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of his daughters, too. Morash shook his head. Sad business, that.
What happened?
What could we do? They broke the Code. We sur-rounded them. None of them
would surrender. We killed nearly all of them, except for the ones who were
wounded and couldn t fight. Some of them died anyway. The jus-ticer sent the
rest of them to the quarries south of Catyr for life. They killed the girl.
Couldn t believe we wouldn t just let them walk in and take what they wanted.
Even though the quarry laborers were well fed and not mistreated, the work was
grueling, Dainyl knew, and few lasted more than five or ten years. How often
does some-thing like that happen?
I d have to check the records to be really accurate, Submarshal, but as I
recall, it takes a couple of years for the hill folk to forget. Say every
three-four years. If we weren t here, though, they d be long gone before one
of the battalion outposts could send anyone. Our road pa-trols do a good job
of keeping the brigandage down, too.
Dainyl had his own ideas about why, but he asked, Just by patrolling the
roads?
Morash smiled. It s simple enough. There are only a few places where goods
and coins are concentrated, and that s in the towns and in the strongrooms of
the growers and the factors or when people travel the high roads. The growers
and factors guard their golds well. We guard the marketplaces and the roads.
He shrugged. We can t do much about all of the petty theft, cutpurses, and
that, but most of them get caught in time and sent to the labor camps or
quarries.
I suppose you don t get many dispatches directly from the Myrmidons or the
High Alector of the East?
INot many, in tact, l can only recall one in tne past year, and that was a
reminder to keep the pteridon squares ready. That happened after the troubles
out west in Coren.
You don t seem to have problems like mat.
No. But it s a different place. Here, every grower and every holder has his
own lands. If he doesn t work them right, he suffers. If he has a problem
that s not his mak-ing, and he works hard, others will help him. Out there,
folks see lands and trees that look empty, and for just a little extra effort,
they can pick up quite a few more golds.
If they overlog the slopes, the rains wash off more soil, and the rivers
flood, and everyone suffers, Dainyl pointed out.
You know that, Submarshal, and I can figure it out, but the ones that suffer
are downstream and out of sight, and people have trouble giving up coins for
people they don t know and might never see.
Dainyl nodded. He knew what the overcaptain said was true, but it was a facet
of lander thought that had al-ways given him difficulty. How could they not
see, espe-cially when it was something taught in every school?
In the end, Dainyl only spent three glasses in Prosp, in-specting the one
company in the compound and making a brief scrutiny of equipment and dispatch
orders.
After eating a hearty if plain meal at the small mess serving the handful of
Cadmian officers, he made his way back to the Table chamber, pondering the
general order from Brekylt about the pteridon squares. It might have just been
a reminder, but it also might have been a step in mak-ing sure Myrmidon
companies could be moved quickly.
This time, the Recorder of Deeds for Prosp was wait-ing in the Table chamber.
He was a comparatively young alector, Dainyl sensed, but he reeked of raw
Talent. He bowed to Dainyl. Submarshal, we had no word that you would be
traveling to Prosp. For this reason, we regret that we were not here when you
arrived.
Even a Recorder of Deeds cannot be everywhere.
We would wish to be of service, Submarshal, but we cannot do so if we do not
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know when you will arrive.
You are forgiven, Dainyl said with a smile, manag-ing to keep the expression
in place, even as he wished he had not delivered the gentle rebuke. He
couldn t very well say that he didn t want the Table guardians knowing when he
would be arriving or where he was headed.
Sir? The recorder radiated displeasure.
Dainyl wanted to crush him for his youthful arrogance. Instead, he said, I
act at the request of the High Alector of Justice and under the command of the
Duarch, and cannot offer explanations or schedules. If you wish, seek an
explanation from them.
This time, the recorder paled.
Dainyl stepped onto the Table, maintaining his shields even as he dropped
through the silver-dark surface into the chill blackness below.
17
The spring sun that beat down on Mykel as he rode away from the harbor was as
hot as it was in mid-summer in Elcien, if not even hotter. Beside Mykel rode
Captain Muerwyn, their guide and escort, as well as a company commander
stationed at the Cadmian com-pound just northeast of Southgate itself.
It s only about half a vingt to the inner ring, repeated Muerwyn. We ll
take it until it intersects the northeast road out to the compound.
Mykel turned in the saddle and looked back. So far as he could tell, Third
Battalion continued to ride in good order. He turned his attention to the
buildings on each side of the harbor boulevard. None were more than two
stories in
height, and the exterior walls were finished with white stucco. All followed
the same plan he had seen in Dramuria, with few exterior windows and a central
courtyard, although some of those courtyards were less man five yards on a
side. From the depth of the few barred windows, Mykel judged that the thick
walls themselves were either of brick or stone. The roofs, like those in
Dramuria, were tiled, but the tile was a pale sandy red. The difference that
stood out was that the walls of the houses and buildings in Dramuria had been
of dressed gray stone, while every structure in Southgate was white, and the
walls clearly had been continually washed in white over the years, so much so
mat Mykel found himself blinking from the intensity of the reflected light.
This is the trade quarter? he asked.
Mostly, sir. There are some artisans and crafters. Mainly potters and
stoneworkers.
That also figured. There were no metals or coal nearby, and the area was too
hot for sheep and too dry for cotton, and the nearest large forests were more
than a hundred vingts to the north or east.
Mykel looked at the boulevard ahead, flanked by somewhat larger structures,
although none were any taller than those he had already passed. A sign caught
his eye STYLEN and sons, factors in cloth. Rachyla had come from Stylan Estate
in Dramur. Was the similarity a coin-cidence? He snorted softly. Although he d
been told that some wealthy seltyr families from Dramur had close ties to
Southgate and often interests in businesses there Mykel doubted that Rachyla
would have admitted being related to a mere cloth factor, even if it were so.
An ironic smile crossed his lips at the thought.
He couldn t help but wonder how she was doing, since her father s estate had
gone to a male cousin. Seltyr women could not inherit, a custom that bothered
Mykel. His own sister Sesalia would certainly inherit from their
parents although it was unlikely that there would be that much for any of the
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