the building
and closing the door after him.

“Colonel!
You’re back!” Roncar jumped to his feet.

“Like
a clipped coin,” replied Alucius dryly.

Feran
appeared at the doorway of his study. A half smile crossed his face.

Alucius
gestured. “We have a few things to discuss.”

“I
imagine.” Feran followed Alucius, closing the study door behind him.

Alucius
settled into the chair behind the table desk and waited for Feran to sit down.
Then he looked at Feran. “Congratulations, Colonel. Or Colonel-to-be.”

“You’re
still colonel.”

“Not
for much longer. I’ll be writing my letter of resignation. It’s better this
way. I never wanted to be colonel. I just want to go back to the stead. You can
blame all the bad decisions on me, and everyone will be far happier with a
solid career officer at the head of the Northern Guard. You can serve for
another five or ten years, get a good stipend, and probably find a lovely woman
in the process. And the only truly daunting chore you’ll have is to train a
successor. Since we got rid of the worst of the captains and overcaptains…”

“You
herders…” Feran shook his head.

“Do
you really think anyone wants me back?” Alucius asked. “Besides you, maybe?”

“You’re
a hero. I don’t know what you’ve been doing, but whatever it was, I’d wager it
worked.”

“Oh,
it worked,” Alucius admitted. “You won’t have any trouble with any of the
traders or the Talent-twisted. The Lord-Protector has agreed to let you move
the Guard to Iron Stem. The torques of Madrien don’t work, and they won’t ever
work again. The Lord-Protector has promised not to change the customs in
Lanachrona. Lustrea and Deforya are still a mess… but they’re far enough away
that they won’t be a problem for a while. Oh… and none of the Tables work, and
they won’t.”

“How
did all this come to pass?” Feran’s tone was dry and detached.

“It
just happened,” Alucius said blandly.

“I
don’t think so. You’re the hero. The one in the old poem.”

“I
doubt that,” Alucius replied. “But even if I were, heroes don’t make good commanders.
Neither do herders. We’re loners by nature, and everyone can tell that. I’ve
created enough unrest. After we finish, I’ll write out my resignation as
colonel, and my recommendation that you succeed me. It will be accepted. If you
have trouble… send me a message.”

Alucius
saw no point in saying that the Lord-Protector had already agreed.

“Just
like that?”

“Just
like that,” Alucius replied.

Feran
laughed, a sound rilled with humor, irony, and sadness. “You’ve done great and
terrible things, Colonel. You’ve done them in ways that no one who wasn’t there
will ever believe.”

“That’s
probably for the best,” Alucius replied.

“What
will you do?”

“Run
the stead, and whatever else needs to be done.” Including exploring and
learning from the Hidden City. And spending time with Wendra and Alendra.

“I
suppose it really is for the best,” mused Feran. “For you, too. You’re changed.
I can see it. Whatever you’ve done, even just what I’ve seen, being a mere
colonel would be a letdown.” Feran smiled sadly. “In a way, I suppose it’s
almost a tragedy.”

“A
tragedy?” questioned Alucius.

“It
is when you’ve been covered in glory, saved three lands, and defeated every foe
in battle, and probably done more that I don’t know, all before you’ve turned
thirty years.”

“You
mean before I had a chance to truly grow up?” Alucius’s words held gentle
irony. “It may be better that way. I don’t have to spend the rest of my life
seeking glory… or whatever.” He smiled at Feran. “You don’t either, you know?
Just be solid in the way you are.”

Feran
smiled in return. “I can always threaten to call you back.” He paused. “For
Fifth Company, maybe for all the Guard, I’ll be Colonel Feran. You’ll be ‘The
Colonel.’ “

Alucius
shrugged helplessly. “After I write the resignation, we’ll get Wendra and go
over to Elyset’s for supper.”

“So
long as you pay, You’re still colonel until the Lord-Protector accepts that
resignation.” Feran grinned at Alucius.

Twilight
had just fallen across the Iron Valleys when Alucius, Wendra, and Alendra
reached the point on the high road where they turned off onto the lane leading
to the stead. When Alucius and Wendra had stopped at the cooperage in Iron
Stem, Kyrial and Clerynda had been glad to see Wendra and Alendra, and even
Alucius. But there had been a reserve, far more than with Feran… or with the
Lord-Protector. Alucius had considered that reserve as they had ridden
northward on the ancient high road, and finally he spoke. “Your parents were
relieved to see us, but almost as relieved to see us off.”

“Of
course… they never thought their daughter would marry the hero or the lamaial.
They just thought you’d be a good herder who would give back the heritage of
the land to their daughter, and that we’d just be a good little herder couple.
They don’t know what happened, and they don’t want to know, and they’re afraid
they might learn. They can tell that I’ve killed people, and worse, and it
frightens them. Daughters aren’t supposed to do that.” Wendra patted a
complaining Alendra. “It isn’t that much farther, little one, not that much
farther.”

“Feran
said the same thing, when we met while you were tending Alendra. Before dinner.
He said I was the hero. I never did understand that poem. Not really,” Alucius
said. “I certainly wasn’t a hero. I did what I could, and I was fortunate.”

“There
were more than a few who wanted to be the hero, dear one,” she replied. “The
barbarian in Illegya, the Matrial and the Regent, the Praetor, even that ifrit…”

“Tarolt,”
Alucius supplied.

“That
wasn’t what the poem was about,” Wendra continued.

“What
was it about?” asked Alucius. “Besides a dream about restoring the faded glory
of the past, a glory that wasn’t really ever there?”

“What
is a hero?” she countered.

“Heroes
are the people that everyone recognizes.”

“That
doesn’t define a hero.”

“You
tell me.”

“Someone
willing to sacrifice himself for other people. In a way, the soarers were
heroes. They sacrificed themselves for us, for all of us. We didn’t make any
sacrifices like that,” Wendra pointed out.

“What’s
the point of sacrificing…” Alucius suddenly broke off as he understood. “That’s
it.”

“What
is?” This time Wendra looked puzzled.

“The
ifrits believed that survival justified any action, and they would sacrifice
any world and any people for their way of life. The soarers believed that no
sacrifice was too great to maintain life as it had been. They were both wrong.”

“You’re
saying that the poem was wrong, too.”

“Maybe…
it was meant to be wrong.” Alucius shifted his weight in the saddle, looking
ahead toward a stead still out of eyesight. “It doesn’t ever
say
whether the hero or the lamaial was in the right, now
that I think about it.”

Wendra
laughed. “We won’t ever know that.”

“In
a way, in one way, the ifrits were right,” mused Alucius. “So were the soarers,
and neither really saw it.”

“Oh?”
Wendra’s tone was light.

“There’s
no one living who is not but a lodger upon the land. We are born, we strive,
and we pass. You can only tend and pass on the land.”

“So
philosophical.”

“So
much a herder,” he countered.

“That’s
why we’re riding home, instead of using the ley lines. But, for all that, your
mother was right. You are the soarer’s child.”

Alucius
looked at Wendra. “The old song—it’s Alendra’s as well.” Before Wendra could
reply, he recited the last part of the words, slowly.

“But
the soarer’s child praise the most,

for
she will rout the sanders’ host,

and
raise the lost banners high

under
the green and silver sky.”

“You
say that well.”

“You
said I was a soarer. So are you. What does that make her?”

Wendra
turned in the saddle, her smile and eyes bright. “Ours. The land’s.”

In
the darkening sky to the east, just above the Aerial Plateau, both Asterta and
Selena shone full across the Iron Valleys, and across the stead just ahead of
the three riders. Three riders coming home.