Scion of Cyador

CXXXVII

Lorn closes the door of the guest bedchamber in Tyrsal’s dwelling and turns to Ryalth. She is propped up on the bed and is already nursing Kerial. He unclips the sabre scabbard from his belt and leans weapon and sheath against the wall.

“How was he?” she asks.

“He was sleeping-a bit fussy when I woke him up, but he liked the carriage ride. Pheryk’s a better driver than most.” Lorn takes a deep breath. “I think everything would have been all right at home, but there wasn’t much point in risking it, and then traveling out to get you and then coming back again and worrying.”

“What did you do with the carriage?”

“Pheryk drove us back and then said he would leave it tied at the carriage station that serves Hyshrah Clan. There’s no one there at this time of night.”

“You’re being more indirect than usual,” the redhead says.

“I want Vyanat to have something to think about.” Lorn shrugs

“You acted as if you knew the Hypolya were one of Vyanat’s vessels. Is there something you haven’t told me?” Ryalth looks at Lorn. “I cannot believe that he would wish either of us dead-or that any thinking member of his house would.”

“It would depend on the thoughts.” Lorn sits down on the side of the bed and gestures to the bag beside the armoire. “I brought daywear for the two of us, and three sets of clothes for Kerial.” He bends to pull off his boots. “I also brought my chaos-glass.”

“You don’t think Vyanat-”

“While I trust no one, I do trust your feelings, especially on that. But there are enemies and relatives within every large house, and their goals may not be at all the same as Vyanat’s. Perhaps you should pay Vyanat’mer a visit-tomorrow-and bring me along. Tell him that I wanted to meet him because he had appreciated my report on Biehl so much. I’ll send a messenger in, saying that I’ll be slightly late to Mirror Lancer Court.”

“You think Vyanat will see me if I just show up?”

“With me beside you? I think so.” Lorn grunts and pulls off the other boot. “At the very least he will wish to know why you want to make such a call.”

“How many did you kill tonight?”

“They killed the coachman with archers. We killed eight plus the leader. Tyrsal used chaos-fire to incinerate the bodies. He has a headache, and he’s not going to feel wonderful in the morning.”

“Aleyar will help.”

“That’s true. I also asked him if he would request she not tell Liataphi for a day or so.”

“Just a day or so?”

“Until after we meet with Vyanat.”

Ryalth lifts Kerial to her shoulder and burps him gently.

Lorn stands and walks to the corner by the armoire, setting his boots almost against the wall, then bending again and easing the chaos-glass case from the bag. He carries the case to the table under the window and eases back the vase with the spray of cut flowers to make room for the glass.

Lorn concentrates, and, as the silver mists form and then dissipate, the image of Tasjan appears in the glass, sitting at a long table, clearly enjoying what seems to be a family gathering of sorts. Lorn shrugs and releases the image.

The next image is that of Luss-in his bedchamber. Lorn also releases that image quickly. Rustyl, too, is in bed, apparently sleeping, although the magus turns in his sleep. Lorn lets the image vanish.

“Did you find anything?” Ryalth asks, yawning.

“No. I would have been surprised if I had.”

“Because Tasjan worked through someone else?”

Lorn nods as he replaces the glass in its case. “We do need to see Vyanat in the morning.”

“If he is in Cyad.”

“He will be. Tasjan needs him to be.”

Ryalth offers a sad smile.