“She’s here, Majer, and told us to be watching for you,” Eileyt says. “She has been for several days.”
“I see.” Lorn laughs gently. From the reception he is getting, he has the impression that Ryalth has been most forceful.
Ryalth stands in the open door of her office, in her blue tunic and trousers, her hair shorter, but with a wide and warm smile on her face. As Lorn nears, she steps back into the office, and Lorn finds himself standing before her, his bags being deposited beside him. Then the door is closed, and Lorn is not sure who holds whom, only that they do.
“You’re back,” she finally says, leaning away enough to speak, but leaving her arms around him.
“I’m back. It’s so good to hold you.”
“It’s good to hold you.” She glances sideways at him. “You’re worried.”
He nods. “I’m not sure I should be here. I’m supposed to report to the Majer-Commander as soon as I arrive. But it’s been so long.”
“The Majer-Commander can spare us these few moments.”
Lorn agrees, and they embrace again.
After a time, Lorn glances around, then sees the small high-sided bed in the corner.
“He’s sleeping,” Ryalth says. “I’m glad you looked.”
He puts his arms back around her. “I’ve looked so many nights.”
“I know. I could feel it. That’s why… how… I knew you were all right and that you cared when there weren’t any scrolls.”
“There were,” Lorn says. “Dettaur intercepted them all, and all yours to me.”
“Jerial never liked him. Neither did your mother.”
“I never got the scrolls about that, either,” Lorn says.
Ryalth shakes her head. “Why would he do that?”
“Some people are like that. He’s always wanted to bully people, and I’ve stopped him several times.”
Ryalth frowns. “But if you got no scrolls…”
“Your last scroll, the only one I received after the first two seasons ago… it said something about the family problems… and the glass… it came up blank.”
“I’m sorry. Jerial wrote, too, and I think Myryan did.”
“I never got them.”
“Do you have to go? Right away?”
“I can’t stay too long. I probably should have gone straight to the Mirror Lancer Court, but…” Lorn shrugs, then grins. “It has been so long, and I love you, and I’ve missed you.” He also has wanted to at least see Ryalth before he sees the Majer-Commander, for he knows not what lies ahead. “And I’ve never seen Kerial, either.”
Ryalth takes his hand and leads him toward the small bed. “He’s beautiful.”
Lorn looks down at Kerial, his skin fair and clear, his fine hair reddish. After a moment, as if aware he is being studied, the infant opens his eyes, already amber, and gazes back, lifting a chubby hand as if to touch Lorn’s face. Lorn bends and brushes the boy’s cheeks with his lips.
“I’m glad you came here first. It’s the first time you have.”
“You’re the most important one. Both of you.”
“I’m glad.” She touches his cheek. “Will you come back here?”
“As soon as I can.” He draws her close for a last embrace. “As soon as I can.”
It remains a while before Lorn finally reclaims his bags, straightens his uniform, and steps back out into the main space of Ryalor House.
“…doesn’t look so dangerous…”
Eileyt’s laugh is loud enough for Lorn to recognize. “You don’t think her consort would be dangerous?”
As Lorn manages to cross to the outer double doors, he can sense the silence of recognition behind his back. At the doors he looks back. He and Ryalth smile at each other. After a long moment, he turns once more and carries his bags toward the stairs. He hopes he can find a carriage to the Lancers’ Tower. While he knows where the building is, he realizes that he has never been inside the structure. Nor has he ever met either of the men whose names are so familiar.
LXXXIII
The two men pause in the third-floor corridor, outside the main and empty audience hall of the Palace of Eternal Light. Fifty cubits behind them are a pair of guards. Otherwise, the corridor is vacant.
“Greetings, most honored Second Magus,” offers Luss.
“Greetings to you, Captain-Commander.” Kharl inclines his head. “I have not seen you often recently.”
“With fewer audiences being held by His Mightiness… I have been occupied in the Mirror Lancer Court.”
“Ah, yes, I understand. The difficulties in Jerans… rather embarrassing, I would imagine. It must be difficult to persuade the Emperor of the necessity of more lancers in the north when a sub-majer is able to ravage the land and take a major port with less than six companies, and then bring back more golds than his expedition cost.”
“He moved quickly, and raided effectively,” Luss counters. “He took nothing… except, of course, a number of blades, including quite a few that were shipped to the barbarians by the house of the former Merchanter Advisor… and one other house. The Mirror Lancers remain astounded, of course, that the farseeing Magi’i were unaware of this.” The Captain-Commander bows slightly. “There is talk, I also have heard, that Vyanat’mer may move to strip clan status from Bluyet House.”
“There is always talk, but we have not heard such from Vyanat himself, and he is most direct.”
“Oh, most honored and devious of Magi’i, you suggest that some plant the rumors so that Vyanat will seem weak when he does not do such.”
“That has been known to happen,” replies Kharl smoothly. “And when will your young sub-majer who caused this… unsettling… return to Cyad?”
“He should be here shortly.” Luss glances to the west, toward the lower building that holds the headquarters of the Mirror Lancers.
“Today?” presses the Second Magus.
“That is possible.” The Captain-Commander smiles, and his bushy black eyebrows lift. “You seem most interested in a mere sub-majer. But then you do have a certain… interest.”
“I do,” admits Kharl. “He is a former student magus, and all such reflect on the Magi’i, although to date he has reflected most credibly upon the Mirror Lancers. You act as though you are worried about him coming forth to present himself. Will he? Or does he indeed need to worry?”
“You would know better than I, honored Second Magus, for he is related to you, if somewhat indirectly.”
“Were he my son, or a full magus, I would have no doubts. But since he is not, and since he is a lancer…” Kharl shrugs. “That is why I inquire of you. I also must admit that I am curious to see how you and the Majer-Commander receive him. And scarcely for-as you put it-for personal interests.”
“Oh?”
“His actions have pointed out weaknesses in the Mirror Lancers and corruption in the merchanters. Were anything to happen to him, particularly immediately, more questions would be raised about the Mirror Lancers being somehow… indebted to the merchanters.” Kharl laughs. “I know that such could never happen, but the perception would be there, nonetheless. It would not affect the less-senior officers, for young Lorn’s actions would be taken as more… representative… of their abilities and motivations.”
“The Majer-Commander is most aware of the subtleties of the situation.”
“As I am most certain you are, Captain-Commander,” Kharl suggests. “You have always placed the reputation of the Mirror Lancers high in your priorities.”
“As have you the reputation of the Magi’i in yours.” Luss bows. “If you will but excuse me, honored Second Magus, the Majer-Commander expects me most shortly.”
“I am most certain that he does, and I wish you well.”
LXXXIV
Lorn steps into the front foyer of the five-story white granite building, a structure larger than any in the compounds and outposts where he has served, but one not terribly large-less than a hundred cubits long and sixty deep at the ba
se, with each floor having a terrace, so that the structure narrows with each floor. The foyer itself is perhaps thirty cubits on a side with a set of wide white granite steps at the back, just behind a square stone arch that contains no ornamentation. The stone walls are also plain white sunstone, while the floor is a slightly pinkish white granite that has been polished into a shimmering finish. The only decoration in the foyer are the two green tapestries on the rear wall flanking the archway to the stairs. Each silver-bordered tapestry shows a silver sabre crossed by silver firelance.
A single senior squad leader sits behind a golden-oak table desk on a sunstone dais in the middle of the foyer, flanked by two Mirror Lancers in spotless cream uniforms, each with a sabre and a short firelance.
Lorn steps forward.
The squad leader glances at Lorn’s insignia. “Ser?”
“Sub-Majer Lorn. I have orders to report to the Majer-Commander personally.” Lorn extends the scroll.
The squad leader takes the scroll and reads. His eyes linger on the last lines and the signature. “Yes, ser. It’s rather unusual. His study is on the fifth floor. You will need to present your orders to him. Ah… that is, squad leader Tygyl will present them.”
Lorn smiles as he takes back the order roll. “I understand. The steps there?” He inclines his head to the wide steps at the back of the foyer.
“Yes, ser.”
Lorn lifts his bags. He had debated leaving the bags with Ryalth, but that would have made it clear that he had not come directly to the Mirror Lancer Court.
The sub-majer crosses the foyer and walks through the square arch to begin ascending the steps, which rise a half-flight to a landing. From each end of the landing, another set rises a half-flight to the next floor. The pattern continues for four flights. Lorn pauses at each landing and takes several deep breaths. He scarcely wants to arrive at the Majer-Commander’s study panting and puffing, although he expects he will be waiting for a while.
At the open space of the topmost floor, there is another senior squad leader seated behind yet another golden-oak table desk. There are three doorways from the foyerlike space-one to the right, one to the left, and one directly behind the squad. The doorways to the left and right are closed and each guarded by a pair of Mirror Lancers, again with sabres and the short firelances. The double doors behind the table desk are open and unguarded.
Lorn steps forward and extends the order scroll. “Sub-Majer Lorn. As ordered, I am reporting personally to the Majer-Commander.” As an afterthought, he also extends the hand with the Mirror Lancer seal ring.
“Yes, ser. They’ve been expecting you.” The squad leader studies Lorn for the briefest of moments. “You came directly, I see.”
“As directly as I could,” Lorn says.
“The Captain-Commander will see you first, and then the Majer-Commander.” The staffer turns in his chair and gestures toward the open doors behind him. “If you would wait in the anteroom there… ? There is water and some fruit and cheese there, if you haven’t had a chance to eat recently. And, ser… I’ll be giving your orders to the Majer-Commander.”
“Thank you.” Lorn inclines his head.
“Not at all, ser.” The senior squad leader rises and walks toward the door to the left-on the north side of the open foyer.
Lorn lifts the bags and walks toward the receiving area. The room beyond the double doors is small, no more than ten cubits by fifteen, with a settee against the oak-paneled wall opposite the doors. The settee is flanked by two narrow and open windows. Set out from the settee and at right angles are two wooden armchairs, each with a green cushion. Against the wall at the right end of the room is a golden-oak sideboard with several trays upon it.
Lorn sets his bags beside the wooden chair closest to the door, and makes his way to the sideboard, where he pours water from the crystal carafe into a matching crystal mug. He studies the water and the trays of bread crackers and cheese, and the fruit bowl with his chaos-senses, but can detect nothing untoward. He lifts the mug and drains it almost immediately. After refilling the mug, he then takes several hard crackers and a drying wedge of cheese, and eats them. He will need his senses about him, and it has been awhile since he has eaten. He takes a second round of crackers and cheese, and finishes those.
“Ser?”
Lorn turns.
“The Majer-Commander has requested that you meet with the Captain-Commander first.” The squad leader gestures toward Lorn’s gear. “You can leave those there.”
“Thank you.” Lorn stops by the bag and extracts a rolled bundle before he follows the staffer out of the receiving area and toward the door on the south side of the foyer.
The squad leader opens it for Lorn, but does not enter.
Lorn steps into the study, a space roughly fifteen cubits wide and thirty long. To his right is an oblong table, with eight armless chairs. The entire wall on the right side of the room is comprised of golden-oak bookshelves, and most of the shelves are filled with volumes. Lorn conceals his interest as he catches sight of several shimmering silver book spines.
The left wall is mostly of narrow windows, although but two are open. The south end of the room contains a wide and polished table desk, set before two wide widows that overlook the south end of Cyad. The man who stands behind the table desk has black hair and bushy black eyebrows and wears a silver sunburst crossed by a sabre on the collar of his cream-and-green uniform.
Lorn bows. “Captain-Commander.”
“Sub-Majer Lorn. It’s good to see you.” Captain-Commander Luss gestures to the chairs before his table desk, waiting a moment before reseating himself.
Lorn steps forward, past the conference table, and takes the chair on the right side. He does not offer the rolled scrolls, keeping them loosely in his left hand.
The Captain-Commander looks full at Lorn and smiles. “You do not look half so deadly as the legends which already surround you.”
“Legends are made by those with other goals, I fear, ser,” Lorn says smoothly. “I have always served Cyad and the Mirror Lancers.”
“Indeed you have, and that is something that all too many of your commanders seem to have forgotten.” Luss’s smile fades into a faint professional shadow of the one which welcomed Lorn. “The problem the Majer-Commander faces is that all senior officers feel that they serve Cyad and the Mirror Lancers… if you understand what I mean.”
“You suggest, ser,” Lorn says slowly, “that there are as many visions of the Mirror Lancers as there are senior officers.”
“Not quite that many,” Luss says with a laugh. “Not near that many… but enough.”
“Which vision do you and the Majer-Commander serve? It would be best that I know that if I am to carry out my duties.”
Luss laughs again. “Were it that simple. Were it that simple.”
Lorn waits, knowing that Luss is watching for a commitment of sorts.
After a time, Luss begins to speak, deliberately. “You have been most diligent in reporting your actions, from the time you first served at Isahl. I have reviewed those reports. You have always reported clearly, and so far as any can tell, with great accuracy. Your reports from Biehl showed even greater detail and accuracy. Yet there were no reports from Inividra until the last report that you wrote for Commander Ikynd. You did write that report, did you not?” Luss lifts his eyebrows.
“I wrote a number of reports while I was commanding at Inividra. As commanded, I sent them all to Majer Dettaur. There were no reports in the files at Assyadt when I reported there after the Jeran campaign.” Lorn shrugs. “I had suggested that duplicates be sent from Inividra to Assyadt, but I was detached, so that I have no idea if that was carried out.”
“You suggest that Majer Dettaur destroyed such reports.”
“Ser… I have no idea what occurred. I can only say that the reports I sent were not in the records chests at Assyadt. I know the reports were written and delivered. Beyond that, only Commander Ikynd and Majer Dettaur would know.
”
“You killed Majer Dettaur.”
“He attacked me without warning or reason. I defended myself. I imagine, although one can only surmise, that he feared that my presence would reveal that he had been distorting the records of my actions and that he would be disgraced.”
“Yet, you merely reported that he had died in the line of duty,” Luss says.
“Would there have been any point in revealing that he had distorted the records? Would it have helped the Mirror Lancers?”
“No.” Luss shakes his head. “Most sub-majers who found their actions debased by a superior would not have acted in such a fashion.”
“I cannot say I enjoyed letting Majer Dettaur have an honorable death,” Lorn admits. “But my satisfaction would have served the lancers ill.”
Luss nods. “Indeed it would. Your restraint there was impressive. Because of the difficulties that might have occurred, Majer Dettaur’s reports to lancer headquarters have also been destroyed, and, as you had apparently already suggested, I have requested that Commander Ikynd have duplicates of your reports copied and sent here for the records.”
“I think you will find them thorough and accurate,” Lorn replies.
“Of that, I am most certain.” Luss smiles. “I have little else to add. I did wish to meet you, but the Majer-Commander will be detailing your duties. He was most particular that you would be working directly for him. You should feel flattered. He seldom takes such an interest in a sub-majer.”
“I feel most fortunate,” Lorn replies. “In working for the Majer-Commander, and in having your interest and advice, ser.”
“I am glad you feel so, and trust you will always do so.” Luss rises and steps around the table. “We need to bring you to the Majer-Commander.”
Lorn stands and follows the senior officer back past the conference table and out into the foyer area, past the staffer’s table and to the double doors on the north end of the foyer.
Scion of Cyador Page 36