Scion of Cyador

XCVII

Lorn and Ryalth sit across from each other at one end of the long table that can hold nearly a score. Their meal is simple, a fowl casserole, with early peaches, and fresh dark bread.

Lorn looks up from his platter. “This is good.”

“Ayleha is a good cook. So is Kysia. At times, the combinations are strange.” Ryalth laughs, holding Kerial in her left arm as she eats right-handed. “You will see.”

“Anything would be better than outpost fare,” he replies. “I hadn’t realized how much I missed good food.”

“I have. I just watch you eat.”

“I’ve missed a lot. Mostly you.”

The red-haired trader smiles. “I know, and I’m glad of that. I had hoped it would turn this way, but I never counted on it.”

Lorn returns the smile, but his expression fades quickly.

“Something’s bothering you,” Ryalth says slowly. “You keep sighing and hesitating, as if you want to talk about it, and you don’t. You’ve been like that for several days.”

Lorn tilts his head. “I can’t keep much from you.”

“I can’t keep anything from you,” she points out. “Is it something from the Mirror Lancer Court?”

“In a way.” He frowns. “It’s stupid, and I didn’t realize that it was bothering me.” Lorn offers a lopsided grin.

As she chews a mouthful of the casserole, she nods her head for him to continue, and bounces Kerial on her knee in an effort to keep their son content.

“In my campaigns in Biehl and in Jerans, we came across more than fiftyscore well-forged iron blades and probably threescore cupridium sabres. I have no doubts that the traders of Hamor will be back with scores more. Possibly they are already. There seems to be no scarcity of blades in Jerans, and Jerans is a far poorer land than Cyador.” He takes a sip of the amber ale before continuing. “Yet…there is great concern that the Mirror Lancers will not have weapons, and the Majer-Commander is trying to plan for matters that will not come to pass for years.” Lorn shrugs. “That, I would ask you keep to yourself.”

“Gaaaa…waa…dah…” Kerial windmills both arms.

“I will, my dear.” Ryalth shifts the increasingly restless Kerial to her other leg before continuing. “Traders supply what folk want. The barbarians dislike Cyador, and will pay for blades to attack us. To allow such trade is to Hamor’s advantage, and to the traders’ advantage.”

Lorn purses his lips. “I can see the advantage to the traders.”

“Dearest…how does the Emperor raise the golds to support the Mirror Lancers and fight the barbarians?”

Lorn wants to strike his forehead, for the answer is so obvious. “By tariffs, mostly on trade, but he cannot tariff goods coming in as heavily as goods going out because, if the import tariffs are too high, no outsiders will trade.”

“He cannot tariff outgoing goods heavily, either, or we cannot sell as cheaply as others can, and if that is so, we will not send goods out from Cyador, and there will be fewer tariffs,” Ryalth says. “The lands across the Eastern Ocean have more traders, and the profits are great. They do not protect their traders, but simply let those who trade well, prosper.”

“So does the Empire of Eternal Light,” Lorn points out.

“But those across the Eastern Ocean don’t have any lands adjoining them. We do. So they need fewer lancers, and only ships to protect their ports.”

Lorn reflects. All of the continent of Hamor is under the Hamorian emperor, and no one can attack any of Hamor except by sea. The same is true of both Austra and Nordla, although it is but a short voyage across the Gulf of Austra that separates the two island continents.

“And Cyador is richer than Jerans or Cerlyn or Gallos or Spidlar,” Ryalth adds. “So the barbarians to our north can see a reason to raid us, if and when they can.”

“They hate us as well, and will pay for blades to exercise that hatred,” Lorn muses, “while we do not hate them, but merely wish to hold what we have.”

“They will continue to purchase blades, and Hamor will allow the trade in blades to continue.” Ryalth lifts Kerial. “Now…don’t hit your mother,” she admonishes her son, taking a chubby fist and redirecting it.

“And,” Lorn continues, “because lands of the Eastern Ocean must support only a few warships, the tariffs on traders are low.”

Ryalth nods. “But the fireships are less costly to operate because they have smaller crews and can travel faster, and against the wind.”

“Now that will not be true,” Lorn points out. “Matters will get worse. Sailing warships are more costly.” He frowns. “That is why-”

“Gaaa!” Kerial interjects.

“The papers your father provided?” Ryalth guesses.

“He wrote that the chaos of coal-burning could be harnessed to create steam. There are even plans…”

“Has anyone suggested such?”

“No.”

“There must be a reason. I would not bring that idea forth until you know why.” She lifts Kerial to her shoulder. “Yet I cannot see why. Traders need protection, but Ryalor House cannot afford a single warship. I can provide arms so that pirates will think again, but no trading clan can afford to outfit a ship that will not turn a profit, and warships do not turn profits. Perhaps Vyanat’mer fears that tariffs will go up-and Bluoyal did worry about such, as you know.”

“The plans are from the Archives of the Quarter-I think that is what my father wrote. Vyanat might not even know,” Lorn says slowly. “Such engines would require much chaos-force to create and would need to be forged by an ironworker and a mage together.”

“But they would continue the power of the Magi’i,” Ryalth says.

“Then why has Chyenfel not brought forth such a plan?”

“Perhaps he has, or perhaps he would wait to offer such until he feels others would support the effort. Would not the chaos-fired steam vessels cost much more to build and require larger crews?”

Lorn nods. “But they would be faster than sailing ships and could go against the wind.”

“Whhaaa…gaaa…whaaa!” Kerial flails in his mother’s arms.

“How could the Empire raise the golds for them? And how could the merchanters pay such tariffs?” Ryalth stands, struggling with Kerial. “Our friend is ready for bed, and I cannot delay or he will be restless for all too long. Best you think about this while I put him down. I will be back when he sleeps.”

“Go.” Lorn laughs softly.

As Ryalth carries Kerial from the dining area and up the stairs, Lorn stands and picks up the platters. He considers the questions his father had posed, what seems so long ago, as he carries the platters to the kitchen. Are those who direct power the source of either? That had been the third question, and he is beginning to understand the reasoning behind the question. The First Magus can direct the power of chaos, but is not its source; the chaos-towers and the world itself are. The Majer-Commander controls the Mirror Lancers, but their weapons come from the skills of the cupritors and the Magi’i and their pay from the tariffs on the merchanters. While the fireships effectively are controlled by the Magi’i, once their towers fail, the Magi’i, too, will become more dependent upon the merchanters.

“I’ll take those, ser,” Kysia offers as Lorn enters the kitchen.

“Oh, thank you, Kysia. I’ll bring in the other dishes.”

“You don’t have to, ser.”

“It’s no problem. Ryalth is putting Kerial to bed.” Lorn turns, his thoughts still churning, turning to the last question posed by his father. How can the world be more simple, and yet more complex?

He laughs as he picks up the casserole dish, the dish that had held the peaches, and the empty basket that had held bread. The world is governed by power. It may be the power of golds, of chaos, of weapons in the hands of trained men, even of love, or of words well-spoken. The simplicity is that power governs. The complexity is that no man, no group of men, can possibly track all the sources of power and their impacts. Power is like chaos-while it can be used for good or evil at the moment, it is essentially unpredictable over time.

With a headshake, Lorn hands the dish and basket to Kysia. “Strange thoughts,” is all he says as he walks back through the house and out onto the veranda, where he stands at the edge of the stone, looking up at the night sky. Somewhere out there are the Rational Stars. He smiles at the contradiction of the two terms. For a star is concentrated chaos, which cannot be rational and predictable, not over time, even as it is, for were the flow of chaos from each star not relatively stable, life would not exist.

His father was indeed right, not that Lorn has yet figured out any way to turn those observations into use. Lorn has yet to determine how to accomplish the far more simple task of reducing the raids from Jerans with fewer golds and less Mirror Lancer casualties.