"It might not be that bad," said Mykel, "but until we know that, better be really careful."

Dohark rose. "I think it's time for an unannounced gear inspection."

Mykel smiled. "Not a bad idea. I'll let you start." The word would get around, and then he'd follow up with Fifteenth Company.

23Beginning on Sexdi, Mykel and Fifteenth Company spent four days under a bright sun that was more like summer than fall, riding westward along the stream valley that held a trail supposedly used by smugglers. The only way to see what was on the trail was to ride it, and Ma-jer Vaclyn had chosen Fifteenth Company for that duty. After battling the thorny brush olives, the heat, and the damp, they found no recent traces of smugglers.

Then, after they completed a last sweep of the valley on Decdi, the majer ordered them back to the Cadmian com-pound, where they had Londi for some recuperation. On Duadi, they rode north thirty vingts to patrol a twenty-vingt section of road-ten vingts on each side of a small town scarcely larger than a hamlet called Enstyla. The road, in a winding fashion, eventually made its way south to Dramuria.

The company was housed in an empty barn that had once been used for cattle-until the losses from the nightwasps had made it far too unprofitable for the grower to continue. Now he was getting a few silvers for the use of the barn and well.

"This town is the one where the growers around it have been complaining about raids," Majer Vaclyn had told Mykel. "See what you can do, either to find out if they've really been raided, or to stop the raids.

If you can't capture the raiders, shoot them. But make sure that they're raiders and not locals."

On Tridi, just before midmorning, Mykel rode northward at the head of fifth squad, along a part of the road that ran through grassland that showed as much clay as grass. As on the previous days, the sky was mostly clear, with a hint of clouds building over the peaks to the west. No animals were grazing in the nearby fields, and probably had not in a while, since the scattered tufts and clumps of grass were nearly calf high. The fields were not fenced, and it had been a good vingt since the squad had passed a cot.

Mykel alternated riding with the squads, since each squad was handling a different section of the road. As he shifted his weight in the saddle, he had to wonder how patrolling roads would stop raids. The raiders weren't exactly going to ride up and down the roads announcing their intentions, and those who did use the roads would look like anyone else who belonged there.

Still... Mykel was a Cadmian officer, and there were times when he justhad to follow orders and try not to make a stupid mistake doing so.

Ahead, coming up a long gentle rise from lowlands that held trees, there was a wagon creaking toward fifth squad, an old wagon that seemed to sag in the middle, pulled by a single swaybacked horse.

Mykel moved the chestnut to the head of the squad and eased out in front of the squad, just slightly, moving toward the wagon and the two men on the bench seat. The driver flicked the reins, pulled them back, and the wagon slowed to a crawl, then a stop.

Both men looked at Mykel, and the squad behind him, but neither spoke.

Mykel concentrated on the teamster, after a quick study of the younger man seated beside the bearded driver. "Have you seen any folks up here that don't belong here?"

The teamster kept the reins in his right hand, but tilted back the tattered and wide-brimmed woven frond hat with his left. Then he spat to the side of the wagon away from Mykel. "You're the first folks we've seen since we set out."

"Not just this morning. Over the past few days."

"You Cadmians are looking in the wrong place. All those escaped prisoners are in the hills north of the mine." The man's words were even, with a touch of anger behind them, but they didn't feel right to the captain: "I don't recall mentioning escaped prisoners," Mykel said politely. "We also know that someone has been smuggling as well. You might have seen them."

"Told you. We haven't seen anyone."

"We'd heard reports that some of the escapees might have moved eastward... might be lifting a little food here and there." Mykel looked squarely at the teamster.

"Well... Captain. Now, I can't say that there might not have been a few things missing here and there, but how could anyone tell whether it's fromshamblers sneaking up here or a loose prisoner or two?"

"I imagine you couldn't," replied Mykel with an easy smile. "If you do find out, we'd like to know. Either way, you'd be able to keep more of what you grow if we could catch them."

"On the roads?" The teamster laughed. "Not sow-eared likely!"

Mykel eased the chestnut back and gestured for the squad to let the wagon pass. As the wagon rolled southward, Mykel strained to hear what the younger man was saying.

"... not like that banty rooster yesterday..."

"... got to watch 'em all... just 'cause he talks nice, don't mean nothing..."

Mykel had to wonder whom the teamster had run into the day before.

Dohark certainly wasn't banty. It could have been Kuertyl-or maybe Heransyr, with his elevated notion of his own importance.

What was certain was that the patrols were going to be long, and hot, and that they were going to upset some people. Yet, if he didn't patrol, Majer Vaclyn and the Myrmidon colonel would be unhappy with a certain captain.

Mykel turned the chestnut back northward.

24.

On Quattri and Quinti, the squads of Fifteenth Company had patrolled the road north and south of Enstyla. Each morning, Mykel made sure to tell his squad leaders to emphasize courtesy and politeness if they did stop anyone. On Sexdi, his morning briefing was no different.

"Everyone is sir or madam, and you are terribly sorry to stop them. You are checking for contraband weapons and asking if they have seen anyone who looks out of place," he had told each squad leader. "Treat them like they were your aunts or uncles, with politeness, but with firmness."

Mykel had chosen to patrol with third squad, on the northernmost section of the road assigned to Fifteenth Company, and he rode northwardbeside Chyndylt, the third squad leader. Sexdi was cooler than the previous days. Even in late morning, a wind blew from the northwest, making the day pleasantly breezy-the first such since they had arrived in Dramur.

"Glad you're with us today," said Chyndylt. "Hope we get this kind of weather every time you're patrolling with us."

"It should get cooler as we get farther into fall and winter," replied Mykel.

"We could use some cold. Never thought I'd say that after the winter up in Blackstear." Chyndylt laughed.

Both Cadmians stopped talking as a one-horse cart turned from a side lane on the west side of the road half a vingt north of Mykel and headed down the rutted clay toward third squad.

"Couple of women," observed Chyndylt as the cart neared.

Mykel scanned the road to the left, but could see nothing through the widely spaced casaran nut trees. "We might as well say good day to them."

"The younger one does look sort of pretty, sir."

Not only did she look attractive, Mykel realized, but there was something about her that went beyond the physical. He forced himself back to the duty at hand, smiling ruefully. "I don't think she'll be looking on us with any favor, Chyndylt." He kept riding until he was within thirty yards of the cart.

The younger woman-dark-haired and wearing a pale green long-sleeved shirt, dark gray trousers, and a darker gray vest-was driving.

She showed no sign of wanting to stop as the cart continued down the middle of the road.

"Just when are you going to clear the road?" she called out, her voice conveying irritation, yet without being shrill.

"After you stop, madam, and we exchange a few words," replied Mykel politely.With a sigh visible from a good twenty yards away, the driver jerked the cart to a halt. The horse snorted. The gray-haired woman sitting to the left of the driver said not a word.

Mykel reined up beside the cart horse, in a position where he could grab the leads, if necessary. "I am sorry to ask you to stop, madam, but we've been assigned here to patrol the road. Have you seen anyone who doesn't belong here, someone who might have escaped from the mine?" He smiled politely at the woman, who looked to be younger than he was.

"There aren't people like that around here. Not around our estate." The driver's green eyes hardened. "Now... will you let us pass, trooper?"

"Captain, madam, Captain Mykel, Fifteenth Company." Mykel eased his mount forward toward the cart and the driver. Outwardly, she showed no sign of nervousness, but he could sense it all the same. That could be just because she'd been stopped by twenty-two men. That would make any woman nervous. But it didn't feel like that to Mykel. "We're also looking for contraband weapons."

"Weapons, Captain? What would two women be doing with weapons?"

The driver eased herself, almost imperceptibly, toward the side of the cart closest to Mykel.

"Madam, anyone could be carrying weapons.'' He reined up beside the cart, his eyes dropping to the space under the driver's seat. "Like that rifle you're trying to hide."

"Rifle?"

'The one you moved your trouser leg to cover," Mykel said dryly.

"Chyndylt, please cover these ladies while I look at their weapon." He looked to the driver. "I'd appreciate it if you would move over. I'd rather leave you alone."

"Scarcely a manly sentiment, Captain." The words were cold, cutting, despite the slight huskiness in her voice, but the driver moved away from Mykel.

As she moved, he quickly leaned forward in the saddle and lifted the rifle away, careful to keep the barrel down and away from anyone. Then he straightened and checked the weapon, clearly Cadmian-issue. He looked tothe plate under the stock. It was blank, and so was the flattened space on the underside of the barrel. Both should have held numbers, identical numbers.

"I'm afraid we'll have to keep this, ladies," Mykel said politely.

"Keep it? Just who do you think you are, riding up and taking things from two women going about their own business? How are two women supposed to protect themselves out here? You couldn't find one of those so-called raiders if you had ten times the men you do. Riding up and down roads..."

Mykel kept smiling, wondering how long she would rail at him.

"You call yourself a captain, but you're more of a thief than those poor prisoners you're looking for. They didn't take hard-earned goods... they were just stupid, and drank too much..."

"Madam," Mykel began...

"I am not a madam, and don't call me that, and you may not have my name, either. I know your kind."

"All right!" the captain snapped. "Enough."

The tone of his voice stopped the woman's tirade. She looked at him as if he had suddenly become an alector or grown an arm from the middle of his chest. Yet there was strength, not fear, and he had to admit he admired that.

Mykel spoke into the sudden silence. "You are carrying a Cadmian rifle.

That is against the Code. I could have you both charged and flogged, at the very least. I doubt that you are the guilty party, but possession is a flogging offense as well."

The younger woman's eyes widened, and Mykel felt that she had had no idea that carrying a Cadmian rifle was indeed a crime.

"It is most clear that you did not intend to commit a crime, and I doubt that anyone even told you that possessing a military weapon was a crime. I will have your names and the rifle, and you may go on your way.""You'd leave us unprotected?" asked the older woman, speaking for the first time.

"Madam," Mykel replied, trying to keep his tone polite. "For the entire past week, everyone has been telling us that there was no need for us to patrol the roads. They have told us that there are no rebels, no escaped prisoners, and no danger. If there is no danger, then there is no need for a rifle."

The older woman looked down.

"Your names and your home, if you would," Mykel asked.

"Kamrita."

The sense of falseness was so great that Mykel snapped back. "That's not your name."

"Rytora."

"Neither is that."

"Rachyla of Stylan Estate," the driver replied, in a lower voice, for the first time showing a trace of tentativeness.

The captain looked to the older woman.

"I'm her aunt, Astylara."

"Astylara and Rachyla of Stylan Estate," repeated Mykel. He looked to Chyndylt. "Have your men check the cart, and underneath. Carefully, and just for weapons."

"You..." murmured Rachyla. "My father will..."

"I am doing the duty I was assigned, madam. I am certain he will understand that." Mykel forced another smile, waiting as the two rankers pulled back the tarp covering the rear of the cart and revealing a half score of baskets filled with shelled nuts.

"There's nothing underneath, sir. Nothing but the nuts in the baskets."

"Cover their load, and step back." Mykel turned to Rachyla. "You ladiesmay proceed, but I would suggest that carrying contraband rifles is not a wise form of protection at present." He eased his mount back and watched as the woman flicked the leads, and the cart began to roll southward, away from Mykel and third squad.

"You think you should have let her go?" asked Chyndylt. "You know what the majer said."

"We have the rifle." Mykel paused. "It doesn't have any numbers or markings."

"It doesn't? How could it not... it has to be smuggled, then."

"I'd judge so," replied the captain.

"And you let her go?"

"I don't think that it would have been a good idea to turn a major landholder's wife or daughter over to a justicer to be flogged for carrying a rifle she said she needed for protection." Mykel's voice was dry. "Besides, we know who she is, and we have the rifle. If the majer-or the colonel- wants her flogged, he can get her."

And, sometime during the patrol, Mykel would have to write a report on the incident, to turn over to the majer along with the rifle. He'd bent the rules, but going by them't blindly would have been worse-far, far worse. Either way, he'd pay, but that was often what happened to junior officers. Using judgment was a danger, but so was not exercising it.

He took a deep breath and squared himself in the saddle, looking down at the contraband Cadmian rifle that he held. A week of chasing smugglers and escaped prisoners that no one had ever seen, and he had exactly one rifle to show for it-taken from a woman connected to some wealthy lander.

25.

Sexdi morning dawned bright, but breezy, cooler than it had been on the two previous days. As he crossed the courtyard in the blue shimmersilk jacket he wore over his uniform when flying, heavy gloves in hand, Dainyl wished he had decided to take the inspection flight earlier, when it had been warmer, but he had not, and there wasn't much point inremonstrating with himself over the decision. What he did know was that he couldn't afford to put it off longer. There was too much he did not know about Dramur.