Scion of Cyador

CXL

In the late afternoon, Lorn sits behind his desk, looking out into a fall day that has gotten grayer and colder with each passing moment. The wind whistles intermittently around the ancient panes of his study, and the sky continues to darken.

The simplest course of action would be to remove Tasjan, but that is a solution that may lead to more difficulties than it resolves, since Lorn does not know how many others may be involved with Tasjan and whether removing the merchanter would merely result in someone else taking over as head of Dyjani House, and carrying out the same schemes with different names.

There is a knock on the study door.

Lorn turns in his chair. “Yes?”

“Ser?” Tygyl steps just inside the doorway. “The Majer-Commander would like to see you, as soon as you can get there.”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

As he follows the senior squad leader up the stairs to the fifth level, Lorn wonders. Rynst’s informers seem to know everything. Is it about the attack of the night before-or his visit to see Vyanat?

Tygyl closes the door behind Lorn, leaving Lorn alone in the oversized study with the Majer-Commander.

Lorn bows. When he straightens, he can see that a thunderstorm is moving across the city from the east. A lightning bolt flashes to the northeast, and after a few moments, a rumbling crash rolls over Mirror Lancer Court.

Rynst remains standing beside his desk and gestures for Lorn to step closer. Lorn halts three cubits short of his superior. “Ser…as you requested.”

“You were somewhat delayed this morning, Majer,” observes Rynst, ignoring the oncoming storm.

“Yes, ser.”

“Would you care to explain?”

“Ser…last night, when we were returning from dinner at a friend’s, some bravos attacked our carriage outside our very door.”

“You were late this morning, not last night.”

Lorn smiles apologetically. “One of the bravos mentioned that he had been hired by someone associated with a ship-and the ship was one of those of Hyshrah Clan. I persuaded my consort to introduce me to Vyanat’mer so that I could bring the matter to his attention. I did, and then I came to Mirror Lancer Court.”

Rynst’s smile is frosty. “How many bravos were there, Majer?”

“A halfscore, ser.”

“They are all dead, I presume.”

“Yes, ser.”

“You killed them all?”

“No, ser. We were fortunate that my friend Tyrsal was with us. He is a most capable magus.”

“Majer…could you attempt to explain why bodies always appear around you, or if they do not, why people vanish, never to be seen again?”

“I do not believe the attack was on me, ser. I have heard a number of rumors dealing with those who are less than pleased with the success of my consort as a merchanter. Were there some concern about me, I believe that the attacks would have taken place at the many times when I have been alone.”

“Although you did not answer my question, I am forced to agree with your conclusion-at least publicly.” Rynst nods. “I received a message from the Merchanter Advisor just a few moments ago. His younger brother confessed to the attempt on your consort. Vyanat appreciates your tact in informing him and in not taking matters onto your own blade. He assures me, in my capacity as advisor to His Mightiness, that this unfortunate event is not a matter which involves the Mirror Lancers or the Magi’i.”

“Yes, ser.”

“Unhappily, anything which involves my staff also involves the Mirror Lancers. Such is life in Cyad.”

Lorn waits.

“You are the commander of the two companies of Mirror Lancers. You are known to be an excellent field commander. You are also noted as an officer capable of taking no captives, should the necessity arise for such. And you report directly to me. By tomorrow, everyone will know there was an attempt made on your life by a highly placed merchanter. Tongues will suggest that Vyanat killed his brother as a convenient scapegoat, and that the merchanters were foiled in their attempt to halt the growth of the power of the Mirror Lancers in Cyad. Vyanat will find himself being considered as one plotting to place a merchanter as the heir to the Emperor. The Emperor will have to deny that there was a plot, and affirm that the Malachite Throne will not fall to any known in power in either the Magi’i, the Mirror Lancers, or the merchanters.”

Lorn continues to wait.

“Majer…Vyanat is too smart to attempt anything like this. He could not possibly benefit from it. We both know this. Thankfully, so do most of those in power in Cyad, but it is too good an opportunity for those who dislike Vyanat’s honesty not to use it against him. You should have known that forcing him to act would cause this sort of problem. You are too intelligent not to know. Why did you do so?”

“Because it was not the first attempt,” Lorn admits. “I kept everything quiet after the first attempt.”

“How many attempted the first time?”

“Six.”

Rynst shakes his head. “I suppose I should congratulate you on your forbearance. Still…it creates a problem.”

“Yes, ser.”

“Could you explain why you did not bring the matter to my attention?”

“The attacks appeared to be upon my consort. If I brought them to the formal attention of the Mirror Lancers, then you would have been placed in the position of either ignoring an attempt to bring down the only merchanter house headed by a woman, or worse, using your authority to support a non-traditional house.”

“Why should I care?”

“Because, as you know, someone is trying to use the attacks to discredit both the Mirror Lancers, and to stir up support for a merchanter heir to the Emperor.”

“Do you think you should have made such a decision?” Curiosity, rather than coldness, tinges the voice of the Majer-Commander.

“If I run to you, ser, then I am seen as being in Cyad only to further your ambition. That will make the merchanters even more determined that the Imperial succession should change, and will boost their claims that I am here but to suppress them.”

“They can charge that now,” Rynst points out.

“They can charge that, ser, but it will not be believed by near so many folk as it could have been.”

“What do you plan now, Majer?”

“As I always have, ser. To do my duty.”

“It will be interesting to see how you view that duty, Majer.” Rynst offers a faint smile. “When do your lancers begin their exercises?”

“The day after tomorrow, ser.”

“Do you plan to lead them?”

“Yes, ser. Unless you wish otherwise.”

“You had best lead them often, Majer.” Rynst nods. “Good day.”

Lorn bows, then turns, walking toward the study doors and waiting for some last parting comment. There is none, and he leaves and makes his way down to his own fourth-floor study.