Magi'i of Cyador

LXX

LORN SETS ASIDE the bronze-tipped pen as he finishes the second of the two patrol entries, then lays the paper at the side of his study desk to dry. He turns in the chair and glances out the window at the clouds flowing from the south and building and darkening to the north. With the warm dampness of the morning and the clouds, he has little doubt that it will rain, perhaps for several days. But the Second Company will have to set out on patrol the next morning, rain or no rain.

He turns back to the desk, fingering his clean-shaven chin before he lifts the thin manual that Maran had given him, already showing smudges and scuffs. Inadvertently, he compares that to the ancient and spotless silver-sheened volume that Ryalth had presented to him, and he shakes his head, forcing his thoughts back to the patrol manual as he slowly searches for something he had seen-or thought he had-when he had first read it.

… a Lancer company captain cannot halt breaches in the ward-wall, nor can he prevent the inimical creatures of the Accursed Forest from escaping such breaches, but he must do all within his power to ensure such creatures are destroyed before leaving the deadland barrier and before they can inflict damage upon the people of Cyad or upon their livestock and lands.

A wise captain will manage his deployments in such fashion so as to assure that his lancers are exposed to no unnecessary danger and so that casualties are minimized while making sure that as many creatures as practicably possible are destroyed before they can create harm ….

Lorn snorts as he sets down the manual. Destroy the creatures, but don’t lose many men, and a wise captain will best know how to do that. Except that the manual offers no real tactics for such situations-just cautions.

After more time of silent contemplation, he stands and lifts the foot chest containing the Patrol reports. Those of the past five years, he reminds himself as he sets the chest on the clear side of the desk and unlocks it.

He re-seats himself, then begins to leaf through the older reports again, trying to check a nagging thought. He reads the last season of reports from Captain Dymytri, checking the events reported by the captain more closely, trying to focus on details that might just tell him something more.

… limb fallen short of guard wall from northwest mid-point Chaos tower … Casualties: 2 ….

… trunk [twenty cubit diameter] smashed through chaos cables and a single course of wall stones … attack by three giant cats and one stun lizard … one cat escaped … casualties: 4 ….

… long limb bridged ward-wall seventy cubits into deadland … night leopards attacked Engineers ….

Lorn frowns. Night leopards? He has not seen references to such before. Or had he overlooked them? He continues studying the patrol reports, apparently showing more than a score of problems.

… double trunk breach … rendered five hundred cubits of ward-wall inoperable … Casualties: 15 ….

… limb fall in heavy rainstorm … casualties: 4 ….

Just as suddenly, the reports revert to the standard, “Patrol on schedule. No Forest activity.”

Lorn sits back in his chair, thinking. From late spring to early summer, three and a half years earlier, Dymytri’s reports chronicle an outbreak of limb and trunk fallings which claim scores of wards, nearly three score injuries to lancers and engineers, and at least a score of deaths. In that time period, several dozen wild creatures from the Accursed Forest escape. Then, the outbreaks cease. And shortly thereafter, with nothing on the record, one Captain Dymytri disappears or is killed.

Lorn replaces the records, then adds his own latest report, and closes the foot chest. He stands and replaces the chest on the floor before the desk, then walks to the window, looking at the thickening clouds, and at the Second Company banner that flies above the barracks. The green-trimmed pennant with the numeral two in the center is held out almost stiffly by the steady wind, whipping but little.

Thrap! At the knock on the study door, Lorn turns. “Yes? Come in.”

Olisenn enters, leaving the door open. He bows. “A scroll for you, Captain Lorn. It arrived by private local messenger.”

Lorn steps forward to take the missive that the senior squad leader extends to his captain. Although Lorn can sense that the seal has been removed and then reheated somehow, he accepts the scroll effortlessly and without hesitation, stepping back and sideways so that he stands over the desk. “Thank you.” He breaks the blue wax without looking at it, even before Olisenn can move or retreat to the front study office, and lets the wax fall on the golden-aged oak surface of his desk.

Lorn begins to read.

Honorable Lancer Captain Lorn …

I am pleased to inform you that the goods youordered from Ryalor House have arrived and that, once you have inspected them, we will be more than pleased to deliver them to whatever destination is your desire ….

Lorn manages neither to smile nor frown.

“Ser? Do you require me further?”

“Oh … no. I’m sorry, Olisenn. It’s a private matter … not about the Lancers. It’s about some things I ordered.” Lorn smiles at the heavy senior squad leader. “You can go.”

“Yes, ser.” Olisenn bows deferentially, then leaves the inner, study, gently closing the door behind him.

Lorn continues with the scroll.

We would suggest a slight haste in dealing with the case of Fhynyco and the two cases of Alafraan, but remain at your bidding, honored ser.

The missive is signed and sealed by one Dustyn, factor in spirits and liquids, with the phrase beneath the seal, “Off the main square, Jakaafra.”

Lorn nods slowly to himself. Although he does not doubt that the wines are from Ryalth to make his duty easier, he wonders what else will come with the shipment … perhaps a scroll that has not been already read.