92.

Late on Novdi evening, Mykel sat on a sagging and backless pine bench outside yet another grower's stable-where, this time, Mykel had taken thetack room with its single narrow bunk for his own. This grower had been on his lands, and he had explained that he had not backed the rebels and wanted no trouble. He had been telling the truth, and Mykel had told the man that he wanted no trouble either, just fodder and some food and shelter, and that Fifteenth Company would be leaving in the morning.

Mykel looked from the dark main house, its shutters fastened tight despite the warmth of the evening, toward Bho-ral, who sat on a sawed-off log set on end across from his captain.

"Colonel-the submarshal-talked to you for a long time," observed the senior squad leader.

"He did. We'll be getting messengers regularly now. He might even drop messages by the pteridons."

"Glad to see that they finally decided to use the Myrmidons," Bhoral said.

"I have the feeling that the submarshal wanted to all along," Mykel replied. "He said he was recalled, and that there had been some changes made."

"Made him submarshal for one." Bhoral shifted his weight on the log.

The planks underneath creaked slightly. "You think his plan will work?"

"We don't have to do anything but what we've been doing."

"Not until we get them all bunched up. If they gather their forces. You think they will?"

"That part seems likely," mused Mykel. "We've already proved that they can't stand against us if they're separated. Once they're together, the Myrmidons can fly in."

"They have to know that-after this afternoon."

"They might, but who will tell them? I didn't see any survivors," Mykel pointed out. "We could have burned the bodies."

Bhoral pulled at his chin. "Don't know as I'd count on it." j "What else can they do?""They could hide and wait."

Mykel laughed, a sound ironic and rueful. "You and I could hide and wait. The seltyrs have based everything on their power. They can't wait, not if they want to remain seltyrs." He couldn't help but think of the legacy he had left in Jyoha. There, the people had learned exactly what could be done against arrogant and unprepared power. Mykel hadn't meant to teach them that, but he had, however inadvertently, and that was something else that might change the future of Dramur-one way or another.

"They could still dig in someplace, where there are caves, holes, rocks, and make us come get them," Bhoral said.

"The submarshal expects that. He thinks that, if we push them in the right way, they'll move into the rocky ground some twenty vingts north of the mine. There's a forest in front, with big pine trees, the kind that the Myrmidons can't use those flame lances through, but the trees are far enough apart for mounts underneath. They can retreat upslope to a cliff with caves."

"We're going to do that, with one company?"

"He's going to put Rhystan in charge of an oversized i company, what's left of Fourteenth and Sixteen Companies. They'll push from the south."

"We'll still have to lose men digging them out."

"The submarshal says that he and the Myrmidons can take care of that part. Our job is to whittle them down and get them into the open or into the caves."

"Coldhearted bastard, isn't he?"

"You could say that." Mykel didn't see that Submarshal Dainyl was any more coldhearted than Mykel himself had been recently-or than the seltyrs had been more than a few times. "Better coldhearted than hotheaded."

"Suppose so. I still don't like it."

"Neither do I, but it's better than what we faced without theMyrmidons." Mykel stood and stretched.

"We going to push tomorrow?"

"No. It'll take Rhystan another day to get far enough north. We're supposed to move west and north some, and make sure that we're seen-and not get ambushed or lose any men. If there's a small group or company, and I think we have a solid edge, we can attack." Mykel snorted.

"That's not likely."

"No, sir. Everyone knows we're here. Either find five companies on our doorstep, or none in a half score of vingts." Bhoral yawned and rose from his log stool. "Going to check the sentries. See you in the morning, sir."

"In the morning." Mykel continued to look out into the darkness, taking in the corral fence and the sentries beyond. While Selena had risen earlier, it had vanished behind the clouds to the east, providing only a faint glow behind them. Asterta hung, a miniature circle of green, above the Murian Mountains, reminding Mykel of the ancient soarer-who had also hovered above the mountainside and told him to find a talent that allowed him to look beyond, as if he even knew where to start. And when had he had time for that? The only talents he seemed to have time to find and use were being able to shoot a rifle with lethal effect under almost any conditions and finding more effective ways to kill rebels.

Somehow, he didn't think that was what she had meant.

Was there a link between her and the ancient dagger? Alone in the darkness, he slipped it out from the slot in his )elt. The blade shimmered greenish in the darkness, yet in a way that shed no light, cast no shadow. Why was he still ;arrying it?

Because not to would be worse. That he knew, even if he udn't know why. He slipped the miniature dagger back into its slot.

Then he turned and headed for the door to the tack room.

93.

Decdi morning was pleasantly warm, if drier than Dainyl preferred, when he left the officers' mess after breakfast, now back to cookingnormally, and walked to the stables. There he watched as Captain Rhystan mustered the bulked-up Sixteenth Company and headed them out. Four supply wagons brought up the rear as the Cadmi-ans rode out the west gate.

Once Sixteenth Company was well down the road, and the rebuilt gates had closed, Dainyl strode across the courtyard to the headquarters building. Early as it was, the building was empty, except for the squad leader on duty, who sprang to his feet as Dainyl passed.

"Carry on." The submarshal smiled and kept moving.

Once in his study, Dainyl walked to the window and looked out into the courtyard, far emptier than on previous days. How long would it take for the two Cadmian companies to herd and prod the seltyrs into gathering their forces? What if they remained separate?

A cold smile appeared. If they remained separate, between the pteridons and Captain Mykel and Captain Rhys-tan, soon there would be no sizable rebel forces left.

Dainyl still pondered over why the marshal and the Highest had armed the seltyrs and fomented such disorder in Dramur. The unrest clearly reduced lifeforce, both through the actual deaths of higher life-forms and through the disruption of guano deliveries to the mainland. Why would they want that, particularly at this time?

Still having no answer, he turned to the rack set against the inside wall and picked up the map of the area north of the mine. He needed to study it before he had Falyna fly him over that terrain later in the day. It wasn't the best of maps, but it was what he had, and he systematically committed the major terrain features to memory.

Sometime later, there was a quiet rap on the door. Dainyl looked up.

"Sir?" Meryst stood in the study doorway.

"Yes?"

The captain held up an envelope. "A messenger delivered this to the guards on gate duty a little while ago. It's addressed to you."Dainyl took the envelope. The outside bore the inscription "Colonel Dainyl." He broke the blue wax seal, unfolded the parchment, and began to read the flowing script.

Colonel Dainyl, Dramur and its people are not and will not be mere counters or tokens in a game played by a handful of alectors who appear only when they wish to take something. On behalf of those who have entrusted their futures to our leadership, we urge that you leave Dramur to its people and their traditional leaders, for we cannot and will not submit to the rule of outsiders who have neither understanding nor appreciation for our ways.

If you do not choose to leave, and to take your Myrmidons and Cadmians with you, you and they will suffer. We will not surrender, and alectors will never rule Dramur, for you can never be a part of the land and the world upon which it rests.

At the last words of the message, Dainyl barely managed keep from frowning, recalling what Lystrana had pointed it earlier. How had the seltyrs known that? Were they '

lessing? Or had they just used flowery words and come up ith that phrase? There was no signature, only a seal, set in e same blue wax.

"Sir?" asked Meryst.

"We have been told that we will suffer, and that they will sver surrender. I didn't expect something in writing, but I aderstood the message without a formal declaration." He ^tended the missive so that Meryst could see the seal. "Do ou recognize this seal?"

"No, sir."

About that, the captain was telling the truth, and his puz-lement seemed genuine.

"Why do they think they can defy the Myrmidons? Do ou have any idea, Captain?""Sir... the seltyrs have always felt they are the true and ightful rulers of Dramur. So long as no one interfered in 1 ^hat happened on their lands, they paid token allegiance to tie Duarches."

Was that the reason for the marshal's plot? But... if that vere so, why would the seltyrs have trusted any emissary vho was an alector? Or had they just pretended to trust to )btain the weapons? Or had someone else acted as an inter-nediary? "That speaks poorly for everyone." Dainyl's vords were dry. i "Yes, sir, but that is the way they have felt."

"Thank you, Captain."

Meryst nodded, then turned and left.

After a moment, Dainyl walked across the corridor to the smaller study, where Overcaptain Dohark stood at the window.

The overcaptain turned. "Sir?"

"The seltyrs have declared war to the death, or some such," Dainyl announced, holding up the missive. "They ac-tually sent a message.

Almost touching, their belief in their power and the lightness of their ways."

"Yes, sir."

"You sound doubtful, Overcaptain."

"Not doubtful, sir. A Cadmian finds out soon enough that every man feels his ways are the right ways. Otherwise, he couldn't face the next day.

Most wouldn't declare that they'd fight to the death. Fewer would."

"You don't think the seltyrs will?"

"They will. Some of their men will."

"And the rest? What will they do?"

"They'll go home and do what they must.""Even if that means following the next seltyr?"

"If that's the only choice, and it will be for many."

"I fear you're right about that." Dainyl nodded. "I'll be out flying for most of the morning. It could be longer."

The submarshal returned to his study, where he reclaimed his flying jacket from the study and made his way out of headquarters and into the courtyard, striding toward the square that held the duty pteridon. Falyna was waiting. "Just recon today, sir?"

"Just recon-unless we happen to see a massed force of rebels in the open."

Dainyl thought that most unlikely, and, from her expression, so did Falyna.

94.

Under the midmorning sun of a warm Duadi, Mykel blotted his forehead, then leaned forward slightly in the saddle to look at the half score of houses that lay five hundred yards ahead down a barely perceptible incline.

Over the past few days, following the submarshal's or-iers, Mykel had slowly moved Fifteenth Company westward and northward. While they had occasionally seen the tioofprints of the rebels' mounts, the prints had been at least a day old, and all were headed in a westerly and more northerly direction.

Gerant cleared his throat. "Sir, roads and lanes look clear."

Mykel shifted his eyes from the small hamlet back to the scout reined up beside him. "There's no one out in the hamlet?"

"No, sir," replied the scout. "Saw me coming, and every door and every shutter slammed shut, quick as a lightning bolt. A couple ran and shut up their stables."

"We're not exactly popular," Mykel said.

"No, sir. Not as though we shoot women or children.""Or poison people," Mykel added dryly. "We'll ride through, but with rifles ready." He doubted that they would need the rifles, since he couldn't sense any real danger, but there was always the chance that his senses wouldn't pick up all dangers.

He straightened in the saddle. "Fifteenth Company! Rifles ready!

Forward!"

"First squad, forward!" repeated Gendsyr^ Mykel studied the hamlet as they rode closer. The fields on each side of the road alternated between sunbeans and pastures where grass alternated with bare soil. The grasses that had been green throughout Dramur a few weeks earlier were showing signs of tan and gold as the days continued to warm.

Small orchards grew behind most of the small cots, but Mykel had no idea what the fruit might be. He'd thought the people who lived in the north Westerhills had been poor, but they were well-off compared to the peasants in small hamlets in Dramur. Yet the seltyrs lived like rulers-they were cepted it. They not only accepted their poverty, but they seemed to be against anything that would make the seltyrs more accountable. From what he could see, the young men willingly joined the ranks of the rebels, even while the seltyrs were bleeding their families and parents.

"Quiet." Bhoral pulled his mount alongside Mykel's. "Every hamlet has been like this. You think they fear us that much?"

"I don't know whether they fear us, or they fear what we might do, or they fear not showing fear because of what the seltyrs and growers will do once we've left."

"You think things will be that bad?"

"Oh, there will be new seltyrs, and some growers will become seltyrs, but these people will stay poor. For them, nothing will change."

"I suppose not. My folks still live in the same house in the same village outside of Hafin as my grandparents and their parents did."