Authors: L. E. Modesitt
Adya,
Cartalyn, and an assistant Dainyl did not know stepped out into the corridor.
“Sir?”
“The
Duarch was most understanding.” Dainyl handed the scroll to Adya. “This should
be posted somewhere.”
“Sir?”
“Oh
... I’m sorry. It’s the writ of my appointment as High Alector of Justice.”
She
bowed her head. “Highest...”
“
‘Sir’ will do. Oh ... there are some garments the official garb of the High
Alector of Justice in the coach. Could you have someone bring them down?”
“Patrylon,”
Adya told the alector standing at her shoulder, “you can do that, and I’ll post
the writ.”
“Thank
you both.”
Adya
scurried down the corridor in one direction past the Table chamber, while the
stocky Patrylon marched toward the staircase. Cartalyn followed Patrylon.
Dainyl
looked into the private study. Thankfully, someone, probably Adya, had removed
Zelyert’s garments and boots. He stepped inside and surveyed the chamber.
Besides the table and the three chairs, there was little enough in the manner
of furnishings, just a single low bookcase of three shelves. He scanned those
volumes that displayed titles on the spine, although most did not: Views of the
Highest, looking so newly bound that Dainyl wondered if Zelyert had ever lifted
it off the top shelf; The Administrator; History of In-efra; The Code of Laws
...
Clearly,
Zelyert had kept all personal items elsewhere, and Dainyl had no
i.e.
where that might have been.
He
Talent-sensed someone approaching, straightened, and turned as a slender but
tall alector appeared in the open doorway. Dainyl recognized Dalyrt, although
he had never formally met him, because Dalyrt had substituted for Zelyert as
administrator at the last administration of justice at Myrmidon headquarters.
Dalyrt
bowed deeply. “Highest.”
Dainyl
could sense a buried combination of consternation, puzzlement, and resentment,
but decided against commenting. “A simple ‘sir’ will be more than sufficient,
Dalyrt. I certainly didn’t expect it, but one refuses the Duarch at greater
risk than I was prepared to undertake.” That should add to your confusion.
“I
can see that might pose a problem, sir.” Dalyrt’s voice was deep, as Zelyert’s
had been, and even smoother and morepolished.
Dainyl
instantly distrusted him, but kept the feeling well behind his shields. “The
Duarch, even in these troubled times, is a formidable presence, with great
experience in being able to determine whom to trust and to support. He is far
more practiced in not revealing that experience than are most High Alectors,
unless he chooses to do so. I am deeply convinced that he seeks the best for
all alectors, and I worry that those who might oppose him do not see all that
he does.”
“Yes,
sir.” Dalyrt’s puzzlement grew.
“Power
not only corrupts, Dalyrt. It also blinds.”
“Yes,
sir. I stand to do your bidding, and I will certainly follow your guidance and
heed your advice.”
So
long as it seems to benefit you. “Thank you.”
Dalyrt
bowed and stepped back into the corridor.
No
sooner had Dalyrt departed than Chastyl appeared.
“Congratulations,
sir.”
“Thank
you, Chastyl.”
“Just
let me know anything I can do ...”
Dainyl
had the feeling that he would get little done for the next few glasses except
to meet with the immediate staff of the High Alector and accept their
congratulations and profession of loyalty and support. It was hard to ignore
their unvoiced concerns about the green component of his aura and Talent
especially when Asulet’s warning remained in the back of his mind.
He
also needed to try on the garments sent by Bharyt. That bothered him more than
a little, because it meant taking off the uniform he had worn for almost all of
his adult life not that he would ever shed the heritage of being a Myrmidon.
It
was slightly before midafteraoon on Quinti when Dainyl finally took the coach
to Myrmidon headquarters, feeling slightly uncomfortable in his garb as High Alector
of Justice. In the end, he had found two older sets of garments not that the
lifeforcetreated shimmersilk had aged in the slightest which suited him far
better than the others. Unlike the others, they offered an almost Myrmidon cut
to both tunic and trousers. The tunic and trousers were green, and the purple
trim was limited to the tunic cuffs and collar, and to single thin strips down
the outside of the trouser legs. He still wore his black Myrmidon boots and
intended to keep doing so.
When
Dainyl stepped through the archway into Myrmidon headquarters, Captain Ghasylt
was standing by the duty desk, talking to Undercaptain Chelysta. Both had
worried expressions, and Ghasylt had just gestured toward the entrance.
“Good
afternoon,” Dainyl said.
Ghasylt
looked up and took in the tunic and trousers, his eyes widening only slightly,
although the shock was far more obvious to DainyFs Talent than to his eyes.
After the barest hesitation, the captain replied, “Congratulations... Highest.”
“You
looked worried there, Ghasylt.”
“Yes,
sir. When I saw the High Alector’s coach drive in...”
“I
would have been concerned, too.” Dainyl smiled. “Is the submarshaL in her
study?”
“She
was a moment ago,” added Chelysta. “She was reviewing next week’s flight
schedules.”
“I
need to see her. Thank you.” Dainyl walked down the corridor. Behind him, he
could make out the murmurs, enhanced by his Talent.
“...
never thought he’d become Highest... too honest...”
“...
stronger ... can’t you sense the Talent?”
“...
sort of green ...”
Dainyl
eased open Alcyna’s door and stepped inside, closing it behind him.
Alcyna
looked up from the flight schedule she held, took in the green and purple, then
stood, leaving the schedule on the desk. She nodded slowly. “Congratulations,
Highest.”
“
‘Sir,’ please.”
“I
said Zelyert underestimated you. I assume he decided you were a threat and
created a reason to attack?”
“Generally,
yes. He complained that we took too long in Soupat, that we delayed copper
shipments, as well as tin shipments from closed mines, that we lost too many
pteridons, and that it was all my fault. I told him if he could find any other
Myrmidon who had been as effective that I would happily resign. Because he had
no answer he attacked. That was early this morning. I had to spend some time
with the Duarch and then with the staff at the Hall of Justice before I could
get here.” He smiled wryly. “I did want to tell you that you don’t have to go
back to Alustre to get command.”
“To
get command?” Alcyna raised her eyebrows.
“Effective
immediately, you are the Marshal of Myrmidons.” He extended the green-edged
gold stars that he had taken off so recently.
Alcyna
did not move to take them. “There has never been an alectress who commanded the
Myrmidons. What will the Duarch say?”
“I
already told him, and he agreed.” Dainyl reached forward and laid the stars on
the bare wood of the table desk beside her. “There may be a personal reason
there.”
“His
daughter?”
“Daughters,”
Dainyl said.
“There
is another besides Sevasya?”
“Captain
Lyzetta.” Dainyl smiled ruefully. “I didn’t know she was Khelaryt’s daughter
until after I promoted her.” He almost mentioned that the shadowmatch had
prohibited the Duarch from mentioning or contacting either daughter, but
refrained, realizing that he had never discussed that aspect of the shadowmatch
with Alcyna.
“I’m
very glad I decided to come to Elcien,” Alcyna said. “Do you know what else
Brekylt said about you?”
“I’m
certain he said a great deal.”
“He
said that you had the instincts for doing the right thing, and that it would
either be your death or the death of those who opposed you, and that he
preferred not to engage in those kinds of batdes.”
Dainyl
laughed. “He would give me too much credit, even while he was sharpening a
knife.” After the briefest of pauses, he added, “Marshal Alcyna, I’d like to
request that you assume command of the Myrmidons and that you put on the
insignia of your rank.”
“Yes,
sir. With pleasure.” She half turned and lifted the stars off the table.
Dainyl
watched as she replaced the silver stars on her collar with the gold stars.
Then he motioned for her to take her seat and settled into the chair in front
of the table desk.
“Now
... who would you suggest as your replacement as submarshal?” he asked.
“At
the moment, I would prefer not to name a replacement, sir.”
Dainyl
thought he understood why, but still felt he had to ask. “Why is that?”
“Submarshal
Noryan would be the logical choice, assuming that he shows his loyalty to the
Duarches.”
“You
wish to wait to see his reaction?”
“We
would have to wait until he has a chance to receive orders. If they’re not
delayed, the orders should reach Noryan in Norda on Decdi or Londi, no later
than Duadi.” Alcyna smiled politely and added, “As I recall, there was no
official submarshal in Elcien when you were the head of operations for several
months.”
“That’s
true, but all you have now is an assistant chief of operations.”
“Zernylta
is doing well at that. In another year, I could promote her to majer, and make
the position of operations chief that of either majer or colonel.”
That
certainly squared with where Dainyl had been headed as marshal. “What other
changes would you suggest for Myrmidon operations or headquarters?”
“We
need more trainees and the ability to call them from Transport immediately.”
“You
don’t think we should skip the time spent as a sandox driver?” Dainyl didn’t,
but he wanted her reaction.
“No,
sir. First, until they work with either sandoxen or pteridons, there’s no way
of telling whether their Talent is strong enough and suited to Talent
creatures. Second, there’s too much power involved with being a Myrmidon.
Sandoxen have some of that power, and being a driver for a time makes younger
alectors aware of that power, and it also gives them the sense that it is both
a duty and a privilege to be a Myrmidon.”
Dainyl
nodded, but his thoughts strayed to the Myrmidons from Ifryn. Were they as
dedicated as the alectors and alectresses he commanded? Or had it been that
conditions had become so bad on Ifryn that the desire for sheer self-preservation
had overwhelmed their sense of duty? Or had they simply felt betrayed? “
“Sir?”
“I
was thinking about the Ifryn Myrmidons.”
“I’ve
thought about them as well.”
“Did
you ever talk to Noryan or Veluara about it?”
“Noryan
didn’t want to say much. He only said that the Ifryn Myrmidons had once held
the ideals that we do, and that they did no longer, and that there was little
point in talking about it.”
“Why
did you replace the original with Noryan?”
“Why
not? The original one had been caught abusing a local boy. The child wasn’t
that badly hurt, and with some Talent manipulation, I managed to erase or blur
his memories. But that meant he wasn’t suitable to be a Myrmidon. Noryan was.”
“You
just executed him?”
“It
was better than he deserved. If he’d had to go through a court-martial and an
administration of justice, he would have been found guilty and had his
lifeforce ripped out. We don’t know if he had tried to abuse others, and trying
to dig that up would have made matters worse. I didn’t want to see any Myrmidon
paraded in front of other alectors as that decadent.”
Alcyna
was telling the truth, and Dainyl could see that she believed she had acted as
well as she could have under the circumstances ... but it still bothered him,
not that he could see any point in taking the matter any further.
“Did
you know about that before you promoted me to submarshal here in Elcien?”
“I
knew who Noryan was, but not why you made the substitution. It bothered me, and
it still does, but we’ve all done things that could have been done better, and
I had the feeling that you were treading a narrow path with Brekylt.” He still
wondered what her relationship with Brekylt had been.
“That’s
a charitable description.” Her laugh was throaty, nervous. “He was worse than
Shastylt. From what I saw, anyway.”
“We
need to go over my perceptions of the Myrmidon companies and their needs, and
your thoughts and reactions to each,” Dainyl said mildly. “I have the feeling
that after tomorrow I’m going to be occupied with a few other concerns.”
“Tomorrow,
sir?”
“That’s
when I have a long meeting and discussion with Khelaryt.”
“I
think I’d rather be marshal, at least so long as you’re High Alector of
Justice.”
As
he gathered his thoughts to begin briefing her on insights and observations he had
not previously shared, Dainyl could not help but wonder how long he might be
High Alector.
By
the end of Quinti, Dainyl had found a green jacket, similar to a flying jacket,
that matched the High Alector’s tunic and trousers. He needed one and felt that
it was inappropriate to wear a Myrmidon flying jacket or cold-weather coat. He
also still carried both lightcutters, unnecessary as he thought they might be,
on his belt as he stepped onto the Table in Elcien.
He
half smiled. One advantage of being High Alector was the closeness to the
Elcien Table.
“Sir?”
inquired Chastyl, hurrying into the Table chamber, followed by Adya.
“I’ll
be back very early tomorrow. I am taking the petitions in the morning.”