Scion of Cyador

LXXVIII

Lorn looks out into the gray late afternoon. While it has rained earlier, the clouds have lifted some, and the heavy rain has subsided into a light mist. A fog rises from the stones of the courtyard.

Three days earlier, Gyraet and five of the six lancer companies from Inividra had left on their return. The officers had been both concerned about Lorn and relieved to be heading back. Lorn can understand both sets of feelings, and remains grateful for their concern. Surprisingly, at least to Lorn, after all those chill touches on the Jeran campaign, he has not felt the touch of a single chaos-glass. Does that mean that the Majer-Commander does not trust the Magi’i in dealing with Lorn? Lorn is not certain whether that is to his benefit or not. His eyes take in the gray clouds once more. Is the delay because of the delicate situation with the Emperor? Or because the Captain-Commander or the Majer-Commander is gathering Mirror Lancer companies to send to Assyadt? That would seem unlikely, yet Dettaur’s pettiness in destroying personal scrolls to Lorn also had been unlikely, for such destruction had done nothing to advance Dettaur.

Lorn shakes his head, reminding himself that he has certainly not been above pettiness.

Thrap.

The worried sub-majer’s head snaps up at the knock. “Yes? Come in.”

“Majer…?” Esfayl steps into the study with a lancer.

The lancer, who bears the green braid of a special messenger from the Majer-Commander, carries a dispatch pack and glances nervously from Lorn to the dark-haired captain, and then back to Lorn.

“He just got here from Cyad,” Esfayl explains. “I thought he ought to see you first. He has dispatches from the Majer-Commander.”

“Ser, there are two for you, but one is for Commander Ikynd.”

Lorn looks at Esfayl. “Is the commander in his study?”

“I think so.”

“We’ll all go there. That might be best.” Lorn smiles wryly. “I could be wrong, but if the Majer-Commander is sending two scrolls to me, then I can hope for the best.”

A puzzled look crosses the messenger’s face, but Lorn does not elaborate as he stands and steps toward the door. “Come on.”

The messenger follows Lorn across the corridor and into the second study.

Lorn nods to the messenger. “That’s Commander Ikynd. He can read his scroll first.”

The messenger steps forward and hands one scroll to Ikynd, then steps back and hands two to Lorn. He eases back beside Esfayl by the half-open study door.

“You aren’t reading them all first?” asks Ikynd.

“That one is for you.”

“They’re sending you somewhere else.” Ikynd laughs. “Otherwise, there would have been companies of lancers here.”

“Unless they’re insisting I take Dettaur’s place,” Lorn suggests.

“I could do worse,” the commander says dryly. “You actually ask what I think.” He breaks the seal and begins to scan the lines, then looks up. “You can read yours, Sub-Majer. I won’t spoil the surprise.” A look of both ruefulness and interest appears on his face.

Lorn opens the first scroll. The message is brief, curt.

Sub-Majer Lorn, Mirror Lancers, Assyadt/Inividra,

You are hereby detached from your present assignment immediately upon receipt of these orders and ordered to report to the Majer-Commander, Cyad, personally, for assignment at his discretion.

The only unusual feature is that the orders are signed and sealed by Rynst, the Majer-Commander, himself.

Lorn opens the second scroll.

Sub-Majer Lorn, Mirror Lancers, Commanding, Inividra,

This is to commend you for your actions in undertaking a campaign to ensure the safety of the northern borders of Cyador, the Empire of Eternal Light. Your actions in destroying barbarian staging areas and confiscating and destroying large quantities of Hamorian-forged blades have resulted in the saving of untold lives of the Mirror Lancers and in resolving a potentially serious situation before it could worsen. Your immediate superior, Commander Ikynd, will also be commended by separate notice, for his wisdom in allowing you the latitude necessary to undertake this dangerous campaign. A copy of this commendation has been placed in your file at Mirror Lancer headquarters.

The second scroll is also signed by Rynst.

Esfayl looks from Lorn to Ikynd and back again.

“It’s all right,” Lorn finally says. “The commander and I have been commended, and I’m being transferred to Mirror Lancer headquarters in Cyad.”

“Congratulations, sers,” says Esfayl.

“I think you’ll probably be leaving tomorrow, when I do,” Lorn tells the young captain, then looks at Ikynd, “if you agree, Commander.”

“He can take the provisions wagons an eightday early,” Ikynd says.

Lorn nods toward the door. “The commander and I have a few matters to discuss.”

“Ah…yes, ser.”

Both the lancer messenger and Esfayl step out of the commander’s study. Esfayl closes the door behind him.

“You know what that commendation says, don’t you?” Ikynd’s genial tone returns.

“I’d assume that it says that you authorized me to undertake a dangerous and foolhardy campaign, on the verge of breaking every Mirror Lancer regulation, but that, since it was successful beyond anyone’s expectations, we are to be commended-and watched most carefully in the future. That’s why I’m going to Cyad to report to the Majer-Commander personally.”

“That is the way I would read it.” Ikynd shrugs. “It doesn’t matter much to me. They’d never have promoted me again anyway, and I’ve but one tour left after this before I can get a pension-stipend. Rynst doesn’t know what to do with you, but you’re too valuable to have killed, and too dangerous to let loose for a while. I’d guess he wants you around him, the way some men want trained giant cats.”

Lorn smiles wryly. “So that everyone watches me, instead of him?”

“Something like that.” Ikynd tilts his head. “Dettaur was dangerous because he was too self-centered, you know?”

“I know. If he’d been successful in getting me and my lancers killed, he would have found himself before a discipline hearing-or something would have happened to him.”

“Now…I’m short something like four officers.” Ikynd smiles ruefully. “I’ll have to draft my own orders.”

“You’ll have four more officers within the eightday. With the moving of the lancers out of the Accursed Forest posts, headquarters will be happy to have openings for a majer, sub-majer, and two captains or undercaptains.” Lorn adds, “And they’ll all be good, traditional lancer officers.”

Ikynd nods. “We could use more tradition for a while.”

Lorn steps toward the door. “By your leave, Commander?”

“I appreciate the courtesy, Sub-Majer.” Ikynd shakes his head as Lorn steps out and closes the door behind him.