Scion of Cyador

XXXII

In the light of early morning, on the flat below the District Guard headquarters at Ehyla, the First and Second Companies of the Mirror Lancer garrison at Biehl remain in near-perfect ranks as Lorn studies the lines of District Guards. He rides the chestnut mare down each line, occasionally stopping to check for riding rations and especially for water bottles. Only Tashqyt rides with him.

Commander Repyl remains on his own mount, before his two companies, and the partial squad of newer guards.

Lorn finishes the inspection, and nods to Tashqyt. “I will not be but a moment. While they are ready for maneuvers, I doubt Commander Repyl is ready to transfer his command.” Lorn turns and rides toward the commander.

“And how do you find them, Overcaptain?” asks Repyl, even before Lorn reins up.

“In good order, Commander.” Lorn gestures toward the guard building. “I have a matter of great importance to discuss with you. If you would accompany me?”

Commander Repyl’s thin and perfect eyebrows lift. “This whole matter has been unusual.”

“Perhaps unusual in recent years, but the requirement has been in the Emperor’s Code for many, many years,” Lorn says quietly, turning his mount eastward.

When they are a good hundred cubits from the nearest lancer, Repyl reins up. “I trust this will provide the…discretion…you wish?”

“For both of us.” Lorn hands over a scroll. “I thought you would prefer to read this in a more private setting.”

“Oh?” Repyl begins to flush even before he has finished the first section. Finally, the District Commander stares at the overcaptain. “You are within your rights, Overcaptain, but the Majer-Commander will hear of this.”

“I am certain he will.” A lazy smile crosses Lorn’s lips. “Since I fully intend to tell him.” Lorn waits. “I would suggest that you not be too hasty, Commander. If all goes well on these maneuvers, and your guards are as effective as they look, then you are likely to be well-regarded. If, somehow, I make pottage of the maneuvers, then you can claim you were being cooperative, as is your duty, and still appear fair and just.”

The flush fades slowly. “I cannot say I am pleased.”

“I wish it were otherwise,” Lorn admits. “Do you wish to announce that your companies are being transferred to my command, and offer them your praise and support? Or would you rather that I do so?”

“I will do so-with grace, and I hope, skill.” Repyl smiles tightly. “I trust you know what you are doing.”

“I am trying to protect Biehl…and Cyador.”

“With maneuvers?”

“I have received word that there is a large band of barbarians riding into the area east of here. We are the only forces available, and it will be better to stop them before they commit many depredations.”

“You trust mere word?” Repyl’s eyebrows lift.

“Commander, I could wait until I were absolutely sure. Then…if I wait, many will die, and much will be lost. If I am wrong, your guards obtain some riding and some training. If those who would have me wait are wrong, then the Mirror Lancers will be faulted for failing to protect the people.” Lorn does not mention that the chaos-glass is seldom wrong, or that he has already seen the raiders massing to the northeast, moving along the narrow valleys into the Grass Hills and toward Biehl. His lips curl slightly. “I trust you understand.”

“I fear I do, Overcaptain, and I fear even more that you may be right than wrong.” Repyl nods. “I shall do my duty with grace, and hope you are wrong, not because I wish you ill, but, as I have just said, because, if you are right, we, too, will soon face the continuing attacks that have so far graced Assyadt and Syadtar.”

Not if I act swiftly. Lorn does not voice the thought. “Thank you.”

The two turn their mounts back toward the assembled Mirror Lancers and District Guards.