L. Modesitt - Scion of Cyador

Hssstt! The brief flash of chaos burns into the wooden target, right at the neck, leaving a black, fist-sized circular hole.

Lorn reins up on the south side of the grounds, watching as each of the lancers makes a pass. There are four targets-one for each squad.

From what he can tell, the chaos-bolts of two out of three of the lancer rankers strike the their targets.

He has his chaos-senses out, trying to pick up comments from the bystanders watching from the wall fifty cubits behind him.

“…never seen a Mirror Lancer mounted…”

“…hit you…won’t leave much…”

“…don’t all hit, though…See…second one over missed…”

“…they do this before barbarians get close…”

“…good archer do as much…well…almost as much…”

Lorn continues to listen until the companies begin to re-form at the eastern end of the maneuver grounds. Then he urges the white gelding toward the formation as several supernumerary lancers remove the four wooden targets.

Once the two companies are arrayed, Lorn nods at Cheryk, then Esfayl. Both nod that their lancers are ready.

“First Company, first squad! On the oblique! Attack!” Lorn orders.

The drill is a variation on the formation he used at Inividra, the glancing attack at an angle with firelances alone, one of the few formations that he has used or developed that will be, and will look, effective in a mass drill with firelances.

While there will be one-on-one blade drills, those are for the benefit of the lancers, and have little visual appeal to the traders or those citizens of Cyad who have never seen the Mirror Lancers fight.

“On the oblique! Attack!” echoes Cheryk, and then the senior squad leader of the first squad.

The twenty white mounts of the first squad charge forward, for all the mounts of the two companies in Cyad are white, at Rynst’s orders. After less than a dozen paces, the riders turn leftward at a forty-five-degree angle toward the twenty half-figures set up on the cubit-and-a-half-high stone wall that had once been the foundation of a warehouse.

Lorn catches sight of several figures in green-and-gold uniforms, watching from the corner of the Second Harbor Way West. Although he cannot be sure, one wears gold epaulets-the only such figure Lorn has seen, either around the piers or in his chaos-glass. He guesses that it is probably Sasyk, although the man is not close enough for Lorn to ascertain that accurately.

The guard leader’s presence, on the first day of Mirror Lancer public maneuvers, confirms for Lorn that he must continue to watch Tasjan and his greenshirt guards.

Lorn suspects the next attack from the merchanter will not be direct, nor at Ryalth, but that, in time, there will be another attack of some sort.

He can only hope he can anticipate it.

His Mightiness Toziel, Emperor of Perpetual Light, Heir to the Rational Stars, and Protector of the Steps to Paradise, lies under a light shimmercloth cover on the high bed in his private bedchamber in the Palace of Eternal Light. His face is flushed, yet pale under the flush. Ryenyel’s hand rests lightly on his forehead.

“Every audience…like this…” Toziel’s form shivers. “We…still…should not tell…”

“Just rest…” Ryenyel says gently. “You’ll be better in a bit.”

“Will you…though?” he murmurs.

“We do this together.” She squeezes his hand gently, but firmly. “You must rest now. We can talk when you are stronger.”

“…can’t rest…Tell me…”

“About what, dearest?”

“…ever have an heir?…Cyador ever have a true scion?”

“Majer Lorn has foiled two or possibly three attempts on his life or on that of his consort,” Ryenyel says. “As you know, yesterday he conducted an impressive display of Mirror Lancer power on the new parade grounds off Second Harbor Way. Rustyl is now consorted to Ceyla, the daughter of the Second Magus, and is convinced that he indeed should be First Magus, but I imagine he would settle for being your successor. Tasjan has made public certain papers that show Vyanat’s brother evaded Imperial tariffs. Tasjan has had others suggest that Vyel was killed to cover up Vyanat’s own tariff violations.”

“Poor Vyanat…acted quickly because he is an honorable man, and now he faces dishonor.” The Emperor pauses to gather breath. “…Because he wished to show that he would punish the unjust were they even his brother.” A lopsided smile appears on Toziel’s face and vanishes.

“The most honorable head of Dyjani House continues to maneuver to incite the merchanters, particularly the weaker large houses, like Kysan and Bluyet-against the Mirror Lancers, and to add more armsmen to the green-suited guards-”

“What of Sasyk?”

“As self-centered as ever. His second consort vanished on a short voyage from Cyad to Summerdock. After a time, he will find another young blonde woman.”

“You dislike him.” Toziel smiles.

“No more than you. He makes Tasjan seem principled.” Ryenyel’s fingers touch Toziel’s forehead. “You must rest. You must.”

“Can Lorn or Rustyl deal with Tasjan?”

“We will see, and before all that long.”

“That…I hope…” Toziel’s words break off into a fit of coughing. When the coughs cease wracking his tall and slender form, his eyes close.

Ryenyel’s hand remains lightly on his forehead, even as she also shivers, and her own complexion pales.

Lorn looks out through the small side window of the sitting room into the darkness, watching the white forms of the geese. After a long moment, he turns back to Ryalth.

“What are you thinking, dear?” She has Kerial seated in her lap, and the two play finger games. “ ‘One little hare, and he goes there…second little hare, and he goes there…’” Despite the bright tone of her rhyme to Kerial, her eyes are dark as they look to Lorn.

“Geese, iron locks and bolts, more and more use of the chaos-glass…your use of information from Ryalor House, armed guards to escort you…”

“All because an Emperor is dying and will not name an heir,” she says.

Lorn smiles tightly. “He cannot name an heir. The heir must name himself and be recognized as the sole scion by enough of the Quarter, Mirror Lancer Court, and the Plaza. Now…they see no one.”

“And…you cannot see…”

“I can see, but not without blood across the sunstones, and more bloodshed after that, and Emperors are not anointed in blood in Cyad itself. Alyiakal was the only one to shed blood on the sunstones…and recall how he is remembered?”

“I understand,” she says slowly, her fingers still playing with those of Kerial. “For reasons very clear to all-and we have talked about this for seasons-the Mirror Lancers have not kept any armed companies in Cyad. Now there are two companies-fourscore with firelances.” She looks up from the settee toward her brown-haired consort and smiles softly. “All my sources tell me Tasjan has gathered more than tenscore armed guards, and they have been trained by Sasyk and by other former lancers. Pheryk knows some of them. That’s like five lancer companies, is it not?”

“They have no firelances, but if they moved on the Palace in support of Tasjan, we would have to use ours, and most of his guards would die. I cannot see the merchanters being pleased with such, or with anyone who commanded or ordered such.” Lorn shrugs.

“Waiting may not help, dearest,” Ryalth points out. “Tasjan has now begun to suggest that Vyel was killed to keep anyone from finding out the extent of Vyanat’s corruption. And when your companies began maneuvers the day before yesterday, Tasjan again sent out word that he was looking for additional guards for his vessels, another twoscore.”