L. Modesitt - Magi'i of Cyador

After remounting the white gelding, Lorn leads the majer’s mount along the road for a time, although the stallion tosses his head more than once. After another kay, Lorn loops the reins over the saddle and then, with a yell, he slaps the fractious stallion’s rump. The bigger mount trots a distance, then slows, but continues to the southwest.

Lorn watches until he is certain the stallion will travel for at least a time before he turns the gelding and begins the ride back to the compound.

As he nears the gates, Lorn reins up and addresses the pair of guards. “Majer Maran should be back later. Tell him I’ll be in my study.”

“Yes, ser.”

Suforis hurries from the tack room even before Lorn has fully led the gelding into the stable.

“You see? It wasn’t all that long, and I never had him at more than a fast walk.”

“That be good, ser.” Suforis studies the gelding, then nods.

Lorn leaves his mount with the ostler and crosses the courtyard to re-enter the company study.

“Ser?” asks Kusyl.

“Majer Maran had a few words for me.” Lorn does not smile. “He said he would be back later when I had a chance to consider them.”

“Ah … yes, ser. I’m sorry, ser.”

“We often have to do what our seniors wish, Kusyl.” Lorn’s laugh is harsh. “As I’m sure you know.”

“Ah … yes, ser.”

With a nod, Lorn closes the door to the inner study.

He looks out the window once more. From now on, even more than in the past, he must watch and weigh every action, every word. And he must anticipate.

He wishes he could talk to Ryalth, but perhaps it is better that he not, for a time.

Lorn shakes his head and seats himself at the desk, where he continues work on the patrol summary report that Maran had interrupted. He will send that off, as required, with the next Engineer firewagon. Then he begins drafting yet anotherrequest to Commander Meylyd for replacement lancers. He has completed the second draft and is reading it when there is a knock on the door.

“Ser? There be some lancers here, asking of Majer Maran.”

Lorn frowns. “He hasn’t come back? Have them come in.” He remains seated as two lancers step into the inner study.

“Ser …. squad leader Jugyt, ser, and Shalar, ser,” offers the broad-shouldered junior squad leader. “We had been expecting the majer … but none be seeing him.”

Lorn offers a puzzled look. “We took a short ride. He said what he had come to say, and then said he would be back later. I came back, and I haven’t seen him since. I thought he had come back and left with you, since I hadn’t heard anything.”

“No, ser.”

Lorn fingers his chin. “The last time I saw him, he was riding the wall road, toward Westend, but we were only a few kays from here.” He stands and calls, “Kusyl!”

“Yes, ser?” Kusyl re-appears.

“Do you know if anyone has seen Majer Maran?”

“No, ser.”

“He said he was coming back, but his men here haven’t seen him,” Lorn explains.

“I don’t know as anyone has seen him since he left the compound, ser.”

Lorn purses his lips. “If you’d check with the guards and any of the men-or see if Juist’s company saw him. They rode back in a while ago.”

“Yes, ser.”

After Kusyl leaves, Lorn looks at the two lancers. “All we can do is look and see if anyone saw him. I’ll have my company check the area. It seems strange that he’d leave without you, but maybe he did.”

“He rides alone at times, it be true, ser, but always he returns,” says Jugyt.

Lorn shrugs helplessly. “I scarcely know what to say. We can check to see if there has been a tree-fall nearby, or ifthere are any tracks on the deadland.” He glances toward the window, and gestures toward the sun that hangs just above the compound walls. “Best we hasten.”

“Yes, ser.”

Lorn reclaims his sabre, then heads for the stable. This time he will use a spare mount, for despite the search for Majer Maran, Second Company will still begin a patrol tomorrow. After all, Maran would certainly not to have wanted Lorn to deviate from accepted Mirror Lancer procedures.

The captain who would be more offers a brief smile as he nears the stable.

AS SECOND COMPANY rides slowly toward the gates of the compound at Jakaafra, Lorn looks down at his bloodsplattered trousers, and then at the depleted firelance in the holder. The sun is almost touching the western horizon, outlining the silhouettes of distant orchards to the west, and casting long shadows from the walls of the compound.

Lorn does not look back at a company that is now really but the size of a single full-strength squad, nor at the three mounts that bear dead lancers. They have not permitted any wild creatures to escape despite another fallen trunk, but that is due to luck, and to the renewed tendency of the creatures to attack the lancers, rather than to attempt to escape beyond the deadland.

“We getting any replacements, ser?” Kusyl asks quietly, from where he rides alongside Lorn.

“I’ve requested more lancers three times, Kusyl. Majer Maran never offered much encouragement, but he didn’t say no, either. That’s if he got back to Geliendra, but I haven’t heard about that, either.”

“Funny about that, ser. His men found his mount, but not him. Think the Forest got him? They say that happens, sometimes.”

“It could have happened, but we didn’t see any traces of wild creatures.” Lorn shrugs tiredly as they near the gates. “I just wish he had sent us some more lancers. The men are accomplishing the impossible, but it can’t go on.”

“What if we just waited until the Engineers arrived? Before getting near the trunk, ser?” asks Kusyl.

“We’d have as many dead lancers and some dead Engineers, probably, and Second Company would have a new captain and new squad leaders,” Lorn replies.

“Thought it be like that, ser.” Kusyl shakes his head. “Can’t be saying as I understand. Do you, ser?”

“Not totally, Kusyl. I’ve heard that the Magi’i are going to try something, but that was seasons ago, and nothing has happened. Maybe they just want us to hang on until they can. Or maybe it’s something else.”

“Whatever it be, ser, best they do something or they’ll have creatures running free throughout northeast Cyador.”

“The other companies are short of lancers, too,” Lorn points out.

“Not near so short as Second Company.”

“They don’t face so many tree-falls.”

Kusyl shakes his head sadly.

“Evening, ser,” calls the gate guard as Lorn nears the gates. “Hard patrol?”

“Hard patrol,” Lorn confirms.

He will send another request for replacements, little good as such requests seem to do, but how can he not make such requests?

His fingers clench momentarily as he considers that senior officers-Maran, and now Meylyd-are forcing him to choose between his own life and risking his lancers. Yet, were he to step aside, or let himself be killed, nothing would change.

It may not, anyway, for all that he has chosen to follow dreams.

He pushes that thought aside. He also pushes aside the desire to use the chaos glass to view Meylyd. If Meylyd isat all sensitive to its use, that will create more problems, and Lorn knows of nothing to be gained by using the glass for such a purpose.

For the moment.

SPRING HAS COME to Cyad, and the green and white awnings fill the streets to the south of the Palace of Light under a clear green-blue sky. The Second Magus and the Captain-Commander of the Mirror Lancers stand on one of the smaller western balconies of the Palace.

Kharl looks out at the harbor, where scaffolds enfold two white-hulled fireships moored at a guarded white stone pier.