Heritage of Cyador

VI

After Lerial mounts up in the dim light before dawn on sevenday, he checks the dispatch pouch once more to make certain that he has the “request” from Atroyan inside it as well as his father’s response authorizing one Overcaptain Lerial, his son, to act in reply to Atroyan’s communiqué … and, of course, the golds hidden in slots in his belt. Then he rides to the north entrance to the palace where Emerya and the girls stand, the only ones to see him off.

Ryalah looks up at her brother. “Be careful.”

“I’ll be as careful as I can. You, too.” Lerial offers a smile, then looks to Emerya.

“The more charming anyone is, the less you should trust them.”

“Honesty doesn’t require charm?” he quips back.

“Desperate rulers in debt can’t afford honesty.” Emerya reaches up and hands Lerial a small object heavily wrapped in cloth. “You’ll know what to do with this when the time comes.”

He takes the object, seemingly oval beneath the cloth padding and not even quite the size of his hand, then slips it into the inside pocket of his jacket. He glances toward Amaira and then back to Emerya, raising his eyebrows, knowing that the metal oval must hold a miniature portrait of her daughter.

His aunt nods.

“I’ll make certain. Is there anything else?”

“Nothing else that I haven’t already told you.”

Lerial looks to Amaira. “Take care.”

“I always do. Mother insists on it.”

Lerial offers a last smile, then turns the gelding back toward Twenty-third Company, almost formed up, with the three supply wagons in the rear.

“Twenty-third Company mounted and ready, ser,” declares Kusyl as Lerial reins up beside him.

“Then let’s head out.”

“Yes, ser.” Kusyl calls out, “Company! Forward!”

Once the company has left the palace gates and is riding smoothly on the boulevard that leads toward the Hall of Healing, the two officers riding side by side behind two outriders ten yards ahead of them and the main body, Lerial turns to Kusyl. “Tell me more about the company, if you would.”

“Better than any new companies, and some old ones, a lot better than what we had to do in Verdheln. Four solid squad leaders. Maylat-he’s Third Squad-might be a touch too solid, if you know what I mean.”

“He’ll carry out any order just the way you order it?”

“If he has doubts … yes, ser.”

“What else?” prompts Lerial.

“We’ve got maybe two or three rankers with some fighting experience in each squad. That’s helped.”

“But they’re usually not the brightest ones?”

“Half of each, I’d say.”

“How long have you been working them?”

“A couple of eightdays less than a season.”

“How are they doing?”

“Half as well as your company, if that.”

“You’ve never seen Eighth Company.”

“Don’t have to. You were in Verdheld. I saw what you did there with troopers as green as saplings.”

“I was almost as green.”

“Begging your pardon, ser … you weren’t. Young … but never green. You spent years learning from the majer.”

Not years … a year at most, even if it felt like years.

“Also heard watertalk about what you did at Ensenla four years back.”

“You can’t believe all you hear,” replies Lerial with a genial laugh.

“No, ser. That’s not so with you. Have to figure you did a lot more than anyone knows. It was that way in Verdheln, and you’re likely better at keeping things quiet.”

“It’s usually better that way.”

“Most times. Not always.”

Lerial nods. “I’d agree to that.”

They ride almost another third of a glass before Kusyl speaks again. “Tell me, ser. Is this going to be as bad as Verdheln?”

“How can you say something like that?” Lerial laughs. “Didn’t we win a great victory there?”

Kusyl grins. “Except we lost every battle except the last two … and pretty near half our lancers. That’s the kind of victory every old lancer dreads.”

“I have no idea, except that it won’t be good. We’re supposed to help Atroyan and keep Khesyn from even thinking about taking Luba when he’s been eying it and Afrit for years.”

“Worse than Verdheln, then.” The not-quite-wizened undercaptain gives a theatrical groan. After a moment, he asks, “Why Luba … and not Swartheld?”

“The ironworks, I’d guess. Also, taking Luba would split Afrit in two, if not so much in terms of people, and there’s a paved highway from Luba to Swartheld that Khesyn could use. If Khesyn can take and hold Luba, that would make things more difficult for us, too, because he’d control both sides of the river there, and we’d lose access to the traders who come upriver from Swartheld, especially the outland traders.”

“You’re not making this old lancer feel any younger, ser.”

“You’re not that old, Kusyl.”

“Maybe not, ser, but we’d all like to get older.”

Lerial can definitely agree with that, but he says, “Tell me more about Twenty-third Company. Start with more about your squad leaders.”

“I can do that. First Squad leader is Elsyor. Quiet type. Thinks things through. Better with a blade than a lance…”

Lerial listens intently.