L. Modesitt - Magi'i of Cyador

Lorn shakes his head with a wry smile.

In the end, little has changed within the house since last you were here, excepting that we all miss you, and wish you well in your struggles along the ward-wall of the Accursed Forest.

The lancer captain lowers the scroll, then lifts it and studies the writing itself, rather than the words. While his father’s writing retains its ability to offer detailed observations between the lines and the characteristic angular flow of the letters, there is something … Lorn studies the scroll more closely, noting the slight wavering of some pen strokes. Age? The toll of being a senior magus?

Lorn sets aside the scroll and fingers his clean-shaven chin, thinking about his father’s apparent change of heart-or thought-concerning Ryalth.

Does Ryalth’s scroll give any indication of any reason for that?

He takes out the other scroll-the one Suforis had delivered with two bottles of Alafraan from Dustyn the night previous, after Second Company had finally returned to Jakaafra, once again running almost three days late, this time because of tree-falls earlier along the southeast ward-wall. With only two of large moveable firecannons, and the need to recharge them after use, tree-falls close together meant one lancer company or another had to guard a fallen trunk forseveral days, at times. This time, it had been Second Company’s fate.

He unrolls the scroll.

My dearest lancer,

I told myself I would not be disappointed had you forgotten our discussion of a year ago. I would have been disappointed. That I can tell from my reaction to your scroll. I will be in Jakaafra for this venture as you have requested. The trip will allow me to visit some factors in Fyrad and in Geliendra and other towns along the route.

All is well with Ryalor House. We have been able to broker some additional timber shipments when the amount of timber increased past the anticipated contract levels, as I had suspected might well occur ….

Why had she suspected? Because the timber came from fallen trunks and because Lorn’s presence meant more falling trunks?

… our interests in coastal shipping have also offered solid results, for equally predictable reasons ….

Lorn sets down the scroll of his consort-to-be and laughs. His father and Jerial must have just looked. Jerial’s wagering ventures have let her overhear much of the gossip, and many of the facts could not have been hidden. Not when Ryalor House has trading spaces three times as large as before, its own warehouse, interests in coastal ships, and who knows what else that Ryalth has not told him.

And all because a student mage saved a pretty face from being attacked years before? A pretty face that hid so much more?

Lorn glances to the cold and sunlit green-blue sky beyond the study window. He hopes that Majer Maran will wait aseason or two before returning, but doubts he will have that much time. If … if Lorn is fortunate, he and Ryalth will be consorted, and she will have returned to Cyad before the majer reappears. If …

LORN PUTS HIS saddle bags on the top of the barrel of grain set beside the gelding’s stall and carefully props the pair of firelances between the barrel and the stall wall, waiting for Suforis to finish saddling his mount.

“Be just a moment, ser,” the ostler calls.

Lorn smiles to himself, and studies the stable, still as neat and clean as ever, then runs his fingertips over one firelance and then the other, making sure that both are fully charged. Although the patrol before the last one had found a fallen tree-the one they’d had to wait two days for the Engineers to clear, the fact that there had been no fallen trees on the last patrol made it more likely that he and Second Company would encounter one on this patrol-or the next.

“We’d be wishing you a good patrol, ser,” offers Suforis as he extends the gelding’s reins to Lorn.

“We?” asks Lorn with a grin.

“Me and Lesyna. She is most pleased to be cleaning and watching over your new dwelling, now. Her da even said it was worth the old mare he gave her,’cepting the mare’s not for much but carrying her. Leastwise she can go to town now and visit her folks.” Suforis grins. “Or carry a scroll or two when it be not wise for me.”

“You don’t mind her riding alone.”

“Lesyna? Always liked the horses, she has.’Sides, captain, what sense it be to say she’ll not ride? Be different when Clebyl gets pensioned off and we get proper quarters, screen and all, instead a’ just a big room … and have children … but now?”

“I’m glad it worked out and that you’re pleased.”

“That be two of us, ser.” Suforis bows his head and gestures toward the next stall.

“Go ahead,” Lorn says. “You’ve work to do.”

After Lorn fastens his saddle bags in place and slips the two firelances into the holder, the captain leads the gelding out of the stable into the courtyard where the lancers of Second Company are mounting up. The high thin clouds that had been visible at dawn are thickening into a more solid gray-or perhaps the dawn clouds just foreshadowed the heavier clouds moving in from the northeast. The brief gusts of wind seem colder as well.

Outside the stable, Lorn mounts the gelding and rides to the north end of the stable building where Shynt is mustering the first squad. “Good morning, Shynt.”

“Good morning, Captain.” Shynt glances past Lorn toward the double column of riders. “We be ready, ser.”

“How is Hykylt?”

“He will ride, ser.” The junior squad leader looks at Lorn and lowers his voice. “Were you trained by a healer, ser?”

“One of my sisters was fortunate enough to become a healer, and I watched closely,” Lorn replies. “I would rather that word not be spread.” Lorn laughs softly. “A fierce lancer officer must not be seen as a gentle healer.”

“Don’t know many as would call you soft, ser.”

“That’s best.” Lorn nods and guides the gelding back southward toward Kusyl and the second squad.

“Ready, ser,” Kusyl reports, even before Lorn reins up.

“We might as well get started.”

“Yes, ser. Second squad, forward, in column by twos!”

“First squad, forward, in column by twos!” echoes from behind them.

Lorn’s heels urge the white gelding forward, and his eyes go to the clouds. A light snow would be better than rain, but only a light snow. So they will have rain or heavy snow, he suspects from the twinges in his skull that foreshadow a storm-headache, as he rides out through the compound gate toward the chaos tower building to his right. His face offers but a pleasant smile when he turns the gelding to the southeast and the patrol ahead.

LORN STEPS OUT of the stable at Eastend and into the twilight of a winter day. Carrying his saddlebags, he stretches his legs, and readjusts his grip on them. The firelances have already been collected and delivered to the Engineer detachment for replacement or recharging.

The Lancer captain keeps trying to stretch his legs as he crosses the courtyard toward the quarters he will occupy as a transient officer, much as Captain Ilryk does when Third Company finishes a patrol at the Jakaafra compound. Although Second Company’s latest patrol offered no tree-falls, the ride had been cold and seemed longer than usual. Lorn’s breath leaves white clouds as he walks briskly across the white granite stones, glad this time for the white winter jacket that he wears.

“Captain!” A figure in the uniform of a Mirror Engineer waves from fifty cubits away.

“Majer.” Lorn raises his hand in reply as he recognizes Majer Weylt.

Weylt waits for Lorn to reach him before speaking. “I’d hoped you’d get here this evening. Otherwise, it would have been a lonely evening meal.”