Scion of Cyador

CXXXIV

In the midmorning of fourday, Lorn has just finished summarizing another meeting-this one between the Majer-Commander and Commander Muyro about the last details of installing the Mirror Lancer firecannon.

There is a knock on his study door, and, even before waiting for Lorn’s response, Fayrken steps inside. “Two lancer captains reporting to you, ser.” The senior squad leader’s eyebrows lift.

“They should be the captains for the two companies-the ones I’m the maneuvers coordinator for. That’s the latest official title.” After a wry smile, Lorn asks, “Do you know who they are?”

“Cheryk and Esfayl, I believe, were the names, ser.” Fayrken smiles. “They seemed to know you.”

“Have them come right in.” Lorn stands and waits for the two to enter. The older captain is thin-faced, gray-eyed, long-chinned, and has brown hair tinged with gray; the second has dark curly hair, and a boyish look to his features.

The long-chinned Cheryk sees Lorn and smiles. “Ser. Might have known it was you.”

“Ser.” Esfayl barely refrains from shaking his head.

“It’s good to see you both.” Lorn pauses, then asks, “Your orders didn’t say who your commander would be?”

“No, ser. We got here, and climbed up to the top floor, and the senior squad leader said that you were our commander. Here…” The veteran with the pale gray eyes extends the scroll.

Lorn takes the scroll and reads it.

…report to the Majer-Commander, lancer headquarters, for further assignment in Cyad as determined by the needs of the Mirror Lancers…

Then he hands the scroll back, wondering exactly how much to tell the two.

“Ser…before I forget…Majer Brevyl sent a message,” Cheryk offers.

“Majer Brevyl?” Lorn cannot help but frown. “He was at Biehl. What’s he doing in Inividra?”

“They sent him from Biehl for a season, ser. Something about making sure that everything was the way it was supposed to be.”

After a moment, Lorn asks, “The message?” He would wager that he knows the sort of message Brevyl would send.

Esfayl smiles, his expression confirming Lorn’s suspicions.

“He said, ser, that he still didn’t care for you personally, but that if you ever made commander, or higher rank, he’d accept serving under you just to see if you have the same nerve when you had power as when you didn’t.”

Lorn bursts into laughter. “He hasn’t changed a bit. How did you find him?”

Cheryk and Esfayl exchange glances. Finally, Cheryk speaks. “His words are rougher than yours, but no one noticed much difference, except that he seldom commands patrols. Gyraet does.”

“Did that work out?”

“Yes, ser. Good man. He’s a permanent overcaptain now.” Cheryk looks around the small study before speaking again. “The majer also said, ser, that we’d be the first Mirror Lancers stationed in Cyad in generations.”

“That’s true. One reason for that is that the Empire is losing its fireships, and that leaves the Mirror Lancers as the most powerful weapon remaining.”

“What about the Magi’i?” asks Esfayl.

“Individually, a number of them are very powerful, but there aren’t that many. That means you have a task to do. It’s necessary, and if everything goes right, unless someone’s really careless, it won’t get anyone killed.” Lorn smiles. “Call it a reward of sorts.”

“Ser?”

Lorn laughs at the dubious tone in Cheryk’s voice. “It’s simple enough. The outlanders have never seen any of the Morror Lancers’ powers, except the fireships, and most outlanders generally only port in places like Cyad, Fyrad, or Summerdock, where there aren’t many lancers, even though much of Cyador’s strength lies in the lancers. We will be conducting maneuvers-almost on a parade ground-with firelances, whenever the Majer-Commander thinks an important trader is around. Some will even be invited to watch.”

Cheryk nods. “Sort of following up on what we did in Jerans?”

“In a way. To show the outlanders that, whether we have the fireships or not, the Mirror Lancers are to be reckoned with.”

“Is that why the Majer-Commander brought you here, ser?” asks Esfayl.

“I don’t think so, but I wouldn’t presume to guess about what the Majer-Commander plans and how far he thinks into the future.” Lorn clears his throat before continuing. “Now…you’ll be billeted in a warehouse that they’ve converted into a barracks with officers’ quarters. I’ve seen it, and the quarters are not bad. If you have family here, or find a place to live…you can do that, but one of you has to be able to be reached by messenger at all times…”

Lorn goes on to explain the details, finally ending with, “…if you can’t find me, Fayrken can.” He pauses. “Oh…and the only one who can countermand my orders is the Majer-Commander or the Emperor.”

Cheryk looks hard at Lorn.

“Those are the near-exact words of the Majer-Commander,” Lorn answers.

“Ser…”

“I know…they’re strange orders, but that’s the way it is.”

Cheryk looks at Esfayl, then at Lorn. “You report directly to the Majer-Commander, ser?”

Lorn nods.

A slow smile fills the older captain’s face. “We’ll be having an interesting year, ser.”

“I hope not, but it could be.” Lorn waits for a moment, and then asks, “Any other questions?”

“No, ser. Both companies are supposed to be here day after tomorrow. When do you want us to start running drills?”

“How about the next day?” Lorn pauses. “Give it some thought. Why don’t you both come by after midday tomorrow? Then we’ll discuss the kind of drills that might serve our needs.”

“We’ll be here, ser.” Both captains bow.

After the two leave, Lorn goes to the doorway and looks into the foyer. Fayrken is alone at the central desk, and Lorn steps out to talk to the senior squad leader.

“Yes, ser?”

“I’ll need two copies of this for the Majer-Commander. It’s another meeting report, on firecannon transport to Cyad.” Lorn pauses for a moment. “Were you ever able to find anyone who’d heard of a lancer named Sasyk?”

“Yes, ser. Much easier-real sour pearapple, ser. He was a captain at one of the small outposts-Tyert…that’s one that used to report to Assyadt, but they closed it. Anyway, about ten years ago, he took his company and killed an entire settlement in the Grass Hills. He claimed they were barbarians posing as settlers. The Majer-Commander sent several commanders to look into it. They found barbarian weapons and some Jeranyi golds, and not much was said. Then, something else happened-no one seems to know what, except that he got cashiered there. He disappeared for a year or two and then came back to Cyad. He is the head of guards for one of the trading houses-someone said Dyjani. None of the senior squad leaders I could talk to knew much more, except that he was supposed to be very good with both a firelance and a sabre.”

“Thank you.”

“Not a problem, ser.”

Lorn does not frown until he returns to his study. Outside the ancient panes, although the sky is clear, the wind has begun to whistle as if heralding a storm.