Free Alector's Choice by L. E. Modesitt Page B

is no
more than a hundred and fifty vingts at its widest. The MurianMountains run
down the center of the isle, extending from the northern headlands to
MountDramanat, a volcano located some fifty vingts north of the southern cape.
The mountains are rugged, their rock unstable, and have never been fully
explored. The principal products of Dramur are guano and dyestuffs from
shellfish, which come from the eastern side of the isle. Although the lands to
the west of the mountains are fertile and suited to a number of crops, the main
product is shimmersilk, from the golden spinning spider. The only sizable town
or city is Dramuria, located on a natural harbor on the southeast side of the
isle some seventy vingts north of the southern cape… less than half a score of
other towns and no more than a score of villages and hamlets…
    Mykel blinked. That
was it. There was more about mere towns elsewhere, such as Hyalt in Lanachrona,
than about an entire isle.
    He shook his head. As
usual, the books hadn’t been much help.

13
     
    In the dim light of
the sitting room on the main floor of the house, Dainyl took a last sip of the
brandy, then set the small goblet on the side table. “It’s not bad.” He
stretched, lifting his long legs just off the green carpet, then let himself
settle back into the armchair whose legs would have been too long for all but
the tallest landers. “The landers do make good brandy.”
    “In addition to
boosting the lifeforce of Acorus, you mean?” asked Lystrana.
    “Someone has to.
Although we need it, we certainly can’t generate enough to sustain us.”
    “That’s what the
landers and indigens are for.”
    “And for making Acorus
a better place for us.” Dainyl picked up the goblet and took another sip. “It
is good.”
    “Better than good,
actually,” replied Lystrana, “although Kylana is always claiming that
everything here is second-rate compared to Ifryn.”
    “She might know. We
were born here. She’s one of the few recent translations who supposedly held a
position of import in Illustra.”
    “Supposedly?”
Lystrana laughed. “You mean that you have your doubts about Kylana?”
    “No more than about
her husband. He knows far more than he ever lets on. I wish I dared ask him
about Tyanylt, but that wouldn’t be wise.”
    “No, dearest, it
would not be. Unlike the Duarchs, he does not have a loyalty imprint, but he
would still report that.”
    Dainyl wouldn’t have
minded Zestafyn or the Duarch knowing some of the details of what had happened,
but not his involuntary involvement. “Kylana bothers me. She’s like all the
others who’ve translated here recently. If it’s not from Ifryn or if it hasn’t
been praised as the best in Illustra, then it must not be very good. Against
that,, how can we compare?”
    “We can’t, but there
aren’t more than a few translations every year.”
    “No. Ifryn’s
comfortable, and no one wants to take the risks—not until they don’t have any
choices.”
    “Of course. That’s
why the fieldmasters developed shadow matches. So they could imprint knowledge
without the risks of leaving Ifryn and its comforts.”
    “They don’t always
take. Even when they do… I don’t think I’d want to be either of the Duarchs,”
mused Dainyl. “Why would anyone want to have to have a partial shadow match?”
    “You don’t want power
enough, dearest. They are those with great Talent who wish to be duarch, and
who aspire to being Archon one day if the master scepter comes to Acorus, and
they must have some check imposed on them to ensure their loyalty.”
    Dainyl snorted.
“Shadow matches, loyalty imprints… all that misses the point.”
    Lystrana laughed.
“What point? I don’t think you made it.”
    “My point was going
to be”—Dainyl paused and raised his eyebrows dramatically—“comparisons are dangerous.
We know that translation changes appearance. Does it affect taste? Smell? How
would we know? If things smell the same, is that