Magi'i of Cyador

LXVII

MEISYL AND LORN stand in the rear study by the desk table. Outside the single window the morning is gray, and fat drops of rain splat against the ancient glass panes. Meisyl reads the single sheet of paper drafted by Olisenn, then smiles, and affixes his signature before handing it to Lorn, who reads it himself.

… certifies that Meisyl, Lancer captain commanding the Second Forest Patrol Company, hereby relinquishes that command to Lorn, Lancer captain, and that upon signature this fourday of the ninth eightday of winter, in the year one hundred ninety-seven of the founding of Cyad, Captain Lorn assumes command of the SecondCompany, with all duties and privileges associated thereto ….

Lorn signs the bottom of the document, below Meisyl, with scripted characters far less flamboyant than those of the dark-haired captain who is departing.

“You have it all, Lorn, and I wish you well.” Meisyl’s smile is clearly one of relief. He fumbles two bronze keys from his belt wallet and extends them to Lorn. “The first key here is the key to the records’ chests. The second one is to the door locks for the officers’ rooms. If you have any questions, I won’t be leaving until late this afternoon or tomorrow, depending on the engineers.”

“Thank you. I’ll find you, if I do.”

After Meisyl departs, Lorn looks over his study closely, for it is the first individual study he has had in his duties with the Mirror Lancers. The room is small, seven cubits by seven, with only a narrow table-desk set against the wall, and a single chair pulled up to the desk, and a window with a chest-high sill behind the chair. The sole lamp is fixed in a bronze bracket on the wall over the desk. Set on the granite floor tiles, just in front of the desk, there is a foot chest, two cubits broad, one cubit high and one deep. A single armless chair completes the study’s furnishings. With the exception of the lamp, every item in the room is formed of white oak, and all hold the gold of age.

Lorn nods and then steps out through the open door into the outer study where Olisenn is seated at a larger table, an open foot chest on the floor to his right.

“Yes, ser?”

“Captain Meisyl mentioned that you maintain two sets of records, Olisenn ….”

Olisenn smiles. “Just one, ser. There are two sets of records.” He points to the foot trunk beside his work table. “The ones I keep are the individual personnel records. There is one sheet on each lancer … the lancer’s name and rank, a simple physical description, place and date of birth, his closest family, when the lancer joined, his term of service, andpast duty stations, and expected date of rotation. The reverse side is used for remarks, either for commendations or disciplinary actions.” Olisenn lifts his ample shoulders. “Now … I have to make a sheet on each new lancer.”

“The ones who arrived yesterday?”

“Yes, ser. I’ll start each sheet, and Kusyl will be here shortly to finish them. They all go here in this chest.” His hand drops to indicate the foot chest to his right.

“And the other set?”

“Those are the patrol records in the chest in your study, ser. Those are the only records we keep. The bronze key Captain Meisyl gave you … it opens the lock on either chest.”

“He mentioned that.” Lorn nods. “Later today, or perhaps after the first patrol, I’d like to read through your records.”

“Whenever you wish, ser. It would be better after we update the records.”

“I’ll try not to impede your work.” Lorn turns and re-enters the smaller rear study. He closes the door, and then lifts the records’ chest onto his desk. The key slides smoothly into the lock and turns easily.

As Olisenn has said, the trunk holds the patrol records, a report on each patrol, written and signed by the company’s captain. Leafing through the most recent of these, Lorn notes that most of the time a number of patrols have been reported on a single sheet, with little more than the notation “Patrol on schedule. No Forest activity,” followed by “Meisyl, Captain, Second Forest Patrol Company.”

Others have more description:

… ward cube crushed by limb, north 45 east. Killed small stun lizard, seared seedlings, found giant cat tracks, but no cat. Sent messenger to First Engineer Company at Eastend. Held station on fallen limb until Engineers arrived. No casualties …

… two ward cubes destroyed by double limb, north 323 and 324 east. One giant cat attacked second squad.Cat killed. Two other cats fled as Second Company arrived. Stun lizard tracks noted. Sent messenger to First Engineer Company Eastend. Held station until Engineers arrived. Casualties: 2. Kyscyt killed by cat at ward-wall. Onymt slashed, will probably lose right arm …

Lorn leafs through the reports more quickly, more trying to get a feel for the pattern of what has happened with the Accursed Forest than deeply analyzing the reports. Roughly three years earlier, patrol reports for nearly three eightdays have been signed by Olisenn, as senior squad leader. Lorn picks up the report just before the first one signed by Olisenn, but, like so many of the others, it merely states, “Patrol on schedule.” It is signed, “Dymytri, Captain, Second Forest Patrol Company.”

After studying Dymytri’s last report, Lorn flips through the papers more rapidly until he reaches Dymytri’s first report-only three seasons before his last. Then he looks at the reports before that-four eightdays’ worth, all signed by a senior squad leader named Fyondr. The previous head of Second company had been Undercaptain Zylynt, who had been in command only a few eightdays more than a year. Zylynt’s demise, unlike Dymytri’s, is listed in the first report signed by Fyondr: “ … Casualties: 2. Undercaptain Zylynt, killed by giant stun lizard when firelance failed. Lancer Hyun, killed by lizard while supporting Undercaptain …”

Abruptly, Lorn comes to the end of the Patrol reports. After a moment, he nods and replaces the files in the small foot trunk and closes it. “Olisenn?”

After a moment, the heavy squad leader opens the door and lumbers into the rear study. “Yes, ser?” He bows slightly following his words.

“The Patrol reports only go back about five years,” Lorn observes.

“Yes, ser. We just keep five years here, sometimes almost six, but since you were scheduled in, Captain Meisyl sent off the older ones last eightday. They’re all in Majer Maran’sfiles in Geliendra.” Olisenn nods. “It keeps matters easier here.”

“I can see that.” Lorn smiles. “Thank you,”

“That’s not a problem, ser. It’s what I’m here for.” Olisenn nods and waits for a moment before asking, “Is there anything else, ser?”

“No, thank you.” Lorn stands. “I’m going to inspect the compound, Olisenn. I’ll be gone for a while.”

Olisenn’s eyes lift to take in Lorn. “Would you prefer me to accompany you?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary. If I have questions, I’ll ask you when I get back. You and Kusyl have more than a few records to update with all the replacement lancers that arrived.”

“That is true, ser.” The senior squad leader turns and walks back out through the door, closing it behind him.

Lorn replaces the Patrol reports in the foot chest and locks it, replacing it on the floor where it had been, then opens his door and steps out into the outer study.

“Ser!” says Kusyl, who has apparently just arrived.

“Just keep on with getting the personnel records in order, Kusyl, Olisenn. I’m going to get more familiar with everything in the compound.” Lorn nods and steps past the junior squad leader out into the short corridor that leads out to the courtyard.

The rain that had been falling earlier in the morning has given way to a fine and cold drizzle. Lorn readjusts the summer garrison cap and steps out into the courtyard, heading toward the stables.

The mist-shrouded courtyard remains empty as Lorn crosses the damp stones to the stables, where he eases through the barely open sliding door into the warmer and drier air of the stable. He blots his forehead and glances around, then begins to walk farther back into the stable. The main corridors are swept clean, and each stall contains fresh straw. He glances upward, but he sees no cobwebs, or any piles of dirt in the corners.

“Ser? Is something wrong?” The thin-faced blond-hairedstableboy appears, a worn broom in his right hand.

“Not a thing.” Lorn glances toward the stall where the gelding is. “Since I’m new here, I’m just trying to learn about things. What’s your name?”

“Suforis, ser.”

“I’m Captain Lorn, Suforis. How long have you been here?”

“I only started here when Captain Dymytri was in charge … winter turn when I was twelve. Say the captain afore him was nice, too, but I didn’t know him.”

“Do you like it here?”

“Yes, ser. So long as I keep the stable clean and the officers’ mounts and the spares groomed, and all of them fed, Clebyl doesn’t look my way, and that’s fine by me. Lesyna-she’s agreed to be my consort next winter turn, and Clebyl says I can be the assistant compound keeper if I keep working good. Haven’t had an assistant here in two years. Assistants get the second quarters with the kitchen.” Suforis smiles brightly.

“How many stalls do you have?”

“Stable has two score and twelve-enough for two companies and a half score spares. Not that many, though,’cause Undercaptain Juist only has a score and a half for the domestic patrol. Says he doesn’t need that many, really, but I’m not supposed to know such.”

“He must not have much trouble.”

“Almost never. Towns north of here real peaceable, ser. Good reason to live here. They say some of the rankers settle down here when they get through.”

“How are the mounts?” Lorn gestures toward the gelding.

“Yours be a good’un, ser. Most are. Have to rotate the mount the big squad leader rides, even if he gets the biggest ….” Suforis shakes his head. “Other’n that, n’ gettin’ the farrier up here from Jakaafra regular like … well … take care of the mounts, and they take care of you. Get to ride the spares … make sure that they get exercise … it be a good life ….”

“Good.” Lorn smiles. “Anything I should know?”

“Well … ser … not that I’d be knowing, but I heard tell that if you run into a stun lizard best you stay leastwise fifteen cubits back. Cats don’t matter much … have to get claws into you, and if’n they do …” Suforis shrugs.

“I appreciate the advice, Suforis. If there’s any way I can help out … let me know.”

“Thank you, ser.” The young man bobs his head.

“Thank you.” Lorn turns and slips back out into the courtyard and the drizzle. Looking up into the clouds, he nods abruptly and heads back to his quarters.

Once he crosses the courtyard and enters his quarters, Lorn locks the door, then opens the wardrobe and extracts the screeing glass Jerial had stolen from their father’s study and given to him. Carefully, he sets it on the desk and studies it. Can he do what he knows can be done? What his father and the Senior Lectors can?

Finally, he pulls up the chair, seats himself, and concentrates on the circular mirror. His thoughts go to the enigmatic Olisenn. Lorn doesn’t want to try Maran unless he becomes proficient.

The glass fills with a grayish mist, which silvers into a blank and bright surface reflecting nothing. Finally, a small image swims into view-two squad leaders at a table.

Lorn swallows, surprised, and loses his concentration. A blank glass reflects his own perspiring face back at him. A single drop of sweat falls on the glass.

He can do it!

He leans back in the chair and takes a deep breath. How can he develop and use the skill … without revealing that he possesses it, for revealing it will certainly create greater incentives for the senior Magi’i and Mirror Lancer officers to ensure his death-and the Second Company records illustrate a high mortality for company officers-a mortality higher than for the average lancer, and far higher than it would be reasonable to expect.