On Quinti morning, Dainyl stood on the stairs leading down to the main floor of the house. Someone was pounding on the front door—practically at sunrise, no less.
“Dearest! Would you…I’m not exactly…” called Lystrana from the breakfast room.
In his undertunic and trousers, Dainyl made his way to the door and opened it. Standing there in the fog and chill was Adya—one of Zelyert’s older assistants. Behind her waited Zelyert’s personal coach.
“Marshal…the Highest regrets the intrusion, but he requests your immediate presence at the Hall of Justice. He said to tell you that it’s of the greatest importance.”
“Come in out of the chill. Let me grab my tunic and gear, and I’ll be with you in a moment.” Dainyl closed the door behind Adya, then hurried to the breakfast room.
“What is it?” Lystrana’s eyes narrowed.
“The Highest wants me at the Hall of Justice as soon as I can get there. His carriage is waiting outside.” Dainyl shook his head. “I don’t like it. Not when you’re leaving for Dereka this morning. I’ll take one of your cases with me. If I can’t meet you at the Table, I’ll just take it to Dereka. Jonyst and his driver can get it to you.”
“Maybe I can get to the Table while you’re still there.” Lystrana smiled nervously. “I’ll try. I might wait a bit.”
“I’ll do what I can.” He embraced her, tightly, for a long moment, then stepped away and walked swiftly back to the foyer and up the steps to their bedchamber, where he finished dressing. When he came back down, wearing his flying jacket and carrying the heavier of Lystrana’s cases, Lystrana was standing in the foyer, talking to Adya.
“…leaving for Dereka this morning…”
“…so sorry…”
Lystrana handed a large chunk of bread to Dainyl. “At least eat this on the way.”
“I don’t know if the Highest…” Dainyl grinned.
“He’ll have to deal with the crumbs,” suggested Adya.
After giving Lystrana a last kiss, with the bread in one hand, the case in the other, Dainyl followed Adya out to the carriage. With the case and two alectors, the carriage was cramped, but better than most hacks.
“Do you know what this is all about?”
“No, sir. All I know is that he had a recorder with him, a woman. I don’t know her.”
Either Sulerya or Delari, then. If either were in Elcien, matters in Blackstear or Lysia were not good. Dainyl frowned. The odds were that the recorder was Delari, since Sulerya had support from Eighth Company and close to a battalion of Cadmians. Had the ancients or the Reillies overrun Blackstear? Zelyert wanted to use Myrmidons, and quickly, or he wouldn’t have roused Dainyl out so early.
Once the carriage pulled up to the Hall of Justice, Dainyl got out and lugged the case up the stone steps, across the receiving hall, and back down the inside staircase to the lower level. Adya stayed with him.
The High Alector of Justice had obviously sensed Dainyl arriving and stood in the doorway to his private study. “What’s the case for, Marshal? Weapons, by chance?”
Dainyl shook his head. “Gear for the Regional Alector of Dereka.”
“That may have to wait.” Appearing as grim as Dainyl had ever seen him, Zelyert stepped back to let Dainyl enter the study, then closed the door. Beside the small conference table stood a tall and angular woman in the green of a recorder. Deep circles ringed her eyes, and her entire being radiated exhaustion.
“Delari.” Dainyl inclined his head.
“I see that you are now marshal. The High Alector did not tell me that.”
Zelyert gestured to the chairs around the table. “We might as well sit. Delari has had some exhausting times.” He waited until everyone was seated. “If you’d tell the marshal what you told me.”
“We’ve lost use of the Table at Blackstear. We’ve lost the entire building. Forces of Myrmidons from Ifryn came through the long translation tubes, and they kept coming. They had lightcutters, and they overwhelmed the guards.”
“They can use the Table there as an entry to any Table,” Zelyert pointed out. “Every Table chamber could be a battlefield.”
As if most of the chambers weren’t already, reflected Dainyl. “When…how?”
“Yesterday,” replied Delari. “I managed to use my Talent to conceal the hidden chamber. They’ve already started fortifying the Table building, using lightcutters to cut stone to seal windows. Early this morning, while they were recovering, I slipped out with Talent cover and got to the Table. I had to use the Table to kill three of them before I could translate here.”
“How many Myrmidons are there?” asked Dainyl.
“No more than twenty, right now. From what I overheard, they lost forty to take Blackstear.”
“If you act quickly, before they get reinforcements,” suggested Zelyert, “you can stop them. I know you don’t want to move Myrmidons out of Elcien, Marshal, but I don’t see that we have any choice.”
Dainyl didn’t either. “What sort of weapons did they have besides lightcutters?”
“Sabres. Not all of the lightcutters worked,” replied Delari. “Long translations are hard on the crystals.”
Dainyl turned to Zelyert. “How many Myrmidons are there, or were there, on Ifryn?”
“There were twelve companies, eight with pteridons.”
“Were the foot companies the same size as the flying companies?”
“They’re larger—sixty rankers.”
“It sounds like one entire foot company, no more than two. They knew which Table to target and trained for it.” Dainyl turned back to Delari. “What was the weather like?”
“It was cloudy and cold, but I don’t think it was snowing.”
“Is the Table still activated?”
“Yes.”
Zelyert frowned.
“Do you know if they had any Table engineers with them?”
“I don’t think so. They didn’t seem to know anything about the Tables, except as transport.”
Dainyl turned to Zelyert. “Do you have any lightcutters here? I’d sent some under seal.”
“They’re in the storeroom.”
“Good. I’ll need three.”
Delari’s eyes widened.
So did Zelyert’s. “I need a marshal, not a missing commander.”
“You need to isolate the Ifryn Myrmidons in Blackstear before anything gets worse. If I can do that, then you can handle them at leisure—or even let them all freeze. Delari and Chastyl will be able to tell if I’m successful.”
“And if you’re not?” asked Zelyert pointedly.
“Then all the Myrmidons in the west won’t be enough to stop them,” replied Dainyl.
“Do you know Table mechanics?” asked Delari.
“Enough to inactivate the Table,” temporized Dainyl, standing to forestall more questions. “The lightcutters?” He didn’t like revealing skills the High Alector didn’t know he possessed, especially as neither Duarch remained Talent-augmented, but stopping the consternation and disaster angry Myrmidons from Ifryn could create was more important. The more authority he had, the more he had to reveal about himself, and the less he could keep to himself.
“How—?” began Delari.
“We’ll worry about that once we get them isolated.” Dainyl looked to Zelyert. “Highest, if you could have someone bring the lightcutters to the Table chamber, please?” He’d tacked on the “please” because he could sense Zelyert’s growing irritation. The High Alector had no business being irritated, but there was no point in not trying to mollify him.
“I will.” Zelyert left the study first. He was still angry.
Dainyl picked up the case.
“Marshal…do you know what you’re doing?” asked Delari quietly. “You could get stranded in Blackstear, and with the Ifryn Myrmidons as angry as they are, even you…”
“Unfortunately, I do know. Sulerya taught me, and you’re the only recorder I’d tell that to.” He began to walk toward the Table chamber.
“I never thought it would be like this,” Delari said quietly.
Neither had Dainyl, for all that he had learned in the past two years. They walked without saying more to the Table chamber, where Delari opened both doors for Dainyl. Lystrana had not arrived, and that was probably for the best.
Chastyl glanced from Delari to Dainyl, and then to the case. His eyebrows rose. He looked even more exhausted than did Delari.
“That’s for the new RA in Dereka,” Dainyl explained.
“I hadn’t heard…”
“My wife. She’ll be here later to translate there.”
“Do you think…?” began Chastyl. “With Blackstear…?”
“Better now than later,” replied Dainyl. “That’s why it’s important to get Lystrana to Dereka. It’s been without a regional alector for too long. If I get back in time, I’ll go with her and then translate back.”
Another expression of puzzlement crossed Chastyl’s face.
“I have a task in Blackstear. You and Delari will need to monitor the Tables.”
The door to the Table chamber opened again. The High Alector stepped up to Dainyl and handed him the lightcutters—in their holsters.
Dainyl fastened one holster to his belt on each side, and slipped the third inside his tunic. “One way or another, this will be quick.” He stepped onto the Table.
As he did, a young alector in a blue tunic appeared on the mirrored surface beside Dainyl, his eyes wide. Dainyl stepped around the youth and concentrated on the dark depths beneath the Table, sliding downward and…
…into the chill purple duskiness. He focused all his attention on the black locator, by far the hardest to discern, and extended a Talent link.
Around him flashed lines of pinkish purple, and in the distance—except it was a distance with no direction—he sensed a vague amber-green force, links of a type. The translation tube shivered, once and then once more, as if the ancients were forging those links with a massive Talent hammer.
Dainyl redoubled his concentration on Blackstear. He felt the locator approach—it was never that he approached it—and the silvered-black barrier dissolved before him.
He held full shields, and his hands went to the lightcutters at his belt.
Five Myrmidons in the gray and green uniforms of Ifryn lifted lightcutters. Dainyl sensed their shields, and fired at the two with the weakest shields, using Talent to break an opening in each shield. Both Myrmidons fell, dying.
“…High Alector!”
“…get help!”
Lightcutter beams from the remaining three played across his shields, but Dainyl managed to hold them firm. He focused on the Myrmidon heading for the doorway, cutting him down—and exhausting the charge in one of his own lightcutters. He dropped the useless weapon and yanked the one from inside his tunic, even as he focused on the undercaptain who reached for a riflelike lightcutter.
Dainyl lashed out with Talent at the other remaining ranker, throwing him against the stone of the wall, then flared a bolt of Talent, not at the heavily shielded undercaptain, but at the weapon, which felt like a miniature lightcannon.
The weapon’s power crystals exploded, and the undercaptain staggered back.
In the alector’s moment of surprise Dainyl struck with both lightcutters and Talent. For the first onslaught, the junior officer’s shields held, but not for the second.
Dainyl did not even leave the Table, but probed with his Talent, weakened, for the tiny octagonal crystal within the Table that would put it into an inert state. He offered a small Talent pulse and could sense the Table reacting.
Even as the door to the chamber opened, and a blast of light and heat flared against his weakened shields, Dainyl was concentrating on the darkness beneath, and sliding through the mirrored surface of the Table…
…into the welcome chill of the translation tube.
For a timeless but apparently long moment, he did nothing, before forcing himself to focus on the brilliant white locator of Elcien. His thoughts and Talent felt sluggish.
Slowly…slowly…the locator vector neared him, and finally, the white-silver barrier shattered away from him in large fragments.
He stood on the Table, taking two staggering steps to keep from falling. Frost and cold mist wreathed him, something that had not happened since he had first learned to use the Tables. Deliberately, carefully, Dainyl stepped down. His legs were wobbly, and he had to lean against the Table. Blackness swam around him, and he put his head down to keep from losing consciousness.
“Are you all right?” asked Delari.
“…took a lot…of Talent…empty stomach…”
After several moments, Dainyl straightened. He didn’t see Zelyert, but Adya was standing in the corner of the chamber. He realized he was still holding the lightcutters. It took a deliberate effort to holster them.
“Sir? What should I tell the High Alector?”
That alone told Dainyl that Zelyert was still angry. Still, until he regained his Talent-strength, Dainyl had best not show his own anger at the self-centered arrogance of the High Alector. He forced a smile. “You can report to him that the Table at Blackstear is inactive—”
“We can confirm that,” added Chastyl. “It’s off the grid.”
“—and that there are five less Myrmidons from Ifryn at Blackstear. Where can I get something to eat, quickly?”
“You can sit down in my study, sir,” offered the assistant. “I’ll get you something.”
Neither Chastyl nor any of the guards said a word as Dainyl followed Adya out of the Table chamber, with Delari behind him. Dainyl looked to see if Lystrana’s case was still set against the wall and was reassured to see that it was. He winced as he saw the blue tunic folded on top of the neat pile of garments in the corner of the chamber. His stomach turned. Yet he had done exactly the same thing. He’d even sought out alectors whose only offense was that they had broken the rules in an attempt to survive. The fact that a whole world might die if entry from Ifryn were not restricted didn’t take away those deaths.
“This way, Marshal…” prompted Adya.
Dainyl followed, almost blindly, finally sinking onto the hard wooden chair set at the corner of the small writing desk in a truly tiny study.
Delari remained standing, her back against the stone of the wall. She did not speak until Adya was well away. “How did you manage that? It’s impossible to translate from an inactive Table.”
“There’s the slightest delay between the Talent command and when it starts powering down. You just can’t hesitate. Not in the slightest.”
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to try that.”
“You shouldn’t. It’s not your line of work.”
“What are you, Marshal—Myrmidon, flier, officer, assassin, Table mechanic, recorder?”
At the moment, he felt more like an assassin. “I’m just trying to do what has to be done.” And not liking it in the slightest.
Adya returned with a mug of cider, a wedge of cheese, and half a loaf of dark bread. “It’s not fancy…”
“It looks wonderful.” Dainyl looked up. “Has my wife arrived yet?”
“Sir?”
“Didn’t anyone tell you? She’s the new RA for Dereka. She’s scheduled to translate there later this morning.”
“I’d heard that she…but…after all this?”
“It’s probably safer right now than it will be in a day or so, even with one Table off the grid,” Dainyl pointed out.
Adya looked to Delari.
“He’s right about that.”
“Let me check on your wife,” offered Adya.
“Tell her I’ll be with her as soon as I can,” replied Dainyl with a mouthful of bread and cheese.
In moments, or so it seemed, Dainyl had gone through all the bread and cheese, as well as drained the large mug of cider. He could feel his light-headedness begin to recede.
“Zelyert is afraid of you,” Delari said. “That’s why he’s avoiding you. You may have as much Talent as he does, and he’s the most Talented of the High Alectors.”
Dainyl didn’t feel all that Talented. He just felt tired. He also wondered how many more alectors would die at his hand or through his orders.
Less than a tenth of a glass later, as Dainyl was beginning to feel he had regained some of his strength and Talent, Adya returned.
“Your wife is down the corridor, outside the Table chamber. She’s waiting for you.”
“Thank you very much.” Dainyl rose.
This time Delari did not follow him as he walked back to the Table chamber. She headed in the direction of Zelyert’s private study.
Lystrana stood outside the outer door to the Table chamber. “I’m glad to see you.”
“I’m glad to be here to see you,” he replied. “I can translate to Dereka with you, but I’ll have to return immediately. I’ll have to take First Company to Blackstear.”
She glanced at the weapons at his belt, then raised her left eyebrow, as if to ask what had been going on.
“Trouble in Blackstear. We need to get you to Dereka.” He really didn’t want to explain more, given where they were. He opened the doors for Lystrana, and she carried the smaller case through the foyer and into the Table chamber.
Chastyl looked up. “Do you think this is wise?”
“She has to get to Dereka. It’s calmer now,” Dainyl replied. “It won’t stay that way.” He walked over to the wall and picked up the case he had left there, then joined Lystrana on the Table. “If the High Alector asks, I’ll be back very shortly.”
The recorder looked as though he wanted to protest, but he refrained.
Dainyl nodded to Lystrana, then waited a moment, until she began to fade and drop into the Table. Only then did he concentrate on the dark tube beneath.
In the purpled shadowy chill, he thought he could sense a warmer purpleness, but he did not dwell on it, concentrating instead on the crimson-gold locator of Dereka.
While the flashes of purple were fewer than when he had translated to Blackstear, there were far more than there had been even a few months before, and the amber-green links reverberated in the immeasurable distance.
He was surprised to find the locator flashing toward him, the silvered crimson-gold barrier dissolving away from him.
Belatedly, he strengthened what shields he had left as he emerged practically on top of Lystrana. He had to step sideways to avoid crashing into her.
Four alector guards, tired-eyed but alert, watched the Table, but their eyes flickered toward Jonyst.
The recorder nodded. “Marshal of Myrmidons and the chief assistant to the High Alector of Finance.”
Dainyl stepped off the table with the heavier case and set it down, taking the second case from Lystrana.
Once they were off the Table, Lystrana murmured, “You never told me why you’re headed north, besides trouble.”
Dainyl set the smaller case down. “Myrmidons from Ifryn stormed the Table at Blackstear.”
Jonyst looked up from where he stood at the end of the Table. “I couldn’t help but overhear, Marshal. The Table at Blackstear has gone inactive.”
Dainyl smiled politely. “I know. That’s why we’ll be able to handle them with a company, but we’ll need to put the Table back on the grid before long.”
Lystrana’s eyes widened and dropped once more to the lightcutters at Dainyl’s belt.
He nodded, very slightly. “Later.” He raised his voice. “Jonyst, Lystrana is taking over as the new RA for Dereka.”
The recorder smiled broadly. “That is good news for those of us here in Dereka. I was wondering when the Duarch would replace Yadaryst.”
“Would it be possible for your driver to get her and these cases to her headquarters?”
“Guersa would be pleased to help with that. I’ll have her come to carry the other case.”
Dainyl turned to Lystrana and hugged her. He didn’t like doing it in public, but the way matters were turning out, he had no idea when he’d see her again. “You be careful.”
“You’re the one who needs to be careful. The green is stronger. Not much, but it is. Please be careful,” she whispered in his ear before they broke apart.
“I will.”
Dainyl stepped back onto the Table, concentrating.
The purple chill barely bothered him as he linked with the white locator of Elcien and then flowed through the mist of silver and white.
He was off the Table before Chastyl spoke.
“That was quick, Marshal. I haven’t even had time to pass the word to the High Alector.” His smile was quick, but held a hint of a grin.
“I’d guess you won’t have to,” replied Dainyl. “I can tell him what he needs to know.”
With a nod, he left the Table chamber, wondering if Zelyert had left the Hall or if he remained in his study. He also couldn’t help but worry about Lystrana’s words about the Talent-green of the ancients being stronger.
Delari stepped into the corridor from Zelyert’s study as Dainyl neared. “The Highest would like to speak to us.”
“I’m certain,” Dainyl replied dryly, moving into the private study behind Delari and closing the door.
“Where did you go, Marshal?” Zelyert remained standing.
“To Dereka and back. I chose to escort the new RA. I admit to a certain proprietary interest in her safety, but knowing she is safe in Dereka will allow me to concentrate without distractions on resolving the difficulties in Blackstear.”
“Since it took little time,” Zelyert replied, “that is acceptable.” His voice hardened, a touch. “We can’t leave the Table inactive. When the Archon shifts the Master Scepter, that will put too much stress on the grid. We don’t know when that will be, but it won’t be all that long.”
“I know. But without a Table, when I take First Company to Blackstear, it won’t take that long to flush them out.”
“You think you should leave Elcien? You personally?”
“It will be quicker if I go. If you don’t want me to, I’ll send Alcyna. If I go, though, I should be able to return by the Table. We’ll have to leave Myrmidons to guard the Table, and we’ll have to take most of those lightcutters you have under seal. I don’t imagine the Myrmidons from Ifryn will have left either guards or weapons.”
“When would you leave?” pressed Zelyert.
“This morning,” replied Dainyl. “We’d overnight in Klamat and attack tomorrow morning.”
“You don’t think any of them will escape?”
Delari laughed. “It’s already winter there. The harbor’s frozen in, and so is the river from Klamat. There’s nowhere to go and no way to get there.”
“I’ll have Seventh Company shift two squads from Tempre here to cover dispatches and emergency transport. It would help if one of your assistants could translate the orders to Tempre…” Dainyl went on to offer a brief outline of what he planned, trying not to be too specific, but also including the need for fully charged lightcutters for the Myrmidons to use inside the Table building.
He wasn’t looking forward to frigid cold-weather flying—or what waited at the end of the flight.