traders in Dekhron, and
we have to deal with what is, not what we’d like.”
“Always
been that way.” Royalt shook his head slowly. “Always will be. Too few herders,
and no one else cares.”
“Not
until it affects them, anyway,” Alucius pointed out.
“You
got another problem,” Royalt said. “This revolt in Hyalt. Anyone who puts it
down, or tries to, isn’t going to be real popular. Especially if you kill a
bunch of folks. Maybe, the Lord-Protector—or his folk—have been doing something
not real popular there. Could be why he wants an outsider to handle it.”
“That’s
possible,” Alucius admitted. Anything was possible. He’d already seen good and
bad officers in the Southern Guard, and a few of the bad ones had been every
bit as bad as Dysar, who had been the worst Alucius had encountered in the
Northern Guard. It was also more than likely that the rebellion had been caused
by poor administration or over-tariffing. But… he’d just have to see.
“Better
remember that for every man you kill, two will come forward to avenge him. That’s
the way those southerners are. Got fire for blood, and not a lot in the way of
brains,” Royalt said.
There
was another long silence.
“I
might as well get on with fixing supper. It’ll be a bit late.” Lucenda looked
to Wendra. “I won’t need help yet.”
“I’ll
be there in a bit,” Wendra replied, as Lucenda slipped through the front door,
closing it behind her.
“Need
to check the shed,” Royalt added. “What with all the commotion, not sure I
locked everything tight.” He turned and headed down the steps, back toward the
outbuildings, leaving Alucius and Wendra alone on the porch.
Wendra
looked at Alucius, her golden-flecked green eyes meeting his silver-gray orbs.
After
a moment, she said, “I know you have to do this. I could feel it.”
“I
don’t want to,” he said, taking her hands in his. “It’s just…”
“…
that you don’t have any choice. You can’t fight off the Matrial’s lancers by
yourself, but if you help the Lord-Protector, you think there’s a chance that
it won’t happen.”
“Chance—that’s
a good way of putting it.” Alucius uttered a sound halfway between a laugh and
a snort. “I’ve seen how many lancers Madrien has. I don’t know how this new
Regent of the Matrial has managed to take over, but she has, and without the
support of the Lord-Protector to block the Regent, Madrien can take the Iron
Valleys in a season. Every year, we have fewer people and fewer golds…” He
shook his head.
“Do
you think the ifrits have anything to do with things getting so bad?” asked
Wendra.
“I
can’t say. I just don’t know.”
“What
do you feel ?” she pursued.
“I
can’t say why, but I feel that they are.”
“So
do I.I don’t want you to go. I know you have to, but…” Wendra’s eyes were
bright.
Alucius
glanced at the Plateau, a grayish mass that melded with the gray clouds
swirling around and above it. “I wish I knew more.”
“We
never do.”
That
was certainly true, he reflected. That had been true his entire life.
“When
will you leave?” asked Wendra.
“On
Londi. Marshal Frynkel will be taking care of other details.”
“Informing
the colonel?”
“Among
other things.” Alucius took the narrow envelope from within the nightsilk
jacket he had never shed and handed it to Wendra. “You need to read this. It’s
from the Lord-Protector.”
He
stood and waited as she opened the envelope and read the words put to pen
there.
Finally,
she looked up. “Commander of the Northern Guard? Why?”
“Because
things are worse than we know.”
She
just looked at him. “Will you accept that as well?”
“That’s
a road I won’t reach for a while.” He forced a smile. “Anyway, that would mean
I would be in Dekhron, and commanders don’t undertake the nasty missions.”
She
raised her eyebrows. “Colonel Weslyn doesn’t. Colonel Clyon did. Who was the
better
we have to deal with what is, not what we’d like.”
“Always
been that way.” Royalt shook his head slowly. “Always will be. Too few herders,
and no one else cares.”
“Not
until it affects them, anyway,” Alucius pointed out.
“You
got another problem,” Royalt said. “This revolt in Hyalt. Anyone who puts it
down, or tries to, isn’t going to be real popular. Especially if you kill a
bunch of folks. Maybe, the Lord-Protector—or his folk—have been doing something
not real popular there. Could be why he wants an outsider to handle it.”
“That’s
possible,” Alucius admitted. Anything was possible. He’d already seen good and
bad officers in the Southern Guard, and a few of the bad ones had been every
bit as bad as Dysar, who had been the worst Alucius had encountered in the
Northern Guard. It was also more than likely that the rebellion had been caused
by poor administration or over-tariffing. But… he’d just have to see.
“Better
remember that for every man you kill, two will come forward to avenge him. That’s
the way those southerners are. Got fire for blood, and not a lot in the way of
brains,” Royalt said.
There
was another long silence.
“I
might as well get on with fixing supper. It’ll be a bit late.” Lucenda looked
to Wendra. “I won’t need help yet.”
“I’ll
be there in a bit,” Wendra replied, as Lucenda slipped through the front door,
closing it behind her.
“Need
to check the shed,” Royalt added. “What with all the commotion, not sure I
locked everything tight.” He turned and headed down the steps, back toward the
outbuildings, leaving Alucius and Wendra alone on the porch.
Wendra
looked at Alucius, her golden-flecked green eyes meeting his silver-gray orbs.
After
a moment, she said, “I know you have to do this. I could feel it.”
“I
don’t want to,” he said, taking her hands in his. “It’s just…”
“…
that you don’t have any choice. You can’t fight off the Matrial’s lancers by
yourself, but if you help the Lord-Protector, you think there’s a chance that
it won’t happen.”
“Chance—that’s
a good way of putting it.” Alucius uttered a sound halfway between a laugh and
a snort. “I’ve seen how many lancers Madrien has. I don’t know how this new
Regent of the Matrial has managed to take over, but she has, and without the
support of the Lord-Protector to block the Regent, Madrien can take the Iron
Valleys in a season. Every year, we have fewer people and fewer golds…” He
shook his head.
“Do
you think the ifrits have anything to do with things getting so bad?” asked
Wendra.
“I
can’t say. I just don’t know.”
“What
do you feel ?” she pursued.
“I
can’t say why, but I feel that they are.”
“So
do I.I don’t want you to go. I know you have to, but…” Wendra’s eyes were
bright.
Alucius
glanced at the Plateau, a grayish mass that melded with the gray clouds
swirling around and above it. “I wish I knew more.”
“We
never do.”
That
was certainly true, he reflected. That had been true his entire life.
“When
will you leave?” asked Wendra.
“On
Londi. Marshal Frynkel will be taking care of other details.”
“Informing
the colonel?”
“Among
other things.” Alucius took the narrow envelope from within the nightsilk
jacket he had never shed and handed it to Wendra. “You need to read this. It’s
from the Lord-Protector.”
He
stood and waited as she opened the envelope and read the words put to pen
there.
Finally,
she looked up. “Commander of the Northern Guard? Why?”
“Because
things are worse than we know.”
She
just looked at him. “Will you accept that as well?”
“That’s
a road I won’t reach for a while.” He forced a smile. “Anyway, that would mean
I would be in Dekhron, and commanders don’t undertake the nasty missions.”
She
raised her eyebrows. “Colonel Weslyn doesn’t. Colonel Clyon did. Who was the
better
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