"Yes, sir."

"Did you know the holder?""No, sir."

"Please take a seat and remove your left boot, trooper."

"Sir?"

"You heard me. Remove your left boot."

Polynt stiffened ever so slightly, and just momentarily, before sitting down. Slowly, he removed the left boot.

"Lift your trouser and show us your ankle."

Polynt did.

"Would you please explain the number on your ankle?" Prom the corner of his eye, Dainyl saw Sturwart's mouth open, but the colonel kept his concentration on the trooper.

"I can't, sir. I just can't."

Dainyl could sense both the truth and the frustration in Polynt.

"Do you see a number there?"

"Yes, sir."

"Has it always been there?"

"I... don't know, sir."

"Do you know how it got there?"

"No, sir."

"You may put your boot back on." Dainyl turned. "I would like Justicer Alveryt to explain the tattoo on the trooper's ankle, and how it came to be there."

Alveryt nodded slightly and cleared his throat. "Until I saw the trooper this morning, I did not realize who he was. His name is Apolynt, and he is from Santazl. He was convicted of theft from a potter h'ere six years ago.

After his term in the mines, he was suspected of having committed amurder, but he ran into the night. When an overturned boat was found in the gulf, several days later, he was believed dead."

'Trooper Polynt, is your name Apolynt?"

"That's what my father called me. I never used the name."

"Are you from Santazl?"

"Yes, sir."

"Were you sentenced to the mines?"

"Yes, sir."

"Were you not asked if you had been convicted of a major crime when you joined the Cadmians?"

"I don't rightly recall, sir."

"Are you not aware that concealing a crime to join the Cadmians is a flogging offense?"

"No, sir. I never heard that."

Once more, Dainyl could sense the internal confusion in the trooper, a confusion that bore a sense of Talent-manipulation.

"You may be seated."

Polynt reseated himself.

'Trooper Rykyt, step forward."

The trooper who stepped before the dais was older.

"Please describe what you saw concerning the killing of the holder."

Dainyl listened carefully to Rykyt and the other troopers he called, but nothing any of them said cast the slightest shadow of doubt on what Captain Mykel had reported. After all the witnesses had been heard, slightly before noon, Dainyl let the silence draw out for a time as he studied Polynt.The ranker had killed the cot holder. There was no doubt about that, and there was little doubt that Justicer Alveryt thought so as well. The fact that he had fled Dramuria after committing one murder-and could not say where he had been-and that someone had used Talent on the man's thoughts to block those memories-that was far more disturbing, because it meant either one of the highest of alec-tors was involved, or that there was a highly Talented lander loose. Dainyl liked neither of the possibilities.

Still, he had to make a judgment on the facts before him and to pass sentence.

"Polynt, please rise and face your judgment."

The trooper did. For the first time, there was uncertainty and fear in his eyes.

Dainyl stood and looked down at the trooper. "By the authority vested in me by the High Alector of Justice, under the Code of the Duarches, and the regulations governing all Cadmians, I hereby confirm that the accused has had the right to state his case, and that all parties to the offense have been heard. The holder Casimyl of Lecorya was shot and murdered on his own holding. This proceeding has established beyond any doubt that you, Apolynt of Santazl, committed that murder. For that murder, you will be flogged until dead. Your sentence will be carried out one glass before sunset tonight." Dainyl paused just briefly, then added the ritual phrase.

"Justice has been done; justice will be done. This court-martial is hereby concluded."

"No! I didn't!"

Polynt started to move, but before he took half a step, the Cadmian guards seized him. In moments, his hands were bound, and a gag was across his mouth.

Dainyl noted that Captain Mykel had been right there. He and his men had anticipated what Polynt would do, and they had been ready. That was the mark of a good officer, but a good lander officer who might discover his Talent was something else again. Yet good officers were always hard to come by, and many who were potentially Talented never did discover their Talent.

That meant that Dainyl would be the one to watch Captain Mykel.

There were no other alectors near, and, equally important, after what hewas discovering, whom else could he trust?

47.

Mykel stood facing north in the Cadmian compound, third squad before him. The entire squad, including Mykel, wore red armbands-the sign of blood shed wrongfully.

Chyndylt took one step forward, then stiffened, and snapped, 'Third squad, ready, sir!"

"Thank you, squad leader. Stand fast." Mykel about-faced, so that he looked directly at the T-shaped flogging stand directly before him.

On the right of the flogging stand was Majer Vaclyn. Beside it on the left waited a thick-thewed figure in black wearing a black mask and cowl, and holding the execution whip, with its razor-sharp barbs.

"Third squad stands ready, sir," Mykel reported.

Majer Vaclyn barely looked at the captain before raising his voice.

"Bring forth the prisoner."

As he waited, although his head did not move, Mykel's eyes flicked to the west, where the white sun hung just above the walls of the compound, then back to the flogging stand, a reminder not only of what awaited Polynt, but what could await any Cadmian who failed badly-including Mykel.

Hands bound behind him, Polynt was escorted to the T-shaped form in the middle of the south side of the courtyard. The four Cadmians who led him also wore red armbands, although they were from the local Cadmians stationed permanently in Dramuria. They positioned him so that his chest was against the cross member of the stand. Then, his feet were tied loosely to the stand before his arms were unbound, and his wrists strapped to the stand.

Once the condemned trooper was secured to the stand, and gagged, the four Cadmian escorts turned as one and marched southward beyond the stand. There, they about-faced and came to attention.

Majer Vaclyn stepped forward, clearing his throat and speaking. "Youhave taken life, and life will be taken from you. You have created pain and suffering, and with pain and suffering will you die. May each lash remind you of your deeds. With each lash may you regret the evils that you have brought into this world." He stepped back and nodded to the whipmaster.

Mykel could sense that, for the majer, the words were merely a procedure. They should not have been. There should have been meaning behind them. Then, for Polynt, perhaps that was fitting, for the trooper had never had any appreciation of any life besides his own, and the final words before the lash meant as little to him as they had to the majer.

Mykel should have guessed that Polynt had served time as a prisoner.

The trooper's description of the guano mine had been too graphic-and too out of the character that Polynt had presented as a trooper. The captain's lips tightened-another failure on his part, and he was probably most fortunate that the Myrmidon colonel hadn't picked up on that.

The whipmaster stepped forward, raising the whip. The first lash ripped away fabric from the back of a tunic from which all insignia had been removed. Polynt convulsed, but the heavy gag muffled any exclamation or moan he might have uttered.

As the whipmaster continued to strike, Mykel watched, outwardly stolid, despite the blood and agony before him. At moments, a faint line of pain seemed to fall across his own back, but that had to be his own imagination. Then, as Polynt began to sag in the T-brace, Mykel heard a muffled impact behind him as someone from third squad collapsed, most likely one of the newer rankers.

Someone condemned was seldom actually lashed to death, but whipped until insensible. Then the whipmaster and executioner put a dagger through the heart. When that finally happened, all too close to sunset, Mykel felt a vague sense of relief, along with an emptiness and a sadness.

Polynt's death wouldn't bring back those he had killed. It would ensure he killed no one else, and it might deter some trooper from following Polynt's example.

Vaclyn stepped forward once more. "Justice has been done. He stepped back.

Four members of the death squad stepped forward and cut the body from the whipping frame, laying it on a flat handcart that two others hadrolled into position.

"Dismissed to officers," Vaclyn stated flatly.

Mykel turned to face third squad. Many rankers were pale. Mykel suspected he might be as well. "Squad leader, you have the squad.

Restricted to quarters until morning muster."

"Yes, sir." Chyndylt turned. "About-face! Forward!"

Mykel stood silently for a moment.

"Captain!"

At the words from the majer, Mykel turned. "Yes, sir?"

"I need a word with you."

"Yes, sir." Mykel walked to the majer, stopping short a yard away and waiting.

"This has been a most distasteful situation. Cadmians should never be on trial for murder. This whole incident suggests that your leadership has been less than superb. In fact, your leadership has been barely adequate at times."

Mykel waited, his face calm. Saying anything would just make matters worse, and Mykel was partly to blame, if not for any reason that the majer knew.

"You'll be returning to the mine patrols first thing in the morning with third squad," declared Vaclyn. "You will report to me every Octdi afternoon, here at the headquarters building, no later than two glasses past midday. You will bring one squad, a different squad, each Octdi. You will begin this Octdi. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Vaclyn's smile was cold. "You may go, Captain."

Mykel offered a slight bow, the least he dared, before turning and walking back toward the barracks. He'd need to talk to Chyndylt, and he might as well get that over with first.No matter what he did, matters between him and Majer ^ Vaclyn could only get worse. He would have to continue to document everything he could, however he could, in between riding and supervising patrols.

Why did Vaclyn dislike him so much? Because the majer was afraid that Mykel would reveal how incompetent he was?

Mykel shook his head. Vaclyn was too incompetent to ^cognize his own shortcomings, and too self-centered even to consider whether he had shortcomings. What Mykel didn't understand was why the majer remained in command of the battalion. Sooner or later, Vaclyn would make a mistake that his captains couldn't rectify and that Colonel Herolt couldn't cover up. Then what?

Mykel snorted softly. What would happen was that some captain would be blamed-most likely Mykel-and flogged or executed, or both.

The court-martial had bothered Mykel, not because of the outcome, but because he had sensed that something had not been right about the entire situation. What that might have been, Mykel had not been able to determine, only that he felt that way. Polynt had deserved death, probably for two murders, if not more.

Even so, the execution itself had been hard for Mykel, because flogging to death was painful. At times, he'd felt like he'd suffered some of the strokes, even though he'd only had to stand in front of third squad and watch. That had to have been an overactive imagination. What else could it have been?

Quietly, he headed for the barracks as the last long light of the winter sun faded in the west.

48.

As the long shadows that preceded twilight stretched across the compound, Dainyl watched from the corner of the headquarters building as Majer Vaclyn exchanged words with Captain Mykel. The captain's posture remained formal, neither relaxed nor stiff with anger, but Dainyl could sense a core of feeling-hot rage encased in cold control. After the captain turned, Dainyl moved toward the majer.

iVaclyn looked up, surprised at the alector's appearance. "Colonel."

"Majer." Dainyl projected a faint sense of curiosity. "I saw you talking to Captain Mykel, and you seemed concerned."

For several moments, Vaclyn said nothing. Dainyl could sense that he was irritated at what he felt was an intrusion, but the colonel held a pleasant expression on his face and waited, using his Talent, as well as his eyes and ears, to study the majer.