Scion of Cyador

XCII

Lorn and Ryalth sit, propped up with pillows, in the triple-width bed with the headboard with the ornately-carved edges and the smooth and curved bedposts. Ryalth cradles Kerial in the crook of her arm. The sole light in the room is the wall lamp on Lorn’s side of the bed, which casts a golden glow.

“What will you do tomorrow when you report?” she asks.

“I’ll probably have to write reports and orders for outposts and things like that. Someone has to, and it won’t be the Majer-Commander. The one definite thing he said was that I’m supposed to develop a strategy for dealing with the Jeranyi. The only way I think we can deal with them is if Cyador takes over the port of Jera, but with the fireships failing, I have my doubts as to whether anyone will support that.” He chuckles. “The Majer-Commander said not to worry about that for my first draft. I don’t. It’s the second draft that I worry about.”

“You’ll think of something. You always do.”

Lorn raises his eyebrows.

“Is the book nearby?” she asks.

Lorn leans toward the bedside table, then straightens and flourishes the green-tinged silver-covered volume. “Right here. I left it here after we read last night.”

“Read me something…please.”

Lorn flips through the pages to find the verse that is their favorite. He smiles as he smooths the pages and begins to read.

“I like that,” she says quietly, easing Kerial from her arms to her shoulder where she gently burps him. “I think he’s going to sleep.”

“Good,” murmurs Lorn. “He was supposed to have gone to sleep after dinner. And then after we walked him around the garden.”

“Now…he is your son.” Her low and soft voice cannot disguise the hint of laughter.

“Difficult, you mean?”

“You said it. I didn’t.” With an innocent smile, Ryalth slides to her feet, crosses the few cubits between the large bed and Kerial’s, and eases their son into his bed. After a moment, she slips back beside Lorn.

They both look toward the smaller bed.

Lorn stiffens as he hears a snuffling sort of snore. They both wait, but Kerial does not stir.

“Read me something else. I’d just like to lie her for a moment and listen. If you don’t mind…”

“I’ll read softly.” Lorn opens the book once more and turns until he finds the page for which he searches. “It’s not as cheerful as the one about the pear, but whenever I read it, it always made me think of you.” Lorn clears his throat gently.

Virtues of old hold fast.

Morning’s blaze cannot last;

and rose petals soon part.

Not so a steadfast heart.

“ ‘A steadfast heart’-I’ve always liked that. I’d forgotten it, though.” She leans her head against his shoulder. “I worry about you being here.”

“You worried about me being near the Accursed Forest and fighting barbarians,” Lorn points out.

“It’s not the same. Cyad can be even more dangerous.”

About that, Lorn knows, she is certainly right. The dangers are not at all the same, for those of the Forest and the barbarians could be seen, and fought with a blade or a firelance.