Scion of Cyador

CXV

Lorn glances at the polished blond wood of Vernt’s table desk, the same desk that had been their father’s. Vernt has even left it in the same place in the study, and most of the books are the same. The chaos-glass is Vernt’s, larger and more prominently displayed on the left side of the desk. On one of the side tables, there is also a frame that contains a drawing of Vernt wearing the whites of a first-level adept. Where Vernt found an artist, Lorn has to wonder, unless perhaps that is one of Mycela’s hidden talents. Lorn feels the woman must have some.

“I hear you are doing well over in Mirror Lancer Court,” Vernt says conversationally.

“I’m very quiet.” Lorn laughs. “How are things going for you?”

“As expected, I suppose.” Vernt frowns.

“In short, everyone’s worried about the chaos-towers failing, especially the one in the Quarter, and no one has an answer.”

Vernt shakes his head. “You know I shouldn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t. I did, and it’s true. We have meeting after meeting. All too many deal with how we will handle the barbarians without firelances and firewagons, and what kind of ships can replace the fireships. I can’t imagine all those meetings with the Majer-Commander, the Captain-Commander, and all the senior commanders, not unless things are getting serious.”

“Should you be saying that?”

Lorn shrugs. “It’s a problem that concerns both the lancers and the Magi’i. I’m a lancer; you’re of the Magi’i. I’m not telling you anything those above you don’t know, and you’re not about to tell anyone else.”

“I know,” Vernt replies. “Still…” He frowns.

Lorn takes out the pouch with the papers inside, those it has taken him more than an eightday to copy-although he has taken the precaution of making two extra sets. “Here’s something that you’ll need.”

“That I’ll need?” The taller man’s eyebrows rise.

“A long time ago, at Father’s suggestion, I went through the Archives,” Lorn lies, offering a chuckle. “Except I didn’t tell him, because…well…you know…I didn’t want to admit he might be right.” The smile fades. “Then, of course, I couldn’t tell him.”

“There’s always something I remember that I would have liked to tell him,” Vernt agrees.

“I copied these.” That is absolute truth, a truth even Vernt can sense. “I think now is the time, or it will be shortly, for them to reappear.”

“ ‘Reappear’?” asks Vernt.

“I asked Tyrsal to see if these were still in the Archives. He says they’re not.”

Vernt frowns.

“They’re the plans and the methodology for building a coal-fired, chaos-steam transfer engine.”

“They say it can’t be done.”

Lorn shakes his head. “Like many things, that’s a partial truth. Read through the pages and you’ll understand. A magus cannot build that engine, nor touch it, but a magus is necessary, and the engine can be built, and it will operate. Heat transfer isn’t that much different from chaos transfer when you look at it. It’s far simpler, in fact, on a practical basis.”

“They’ll laugh at me-proposing a steam-chaos engine when we have chaos-powered firewagons that will do much more.”

Lorn shook his head. “You don’t understand. You don’t propose anything. You wait.”

“What good will that do?”

“The Quarter chaos-tower will fail, sometime in the next year.” A lazy smile crosses Lorn’s face. “Six fireships have already had their towers fail.”

“How do you know anything about the Quarter tower?”

“Even a former student magus can sense that-I do visit Tyrsal now and again, and the tower’s not that far away.”

“I can’t do anything, Lorn.”

Lorn smiles again. “All right. You can’t do anything. Then you won’t need those.” He gestures toward the stack of papers he has left on the desk. “I would like to leave you with one thought.”

“What is that?” Vernt frowns. “I know you. There’s more to this than a thought.”

“No. There really isn’t. Not now.” Lorn pauses. “Right now, the Magi’i have power. While a few Magi’i-like Chyenfel and Rustyl-have the power to draw chaos from the natural world, most don’t. They have to draw and direct stored chaos. Once the towers are all gone, there’s no more stored chaos. Therefore, there’s much less need for the Magi’i, and their power in Cyador will be far less. The merchanters will gain power; the lancers will perhaps hold their power. If…if the Magi’i have a way of building engines such as these, there will be another form of fireship upon the oceans, and another form of firewagon upon the great highways-and the Magi’i will hold power.”

“No one will believe me.” Vernt shakes his head.

“First…you wait until matters are more desperate. Second, you say that the papers are something that your father developed, and that you have carried on his work. That’s true enough, in a way.”

“Lorn…”

“And don’t tell Ciesrt or Kharl. If this works, Kharl will take the credit. If it doesn’t, he’ll steal it and then blame you and Father. If you want someone higher to talk to, you might try either the First Magus or the Third.”

“You don’t like Kharl, do you?”

“I don’t like Ciesrt, and Kharl raised Ciesrt. For what it’s worth, most in Cyad outside the Quarter do not trust the Second Magus. They praise his intelligence, but do not turn their backs.” Lorn pauses. “If matters look desperate, and the Magi’i are looking for an answer, any answer…then, if the others do not listen, you can try Kharl.”

“That’s the most persuasive thing you’ve said.” Vernt laughs. “When you would give something you believe to someone you dislike…you feel strongly.”

“What can I say?” Lorn shrugs. “In the meantime…if you would humor me…brother…you might keep those in a safe place. If anything should happen, it might be wise for someone among the Magi’i to have a plan.”

“I’ll read them, and keep them safe. I might even look in the Archives.”

“You won’t find anything.”

“I might find traces of what was removed.”

“You might,” Lorn agrees.

Vernt leans back in the chair, in a way that reminds Lorn of their father. “What is in this for you?”

“I’d like to see Father proven right. I’d like to see Cyador remain strong.” Lorn purses his lips. “I’ve seen some of the rest of Candar, and I’ve seen how the barbarians treat innocents, and how they hate us. And there’s nothing like Cyad anywhere.”

“You were the one who defended the barbarians, as I recall,” Vernt says.

“You were right. I was wrong.” Lorn stands. “One way or another, I hope you find those useful.”

“We’ll see. But none will know whence came these. That, I will promise.” Vernt stands. “I don’t know as I believe your dire predictions, but none can gainsay your devotion to Cyador.” Vernt glances. “Did you bring a mount?”

“I walked. It’s not that far.” Lorn touches the hilt of the sabre. “Cyador is still safe at night, but…if not…I’m prepared.”

“I’m sure you are.”

The two brothers walk from the study and down the steps.