Scion of Cyador (72 page)

Toziel nods to the First Magus. “Honored Chyenfel?”

“I must confess, Your Mightiness, that I was among the tenscore, for I did wish to see for myself the effect of such a demonstration. And I would agree with the most honorable Majer-Commander that the display of firelances and the skill of those who employed them created a most desirable effect. I do have concerns about the wisdom of maintaining such for long periods of time here in Cyad. I would ask that I be given leave to advance those concerns after hearing what the honored Merchanter Advisor may have to add.”

“All will heed your concerns, First Magus.” Toziel looks to Vyanat. “Your thoughts, honored Merchanter Advisor?”

“I am more than somewhat puzzled,” says the Merchanter Advisor. “I cannot recall when one of the Magi’i expressed concern over the Mirror Lancers being more effective. Certainly, most of us who are merchanters are pleased, for the obvious power of the firelances has left many outlanders shaking their heads. They are indeed chastened. They are so taken aback that one would wish that this stratagem had been adopted earlier.” Vyanat looks to his right at the First Magus. “Or is the First Magus concerned about the additional authority that such lancers invest in the Majer-Commander?”

“Majer-Commander Rynst has always used his authority and the Mirror Lancers for the good of Cyad and Cyador, and I have no doubts that he will continue to do so. In years to come, his successors may not be so astute, and what we do must serve the future as well as the present.” Chyenfel bows to Vyanat. “My concerns lie not in having such demonstrations by the Mirror Lancers, but in their frequency. I would suggest that Your Mightiness could obtain the same or greater impact by merely bringing in a different set of companies twice a year for two eightdays, or four times a year for a single eightday. In this fashion, all would see with fresh eyes the power of the Mirror Lancers. Likewise, we would not see the development of what might be called city lancers, as opposed to those lancers who must face and fight the barbarians.” The First Magus bows to the Emperor.

“You raise some matters of concern to us all,” Toziel says deliberately.

Behind him, Ryenyel coughs, once.

The Emperor turns and smiles. “Is it chill in here, my dear?”

“I caught something in my throat. I beg your pardon for interrupting.” Ryenyel smiles at her consort. “I truly do.”

“Sire?” asks Vyanat.

“Yes, Vyanat’mer?”

“I would ask that we see how matters progress for another three eightdays,” suggests the Merchanter Advisor, “before any decision is considered. Even should the most honorable Chyenfel prove correct in his assessment, I would argue that for the first appearance of the Mirror Lancers in Cyad, a longer period might well prove necessary, and would not prove detrimental. After all, we are in a time of change, and at this time, as many outland traders as possible should see the true power of the Mirror Lancers.” With only the slightest of pauses, the merchanter adds, “And the First Magus has noted that in this time, while Majer-Commander Rynst serves the Empire of Light, all will be well with such lancers.”

“That would seem reasonable,” suggests Toziel. “At our normal audience three eightdays from now, we will revisit the matter.”

Chyenfel nods. “I will defer as His Mightiness suggests.”

“And I, also,” adds Rynst.

“Although I retain grave doubts about relying upon the mere occasional appearance of the Mirror Lancers,” counters Vyanat, “in three eightdays, the matter may well become more clear as to how Cyador may best show the outlanders its might.”

The shadow of a frown crosses Ryenyel’s face, although no eyes are upon her.

CXLVII

Rynst motions for Lorn to take one of the chairs set before the Majer-Commander’s study desk. Lorn does so, and waits, watching the Majer-Commander and listening to the moan of the early-winter wind that lows around the ancient blue windowpanes, a cold wind, despite the bright sunlight that falls on Cyad.

“Yesterday, I attended the regular audience with the Emperor,” Rynst begins, conversationally. “There I heard that your maneuvers have been successful in giving some of the outland traders a few matters to think about.”

“I understand that such was the intent, as you told me, ser. The maneuvers are but exercises and are at best a limited way of showing what the Mirror Lancers can do.”

“They are indeed, but they are effective.” Rynst purses his lips, and then tilts his head to the side. “Perhaps too effective. The First Magus raised a most interesting point. He suggested that perhaps it would not be wise to maintain the lancers in Cyad for any great period, but for perhaps two or three eightdays twice a year. Or one eightday every season, with a different set of lancer companies each period.”

Lorn waits once more.

“He fears that any companies remaining in the City of Light will become city lancers, and, although he did not say such directly, another tool of the Majer-Commander. He also feels that their presence, in daily maneuvers, will jade all those who watch, and the impact on outlanders will fade, while the citizens of Cyad will come to believe the Mirror Lancers are unmatched.”

“They are unmatched, but they can be outnumbered, ser, as we know.”

“We know that, but those in Cyad do not understand what lies beyond its borders. They do not see the hatred of our land, our roads, our cities, our prosperity. If the First Magus is correct, and correct he may well be,” Rynst continues with a wry smile, “we of the Mirror Lancers may find it even more difficult to obtain the golds required to equip and maintain the forces necessary to repel the barbarians in the years to come. And should any within the city raise arms, in years to come, there will be few Magi’i to stand against such a mob, and no firelances to bring. It will be a far different land, yet few wish to contemplate that.”

Lorn nods slowly.

“You will live in that time and land, Majer. And so will your son.” Rynst pauses momentarily. “As you are the commander of the lancer companies in Cyad, I felt you should know this. I would not pass this on to them at this moment. If you are asked, I would suggest that you tell the truth, and that is that the role of Mirror Lancer companies in Cyad is being considered by the Emperor.”

“Yes, ser.”

“That is all, Majer. I expect a copy of the report on the latest fireship replacement meeting by midmorning tomorrow.”

“Yes, ser.” Lorn stands.

Rynst does not seem to look up as Lorn departs the study.

As Lorn descends the stairs to his study, he considers what Rynst has said. Everything that the Majer-Commander has relayed makes sense, far too much sense, in some ways. One thing does not. That is why Rynst has told Lorn before any decision is made, and why Lorn has been told when a decision will be made.

Lorn fears he understands that, as well. Rynst wants the lancers used- somehow-before they must leave Cyad. Yet the Majer-Commander cannot order such, or will not, and if they are used, he will not be the one to give the order-unless there is a danger obvious to all.

CXLVIII

In the late evening, with but a single lamp lit, Lorn sits at the study desk, squinting at the chaos-glass, and drawing out the rooms in Tasjan’s dwelling on sheets of paper beside the glass. With each image, he draws what he needs to know, then checks what he has drawn, and finally lets the image fade. Then he closes his eyes and rubs his neck before he calls forth the next image from the glass.

The lower levels of Tasjan’s dwelling have no windows that are not barred, and all the doors are iron-bound, bolted, and guarded at all times. The outside guards, and those that patrol the gardens and porticoes, wear green. Those inside wear blue.

Lorn looks at what he has drawn, shifting from sheet to sheet.

Tasjan’s private study opens onto a balcony, and that balcony can be reached easily enough by climbing up a stepped chimney from the second-level portico. There are two guard posts along the portico flanking the upper gardens, but if the guards see no one…

All Lorn has to do is figure out how to get to the second-level portico.

With a deep breath, he looks down at the glass yet another time.

A dozen or more glimpses of Tasjan’s dwelling, and he thinks he has a way. If he can climb a particular tree. If he can hold his blur shield long enough. If it works.

He shakes his head and puts away the glass, ignoring the burning in his eyes, and the headache that seems as though someone is trying to cleave his skull with a very dull and heavy ax. Then he turns down the wick and puts out the single lamp in the study.

He walks quietly along the upper corridor to the bedchamber, where he slides the iron bolt shut.

“You were using the glass late,” Ryalth says sleepily.

“Later than I would have liked. I was studying Tasjan’s dwelling and how he enters and leaves it.” Lorn sits on the end of the bed and pulls off his boots, then stands and begins to disrobe.

“Will you check Kerial?” she murmurs.

“I will.” After he pulls off his undertunic, he steps to the small bed and glances down, listening as much as looking. The small figure breathes evenly, regularly. Lorn smiles and steps away to hang his clothes in the armoire, then returns and slides under the covers next to his sleepy redhead.

“He’s fine.”

“Good.” She snuggles against him and seems to relax.

Lorn slips one arm around her, enjoying her closeness. But he stares through the darkness, and it is some time before he finally drops into sleep.

CXLIX

In the late afternoon, almost upon returning from Mirror Lancer Court, Lorn pulls the merchanter blues-those normally worn by a senior enumerator-from the back of the armoire. Then come the blue boots, stiff, but usable.

“It might yet be wiser to wait,” Ryalth says from the doorway, before stepping into the bedchamber.

“No… it would be safer for me to wait, but what if Tasjan does not dine at Ayadar next eightday… or the eightday after, then what? Rynst has indicated that, in no more than three eightdays, they will decide when the Mirror Lancers will leave Cyad, and that it is likely to be immediately. Then who will oppose Tasjan and the greensuits? If I wait until then, there will be no lancers, and then how could I oppose Tasjan, knowing that Sasyk would leave even more blood across all the sunstones?”

“So you will act sooner, rather than later, for fewer will suspect you now?”

“Most expect less action before decisions are made-especially in Cyad, where acting wrongly and early can be most dangerous.” Lorn offers a crooked smile.

Ryalth nods. “How will you do this?”

“With the blurring shield I showed you.” Lorn sits on the edge of the bed and pulls off his white lancer boots. “And some tree-climbing…”

“Will he not sense it?”

“I think not. That is why only the upper-level adepts are taught such, because it is an aversion, not the use of order to bend the chaos of light away from one. Use of much order or chaos creates a disruption that any sensitive to chaos or order may sense. This uses less chaos than that from the sun during the heat of the day.”

Ryalth frowns. “Will you wait until it is full dark?”

“No. I leave shortly-in merchanter blue.” He smiles. “These Jerial had made for me years ago still fit well enough.” The cream-and-green uniform comes off next, to be hung in the armoire, and Lorn pulls on the blue trousers, then the tunic.

“You would have the merchanters torn by strife?”

“They already are,” Lorn points out dryly as he sits to pull on the blue leather boots. “Tasjan is trying to overthrow Vyanat. Blouyal was using his position to gain unfair advantage for his house. Vyel wanted to kill you to take over Ryalor House. I suspect other problems have occurred with Kysan House, from what you have said, and Denys, you said, schemes to redeem Bluyet House.” He pauses. “My plan is to have it clear that one of Sasyk’s guards murdered Tasjan. I do not want the cream-and-green seen near Tasjan’s.”

“See that you do that.” She nods slowly. “Still… I do not like that you must act so quickly.”

“I like it not that I should have to act at all. Yet… I can sense far more is taking place than I know.”

“That is always so,” Ryalth responds.

Lorn holds a frown. She is not telling all she knows. “What else should I know?”

Ryalth shrugs, almost helplessly. “I fear that Sasyk holds more power in the Dyjani House than any realize, but that I do not know. Like you, I can feel currents beneath the surface of a harbor that seems calm. Yet I can see nothing.”

“As can I. And if we wait until we can…”

“Then it may be too late,” Ryalth concludes.

Lorn nods, then stands. “Best I be going.” He fastens the Brystan sabre to his blue belt. While most enumerators do not wear blades, some do, and there is no standard for what type of blade they wear, save that it can be worn off a belt.

“Be most careful, my love.”

“I intend such. Since I will not follow Alyiakal… I must be most careful so that you can support me when I am stipended off as an old, old majer.”

“Were it to happen so, that would be only fair. You have made possible all that is Ryalor House.” She smiles, then leans forward and embraces him, brushing his cheek with her lips. “Be most careful.”

“I will.”

They walk down the stairs and out onto the veranda. With a single backward glance, Lorn walks from the veranda, past the fountain, and out the gate, locking it behind him. His blues should not be remarked, for most know that the dwelling belongs to a trader.

In the twilight, Lorn walks westward down the lane and then up the Fifth Harbor Way. At the next corner, he turns westward once more until he reaches the Eighth Harbor Way, although, like all ways and roads outside of the central trading quarter of Cyad, it is unmarked.

Tasjan’s dwelling occupies a small block of its own, and at the first level, the building walls are blank stone and offer no windows or entrance except for the carriage gate and a service door, and both are guarded inside and out. There are no other guards outside the dwelling. The tall trees-Lorn has no idea what they are-grow outside the walls and arch over the upper-level porticos. They are still shedding second-year leaves and turning the first-year leaves gray for winter, but all those on the main ways have been trimmed of lower branches.