Magi'i of Cyador

CIX

LORN IS IN his study early the next morning, working on the patrol report. Short as it is, he writes three versions, and it is well after mid-morning before he is satisfied. Then … he must plead for replacement lancers in a scroll to commander Meylyd. Drafting that request is almost as laborious, but finally he finishes a draft.

He glances out the study window at the green-blue sky and the puffy white clouds that drift out of the north, then looks back down at his request, his eyes taking in what he has written.

… as I had noted in a previous meeting with Majer Maran, Second Company was well under strengtheven before the extraordinary demands placed on it by the excursions of the Accursed Forest … have managed to restrict the wild creatures using the most conventional of Mirror Lancer tactics, and without use of additional firelances … toll has been high, and both squads now number less than half their normal strength … should the most recent level of activity by the Accursed Forest continue, it would appear unlikely that even the most esteemed and loyal Mirror Lancer officer could continue to restrict the escape of wild creatures without reinforcements ….Therefore … requesting replacements necessary to bring Second Company up to full strength ….

Lorn reads through the draft. He purses his lips. The wording is still not right, and it nears mid-day.

Thrap.

He looks up at the knock. “Yes?”

Kusyl opens the door. “There be a Majer Weylt here, ser.”

“Have him come in.” Lorn stands.

Weylt enters the inner study, and Kusyl shuts the door.

“Majer, what can I do for you?” asks Lorn.

“I wondered if we could have something to eat before I leave. We were checking the tower,” Weylt explains.

“There’s not much at mid-day,” Lorn says. “Usually just bread and cheese, maybe some dried fruit.” He smiles. “I can offer some wine.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“I can go now.” Lorn gestures toward the papers on the desk. “Reports, but they can wait until after we eat.”

“Thank you.”

“If you would like, I’ll meet you there. I keep the wine in my quarters,” Lorn points out.

“That would be fine.”

Lorn crosses the courtyard. He notes that the Engineer firewagon is being loaded with several firelances-those expended by Juist?

There is but one bottle of Alafraan left in his room, but Lorn suspects that it will be worth serving for the majer, who has often provided good, if indirect, advice before.

Weylt sits alone at the table, a platter with a large wedge of cheese and a basket with two cold loaves of bread in the middle of the battered but polished golden oak surface of the table.

Lorn uncorks the bottle, then seats himself and uses his belt knife to cut several slices of the hard white cheese. He pours a half goblet of the Alafraan for himself and closer to a full one for the Mirror Engineer majer.

Weylt takes a slow sip. “Thank you, Captain. You have the best wine of all the compounds around the Forest.”

“I was lucky. My trader provided it.”

“You were lucky in more than that.” Weylt breaks off a chunk of bread, eating it with some cheese before speaking again. “You were fortunate we were free when your messenger arrived. When we returned to Eastpoint, there was a messenger from Captain Tysyr.”

“He’s at Eastpoint now?”

“That’s right. He replaced Ivinyt … about half a season ago. He had a trunk down on our side of the southeast midpoint chaos tower. So … a bit later, and you’d have been out there another day, perhaps two.”

“I’m glad we weren’t.” Lorn takes the bread and a large wedge of cheese. “We were there long enough.”

Weylt nods deliberately, slowly. “I did notice the charred remnants of a large paper wasp nest, purely by accident.” Weylt smiles. “I trust you did not bother to put such an insignificant addition into your patrol report.”

“With the giant cats and the stun lizards?” Lorn laughs. “It didn’t seem that important, I must admit, and I never did get an accurate count of the night leopards. So I just mentioned that there seemed to be two packs, and none escaped.”

“Most sagacious, Captain.” Weylt lifts the goblet, but does not drink. “I would say that you are not in the most enviable position. Those two trees were the largest I have seen. Theywere among the most substantial to have fallen, according to the Engineer records. We keep very accurate records, you understand?”

The lancer captain nods.

“Normally, those falls would release large numbers of creatures. Yet you have indicated that you reported success with keeping a modest number from escaping. A … skeptical superior might question the numbers. He would request our report, which would verify the size of the fallen trees. Then he would wait for reports of escaped creatures. If such reports occur, of course, there might be disciplinary action for falsification.” Weylt shrugs. “You do not falsify, and … well … sometimes the truth is even less palatable.” He takes a sip of the Alafraan. “Did I tell you that this is excellent wine?”

“No, but I believe it is, and I am fortunate to be able to share it with you.”

“There are times when I wonder whether I should have attempted to remain an insignificant magus, and times when I wonder if I should have tried for the Mirror Lancers.” The Mirror Engineer looks down at the wine left in his goblet. A wry and sardonic expression appears. “Then we have an event such as this, and I am most happy to be an Engineer. I’m glad I’m not a lancer. We are but expected to do what may be necessary, and no one lets us near anything, especially in Cyad.”

“We also do but what is expected.” Lorn takes another sip of wine. “It can be difficult to attempt more.”

“Ah, yes,” replies Weylt, “and yet the time may come when more is necessary. It is difficult to recall that at times.” The majer swallows the last of the wine. “Best I go, for we need to return to Eastpoint before too late tonight.” He stands. “I thank you for the wine, and the company, and wish you the best with your patrols and reports.”

Lorn follows the majer to his feet. “Thank you. I appreciate your observations.”

“Sometimes, that’s all a good Engineer can do.” He looksat the table. “Don’t let me keep you from finishing your meal.” With that, Weylt nods and departs.

Lorn re-seats himself and cuts another slice of cheese, his brow furrowing as he considers Weylt’s words and what they signify.