Magi'i of Cyador (21 page)

The girl Lorn saved freezes as his eyes sweep across her. Then she begins to tremble.

The Lancer captain maintains a cool smile and lets his eyes travel past the girl and back toward Dubrez. "Let me know when we're ready."

"Yes, ser."

Lorn unfastens his water bottle and takes a deep and long swallow, still ignoring the headache, the intermittent double vision, and the unseen hammer blows to his skull.

XXXV

Two men stand on the shaded east balcony of the third level of the Palace of Light, the balcony that is closest to the smaller audience hall preferred by the Emperor Toziel. The shade and the bare hint of a cool ocean breeze are not enough to keep a sheen of perspiration from their foreheads on one of the hottest of summer afternoons in many eightdays. The breeze dies away, and the air is so still that the harbor to the south and even the Great Western Ocean are shades of flat shimmering blue that offers no hints of whitecaps. The stillness and the heat keep any hint of the trilia blooms in the gardens below from rising to perfume the upper levels of the Palace.

One of the double doors that offers access to the balcony is slightly ajar, enough so that the two men can hear if the calling bell is being rung. In the corridor just inside the Palace, but a good ten cubits from the octagonal panes of the ten-paned doors, stand a pair of Mirror Lancers, each armed with both a rapier and a short firelance.

"You have not shown great enthusiasm for the plan of the First Magus to subdue the Accursed Forest," offers Luss'alt, the Mirror Lancer Captain-Commander, second in Lancer authority only to Rynst'alt.

"I have not, nor should you," replies Kharl'elth, the Second Magus, a red-haired figure in white shimmercloth. His green eyes bear but a hint of gold. "The First Magus plans for a future that may never be. He would turn the chaos towers that surround the Accursed Forest into the mists of time... and then trust that the three chaos towers of the Quarter will sustain us."

"They have for many generations," points out Luss evenly. "Rynst has said that the plan will imprison the Accursed Forest. Then there would be more Mirror Lancers to fight the barbarians."

"With fewer charges for their firelances, and fewer firewagons to carry supplies." Kharl shakes his head. "The Accursed Forest is the same as it has been always. Some of the great beasts escape. They kill a few peasants and some livestock. To stop a few such deaths over the generations ahead, Chyenfel would sacrifice years of chaos-charges for firelances and firewagons." The Second Magus studies Luss, then asks, "Have the barbarian attacks become fewer over the years?"

Luss returns the question with a crooked smile. "You well know that each year brings more attacks."

"The Mirror Engineers already send chaos-cells powered by the Forest towers to the Mirror Lancer outposts of the north. How will your lancers fare without such? Or if the firewagons can travel less frequently?"

"I have asked such of Rynst, and he but replies that eastern Cyador will fall, should the Accursed Forest slip its wards."

"None know that," Kharl points out. "Even in the first days of Cyad, the Accursed Forest did not even reach Kynstaar. Better to lose some lands, if need be, than to lose all of Cyador to the barbarians of the north, for they indeed would destroy all we and our forbearers have wrought."

"The Majer-Commander believes that the Mirror Lancers can hold the borders... even with few firelances." Luss shrugs. "We always have."

"Perhaps they can. Perhaps they can." Kharl smiles. "They might require a few more officers... accomplished in other fashions."

Luss's face becomes impassive.

"Then it has been many generations... since one such rose through the ranks," offers the Second Magus.

"That is not even an acceptable jest," Luss replies coolly.

"There are rumors about the Majer-Commander...."

"He is not, as well you know," Luss replies.

"Then... why does he encourage such as Captain Eghyr, or that offspring of a merchanter-Dymytri-or Senior Lector Kien'elth's son... ?"

"They are most useful in combat or in dealing with the problems of the Accursed Forest. Eghyr is most successful in killing barbarians, and young Lorn is also quite capable...."

"I did not know.... You have not mentioned him in a over a year," observes the Second Magus and Senior Lector. "I presume, then, he is still alive?"

"As you should know, Lorn'alt became a captain last year. He's in his third year at Isahl. That is one of the main Jeranyi attack points. Commander Thiataphi had orders to use him on the barbarian pursuit details."

"The mortality is... what... fifty percent?" asks Kharl'elth, carelessly wiping perspiration from his narrow forehead and angular and cleanshaven face with a white cloth.

"He is a young man of enormous skill and intelligence. The Majer-Commander is most impressed with the reports of his actions." Luss smiles. "He is rather good at killing barbarians, as well, and there are many to kill."

"You have named three brilliant lancers with possible elthage talents, and, if they survive, all could come back to Cyad. I was not aware that the Mirror Lancers encouraged such." Kharl'elth shakes his head ruefully. "The Majer-Commander might like that, but it would not be good for Cyador. Not now."

"Do not worry. There have been many such over the generations. If they survive their patrols against the barbarians, they will get patrol post commands on the edge of the Accursed Forest." Luss smiles. "And if they still show traces of elthage talents, and the ability that might earn a promotion, then, well... our friend Maran knows how to deal with a brilliant Lancer magus."

"I had thought so, but we of the Magi'i do have some concerns." Kharl offers a wry smile. "You always have matters so very well in hand, dear Luss."

The Captain-Commander frowns, then asks, "Why did Captain Lorn's father not become more than a senior lector?"

"Kien'elth is a most respected senior lector, and one of the most devoted of the Magi'i. He is a magus among Magi'i. As such, it is unlikely that he will live long enough to advise Captain Lorn, should the young captain avoid the fate you and Maran have planned. Most unfortunate, I dare say." Kharl's warm smile does not reach to his green eyes.

"None escape Maran," declares Luss. He blots his forehead. "Few days are as warm as today. Perhaps we should attend our superiors."

"Few escape Maran," corrects Kharl. "Thiataphi did, but he understands. Is it not true that he has requested that he receive a stipend before being considered for a position with the Majer-Commander in Cyad?"

Luss nods.

"How feels Rynst about the policy of... discouraging... lancer-magi'i?" inquires Kharl.

"Not strongly enough to oppose it. Not when all the senior Mirror Lancer officers support it," replies Luss. "What of the First Magus?"

"He is most opposed to any who might handle chaos outside the Quarter and the discipline of the Magi'i, and on that we are in full agreement. Full agreement." Kharl smiles. "Perhaps we should stand ready to attend the results of the audience."

Luss nods, once more, evenly.

XXXVI

After a dinner of heavy mutton, soft potatoes probably left from the harvest of almost a year earlier, and bread harder than some barbarian blades, Lorn has repaired to the officers' study, where, under the sunlight of a summer evening pouring through the high windows, he rereads his patrol report, then nods, and sets it aside to submit to Overcaptain Zandrey in the morning.

Then he lifts the first of the personal scrolls that had been awaiting him on his return from patrol-the one from Myryan. While he has hurried through it once, he needs to reread it. His eyes fix on the graceful letters.

Dearest Lorn,

It seems so long since I saw you, and it is, more than three years....

...have almost finished my training as a healer, and now I go to the lancers' infirmary every fourth day, and to the Healers' Indwelling every other day.... Healing is hard, but rewarding in its own way. Jerial said that a long time ago, but we get different rewards. An eightday ago, I received a healer's pin, but I don't know where it came from. I can't wear it yet, not until after the ceremony next sixday. It's beautiful, green lacquer over gold. A messenger brought it from Syang the goldsmith, but no one could say who had sent it, except that the purchase was arranged through a small merchanter house. It is all very strange, and I wish you could be here for the ceremony, but you won't even get this until I am truly a healer....

Lorn pauses. His warm and waifish little sister-a healer. And the golden pin... he has his ideas about that, too, but they are but ideas without confirmation-yet.

Vernt is finally seeing someone. He won't tell anyone, except father, and I think father is the one who arranged it all.

...would have liked to have sent you a baked pearapple creamed tart, but they don't travel. I remember how you sneaked them from the kitchen, and once you brought me one. They tasted better that way....

After he finishes Myryan's scroll, Lorn runs his hand through his short brown hair. What can he say? Finally, he picks up the bronze-nibbed pen and dips it, then slowly begins to write.

Your scroll was waiting when I came off patrol. I was glad to hear that you are finally a healer... like to tell you that I had something to do with the healer pin. I can't. I would have liked to, but I've never even seen a healer's pin.... Summer here is hot. It is hotter than Cyad, but drier... also would have liked that pearapple tart... miss things like that, but, mostly, I miss the family, and the way we talked, even with Father's long lectures....

When he finishes his reply to Myryan, he picks up the second scroll- the one he had received just before the last patrol, the one from his father that he had not had time to answer before riding out to Ram's End, and the barbarian raid.

Lorn slowly unrolls it and rereads carefully, as if he had not seen it before.

...While I did heed your advice about Myryan's need to mature more, in the end, I have decided that her being consorted to Ciesrt is far better than any of the alternatives, and they will be joined by the time this reaches you. I do know of your concerns, and they are good ones, and I do not write this to mollify you. All I ask is that you return to Cyad and see her before you judge too harshly.... Vernt is well-respected and appreciated by the older Magi'i... am comforted to know that you are now a captain. According to Luss'alt, the first two years are the most dangerous, although he says that any lancer's life is dangerous....

The scroll continues, with pleasantries, and then concludes:

...I can see the patterns of the Rational Stars, and some change and some do not, and some always shine brighter, no matter where in the heavens they swing.

Lorn purses his lips. His father has seldom talked of the Rational Stars, and never written of them, for the Rational Stars are the emperor's heritage, and not that of magus or lancer. Then, there is the timing. Myryan's scroll had been written later, yet it does not mention or even hint at Ciesrt. Lorn had decided not to mention what she had not. Jerial has not written at all. But that leaves the question of how should he respond to his father? He takes another sheet and once more dips the pen.

Father,

I am sorry that it has taken a while to write back, but I have been on patrol and have just returned....

...I appreciate your waiting to formalize a consortship between Myryan and Ciesrt'elth, and I will follow your suggestions in that regard...

"Especially since there's nothing else I can do," Lorn murmurs under his breath, glancing around. "Not from here."

The young and pale blond undercaptain-Cyllt-enters the study and takes the desk-table farthest from Lorn to seat himself and peruse a single scroll. Beside the scroll Cyllt sets a nearly full bottle of the darker Byrdyn- not nearly so good as the amber Alafraan.

Lorn nods politely before dipping the pen in the inkwell and continuing his response.

I have not mentioned consorting in my messages to Myryan, since she has not brought that up....

Patrolling takes special skills, and I have been lucky enough to serve with those who have been able to impart them to me....

I have been told that after three full years, I will have a half-season's home leave, whether I am to remain at Isahl or be posted elsewhere. What may be my next duty will be decided in the early fall, I would gather....

He finally closes.

...and I look forward to seeing you this winter.

Lorn has saved the scroll from Ryalth for last, for those are as infrequent as they are welcome, and he wishes to reread it before replying. He notes again that the passage marks indicate it was sent from Fyrad, as are all her scrolls, and hence their infrequency, and after his earliest scrolls to her, has since dispatched his missives to the trading house address in Fyrad as well-a far wiser course, he suspects.

My dear lancer captain,

Your scrolls remain an unending surprise. This poor merchanter can scarce reply to your elegant words. I will not try. I will but say that the constancy which you never professed exceeds all that I have heard professed elsewhere. The Ryalor Trading House-

Lorn still winces at the name she had chosen, despite the fact that he knows he provided most of the coins to give her the start.

-continues to flourish, and we now have shares in three coasters and two long-haul ocean traders. Some of those shares are great enough so that before long, we could well own one or more. The long contracts in copper have prospered so much that I have resold one at enough of a profit that we could lose all on the other and still come out with coins.

He laughs to himself. She writes as though he knows truly what she has done.

The word has been spread that my consort works the distant lands, and we know that is certainly true in some ways, if but for my unacknowledged merchanter partner... although I have accomplished some frivolities on his behalf.

Lorn's forehead wrinkles at the mention of frivolities, for all Ryalth's words carry messages between the lines, and that is probably wise. All he can do is wonder and shake his head. He is in Isahl, and Ryalth is in Cyad, and furloughs have allowed him only so far as Syadtar. He is a lancer officer, and she is a merchanter. He smiles. While a magus could not consort with a merchanter... it would be but a mere scandal if a lancer officer did.