Darknesses by L. E. Modesitt Read Free Book Online Page B

but fingerspans thick was replaced by ruby mists
that looked yards in depth, mists that swirled before dissipating to reveal an
image.
    A
tall and broad-shouldered officer in the black of the Militia of the Iron
Valleys rode along a snowy road, flanked by two squad leaders. Although the
captain was only slightly larger than the others, his presence, even through
the Table, conveyed an impression of authority and command, making him seem far
larger and older than he was. In addition, around his image flickered an aura
of green and silver, and at times, he vanished entirely.
    “He
is in yet another uniform. Is he a mercenary?”
    Before
replying, the Recorder took a deep breath and allowed the image to vanish, to
be replaced by a mirror that but reflected the ceiling. “I think not,
Lord-Protector. For whatever reason, he was captured by the Matrites. From what
I can discern through the Table, he was born the heir to a herder family in the
Iron Valleys, and, because of his Matrite service, involuntary as it was, has
been required to serve more time in the militia. He currently commands a horse
company at Emal.”
    “And
their Council of idiots does not know this?”
    “No,
Lord-Protector. He has doubtless used his Talent to avoid their discovering
such.”
    “I
do not like that he is a militia officer. Can you do anything through the
Table?” The Lord-Protector went on, answering his own question. “Of course not.
The Table is useful for gathering information, and that is all.” He looked down
at the blank surface, then back at the Recorder of Deeds. “Continue to watch
him, and let me know should he accomplish anything that I should know.”
    “Yes,
Lord-Protector.” The Recorder inclined his head slightly, then straightened.
    “It
is better not to act when it is not necessary, but…we may have to act
otherwise. We may indeed.” Without another word, the Lord-Protector stalked
from the small marble-walled chamber.
    The
Recorder glanced at the blank silver surface that had once more become a
mirror. His face was impassive, despite the darkness in his eyes. Once the
Lord-Protector had left, he again beheld the Table, his face bathed in a faint
purple glow that radiated from the images he had called forth.

8
    O utside
the headquarters building, a howling wind blasted what otherwise would
have been a light snow against the stone walls and shutters. Every so often, a
particularly violent gust pushed cold air and puffs of white past the windows
and inner and outer shutters.
    On
that dreary Duadi, barely into yet another winter week, Alucius sat at the
table in the officers’ and squad leaders’ mess, looking at the stack of papers
before him. There was a sheet—or more—on each man in his company, and the
company captain had to make a seasonal report on each, then send the reports to
militia headquarters in Dekhron. Since winter was already more than half-over,
despite the snowstorm outside, and since Alucius was not sending out any
patrols in the blizzard, he had decided to use the time to work on the seasonal
reports. With the stepped-up patrols he had in mind, time for reports would be
scarce in the weeks ahead. Even short handwritten statements took time when the
company captain had to write a hundred on the troopers and five on the squad
leaders—except that since Twenty-first Company was understrength, Alucius only
had to write ninety-four reports on troopers.
    There
was a knock on the door.
    “Yes?”
    “Sir,”
said Longyl, the senior squad leader, “you sent word for me?”
    “I
did.” Alucius gestured to the chair on the other side of the small mess table,
waiting until the older squad leader had seated himself before speaking. “I’d
like your thoughts on Reltyr. I’ve already had a few words with Faisyn.”
    “I’d
rather not say much, sir.”
    “Neither
did Faisyn, and I can understand that,” Alucius said quietly. “He’s got a wife
outside of Wesrigg, doesn’t he?” He was trying to