Mykel's parents lived in the same house where his grandparents had.

Was it like that for most people? Was that why so little changed? Mykel'slips tightened as he considered the thought.

95.

Dainyl leaned against the study desk that was too low and small for him to sit behind for any length of time. He supposed he could have ordered a larger one built, but he'd never expected to be in Dramuria so long, and he wouldn't have felt right about wasting the resources for something used so infrequently or for such a short time. For a moment, his eyes flicked to the window. Outside headquarters, the Tridi morning sun was beating down on the stones of the courtyard. A faint heat haze was forming, although noon was a good two glasses away. His eyes turned back to the overcaptain who stood before him. "The rebels are slowly being pressed back north of the mine and well west of Enstyla. Within another day or so, they should be in a position where we can attack."

"I'll head north this afternoon, then," said Dohark.

"That wouldn't be a good idea. I'll have to be there." Dainyl handed a folded sheet to the overcaptain. "That is my commission designating you as officer in charge of all Cadmian forces in Dramuria, under my supervision, as well as the officer in charge in my absence, injury, or death."

Dohark's eyebrows lifted. "Sir?" He did not unfold the sheet he had accepted.

"While I don't plan on anything happening in my absence, if you join this assault on the rebels, there will be no one I can trust here in the compound-or in Dramuria. In my boots, would you wish to leave command in the hands of Captain Meryst or Captain Benjyr?" Dainyl didn't mention that Benjyr had spent the last weeks avoiding even getting anywhere near him, although Dainyl had not pressed the issue.

"No, sir." Dohark's words were grudging.

"I know you're a fighting officer, and a good one, but my choices are simple. I can either relieve Captain Mykel and give you Fifteenth Company, and put him in charge here, or leave you here. You have more rank and stature, and you are not perceived in quite the same... light... as Captain Mykel. Didn't you tell me he was being called the Knife of the Ancients, or something like that?""Yes, sir. That's a blade that cuts so sharply that it wounds both the user and the victim. Supposedly, such blades actually exist. They're very rare, though, and no one admits to ever having seen one."

"Does the captain know this?" The idea of Captain Mykel being termed a tool of the ancients disturbed Dainyl, but then, the captain and his emerging Talent already worried at the submarshal.

"He knows what that means, sir, but I don't think he's aware of being called that."

As he stood in the study, Dainyl sensed, for the third day running, the use of Talent to the north. It was clearly the Talent of an ancient-the soarer-and not the unfocused and shorter spurts of Talent that he associated with the Cad-mian captain. Unlike earlier manifestations of the soarer, the more recent appearances had lasted far longer. So much use of Talent by an ancient, or ancients, at a time when his plans were coming to fruition, troubled Dainyl. It suggested that the ancients were aware and interested, if not involved.

"The name fits, in a way," added Dohark.

"That the captain is far sharper than most realize?" Dainyl kept his tone dry.

"Yes, sir. Right now, he could be a good majer. In time, he could be a good colonel."

"As I recall, you were worried that he could be too ruthless."

Dohark flushed. "Ah... that was not quite what I said. I said he was as ruthless as necessary, and effective, but I worried that it would take a toll on him."

Dainyl, distracted by the continuing sense of the ancient to the north, perhaps near the old tunnel that held what had to be the equivalent of a Table, nodded. "I apologize for overstating, Overcaptain." He paused. "I trust you understand why I must insist you remain here."

"I understand, sir. It might be helpful... at the appropriate time..."

"If it is necessary, I will inform Colonel Herolt.""Thank you, sir."

"There are a few other pressing matters. Until later, Overcaptain."

Dainyl waited for several moments until Dohark had left, trying not to look hurried. Then he pulled on his flying jacket and strode out and down the corridor, nod-ding at the duty squad leader before leaving headquarters.

He crossed the courtyard rapidly to the pteridon square, where Quelyt waited.

The Myrmidon ranker had seen Dainyl coming and stood by the pteridon in his own flying jacket. "Where to this morning, Submarshal?

North again, sir?"

"Yes. We'll swing west, head north past the mine, then do a recon of the area where the seltyrs seem to be gathering."

Quelyt vaulted into the first seat and began fastening himself in.

Dainyl waited a moment and did the same in the rear seat. After a moment, he called forward, "Anytime, Quelyt."

The pteridon sprang into the air above the courtyard, blue wings spread wide, into the wind out of the north. In moments, they cleared the northern wall of the compound. Once they were a good hundred yards above the ground, Quelyt swung more to the northwest, until they reached the mine road and paralleled it.

Dainyl leaned slightly to the left, studying the ground below, but he saw no one on the mine road, nor on the winding lanes farther east. He still sensed the soarer to the north. It had been half a glass since he had noted her presence-a far longer time than ever before-except over the last three days.

They flew northward for more than half a glass before Dainyl saw plumes of dust on an older and narrower road heading north. "Up ahead, on the road. See how close you can get!"

"Heading down, sir!" The pteridon half folded its wings for a moment, starting a shallow dive, then extended them again, so that the dive became an extended downward glide.

By the time the pteridon had descended to a hundred yards above theroad, a point where Dainyl could have determined who was riding, the rider or riders had vanished- hiding in casaran orchards, woodlots, under single large trees, whatever cover was available. Such disappearances alone suggested that the riders were rebels and that their officers had scouts detailed to watch the skies for pteridons.

While Dainyl knew that some of the orchards below held rebels, he couldn't very well have Quelyt flame every tree under which rebels might be hiding. That was one reason he needed the Cadmians to herd the rebels into a more circumscribed area. He kept scanning the area on both sides of the road, but the riders remained concealed.

"What now, sir?" called back Quelyt.

"Head north, toward that mountain where we found the ancient tunnel."

"North it is." The pteridon began to climb, turning slightly to the northwest.

Dainyl looked back over his shoulder, but the rebel riders remained hidden and doubtless would stay so until they were certain the pteridon was well out of sight. He turned his eyes and Talent northward, seeking out the soarer's peak, with its odd-angled shape.

Another half glass passed before the pteridon neared the site, and with each vingt that the Myrmidons drew closer, Dainyl could sense the soarer more clearly.

Below the peak, in the charred grove that the Myrmidons had flamed a season before, Dainyl could see greenery where there should have been none-not so soon after the destruction wrought by a skylance. The presence of the soarer remained strong, with a hint of something implacable behind the green Talent.

"There's something there, sir. Can't tell what it is, but it's like a fog in front of that cave," Quelyt called back.

For Dainyl, there was no fog-just a circle of green iridescence with the soarer hovering in the center two or three yards out from the front of the cave. "Don't get any closer. Just sweep by, then circle back again at the same distance.""Yes, sir."

As the pteridon flew by, Dainyl could sense a Talent-probe of some sort, but one so light, so delicate, that he might not even have noticed it had he not been fully concentrating with his Talent and all his senses. He tried to block it, but his own Talent skittered off and through the fine line of green, as if it were smoke or mist, or not present at all. Yet there was a sense of strength there.

With a suddenness that took Dainyl's breath away, the pteridon dropped a good fifty yards, almost instantly. The wide wings beat faster to regain altitude. Dainyl had felt the Talent drain, but not any link to the soarer.

Quelyt banked to the right, gently, so as not to lose more altitude, swinging the pteridon out away from the peak and the higher ridges to gain separation from them.

"Sir... there's a downdraft or something there."

"Just head back to the compound," Dainyl replied. "We've seen enough for now."

The pteridon kept turning until Quelyt straightened on a southerly heading, pointed toward Dramuria and the Cad-mian compound.

Was the soarer able to divert lifeforce from the pteridons at will? That was what the last few moments had strongly indicated, reinforcing what the marshal had suggested about the ancients being able to destroy pteridons. In using the pteridons, Dainyl would have to watch for the ancient soarers, avoiding them completely if at all possible and giving them a wide berth if not.

After all these years, why had the soarers reappeared now?

Dainyl couldn't help but feel that it was neither accident nor coincidence, and to avoid disaster he would have to be most careful, most careful indeed.

He looked southward, out over Dramur, recalling and wondering exactly what the ancient had meant when she had told him that he would change or perish. How could an ifrit and an alector change? An alector'svery nature was unchanging. What had she meant? Or had she merely meant to confuse him?

96.

Mykel looked down from the ridge at the swale below, mostly reddish sandy soil, covered in parts by wild grasses. Absently, he blotted his forehead. Even in the late afternoon of Sexdi, past the heat of the day, spring in Dramur was hotter than most full summer days in Elcien.

On the far side of the swale, which was close to two hundred yards wide, the older-growth pine forest began. Each of the giant trees had a trunk close to a yard across. The rebels had retreated to the old forest to the north of the mine, a wedge of giant pines with a front only half a vingt across. The warren of tall pines extended more than two vingts back, on a gradual slope. The top of the slope was a barren and sandy flat plateau covered with pteridon-sized boulders, and ringed by an irregular semicircle of cliffs. Those on the northern end were three hundred yards above the forest, while those to the west were half that, and those in the south were more like reddish bluffs only fifty yards high.

Within the forest itself were somewhere between four and six companies of rebels and several seltyrs. Thin trails of smoke from the rebel cookfires rose into the silver-green sky. Mykel frowned for a moment.

Cookfires meant men gathering. Did he dare try the approach the scouts had found? Did he dare not to, given the alternatives?

He glanced to his left, where Rhystan had reined up beside him. Beyond the older captain, a half vingt to the south, Sixteenth Company was drawn up on the more southern ridge facing the forest, a vingt to the south, just far enough back that the rebels could not fire from the trees and hit the Cadmians.

"We've got them in the forest, like the submarshal wanted," Rhystan said. "Now what? We've been here for nearly three days. We just can't keep sitting here and patrolling. We go down that slope, and we'll lose half the men we have."

Mykel had to agree. While they could cross the open swale under heavy fire, they would not be able to make much headway in moving through the trees, not without losing too many men. Even with Sixteenth Company joining Fifteenth, they were heavily outnumbered, with no chance ofobtaining replacements anytime soon. Under those circumstances, he wasn't about to sacrifice men for position. "It will be worse in the trees."

"You have that look, Mykel. What do you have in mind?"

'To the northwest, there's that jumble of rock beneath the cliffs. It fills in the space between this ridge and the northwest corner of the forest."

"You said that they had men stationed there."

"They do, but most of them are facing the lower ground. My scouts think there might be a narrow passage right under the cliffs. If I could bring Fifteenth Company up behind them... and if most of their men are near the cookfires... and if I wait until they're eating..."

"That's three 'ifs,' and two are too many for a good operation," Rhystan pointed out.

"Only two," Mykel countered, with a laugh. "We bring the company in early in the morning, before it's light, and we just wait until they're eating."

"That's two dubious propositions."

"Only one. That's whether I get the company past their sentries. If I can, then there's either a way or there's not. If there's not, we come back, and we're no worse off. If there is, then we wait and attack. All you have to do is be ready to deal with anyone who leaves the forest."

"Or charge in and rescue you," replied Rhystan dryly.

"One way or another... it's best if you don't attempt a rescue. Just slaughter them, if it comes to that."

"You're going to try it, aren't you?"

"I'm going to see if it can be done. If we don't finish this quickly, then the other growers and seltyrs will raise more men, and we'll be in an even worse position."

"That's what I like about you, Mykel. You're such a cheerful fellow."

Rhystan shook his head. "You're certain you want to do it?"Mykel nodded.

"Then I suppose we can attempt a few diversions, to keep their interest focused on us."

"Nothing that loses men. We don't have any to lose on diversions."

"Just on problematical operations?"

Mykel laughed. "Look who's being cheerful."

"Realistic," countered Rhystan. "Go see what you can do. We'll divert them."

"If it doesn't work, we'll let you know. Otherwise, I'll need you to start the diversions at a glass past dawn tomorrow. Would you send a message to the submarshal that it's likely we'll be attacking early tomorrow?"

"I'll tell him Fifteenth Company will attempt certain unspecified actions in the morning."

"That's better. Thank you." With a smile, Mykel turned the chestnut and rode back two hundred yards to the northwest, where Bhoral waited, mounted in front of Fifteenth Company.

Bhoral looked at his captain, but did not speak, waiting.

"We're heading farther northwest-opposite that rock pile below the cliffs. We'll stay well back below the top of the ridge. I don't want the rebels to see us."

"Yes, sir. Are you planning an attack on that section of the forest?"

"Not until tomorrow before dawn. The scouts had sug-gested there might be a path between the rock pile and the cliffs. If I can find a way to take out the sentries, then we'll try it."

"If you don't?"

'Then, we'll have to think of something else-or wait." The thought of waiting beyond Septi chilled Mykel, because every day the seltyrs would get stronger and find more men. "Fifteenth Company! To the right, and forward!"He rode at the head of a column of rankers that had gotten gradually but steadily shorter with each week, leading them across the back side of the ridge. A slight breeze gusted across them, but died away, and the silver-green sky remained clear of clouds, but hazy from the heat.

A half vingt later, Mykel reined up the chestnut short of the crest of the ridge and dismounted, handing the reins to Sendyl and taking out his rifle. He also extracted a spare cartridge belt from his saddlebags and fastened it across his chest and shoulders.

While he could sense Bhoral's disapproval, even without looking, he ignored it, instead turning to the senior squad leader. "Just hold the company here. After I see what the situation is, we'll stand down and make sure that the men and their mounts are rested for tomorrow."

He turned and, rifle in hand, motioned to Jesakyt. The two Cadmians walked up toward the crest of the ridge, angling toward one of the scrub oaks near the top. Keeping low, they slipped behind the bushy oak.

Mykel peered through the leaves. The swale directly below was a slight depression barely five yards below the ridge crest, rising to the northwest until it reached the base of the cliff another hundred yards to Mykel's right. There, it merged with the ridge top in a flat and open expanse- except that half of that open expanse was covered with a jumble of sandy red boulders that appeared to have been piled haphazardly just out from the base of the cliff.

"You see, sir," Jasakyt said in a low voice. "The rocks look like they fell away from the cliff. I could see light all the way through. I could have ridden to cover behind the rocks, but coming back, they would have been waiting, and I thought you should know."