Scion of Cyador

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Lorn smiles. “He failed to protect Cyador, or the lancers, and I brought this to the attention of both Commander Ikynd and you, and the Majer-Commander. Had I been wrong, I would have been disgraced or executed. I put my life and belief in the Majer-Commander, the Mirror Lancers, and Cyador in the hands of the Majer-Commander.”

  “You did indeed.” Luss smiles genially-and falsely, Lorn knows. “But the Majer-Commander is not a person, but a position of trust.”

  “Yes, ser, and had you been Majer-Commander, I would have done the same.” Lorn hopes Luss will accept the words, because, true as they are, Lorn would have done the same, had Luss been Majer-Commander, for most different reasons.

  “You do believe that, don’t you?”

  “Yes, ser,” Lorn replies truthfully.

  “Would that others had such devotion to the Mirror Lancers and the Majer-Commander as you.” Luss stands.

  Lorn stands quickly. “I feel that most officers feel as I do.”

  “One would hope so, Majer.” Luss inclines his head. “Good day.” He leaves as abruptly as he has entered.

  Lorn feels like taking a deep breath, but does not. Instead, he sits slowly and looks at the heavy raindrops striking the ancient glass. He feels like the name in the ancient poem-whoever Sampson might have been.

  After gathering himself together, Lorn has just turned back to his reading and summarizing the stack of reports from Syadtar, when there is another knock at the door, and Fayrken peers in. “Ser, Tygyl sent down word that the Majer-Commander expects you in his study soon as you can get there.”

  Replacing the two reports he has just read on the stack, Lorn stands. “I’m on my way.”

  He walks quickly up the stairs. At the upper desk, Tygyl morions for him to enter the Majer-Commander’s study.

  Lorn does so, closing the door, and bowing. “You requested my presence, ser.”

  Sitting at his desk, Rynst gestures to the chairs, barely waiting for Lorn to sit before he asks, “How many visitors have you had about your coming assignment, Majer-besides the Captain-Commander and Commander Shykt? Has Commander Inylt contacted you?

  “No, ser. And there were no others… so far, ser.”

  “Another cautious answer. I wondered about Commander Inylt, since he is charged with converting part of one of the unused Mirror Lancer warehouses into a barracks and a stable.” Rynst leans forward in his chair, seeming larger-than-life framed in the ancient windows that show the backdrop of heavy gray clouds and rain that sleets across Cyad, almost obscuring the Palace of Eternal Light. “I assume that Commander Shykt warned you-most obliquely-against the machinations of others, most probably those of Commander Muyro and the Captain-Commander-and that the Captain-Commander reminded you of the chain of command. Luss doubtless tried to make the point that all companies of the Mirror Lancers are ultimately commanded by the Majer-Commander-whoever he may be-on behalf of Cyador.” Rynst pauses.

  Lorn waits.

  “Yes… or no?” Rynst’s voice is cold.

  “Commander Shykt was far more cautious, ser. He merely suggested that I think through my actions in light of their probable results and remember that, in a way, the fate of Cyad and Cyador rests on the soundness of every officer, no matter how junior. He also asked-if companies of Mirror Lancers were stationed in Cyad-what kind of officer should command them. I suggested that the officer should believe in Cyador above himself.”

  Rynst laughs. “Ah… Shykt knows you. He knows you far better than Luss.” Laugh and smile vanish. “How would you interpret these visits?”

  “Commander Shykt worries that I may hold power greater than I realize if given command of two full companies of Mirror Lancers in Cyad.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “Ser… as my father said many years ago, neither the Magi’i nor the Mirror Lancers nor even the merchanters can stand against the will of the people.” Lorn offers a shrug he does not feel. “If I do my duty, and my senior officers uphold Cyad, then I will have little power except to uphold what is. If I do not do my duty or my senior officers do not, I will also have little power, for two companies are of little use against a city.”

  Rynst frowns. “You do not think your senior officers know their duty?”

  “You know your duty, ser, and you will die, I believe, before you would betray it. The others know it. Some may not have your strength of will.”

  Rynst laughs. “You seek to flatter me.”

  “No, ser. I tell you what I see, and I fear to do so. Honestly is seldom well-regarded, despite all that is said for it.”

  “That indeed is true.” The Majer-Commander shakes his head. “So… what will you do if you are tested?”

  “My duty is to Cyador, ser.”

  “An ambiguous answer, Majer.”

  “It must be, ser. If I answer that my duty is to you, then I could betray all that Cyador is. If I say that it is to the Majer-Commander, then I would be bound to support whoever held the position, no matter if he would destroy Cyador…” Lorn shrugs helplessly.

  Rynst nods slowly. “You will command those companies, Majer, and your duty remains as it always has been. You may go.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  Lorn stands, bows, and turns, wondering if Rynst has any parting comments.

  The Majer-Commander does not, and Lorn leaves the study silently, walking steadily to the steps and back down to his study, holding a faint and pleasant smile in place. Yet he worries, knowing that he has been too honest, too direct, careful as he has been. Yet, if he says what others wish to hear, how long before he will do what they wish done, even when such actions are not right or for the good of Cyador?

  He smiles grimly. Fine thoughts, when anything can be claimed to be for the good of the Mirror Lancers and Cyador. Everything in Cyador is mirrored in everything else, and some reflections are true, and some of those true reflections are yet false, for they portray true images reflecting onto and concealing deception.

  CXXVI

  Lorn stands in the middle of the bedchamber and concentrates again.

  Ryalth looks up from where she sits on the bed and nurses Kerial. “I can see you, in a way, but perhaps that’s because I’m getting used to working around it, and because I know you’re there.”

  “What if we go downstairs, and I’ll follow you,” Lorn says. “You ask, say, Kysia, if she’s seen me. Since I’ll be behind you, she won’t think you’d see me, and if she does, just turn and ask me where I was.”

  The red-haired trader shakes her head. “Is your daily life in Mirror Lancer Court this convoluted?”

  “Not yet, but I fear it will be. Word is out, among some of the senior officers, that I will be commanding the two companies of Mirror Lancers.”

  “And they seek to curry favor? Or threaten you indirectly?”

  “More threatening and warning.” He frowns. “I can feel all the currents, but there is nothing that anyone could really call proof. The Captain-Commander suggests that loyalty is to the position of Majer-Commander, not the person. The senior commanders try to make sure that they are seen as friendly to those who appear to have power. Eightday after eightday, it continues, because all know power will shift in Cyad. The Emperor will die in the seasons or few years ahead. Chyenfel and Rynst are old.” He pauses. “Vyanat’mer is not, but Tasjan still schemes, and Veljan does his best, if with the help of Syreal and Liataphi.”

  “I like Aleyar and her father,” Ryalth says, patting Kerial on the back to burp him. “Veljan would be a better successor to Vyanat than Tasjan, but it would be best if Vyanat remained the Merchanter Advisor. Then, there are those such as Denys and Kernys who would support Tasjan.”

  “Why? Vyanat has been good for the merchanters, has he not?”

  “He has, but they are more interested in their own good or the good of their clan and not the good of all merchanters, or of Cyador.”

  “You sound worried.”

  “Many within the merchanters clamor against the tariffs.
They claim that Vyanat does little for them but make it harder to prosper.”

  “What do you think?”

  “Vyanat cannot lower the tariffs. He knows this, but some would rather have blood on the sunstones than try to persuade the Magi’i and the Mirror Lancers to change.” Ryalth gives Kerial a last pat on the back, then lowers Kerial slightly on her shoulder, before easing off the bed and to her feet. “Let us try what you suggested. It seems silly, in a way, but I know it’s not.”

  “Gaa… maamaaa…” Kerial offers sleepily.

  “In a moment, sweetheart. In a moment.” Ryalth nods to Lorn.

  He opens the bedchamber door and follows her down the stairs.

  Kysia is standing beside Ayleha in the kitchen, and both are hanging the pots used in fixing supper on the rack to the left of the stove. Lorn lets Ryalth get far enough ahead as she enters the kitchen so that he could not be seen even if his effort fails.

  “Lady?” asks Kysia, turning.

  “Have you seen Lorn?” Ryalth asks. “He’s not in his study. I wondered if he’d come down here for something else to eat.”

  Both women shake their heads.

  Lorn eases farther into the kitchen, standing just behind Ryalth’s shoulder.

  Kysia blinks. “I thought for a moment… No, Lady, I haven’t seen him.”

  Lorn eases back out through the archway and releases the blurring effect. “Were you looking for me?” he asks, again stepping into the archway. “I was just walking around, thinking. I should have told you.”

  Ryalth offers an exasperated glance at her consort.

  “I’m sorry,” Lorn says apologetically.

  Kysia smiles.

  “Have you finished your thinking, my dear?” Ryalth asks. “It is time to put Kerial to bed.”

  “I’m done for now,” Lorn admits.

  “Good.” Ryalth turns back to Kysia and Ayleha. “I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

  “It was not a problem or a bother, Lady.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” Lorn adds, before he turns to follow Ryalth back up the stairs.

  Neither speaks until Lorn closes the bedchamber door.

  “I don’t know which was more frightening,” Ryalth says.

  “Which?” Lorn’s brows furrow.

  “I could feel you behind me, and they couldn’t see you. That was frightening. But the way you looked so innocent… in saying you were walking around. That was frightening, too.”

  “It was the truth,” Lorn says.

  “Dearest… you and your family… you all can tell the truth… words that are what is, and yet convey something else entirely. That is one reason why I am glad you are not a magus.” She slips toward Kerial’s bed and slips him into it, stepping back.

  “Gaa! Maamaaa… gaa…”

  Ryalth shrugs. “He will be awake for a time.” Her eyes stray to the stack of papers on the bedside table.

  “I’ll play with him. You have to read those, don’t you?”

  “I would appreciate some time,” she says.

  “You shall have it.” With a smile, Lorn walks toward the small bed and his son.

  CXXVII

  The two men approach the shoreward end of the pier nearly simultaneously. Both wear merchanter blue, with similar blue wool cloaks to protect them against the cold wind that blows off the harbor. One, unlike the other, is trailed by two guards in green-and-gold uniforms. The guards stand back as he moves toward the unaccompanied merchanter.

  “Oh, Vyel,” calls Tasjan, “how good to see you. I was going to stop by after I finished with my tasks on the Intryg.”

  “She is a marvel, like all your vessels,” Vyel says pleasantly.

  “I would hope so. We have spent enough golds on her.” Tasjan laughs. “I have been considering our last conversation, Vyel.”

  The younger man raises his eyebrows.

  The slender Tasjan smiles. “You know that a merchanter house cannot go to one who is not of the merchanter clan. Even the Emperor cannot change that.”

  “That is true.” Vyel frowns slightly. “All know that.”

  “And I have found some other interesting invoices.” Tasjan extends a sheet that appears from under his cloak. “This is a copy, of course. The one with the seals is in a very safe place.”

  Vyel reads for a moment, then hands the sheet back. “An interesting invoice.” His eyes are dark.

  “I thought you would think so.” Tasjan smiles. “I would not like to see Hyshrah Clan… disturbed by such… were they to become public. Oh… and if anything were to happen to me, some of them will appear in the hands of the Emperor’s Enumerators. Now… we had discussed the possibility of your obtaining a house of your own, and in a manner that would not harm the interests of Hyshrah Clan.”

  Vyel nods. “I believe you had mentioned something about that.”

  “I am certain you know those… who can arrange disappearances or perhaps those who are less fastidious but can obtain the same results. In these days… you understand that times are troubled, and it appears as though the majer who is the consort of the trader heading Ryalor House has made some enemies. More than a few.” Tasjan shrugs. “He is not likely to survive, one way or another, and right now should anything happen to him… well, all fingers would point somewhere in Mirror Lancer Court, or even toward the Quarter of the Magi’i. These things happen. One would not want an heir to revenge such an unpleasantness. One would not wish a consort with power, either, who might purchase such revenge.” A smile follows. “I am certain you understand.”

  “I believe I do,” says Vyel.

  “I would hate to see such invoices as these appear publicly. I do have a soft spot in my heart for you and your elder brother.” Tasjan shrugs. “Yet… in these troubled times, one must do as one can.”

  “Most honored Tasjan… ?” Vyel inclines his head.

  “You wish to know why I cannot deal with this myself?” Tasjan smiles. “Because the Magi’i follow my every movement with their chaos-glasses, and not being a magus, I know not when I am watched. So I can talk to other merchanters, my family, shopkeepers, and the like. I cannot act on my own behalf, not at the moment, much as I would prefer it, for there is less chance of failure when I can.” The smile fades. “My limits are your opportunity. The opportunity may not exist that long. And while you have good contacts, Vyel, my others are also good, and could accomplish… other ends, if indirectly. I would prefer to use a man who has much to gain, and who wishes to avoid disgrace, rather than one merely paid in golds. I’m sure you understand.”

  “I understand. You must realize that matters such as you have suggested cannot occur overnight.”

  “Not overnight. No. But these invoices will be either burned or public within the eightday. The choice is yours, Vyel.” Tasjan offers a last smile, and wraps his cloak about him. “Good day.”

  The younger man stares along the stone pier, out toward the oncoming storm, for a time before he turns.

  CXXVIII

  As Lorn passes the fountain, its cold spray drifting around him, he wonders if they should shut off the water to it before long. Then he smiles as he sees Ryalth standing on the veranda, waiting for him. She is not smiling.

  “What’s the matter?” he asks.

  “Mryran sent a messenger, saying that she wasn’t feeling that well, and asking if she could come another time,” says the red-haired trader. “It doesn’t feel right.”

  “I worry about her,” Lorn replies, stepping forward and hugging his consort.

  Ryalth hugs him back, warmly, but for a moment. “She also sent word that she must have dinner with Ciesrt’s parents tomorrow, and that she will need to be strong for that.” She shakes her head. “I would not wish to wear her boots.”

  “We’re all different. I doubt she’d wish to wear yours.” He glances around. “Where’s Kerial?”

  “Sleeping. He was awake all afternoon. I didn’t have to meet with any outlanders, and that was fine. I just hope he isn’t awake al
l night.”

  “Two of us share that wish,” Lorn affirms, following her into the foyer from the chill of the veranda.

  “Don’t you think it’s strange?” Ryalth asks, turning as they stand in the sitting room just off the front foyer. “We’ve never met Ciesrt’s family. Vernt and Mycela have, but we haven’t.”

  “We’re not Magi’i,” Lorn points out. “The honorable Kharl’elth appears to count that of great importance. Even to encouraging Ceyla to consort to Rustyl.”

  “That was last eightday, Myryan said.”

  Lorn shrugs. “You see. We weren’t considered important enough to invite.”

  “I’m glad we’re not. I’m glad you’re not. You’re better than they are.”

  “So are you,” Lorn replies with a smile. “So are you.” He embraces her again.

  CXXIX

  The only four sitting around the Majer-Commander’s conference table are Commander Muyro, Commander Shykt, Rynst, and Lorn. Although the morning sun streams through the windows behind the Majer-Commander, a cold wind whistles outside the closed windows.

  “You had three of the large portable firecannon around the Accursed Forest, and three smaller cannon, did you not?” Rynst looks at the dark-faced Muyro.

  “Yes, ser. Two remain there. One of each has been stored in one of the Mirror Engineer warehouses in Fyrad, as you requested.”

  “I would like you to make arrangements to bring those two now in Fyrad here to Cyad, as soon as you can.”

  The faintest of nods comes from Shykt.

  “Ser?” Muyro looks puzzled. “That will bring them farther from the Accursed Forest.”

  “The Accursed Forest is not the problem it once was.” Rynst pauses, then goes on, almost wearily. “As you know, Commander, we now have four fireships, and perhaps we will have but three in the eightdays or seasons to come. But the firecannon will work so long as the Magi’i operate even a single chaos-tower. The Emperor has suggested that a firecannon or two might well provide greater protection for Cyad-and, upon occasion, its power could be demonstrated for the benefit of the outland traders.”