Scion of Cyador

CLIX

Mirror Lancer Court is almost empty when Lorn walks into the lower foyer not all that long after dawn and starts up the staircase to his study. Even the whispered impact of his light steps echoes in the vault of the open staircase.

“Ser?” calls Fayrken, even before Lorn’s foot touches the first tile of the fourth-floor foyer.

“What is it, Fayrken?” Lorn moves toward the senior squad leader.

“The Captain-Commander…he was already asking for you.”

“So early?”

“He said he needed to see you. As soon as you arrived. He had me send a messenger down to the warehouse barracks in case you went there first.”

A faint smile crosses Lorn’s face. “Do you know if the Majer-Commander is in yet?”

“Tygyl hasn’t seen him. He left the door to the portico open last night.”

The smile leaves Lorn’s face.

Fayrken steps back, almost involuntarily. “Ser?”

“I’d best see the Captain-Commander. Thank you, Fayrken. Thank you very much.” Lorn’s fingers brush the hilt of the Brystan sabre as he turns back toward the staircase. He takes his time ascending the last flight.

Once he reaches the open fifth-floor foyer, Lorn pauses by Tygyl’s open desk. “Tygyl…could I trouble you to have a messenger sent to Captain Cheryk? If you would, just tell him to have the men ready to ride. I should be there shortly, but I didn’t expect to be meeting with anyone this early.”

“Yes, ser. We can do that.” The senior-most of the senior squad leaders raises his eyebrows.

“It appears that the Dyjani usurper will be bringing in close to fifteenscore armed guards today…most likely by ship.”

“Yes, ser. I’ll send that message.”

“The Captain-Commander?”

“He’s in his study, ser. Commander Lhary is with him. They expect you.”

“I’m sure that they do. Thank you, Tygyl.” Lorn turns to the right and steps toward the door to Luss’s study.

As he steps inside the study, he closes the door, but keeps his eyes on the two men standing before Luss’s table desk. “Ser. You requested my presence.”

Luss looks at Lorn. Lhary stands behind the Captain-Commander’s right shoulder.

“Yes…I did, Majer.” Luss offers the warm and open smile of the type that Lorn distrusts. “You always do your duty, and in these times, we are grateful for officers such as you.” Luss pauses. “The Majer-Commander has vanished. He is not in his dwelling. Nor is he in his study nor have any seen him. Have you any knowledge of this? You have been…familiar…with the disappearance of officers, it is said.”

Lorn smiles, lazily. “No, ser. I have not seen the Majer-Commander. Nor do I know aught about his disappearance. His disappearance would scarce benefit Cyador, and it would benefit me even less.”

“Yet you smile, Majer,” offers Lhary.

“I am a loyal Mirror Lancer officer, and I stand ready to carry out my duties to protect the Emperor and Cyador.” Lorn’s eyes continue to watch Luss.

“What do you intend, Majer?” Luss’s blue eyes seem to focus into the distance for a moment, even as he studies Lorn.

“My last orders from the Majer-Commander were to ensure that the merchanters did not threaten either the Emperor or the Palace of Light. I will carry them out.”

“The Emperor has died. There is no Emperor to protect. And there is no Majer-Commander.” After the briefest of pauses, Luss adds, “Not that can be found.”

“Yes, ser.”

“I believe we discussed this earlier, Majer.”

“We did, ser. There is still duty, ser.” Lorn ostentatiously touches the hilt of the Brystan sabre.

Lhary’s eyes tighten, and a frown begins.

Lorn’s sabre is in his hand, even before either man starts to react. The first chaos-aided cut goes through Luss’s throat. Luss tries to speak, then slowly crumples.

“No!” Lhary yells as he reaches for his sabre. He has his blade clear of his scabbard, if barely, when Lorn’s chaos-aided iron and cupridium runs through his chest.

Lorn looks at both bodies, then wipes his blade on Lhary’s tunic, even before the commander’s eyes turn dull. In turn, he takes Lhary’s blade from the dying man’s hand and runs the edge across Luss’s throat, before replacing it beside Lhary’s outstretched hand.

Then he stands and sheathes the Brystan sabre, wondering how Luss could ever have bested Rynst and disposed of the Majer-Commander’s body. Then, Lhary could have done it.

For a long moment, Lorn looks at the two bodies on the sunstone tiles. Then he steps out into the foyer.

Tygyl stands outside the door, sabre in hand, face blank. Behind him is Fayrken.

Lorn shakes his head. “Commander Lhary attacked the Captain-Commander. I was a shade too slow to save Captain-Commander Luss. I was fast enough not to allow Commander Lhary to succeed in his treachery.”

“Ser…treachery?”

“The Majer-Commander is missing. Commander Lhary is the senior commander in the Mirror Lancers. I believe the idea was to insist I attacked the Captain-Commander. Commander Lhary would dispatch me for my treachery. After all, I am the Butcher. Then, as senior commander, he would be acting Majer-Commander, and a hero to all the traditional officers for removing me.”

Fayrken and Tygyl look at each other, but hold their sabres ready.

“According to the chain of command, I believe Commander Sypcal is now acting Majer-Commander.”

Lorn freezes for a moment as the chill of a chaos-glass sweeps across him, but forces himself to wait calmly for Tygyl’s response.

“He be ill still, ser.” Tygyl’s face remains blank, and he does not lower his sabre. “Are you not better fitted?”

“Tygyl…I am under the command of the Emperor, but I am not Majer-Commander of Mirror Lancers. Nor should I be. Sypcal is a good officer, and a good man, and he was probably poisoned by Lhary…just because he is a good and loyal officer. If you and the other senior squad leaders would ensure his protection…I’m sure the Emperor-or his heir-will confirm Commander Sypcal. If they do not, there are other senior commanders of talent. Perhaps someday I might be one of them.” Lorn smiles grimly, half relieved as the sense of being observed in the chaos-glass vanishes. He wonders if the magus who has screed him is Kharl or Rustyl. “I need to get to the harbor before the ships carrying the merchanter guards arrive.”

Tygyl lowers his sabre. So does Fayrken.

“Best we get to Commander Sypcal, then…” Tygyl says.

“And perhaps you should sent a message to Commander Shykt in Dellash, as well.” Lorn frowns. “Would you ask Commander Sypcal if he would consider bringing Majer Brevyl to Cyad to serve? As my suggestion. A suggestion only.”

“Ah…yes, ser.”

“That’s the commander’s choice, but with a commander and the Captain-Commander dead, and the Majer-Commander missing, and probably dead through some plotting of Commander Lhary…Commander Sypcal and the Emperor may need some talented and loyal officers.”

“Yes, ser.”

Lorn turns and hurries down the steps.

“Not one officer in a score…turn down that…”

“…meant what he said…”

“…always does…”

Lorn only hopes that he can continue to keep his word, both to Rynst, and to himself.