L. Modesitt - Scion of Cyador

As he follows the senior squad leader up the stairs to the fifth level, Lorn wonders. Rynst’s informers seem to know everything. Is it about the attack of the night before-or his visit to see Vyanat?

Tygyl closes the door behind Lorn, leaving Lorn alone in the oversized study with the Majer-Commander.

Lorn bows. When he straightens, he can see that a thunderstorm is moving across the city from the east. A lightning bolt flashes to the northeast, and after a few moments, a rumbling crash rolls over Mirror Lancer Court.

Rynst remains standing beside his desk and gestures for Lorn to step closer. Lorn halts three cubits short of his superior. “Ser…as you requested.”

“You were somewhat delayed this morning, Majer,” observes Rynst, ignoring the oncoming storm.

“Yes, ser.”

“Would you care to explain?”

“Ser…last night, when we were returning from dinner at a friend’s, some bravos attacked our carriage outside our very door.”

“You were late this morning, not last night.”

Lorn smiles apologetically. “One of the bravos mentioned that he had been hired by someone associated with a ship-and the ship was one of those of Hyshrah Clan. I persuaded my consort to introduce me to Vyanat’mer so that I could bring the matter to his attention. I did, and then I came to Mirror Lancer Court.”

Rynst’s smile is frosty. “How many bravos were there, Majer?”

“A halfscore, ser.”

“They are all dead, I presume.”

“Yes, ser.”

“You killed them all?”

“No, ser. We were fortunate that my friend Tyrsal was with us. He is a most capable magus.”

“Majer…could you attempt to explain why bodies always appear around you, or if they do not, why people vanish, never to be seen again?”

“I do not believe the attack was on me, ser. I have heard a number of rumors dealing with those who are less than pleased with the success of my consort as a merchanter. Were there some concern about me, I believe that the attacks would have taken place at the many times when I have been alone.”

“Although you did not answer my question, I am forced to agree with your conclusion-at least publicly.” Rynst nods. “I received a message from the Merchanter Advisor just a few moments ago. His younger brother confessed to the attempt on your consort. Vyanat appreciates your tact in informing him and in not taking matters onto your own blade. He assures me, in my capacity as advisor to His Mightiness, that this unfortunate event is not a matter which involves the Mirror Lancers or the Magi’i.”

“Yes, ser.”

“Unhappily, anything which involves my staff also involves the Mirror Lancers. Such is life in Cyad.”

Lorn waits.

“You are the commander of the two companies of Mirror Lancers. You are known to be an excellent field commander. You are also noted as an officer capable of taking no captives, should the necessity arise for such. And you report directly to me. By tomorrow, everyone will know there was an attempt made on your life by a highly placed merchanter. Tongues will suggest that Vyanat killed his brother as a convenient scapegoat, and that the merchanters were foiled in their attempt to halt the growth of the power of the Mirror Lancers in Cyad. Vyanat will find himself being considered as one plotting to place a merchanter as the heir to the Emperor. The Emperor will have to deny that there was a plot, and affirm that the Malachite Throne will not fall to any known in power in either the Magi’i, the Mirror Lancers, or the merchanters.”

Lorn continues to wait.

“Majer…Vyanat is too smart to attempt anything like this. He could not possibly benefit from it. We both know this. Thankfully, so do most of those in power in Cyad, but it is too good an opportunity for those who dislike Vyanat’s honesty not to use it against him. You should have known that forcing him to act would cause this sort of problem. You are too intelligent not to know. Why did you do so?”

“Because it was not the first attempt,” Lorn admits. “I kept everything quiet after the first attempt.”

“How many attempted the first time?”

“Six.”

Rynst shakes his head. “I suppose I should congratulate you on your forbearance. Still…it creates a problem.”

“Yes, ser.”

“Could you explain why you did not bring the matter to my attention?”

“The attacks appeared to be upon my consort. If I brought them to the formal attention of the Mirror Lancers, then you would have been placed in the position of either ignoring an attempt to bring down the only merchanter house headed by a woman, or worse, using your authority to support a non-traditional house.”

“Why should I care?”

“Because, as you know, someone is trying to use the attacks to discredit both the Mirror Lancers, and to stir up support for a merchanter heir to the Emperor.”

“Do you think you should have made such a decision?” Curiosity, rather than coldness, tinges the voice of the Majer-Commander.

“If I run to you, ser, then I am seen as being in Cyad only to further your ambition. That will make the merchanters even more determined that the Imperial succession should change, and will boost their claims that I am here but to suppress them.”

“They can charge that now,” Rynst points out.

“They can charge that, ser, but it will not be believed by near so many folk as it could have been.”

“What do you plan now, Majer?”

“As I always have, ser. To do my duty.”

“It will be interesting to see how you view that duty, Majer.” Rynst offers a faint smile. “When do your lancers begin their exercises?”

“The day after tomorrow, ser.”

“Do you plan to lead them?”

“Yes, ser. Unless you wish otherwise.”

“You had best lead them often, Majer.” Rynst nods. “Good day.”

Lorn bows, then turns, walking toward the study doors and waiting for some last parting comment. There is none, and he leaves and makes his way down to his own fourth-floor study.

In the midafternoon of late fall, at least fivescore citizens of Cyad, and more than twoscore sailors and traders from the Hamorian and Spidlarian vessels tied at the stone piers of the harbor, line the walls that surround the maneuver grounds created by the Mirror Engineers. Among the sailors are more than a handful of curious outland factors and traders. The expansive grounds are almost half a kay long and a quarter-kay wide. The newly-erected granite walls stand slightly less than three cubits high, low enough so that bystanders can easily watch.

Lorn glances at the walls, built by the Mirror Lancers in half a season at a cost Ryalth has estimated at enough to provision and supply all the Mirror Lancer companies for more than a year, had the construction been attempted by a merchanter house. And Lorn’s maneuvers are supposed to justify all such costs.

After riding along the rows of lancers, inspecting them, if briefly, Lorn reins up before them. “The first drill will be a single-burst attack on the target. One short burst only for each lancer. Senior squad leaders will keep track of who strikes the target and where, and who does not.”

Allowing each lancer to fire multiple chaos-bolts would have been flashier, Lorn knows, but he also wants the maneuvers to keep the lancers’ aim sharp, for those who will go back to the Grass Hills will need those skills. He also knows that sooner or later, the more sharp-eyed outland observers will be more impressed by accuracy.

Lorn begins the first drill by urging the white gelding into a brief gallop at an angle past the straw figure that is clad in captured barbarian clothes and weapons-and more armor than the barbarians usually don. Lorn’s closest approach is forty cubits, where he triggers a single chaos-bolt from the four-cubit-long firelance.