Free Scepters by L. E. Modesitt

a hero so that I’d be
respected. Well… my mother was right. I was a hero of sorts, and the more I
did, the more people wanted to kill me. Almost all of my time in the militia
and Northern Guard was away from you. I nearly got killed at least five times,
and Dysar wanted to have me executed for desertion because I didn’t commit
suicide after I was wounded and the Matrites captured me. I guess I’m worried,
too, because I feel selfish. I’d like to be a herder, a long-lived one, and
spend my life with you. I’ve lost interest in being a hero.”
    “You
couldn’t have had this time with me,” she said quietly, “not if you hadn’t done
what you did. We’d all be slaves to those… ifrits…” She paused. “You think that
they might be behind this… ?”
    “I…”
Alucius almost said that he didn’t know, but there was no point in that,
because Wendra’s Talent would tell her that he was lying. “… I’m worried that
they are.” He shrugged. “I still have the feeling I should do something, but…
what? Just running back to Colonel Weslyn and saying there’s a problem, and
throwing on a uniform… what good will that do? Besides, I’m not sure that
Weslyn isn’t part of the problem. He certainly wouldn’t do anything to solve
it, not if it might cost his trader friends any golds.”
    “Could
you go to Dekhron with Grandpa Kustyl and look around? That might tell you
something.”
    “It
might,” Alucius conceded, easing off his undertunic.
    “I
could go, if you—”
    “No!
You have to think…” He glanced at her midsection. “I’ll go the next time he
heads down there. I will. I promise.”
    “You
don’t…” Then she laughed. “Sometimes it’s hard, isn’t it?”
    “When
you don’t want to tell the truth? And you know the other person will know you’re
lying?” he asked. “Yes… it can be.”
    She
rose gracefully, stepped toward Alucius, and put a hand on each cheek, almost
cradling his face. “We can’t avoid the world forever, dearest.”
    “How
about… just for tonight?” Alucius bent down and kissed her.

Chapter 16
    Dekhron, Iron Valleys
    The
colonel who stood behind the wide desk had broad shoulders, blond hair that was
nearly half silver, and fine wrinkles running from the corners of his eyes.
Those wrinkles were especially pronounced as he looked at the gilt commission
in his hands, one signed and sealed by the Lord-Protector of Lanachrona. After
studying the document, he cleared his throat gently and looked up at the senior
officer in the uniform of a marshal of the Southern Guard. “Sir… this is
rather… expansive.”
    “Yes,
it is. The Lord-Protector is most thorough,” replied Marshal Frynkel. “He finds
that there is less confusion that way, Colonel Weslyn.”
    “He
is known for such,” temporized Weslyn.
    “Why
don’t you sit down?” suggested the marshal, gesturing to the colonel’s chair
and seating himself in the wooden straight-backed chair in front of the colonel’s
desk.
    “Ah…
yes, sir.” The colonel laid the document on the desk before him and seated
himself.
    “The
Lord-Protector thought that there should be no confusion, Colonel Weslyn. You
have reported that you have been unable to muster more lancers or foot under
the conditions set forth by the Lord-Protector, and given the parlous situation
facing all of Lanachrona, the Lord-Protector thought that an inspection tour
might be the best way to confirm your reports. In order to allay any suspicions
by those in southern Lanachrona, you understand.” The tic in Frynkel’s right
eye twitched.
    “I
understand. Especially since the union has not been that longstanding. The
timing was… rather unexpected.” Weslyn added quickly, “Then, there have been
concerns in the north here, as well, about the use of the Northern Guard… and
the costs.”
    “I
can see that. We all bear costs in troubled times. The commission, as written,
is one of those. In other times, it would not have been