Why had Majer Vaclyn gone out of his way, even put himself in danger, to make certain that the seltyr was dead? Was that because he feared that the seltyr's capture would create a rallying point? If matters were so desperate, why hadn't a ajpipany of Myrmidons been sent in? Or was Vaclyn covering up something?

Who in the Duarchy had betrayed the seltyr? It had to be someone highenough-a regional bursar? Someone even higher? But why would anyone higher, an alector, even bother with a local grower? Why would anyone want to arm locals, when the alectors went out of their way to keep rifles out of the hands of landers and indigens? Mykel took a deep breath. For all his questions, he neither had answers nor any way to find them, and worrying over them would just distract him from the tasks at hand.

He looked at the rise in the road ahead, where it passed between the low hills. Although he couldn't say why, something bothered him. That was another problem. His feelings were often right, but he'd been raised as a city boy, and he couldn't always explain-either to squad leaders or to his superiors-why he had done something or not done it.

One of the scouts reined up short, more than a half vingt ahead of the vanguard. Mykel watched as the trooper pulled out his rifle and fired at the ground in front of him. A plume of dust rose, more than should have.

The trooper nodded and started to turn his mount.

Crack! At the sound of the rifle, both scouts completed the turn and spurred their mounts back toward the van of Fifteenth Company.

"Company halt! Rifles ready!" snapped Mykel. "Road oblique! Both sides!"

First squad swung out to the left, and second to the right, as much as they could, in a staggered formation that allowed more rifles to be aimed at an enemy ahead.

Another short volley of shots chased the returning scouts, all coming from the brush-covered hillside to the right of the road. None appeared to strike the two Cadmians.

"Take cover on the right!" Mykel ordered.

As the scouts neared, Mykel gestured them to him. "What did you find?"

"Pits... holes in the road," explained Gerant^reining up and bringing his mount as close to the brush olive as he could. "Looked like sharpened stakes in them. Not all that deep, maybe a third to a half yard, but deep enough to mess up a mount. If you were riding hard..."Mykel understood-a broken leg or worse for the mount and a broken neck for the rider.

Over the next quarter glass, there where were no more shots, and no sounds from ahead. In the end, Mykel chose slowness and cover, using the first two squads to advance on foot, using poles to probe any suspicious ground and keep-ing close to the brush olives. Fifteenth Company took no other shots, but more than two glasses passed before the company held the rise. They also discovered more than a score of pits, most a yard wide and a third of a yard deep. A darkish substance had been smeared on the stakes. Pickets had been posted in all directions, but Mykel doubted they would see or hear anyone.

"Have them use something to break them and fill the holes," Mykel told Bhoral. "If we leave those... how many riders will get hurt, including some of our own dispatch riders? Can you imagine what the majer will have to say, especially after the mess in Enstyla?"

Bhoral nodded slowly. "Sorry time when mounted rifles have to fill holes in a road."

"There's no help for it."

Mykel looked at the descending road that was barely more than a lane.

It circled around the base of the western hill until it headed almost due west, but only for another vingt. Then it turned back north and climbed between two more hills.

He had to wonder how many more traps and ambushes lay ahead before they reached Jyoha-where they were supposed to establish a base from which to attack the escaped prisoners who were part of the rebel forces. According to the map, Jyoha lay less than ten vingts away.

Ten long vingts.

31.

By Londi morning, the more Dainyl considered the implications of what he had observed, the less comfortable he felt, especially as a mere observer in Dra-mur. Yet he had very little proof that he could bring to the High Alector of Justice, or for that matter, even indirectly throughLystrana to the Duarch of Elcien himself. Not only that, but bringing forward his suspicions looked to be most unwise. The only hard evidence was something like a hundred and fifty Cadmian rifles without maker's marks or stamps to indicate whether they had been made in Faitel or in Alustre. While some landers might have been able to manufacture their own weapons, crafting on the captured rifles was both high and standardized-and any facility that could provide that would be hard-pressed to remain concealed. More important, the rifles looked and felt as though they had come from an artisan facility.

There had been a skirmish at Stylan Estate, where the contraband had been found, but nothing to indicate what had prompted the revolt, or the breaking of the Code on the use of Cadmian weapons-and none of those who survived could explain why any of it had occurred. Dainyl had no doubt that it all involved some objective of the Highest and the marshal, but he had no idea whether that purpose advanced the goals of the Duarchy or was a plot against the Duarches-or against other high alectors.

All the other events were not matters that he could safely report, not in full, or events without enough behind them for any meaningful conclusions to be drawn. He could report the attack on himself, but not what the attacker had said. He could report that the lander woman would not talk to him, but he could not point out that she was resistant to the use of Talent. He could point out that someone was smuggling the rifles into Dramur, but not who or why. He could report the ancient tunnel, although he wanted to wait on doing that.

And behind all that was one other constraint, one that faced all Myrmidons, indeed, all alectors. Compared to the total lander and indigen population of Acorus, the Myrmidons were few. Even the total number of Cadmians was small, particularly the battalions from Elcien and Alustre or Dereka, rather than locally recruited and trained Cadmians, such as those under Majer Herryf.

For all that, he needed to do something. At the very least, he needed to find out what Herryf was doing and saying, and to do so, he needed to risk revealing what he had kept hidden for years, but then, he and Lystrana had kept those abilities hidden just for a situation such as he now faced.With a wry smile, he left his quarters and made his way down to the courtyard and toward the headquarters building. He walked toward the north side of the structure and into the deep early-morning shadows.

There he paused, until he was certain no one was looking in his direction before he raised a full Talent-shield. With the shield in place, he planned to take advantage of common misperceptions.

Because alectors were so much bigger than landers, most landers and indigens had no idea how quietly an alector could move-or that an alector's Talent could provide a concealment from the eyes of all without Talent, and that was from all indigens and almost all landers.

He moved silently through the shadows until he reached the main entrance, where he slipped past the duty desk and the unseeing squad leader who sat there. Concealed by Talent or not, Dainyl kept to the side of the corridor. Talent-hiding wouldn't keep someone from walking into him.

Captain Benjyr and Majer Herryf were alone in the ma-jer's study.

Dainyl used his Talent, hoping that the illusion would hold, to project an image of a closed door, while he opened the door and eased into the study. He made his way to the corner out of the direct sunlight coming through the window.

Neither man looked up.

"... have (hey done?" asked Herryf. "Besides kill one of the most respected seltyrs in Dramur, imprison his daughter, and slaughter a hundred of his retainers? They hold the roads. They ride through the plantations and upset the remaining growers. They search wagons looking for rifles that aren't there. Miners are still escaping, or disappearing, which is worse, and the guano output continues to drop. The council, the factors, and the growers have fewer and fewer golds, and prices for food are rising rapidly. All this, and I have heard nothing from these outland Cadmians. I have heard nothing from the Myrmidon colonel. He just watches as Dramur is unraveling."

"I had thought Majer Vaclyn might have kept you informed, sir. He and his captains haven't said much at all, except for Captain Kuertyl. He is the kind who trades information the way the factors trade goods."

"What has he said?""The officers and rankers are less than pleased with you. They feel that you should have handled the problems with the miners with our forces."

"How? We've been trying for over a year. I was forbidden to create another company. I was told I could not work with the council to create a local militia. What choices did I have?"

Dainyl had not been aware of what Herryf had suggested, but he wasn't surprised that the marshal would have limited the forces under the majer's direct or indirect control.

"Sir?" ventured Benjyr. "I was asked to tell you something."

"By whom?"

"I don't know. It was dark, and they approached me outside my brother's house."

He was lying about that, Dainyl knew.

Herryf paused, then asked, "What was this message of great import?"

"Some of the growers to the north think that the Cadmians are there to take their lands."

"How would they do that?" Herryf shook his head. "Some people will believe anything."

"Sir, they say that the Cadmians will keep searching until they find weapons and rebels. Then whatever growers where they're found will be accused of supporting the rebels and sent to the mines, and their lands put up for sale, or maybe just turned over to the council. The colonel spent a lot of time with the guilds and the director..."

Herryf frowned. "That doesn't make sense. Alectors don't care that much about lands or trade. Why would they... ?"

"Sir, I didn't say it made sense. That's what some of them feel."

About that, Dainyl could sense, Benjyr was absolutely convinced.

"I'll have to talk to Majer Vaclyn. He won't listen, but I'll have to talk to him.""What about the colonel, sir?"

"There's no point in that, except to alert him. He'd deny anything. If the alectors aren't involved, he would say that they weren't. If they are, he'll say the same."

'Two more miners escaped yesterday," Benjyr said quietly.

"How? There's an extra company of Cadmians guarding the mine road."

"No one knows. They were missing when they were mustered to march back to quarters. Every span of the mine was searched."

"They must have been hiding somewhere, and then they escaped the stockade after dark." Herryf glared at the captain. "This sort of thing makes us look incompetent, and it adds to the illusion that there is some sort of overwhelming force against us."

"But... sir... you reported..."

"I reported we needed an additional company of Cadmians to deal with the escapees, and that, in time, unless we got a permanent addition to the compound, the escaped miners would present a problem. I wish I'd never made the report. I was told-told, mind you, Captain-that I was reporting an insurrection and to expect a full Cadmian battalion and a Myrmidon observer."

Behind his Talent-shield, Dainyl frowned. That was what he had been told by the Highest, and he had conveyed that to Herryf in one fashion or another, but Herryf seemed to be telling Benjyr the truth about what he had reported to the marshal-or the submarshal.

Herryf stood. "I need to walk around the compound, to be seen. You might as well accompany me."

"Yes, sir," replied the captain.

Dainyl waited until they had left before slipping out of the study and the headquarters building.

32From the saddle of the chestnut, as the company headed westward, Mykel glanced across the ramshackle sheds and run-down holder's dwelling that served as a base for the Fifteenth Company. They had spent almost a week patrolling in and around Jyoha, without ever seeing a rebel or an escaped mine prisoner. That might have been because Fourteenth Company and Dohark had captured the few that were careless or less adept at avoiding the Cadmians.

Fifteenth Company had seen plenty of hoofprints, but neither the horses that made them nor the men who rode those mounts. In following tracks and patrolling the roads, they had lost two mounts to the poisoned stakes in the concealed pits in various lanes and roads, and two troopers had been injured when the mounts went down. Four others had been stung by nightwasps and had turned up with fevers and welts the size of a man's hand.

"I'll keep fourth and fifth squads with me," Mykel said to Bhoral, confirming what he had told the senior squad leader earlier. "After I talk with some of the crafters in the village, we'll look at that lane that winds up toward the ruins of the old sawmill."

"Still don't understand that," replied Bhoral. "They built the sawmill, and the Myrmidons burned it down? Why would they do that?"

"That's one of the things I'm going to try to find out."

He'd already tried talking to some of the crafters and found out next to nothing, but he'd kept looking and listening, and now he was ready to try again.

Short of the town, Bhoral and the first three squads split away, and Mykel and his smaller contingent continued westward. The fields on each side of the lane into Jyoha were filled with plants, supposedly all sunbeans.

The beans were actually oilseeds that, when pressed, provided a golden oil that was used for lamps across Dramur. Some was shipped to Southgate as well, according to the grower who had leased the run-down and near-abandoned holding to Third Battalion. Mykel had seldom seen any workers in the fields, but the sunbeans didn't seem to require much care, and that might have been why they had displaced other crops.

The houses on the east side of Jyoha were one story and of mud brick, unlike the cut-stone dwellings in Dramuria. The roofs were of faded redtiles. Some houses had been plastered with stucco, then washed with pastel colors, mostly blues and greens; but that had been sometime ago, for the wash had faded, and the red showed through, giving the walls a pinkish tinge.

The three women doing wash by a well looked away as the Cadmians neared, and another mother scurried out from a small one-room dwelling and scooped up a bare-bottomed toddler and carted her back into the mud-brick hut, closing the warped plank door firmly.

Several men stood on the dusty porch of the one tavern in Jyoha, whose doors were closed. Two stared at Mykel. He looked back until they dropped their eyes.

Mykel reined up outside the chandlery, then turned to Dravadyl and Vhanyr, the fourth and fifth squad leaders. "Ride around the village and see if you can spot anything interesting. Swing back here in half a glass."

"Yes, sir."

"Try not to shoot anyone." Mykel offered a wry grin. "We don't need any more pits dug in the roads."

"We won't-not unless they shoot first," replied Dravadyl.

The captain dismounted and tied the chestnut to the hitching post, two squat pillars built of mud bricks connected by a rusty iron bar. He crossed the narrow porch and stepped into the chandlery, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness. For the last few days, he'd stopped there every day and bought something, usually some item of provisions that he turned over to one squad leader or another. After dismounting and tying the chestnut to the rail, he made his way inside.

A man not that much older than he was stood in one corner, rearranging some cotton shirts folded on a corner table. In a village as small and as isolated as Jyoha, the chandlery carried far more items than it would in Dramuria, but fewer of each. Mykel didn't recall there even being a chandlery in Faitel, not that he'd ever seen.

"Good morning, Harnyck," Mykel offered.

"Morning, Captain." The man's voice was even, neither friendly norunfriendly.

Mykel walked to the case that served, after a fashion, as a cooler, where he selected a small round of hard yellow cheese. Holding it up, he asked, "How much?"

"For that one, seeing as it's you, Captain, two silvers."

"Since I don't want special treatment, Harnyck," Mykel bantered back, "how about one."

"You're not talking like a good Cadmian officer, Captain. That's the kind of bargain a smuggler would force on a father needing milk for a starving bairn."

"I'm glad you think so highly of me. A silver and two."

"You give me one and three, and it's yours." Mykel threw up his hands.

"What can I do? One and three." He fumbled in his wallet, then extracted the coins. Harnyck took them.

"I was wondering if you could help me."

"What are you looking for?"

"Information. Not about people. About the town."

"Might be able to help." The man refolded a shirt, brushing off a small cobweb and setting it back on the table. "Might not."

"What did people grow out east before the sunbeans?"

"They tried the casaran trees, but the soil's not right. What nuts they got were too bitter. Not even the oldest nag would eat fodder with them in it. Then they tried wheat corn, but the rust got it. The growers like the sunbeans because they don't take much work until harvest, and you get two crops a year here."

"You know what happened to the old sawmill?"

"The Myrmidons burned it. No secret about that. Old man Baholyn decided the pines in the hills would make good cheap timber, and he bought out the lands to the west. Didn't pay more than a few coppers astead square. Once he had the land, he built the mill. He'd been running it a quint less than a year, sending timber to Dramuria, and coins were flowing in here for the first time ever. Then two pteri-dons dropped right out of the sky. One of those big alectors walked up to him and told him to close the sawmill and to stop cutting the timber." The chandler laughed.

"Baholyn bowed and said he would. You don't argue with them."

"No, you don't," Mykel agreed. "But why did they burn it?"

"He closed down for a week, maybe two, and then he started running it at night. He did everything at night, even carted the cut timbers and planks down to another barn on the edge of town. I guess he figured that nothing would hap-pen if the place looked closed during the day. He got away with it for another quint. Then the pteridons came back and turned their lances on the mill. The Cadmians from Dra-muria were here, too, and they surrounded the town. Ba-holyn hid somewhere. The big alector had the troopers gather everyone in the square, and he made it real clear.