14.

The greatest struggle that faces any people, especially a people who would be great and leave an imprint upon a universe that offers neither reward nor punishment, is to see the universe as it is, not as they would have it be. Because all life begins with the irrational and evolves away from it, all beings capable of even the most basic of thoughts begin with an attachment to the irrational. Feelings precede thought, and all who have borne and loved an offspring understand the strength of such emotion. Yet that strength of feeling should serve a true perception of what is, and that perception must be grounded in what is observed, what can be proved, and what can be replicated, without fault, without deviation, time after time.

In any society, even in a higher civilization such as ours, only a comparative handful of individuals ever escape from the tyranny of the irrational. Nor should it be expected that any greater number should so advance themselves in that manner of thought and outlook. That is so because true per- . I ception requires one to turn his or her back upon the comfortable and the familiar and to question not only what others see as the acceptable and proper way of life, but one's own predilections and observations. Few have the strength and insight to do so; fewer still the will.Of the insects, there are millions upon millions upon millions. Of the rodents and lizards and the fish in the streams and the oceans, there are millions upon millions. Of the cattle in the fields and the sheep in the meadows, there are many millions. Of those of our shape who toil in the fields and in the manufactories, there are millions. Yet, of those who lead and guide them, who see each world as it is, there are but scant thousands. That is the way of life and the universe. To see it otherwise is but an illusion of the irrational.

Views of the Highest Illustra W.T. 1513.

15.

As Dainyl had known from his own past experience, the flight to Dramur was long. While Quelyt and Falyna were more than courteous, Dainyl would rather not have ridden a pteridon as a passenger, in the second silvery saddle behind Quelyt, when he had once been a command flier. There was no help for that. Still, once he was airborne, with the wind in his face, and the land-or water-spread out below him, he felt much of the same marveling pleasure that he had in years past.

Pteridons were too rare to be spared for officers who did not fly regularly, not when the creatures were linked to one Myrmidon and could not be flown by anyone else. For all that, no pteridon had a name. None was necessary, because no pteridon answered except to his rider-or one of the highests who used special crystals in the rare cases when a rider could no longer ride-or was promoted out of that status, as Dainyl had been. Neither event happened often. Dainyl had been a rider for nearly eighty years, but then, so had many of the Myrmidons. Some had been riding for close to a hundred, but the average was closer to sixty. His time as a Myrmidon didn't count the more than ten years he'd toiled as a sandoxes second driver on the transport run from Hafin to Krost. Most younger alectors spent some time as drivers; it was both necessary and expected. Dainyl's term as a driver had been longer than most.

The first night, Dainyl and his escorts stopped at the Cad-mian compound in Southgate, the usual resting point for Myrmidon couriers headed to Dramuria. While the tireless pteridons could have flownstraight through, a full day of flying was more than enough even for seasoned Myrmidons. Dainyl was slightly sore on Octdi morning, although he would not have been stiff at all years before.

They were airborne again just before dawn and followed the coastline southeast, passing above the Dry Coast, so named because there were almost no sources of water-not rain, not streams, and not even wells or springs. The Dry Coast ran from twenty vingts below Southgate all the way around the southwest coast of Coins to the Southern Cliffs-nearly eighteen hundred vingts in all, with but a single town. The section to the west of the Southern Cliffs was the Empty Quint, although where the Dry Coast ended and the Empty Quint began was far from clear. Not that it mattered, since little lived there, and the high alectors in Lyterna had determined early on that attempting to increase lifeforce mass in that area would have been futile.

The one town along the Dry Coast was Ascar, some three hundred vingts from Southgate and slightly more than that from the northern cape of Dramur. A single small stream ran from the southern part of the Coast Range to Ascar, and there was a small natural harbor, used mainly because the fishing off the Dry Coast was among the best in the west of Corns.

The second day's journey consisted of several brief stops, a quick early midday meal at Ascar, a few more stops, then a longer leg over the channel and on to Dramuria.

As they flew southward over the water, every so often Dainyl looked back, more up and to his right, to find Fa-lyna and the other pteridon.

Because of the vortices created by the wings, all Myrmidon formations-or single trailing fliers like Falyna-always flew higher than those in front, a V formation that extended aft and upward as much as necessary.

When they reached Dramuria, late in the afternoon on Octdi, the two Myrmidon riders circled their pteridons twice around the Cadmian compound on the bluff on the northeast edge of Dramuria, directly above the harbor and the main portion of the town-set north of the small river that drained out of the Murian Mountains to the west and north. The town itself was built of local graystone, and all the roofs appeared to be of a reddish tile. Dainyl could not see any marked changes in either the town or its environs since he had last been there. Slightly more ground might have been cleared in the lowlands west of Dramuria, and the road thatarrowed northwest to the mountains-and to the mine-seemed to have little traffic upon it.

The Cadmian compound was the same as any other in layout, except smaller, a stone-walled square half a vingt on a side, with the headquarters buildings directly behind the west-facing gates, and the barracks and officers' quarters on the north side, the stables and shops on the south, all separated by the central courtyard.

Falyna swept in first, the pteridon coming to a graceful flaring halt, wings wide, then settling onto the greenish gray stone of the central courtyard. Quelyt followed.

After dismounting, Dainyl had to admit to himself that he was glad enough to put his legs on the ground and stretch. Then he turned to Quelyt. "Thank you. A very good flight. I know it's not the same with a passenger, but I appreciate it."

"Thank you, sir." Quelyt nodded. "That last leg always seems so long."

He grinned ruefully. "That's because it is, and there's no place to take a break."

They both turned at the approach of a Cadmian senior squad leader, who stepped up to them, stiffened to attention, and half bowed.

"Sir?" The squad leader looked up at Dainyl.

The Myrmidon colonel could sense the concern that bordered on fear.

"Colonel Dainyl. I'm here to see Majer Herryf."

"Yes, sir. Yes, sir. I'll send word to him."

The squad leader's words told Dainyl that either Herryf had not been told of his imminent arrival or he was not expected as soon as he had arrived. Dainyl hoped it was the latter.

"He's not here, in the compound, at the moment?"

"No, sir."

"Then we'll just get settled. Officers' quarters for three Myrmidons, and"-Dainyl gestured toward the square stone buildings with massiveperches above them-"the squares for the pteridons."

"Yes, sir. The squares are always ready, and the senior officers' quarters are always ready, sir, and there are others..."

"Good. I think I can find my way to the quarters. If you would take care of the fliers and their pteridons."

"Ah, yes, sir."

While Dainyl had been talking to the squad leader, Quelyt had unfastened the colonel's duffel. He handed it to Dainyl.

"Thank you," Dainyl said. "I'll check with you both after I talk to the major. We'll probably need to do some recon flights in the next few days."

"Yes, sir."

Dainyl turned, leaving the senior squad leader with the two Myrmidons and moving quickly toward the quarters on the north side of the compound. It felt good to stretch his legs. As he walked, he studied the almost-empty compound, far more vacant than it should have on an Octdi evening, even after duty hours. Did the Cadmians in Dramur take all of both end days off?

Another squad leader hurried toward Dainyl as he walked across the courtyard. "Colonel, sir... if you would allow me to help you?"

Dainyl smiled. "I can carry my gear, but guidance to my quarters might help."

"Yes, sir. This way, sir."

The officers' quarters were in the most northwestern of the structures along the north wall, directly north of the headquarters building. The visiting senior officers' quarters-effectively only for majers and above-were on the upper level of the two-story structure.

Dainyl found himself escorted to the quarters on the northwest corner.

There, the squad leader opened the door and gestured. "Sir, these arethe best. Even the Myrmidon marshal found them most comfortable."

"Thank you. If someone would let me know when the majer arrives?"

"Yes, sir, Colonel."

Dainyl closed the door and stepped farther into the quarters, effectively a large room with an attached second chamber holding a bath and facilities. The bed was long enough, a full three yards. The writing desk was wide enough and set before one of the windows, with a light-torch in a wall bracket directly above.

He sniffed. The room smelled relatively clean, and he didn't sense any obvious vermin. He decided against bathing, but used the facilities and washed up before unpacking his duffel and hanging up his second uniform. It didn't need it, not when it never wrinkled. He left the light-cutter in its holster.

After walking around the room for a time, stretching his legs more, Dainyl seated himself at the desk. The desk chair and desk were almost too low to use, but he angled his legs to the side, considering what he'd seen on the flight in, and jotted down his thoughts.

He'd have to ask the council director about the mine and the dyeworks.

Lystrana wouldn't have mentioned them without a reason beyond the comparative note that the decline in guano receipts had not been accompanied by a corresponding decrease in other trade revenues.

He wrote down ideas as they came to him, for more than half a glass.

Thrap-the knock on the quarters' door was almost tentative.

Dainyl could sense that it was a Cadmian. "Yes?"

"Colonel, sir, the majer is here, and awaits your instructions and orders. He would like to know if you would you like him to come to your quarters, or to meet in the headquarters?"

"I'll meet him in the headquarters immediately." Dainyl stood.

"Yes, sir." The Cadmian turned and left.

Even though he had not met the majer, the man's attitude alreadybothered Dainyl. Dainyl was his superior officer, in more ways than one, and the man was sending a subordinate to inquire. When his own superiors wanted something, Dainyl didn't send undercaptains or squad leaders to find out. He just went. Sending subordinates was the mark of someone officious and all too willing to spend others' time.

The Cadmian trooper was waiting in the courtyard below the steps from the upper level, and Dainyl followed him across a courtyard darkened by the long shadows of the compound's western wall.

They entered headquarters through the front arched entrance, past a duty squad leader, who straightened, and stated, "Colonel, sir, welcome to Dramuria, sir."

"Carry on."

Dainyl continued toward the end of the corridor, but he could sense that, outside of his guide and the duty squad leader, and the majer, the headquarters building was deserted.

"That's the majer's study, there, sir," offered the guide.

"Thank you." Dainyl walked to the open doorway.

Majer Herryf stood just inside. "Colonel, welcome to Dramur." Herryf was short and dark, with short-cut stringy black hair and eyes that protruded slightly-clearly a Cad-mian who'd worked his way up from an indigen background-or whose parents or grandparents had.

Dainyl nodded. "Thank you." He waited to see what the majer had to say.

"Colonel... I hadn't been informed that we would be receiving a senior Myrmidon officer, or I would have been here to greet you personally."

"Sometimes, messages don't always arrive in a timely fashion." Dainyl studied the chairs set before the majer's desk and decided to remain standing. "Since you haven't been notified, I'll make it very simple. Next week, probably on Duadi, a battalion of Cadmian mounted rifles will arrive here on the Duarchs' Valor. They are being deployed here to deal with the mining situation." He paused for but a moment. "Tomorrow, I'll need to meet with the director of the mines and the head of the governingcouncil of Dramuria. I expect that you can set those meetings up after we finish here."

"Colonel... it is getting late in the day."

"I know, but you notified the marshal of a problem you felt required Myrmidon attention. I've flown two straight days to get here. This appears to be a matter of some con-cern. If it is, we should not worry about such...

customs... as end-day relaxation. Should we?"

"Ah... not when you put it that way, Colonel. I'll do what I can."

"I expect to meet with them both tomorrow." Dainyl smiled coolly.

"Now... what has happened here in the last week? Will we need to put the Cadmians into the field immediately?"

"Cadmians, sir? I had thought that perhaps a company of Myrmidons..." offered Herryf.

"When it does not appear urgent enough to discuss immediately? For a handful of disgruntled miners hiding in the hills?" Dainyl lifted his eyebrows.

"They are most resourceful, Colonel."

Dainyl could sense the impatience restrained behind the cultivated politeness. The majer was definitely a man who expected that people see things his way and no other. "Resourceful or not, a battalion of Cadmian mounted rifles should be more than enough." Dainyl paused. "That is, unless there is something that you did not convey in your reports."

"No, sir. I wrote out everything in my report to the marshal."

"Your report suggested the possibility of an insurrection, but I do not recall any detailed information on the weapons available to these would-be rebels."

"There's blasting powder missing. That's what the director of the mine reported. As I told the marshal."

"That is not terribly useful," Dainyl pointed out, "unless they have some way to turn it into munitions. Do you know if they do?""If I'd waited until they did, the marshal would not have been pleased."

"He is not displeased with you. He took your report seriously. That is why a full battalion of mounted rifles is arriving. You'll need to arrange to billet and feed them."

"Five companies of a hundred, sir?"

Dainyl nodded. "Now... what didn't you put in the report? The things you couldn't prove that worried you?"

Herryf smiled politely, but, again, Dainyl could sense the arrogance and calculation.

"The volume of guano shipments is down, and at this time of year, it generally starts to rise with the cooler weather. The mine director has been talking with the local justicer, and it appears that more young men are being sentenced to the mines."

"If they're troublemakers... ?" suggested Dainyl, trying to draw the majer out.

"Some are, but most are just careless. That's not good because their families are supporting the rebels. I can't prove that, but..."

"What else?"

"We had almost twenty rifles stolen," admitted Herryf. "They were listed as being in the armory. I know they were there in the spring, but they're not there now. Until this past year, we've lost less than one rifle per year."

"How did that happen?"

"I don't know, sir. That's one of the reasons..."

After a moment, Dainyl spoke. "You have two companies here, and they keep the compound, and serve as guards at the mine. Are all their rifles accounted for?"

"Yes, sir."

"By number?""Sir?"

"I suggest you check the maker numbers against the inventory. Or have you?"