Scion of Cyador

CXIII

On the late-summer day, Lorn glances up from the Majer-Commander’s conference table. Through the windows on the north side of the study, he can see dark clouds rolling out of the north and toward the harbor. To his left sit three commanders, Shykt on the north side of the table, with Muyro and Dhynt on the south, the same side as Lorn, who studies the three from the armless chair to Rynst’s left.

Rynst clears his throat. “Commander Dhynt?”

The older commander with the rugged features and pockmarked face looks toward the senior Mirror Lancer officer. “We have four fireships operating, but the tower on the Firestar is showing signs that it may fail at any time.”

The swarthy Muyro raises his eyebrows. “I was not aware that any but the Magi’i would make such predictions, and they seldom are that accurate.”

“We keep records, and with six fireships having failed over the past five years or so, we have some idea of what occurs. The amount of chaos-energy produced by the chaos-tower within the ship shows changes, often from moment to moment, far more than in previous operations. Occasionally, there are bursts of power that destroy the storage cells. This chaotic chaos, if you will, becomes more and more prevalent.” Dhynt offers Muyro a cold smile. “Then the tower fails, and we have a ship good for little more than scrap.”

“After having fireships that no one could match for near-on tenscore years, we now must resort to sailing vessels with cannon? Is that what you are all telling me?” asks Rynst.

“There may be other possibilities,” offers Muyro.

“What are those possibilities?” counters the Majer-Commander. “Why have I heard nothing of them? If they are possible, why are we building three sail-propelled warships?”

“Golds,” replies the curly-haired and thin-faced Commander Shykt.

“It is true. The Emperor has said that he will not commit more golds to any other warships until the first one is completed and tested,” Rynst says.

“Then it will be next summer-or fall a year from now before we have more than three of the new vessels,” replies Commander Dhynt.

“Longer,” suggests Shykt. “The hulls are narrow, the keels deep, and the masts tall. No one is sailing a ship such as that. There will be difficulties. It is unwise to build many of an untested vessel.”

“It is unwise to have no way to protect our merchanter vessels,” says Rynst. “Or so the Merchanter Advisor says.”

“Of course, he would want to invoke the power of warships,” Shykt replies. “But I would note that the Hamorians send long-haul vessels across the Eastern Ocean, and their traders do well without warships.”

“I beg to you to explain what you mean, Commander,” says Muyro smoothly. “Surely, you are not suggesting we need no protection.”

Shykt shakes his head. “I did not say that. I suggested we need no protection against the Hamorians, at least not directly.”

Rynst nods. “We need protection against those nearer-the barbarians, the Gallosians, even perhaps the Hydlenese. There, sailing vessels will suffice-if they sail as planned, if the powder cannon discharge as designed.”

“Still, those are many if’s, ser,” suggests the iron-haired Dhynt.

“Indeed.” Rynst studies the three commanders in turn, beginning with Shykt and ending with Muyro. “You three are here to provide answers and strategies which will reduce uncertainty. You are not here to offer ways to increase uncertainty.”

Shykt looks evenly at Rynst. “I cannot provide certainty in a land where every gold for certainty and security is grudged. I can offer strategies, and I have done so. To make a strategy work requires golds-or greater mastery of chaos and order. We are losing the devices which allowed us to use chaos. We must either accept greater uncertainty or greater costs. Or find another way in which we can employ chaos. It must be a way that others cannot use.” Shykt pauses. When no one else speaks, he adds, “I am not a magus or a Mirror Engineer. I do not know the ways of chaos. So I have proposed what I do know.” He nods to Muyro. “You know something about chaos and engineering. What do you propose, Commander of the Mirror Engineers?”

Muyro’s eyes smolder. He clears his throat. “As I have said for the past two years, no one has been able to rebuild or to operate a chaos-tower that has failed. Never. We have looked through all the ancient archives and found nothing that the Magi’i can employ.”

Lorn holds back a frown, and glances from Muyro to Shykt, and then to Dhynt.

Dhynt nods. Shykt frowns.

“You have some question of that, Commander Shykt?” asks Rynst, his voice almost lazy in its gentleness of tone.

“Nothing that the Magi’i can use-or nothing that they will use?” asks Shykt.

“What do you mean by that?” asks Muyro.

Shykt turns to Rynst. “If I might…Majer Lorn successfully eliminated the threat of Jeranyi raids. He did so, if I read his reports correctly, by first using multicompany patrols to reduce the number of raiders near the Grass Hills. He then combined his forces and raided Jerans, and destroyed the port of Jera to stop the flow of iron blades to the barbarians. All of these were tactics available to his predecessors. No one else attempted such, because such actions were counter to accepted practices. I do not know the secrets of the Magi’i, but I must question, because I am the sort who does so, whether there are not other means to harness chaos to our benefit. Perhaps these techniques are also counter to Magi’i custom and practice.” Shykt smiles ruefully. “From what little I understand, even the First Magus faced great opposition within the Magi’i for his project to put the Accursed Forest to sleep, and from what little I know, that project employed traditional manipulation of chaos.” The curly-haired commander shrugs.

“It is a fair question,” Rynst acknowledges. “Do you have an answer, Commander Muyro?”

“I am sure that the Magi’i have investigated every possibility.”

“Just as you had looked into the deflection of blades with the new shields?” asks Rynst, his tone of voice between sarcasm and irony.

Muyro flushes, a dark unhealthy color suffusing his swarthy face.

“I trust you will consult with the Mirror Engineers and the Magi’i about this.” Rynst smiles gently. “We must adopt new weapons and doubtless suffer higher casualties. I think it only just that the Magi’i consider that which might do the same for them. If they do not, then the barbarians will pour in, and as the Magi’i should know, the first to go under those iron blades will be those in white.”

“Yes, ser.” Muyro’s voice is level, but his face remains flushed in anger.

“That will do for this meeting.” Rynst rises. “Good day.”

Lorn rises, waits for the commanders to leave, then gathers his papers, and bows to the Majer-Commander before he turns to go. “By your leave, ser?”

“I saw your eyes, Majer. You were of the Magi’i. Know you of any such possible ways to better harness chaos?”

“I do not know how such might be accomplished today, ser. I do know that there were rumors of other ways of using chaos among the Magi’i, but I never became an adept, nor did I ever hear more than rumors as a student.” Every word Lorn says is true.

Rynst nods. “Perhaps Majer Muyro can find something. I have my doubts, but he will raise the question. Over time, even that will help.” The Majer-Commander laughs, once. “One hopes. You may go.”

Lorn is thankful that none of the commanders remain on the fifth-floor open foyer, and he hurries down to his own study, nodding to Fayrken as he passes.

“Another meeting report, ser?”

“Another report, Fayrken. This one will be short.”

“That be good, ser. Majer Hrenk has a long report about the piers at Fyrad.”

Lorn steps into his own study and sets his notes on the desk.

At the low roll of thunder, he turns to the window, where the first fat drops of rain strike the ancient panes-the large droplets hitting almost with the force of hail.

What can he do? It is clear from the indirect signs he sees that the Cyad he has known is changing. The merchanters are having trouble trading against the outlanders and want lower tariffs. The barbarians will threaten again, unless action is taken. The Emperor is failing, perhaps dying. The Magi’i are not changing, nor do the Mirror Lancers-except for perhaps Commander Shykt and the Majer-Commander-wish to offer anything new to the Emperor or the others who advise Toziel.

He has to do something, but what he can do is little enough…for now. He stands in his small study, a floor below the Majer-Commander, feeling that he could do more. Yet his father advised against approaching the Emperor. Even if he goes against his father’s wishes, he has no way to gain access to the Palace of Eternal Light-except as an intruder, and that is not exactly to his benefit.

Equally dangerous is the implication that there are reasons why the Magi’i have not offered another way to use chaos to replace the fireships and firewagons. Now it is clear that he must study his father’s papers once more, even more carefully, to see how he might advance the plans and suggestions contained therein. The papers offer solutions, yet his father could not advance them, even as Hand of the Emperor. Is there any way Lorn can?

He looks at the stack of notes and takes a deep breath, then pulls out the chair and seats himself. First, he must write the report of the meeting.