Scion of Cyador

CLI

It is almost midafternoon in Cyad, and Lorn finds himself once more before the Majer-Commander, not knowing exactly what Rynst may have in mind. He bows. “Ser?”

Rynst looks up from his desk, surprisingly less cluttered with papers than is normally the case. “Yes, Majer. There are some things I thought you should know. Several matters.” The Majer-Commander does not smile. “A number of old bills of lading and other papers have appeared at the Traders’ Plaza.”

“Ser?” Lorn does not have to counterfeit puzzlement.

“They appear to be authentic, according to the First Magus. They are records showing that the recently murdered Dyjani clan head was receiving additional golds from cargoes and goods he was selling in Swartheld. There were also shipments of iron shortswords, for which he paid nothing. Shortly thereafter, other documents appeared. The accuracy of these is more in doubt, but they would indicate that the Emperor’s Merchanter Advisor had his brother killed to ensure that his own failings were not made public.”

Lorn nods to hear what he already knows.

“I would trust that you will hold your lancers in readiness, Majer, and that all drills you hold for the next few days be without firelances, so that, should they be needed, full charges will remain in all lances.”

“Yes, ser.”

“And I expect you to be where you can be reached by messenger.”

“I’ll either be here, ser, or at home, or at the harbor barracks or grounds.”

“Good. You should be here early tomorrow, and the morning after.”

“Yes, ser.”

“That will be all, Majer.”

“Yes, ser.”

Before Lorn can turn, Rynst adds, “And I trust you recall your orders and chain of command, Majer.”

“Yes, ser.”

Lorn manages to retain a pleasant smile on his face as he makes his way out of the Majer-Commander’s study and down the stairs to the fourth-floor foyer.

The thin-faced commander Shykt is standing outside his study door. “Fayrken said you would not be long, and he was right.”

Lorn nods. “Yes, ser.”

“I’ve been dispatched to Dellash with Commander Dhynt and Commander Muyro to study the disabled fireships, and we’re to make a firsthand report.” Shykt smiles, if nervously. “I thought you might like to know, in case it applies to any reports you are doing.”

“Thank you, ser. I appreciate the notice.”

“You are most welcome, Majer.” The thin-faced commander pauses. “Did you hear about Commander Sypcal?”

Lorn’s stomach tightens even more. “No, ser.”

“Quite ill, I understand. Some sort of flux. If he recovers, it will be eightdays before he’s himself again.” Shykt offers another strained smile. “I’d guess that would leave you, the Majer-Commander, the Captain-Commander, and Commander Lhary at the next twoday meeting.”

“I suppose it would, ser. I appreciate knowing that, as well.”

“I thought you might.” Shykt nods.

“Have a good trip, ser.”

“I’m sure it will do us good.”

Lorn walks back into his study-but only long enough to gather his personal items, before he walks back out.

He stops by Fayrken’s desk station. “I’ll be down at the harbor barracks. There are some things I need to discuss with the officers and rankers.”

“Yes, ser. Will you be back this afternoon?”

“I don’t know.” Lorn shrugs. “If I can be.”

As he walks down toward the harbor, he can again sense a chaos-glass being focused on him, and whatever magus follows him holds the image until he enters the end of the converted warehouse that holds the studies of the two Mirror Lancer captains.

He finds both Cheryk and Esfayl in the slightly larger space-Cheryk’s study.

“Ser!” Both officers stand.

“Matters here in Cyad are getting…shall we say…unsettled.”

Cheryk and Esfayl exchange glances.

“I can see you have heard something along those lines,” Lorn says with a faint smile. “What, might I ask?”

“Well…there’s word that the merchanters are gathering together the greensuit guards,” Cheryk ventures. “Some are saying the Palace had that Tasjan fellow killed.”

“And others say that the Emperor is ailing,” adds Esfayl.

“I don’t know that the Emperor is any more ill than he has been,” Lorn says, “but the guards of Dyjani House could be a real problem. You are to restrict tomorrow’s maneuvers to light one-on-one drills with padded blades. You are to keep all firelances ready, but under your personal control, and no one is to leave the area without my orders or those of Majer-Commander Rynst-and the only Majer-Commander to whom you answer is Rynst. Otherwise, you answer to the Emperor. If none of those can offer you orders, you are to protect the Palace of Eternal Light.”

“Those are grim orders, ser.”

“I doubt it will come to that, but those are the orders I received.”

“Ser…?” offers Esfayl.

“Yes.” Lorn’s voice is level.

“Majer Brevyl said one other thing. He said never to wager against you, and never to ignore your orders.” Esfayl smiles ruefully. “Tell us what to do, and we’ll do it.”

Cheryk nods.

“What we want to do is hold Cyad together,” Lorn admits. “I can’t tell you how, for sure, but it’s likely we’ll have to take on the greensuits, and even with firelances, it won’t be easy. They’ve been trained by a renegade lancer officer, and I’d wager they have mirror shields somewhere. You might think about how to attack a squad with a mirror shield wall on foot in the streets where they can’t easily be flanked.”

“Too bad we can’t use the firecannon,” mutters Cheryk. “That’d do it.”

Lorn smiles. “Why don’t you find out who can operate it? Let me know by messenger. I’ll see if the Majer-Commander will put them under my command for a while.”

Cheryk smiles. “That…that we’ll do.”

“Now…I’m headed back to the Mirror Lancer Court…”

“Ser…best you take your mount, and take him to your dwelling,” suggests Cheryk.

Lorn nods. He may indeed need speed.