Scion of Cyador

XXI

Chyenfel and Rynst stand alone in the high-ceilinged audience chamber of the Palace of Eternal Light, waiting for the Emperor Toziel to appear. Bluoyal has yet to join them, as is often the case in recent eightdays.

The First Magus looks at Rynst and murmurs, “The sleep wards will be ready within less than half a season. At that time, but a few lancers will be needed around the Accursed Forest, as we had discussed earlier.”

“What about patrolling the walls themselves?” asks the Majer-Commander in an equally muted voice. “Will not some protection be required for the new wards?”

Chyenfel shakes his head, smiling. “No. That is their beauty. These wards cannot be seen nor touched.”

“While I would be most pleased to be able to send more lancers to the north, I must question this sudden announcement. Why did the ancients not attempt such? Did they not know of such?” Doubt colors Rynst’s voice.

“They did.” Chyenfel purses his lips, then tilts his head slightly, as if searching for an explanation. “Their words provided the knowledge and the keys to the sleep wards. Yet they feared that the wards would not work, and that the chaos-towers would be lost forever.”

“And you know more than they?”

“We have learned some that they did not know, honored Majer-Commander.” Chyenfel smiles briefly. “They had less experience with chaos, for chaos works not the same in the worlds of the Rational Stars. That we do know from what they wrote.”

“And,” adds Rynst with a gentle laugh, “you will lose the towers shortly in any event if naught is done. So you of the Magi’i have little to lose.”

“We lose more by providing the sleep wards, for we will not be able to provide as many charges for the firelances of your lancers, nor for the firewagons and the tow wagons of the Great Canal…and many will fault us for such. That alone should tell you that we act in the best interests of all Cyador, and not just of the Magi’i.”

“That tells me that you have the best interests of Cyador at heart. You and the fourth magus.” Rynst’s words are low, careful.

“Is that why you watch the overcaptain in Biehl?” asks Chyenfel. “Do you think the son shares the honesty of the father?”

“He is more honest than most. Perhaps more honest than his peer Rustyl.” Rynst smiles, watching for a reaction he does not get. “The overcaptain has begun to rebuild the garrison and the compound, without a word from me.”

“He will face difficulties with the enumerators Bluoyal has suborned,” suggests Chyenfel. “And with the golds our Merchanter Advisor does not receive.”

“The senior enumerator has vanished, as I am certain you already know,” Rynst points out. “And the overcaptain trains new lancers with his full payroll-or so I have heard.”

“Bluoyal and the Emperor will not question such a ‘disappearance’?”

“The Emperor may not discover such for a time, unless Bluoyal tells him or his consort, and that would lead to questions Bluoyal would best wish to avoid,” replies Rynst.

“Yet you would let the overcaptain train his own Mirror Lancers? Would he dream of being…?”

“He is young.”

“That did not halt Alyiakal, as I recall.”

“I think the overcaptain is not cast from that mold, but we shall see. Biehl provides a safe…distance for observation.”

“And from Cyad,” suggests Chyenfel.

“Have you not done the same with Rustyl?” asks Rynst.

“Like a good lancer officer, a good adept must see and do much throughout Cyador,” replies Chyenfel. “Your overcaptain has seen little but fighting, and there is more to Cyador than fighting outlanders.”

“And more than manipulating chaos,” Rynst says smoothly. “He will learn trade in Biehl, as you well know.”

“You’d best find him a consort,” suggests Chyenfel.

“Although little has been said,” says Rynst with a smile, “you know, as do I, that he has already found one. Not that he will he have much leisure to enjoy such, with what he attempts.”

“He is young,” observes the First Magus, his eyes flicking to the harbor. “Very young, even for his years.”

“You worry about his consort, though he is but a lancer?” Rynst watches the First Magus.

“Since he is a lancer, the worries are yours.” Chyenfel’s voice is firm and certain. He smiles. “You are rather fickle, are you not, Rynst? I thought that your favorite was the majer in Assyadt, the one your Captain-Commander has cultivated and placed so carefully.”

“In the Mirror Lancers, an officer faces far more dangers. One must develop many successors. Then…one may survive who has the training and the talents. As you pointed out, not all of those possible successors have the same patrons or goals.” Rynst closes his mouth as the rear doors of the chamber open and as Bluoyal hurries toward them to wait for the arrival of the Emperor and his consort.