Scion of Cyador (29 page)

“Those are accomplishments I’d rather not have been remembered for, a combination of unwise audacity and ill chance.”

Gyraet adds, more levelly, “It’s also said that you dealt with more treefalls than any captain ever, and that you lost fewer lancers for the number of wild creatures killed.”

“That is possible. I don’t know about ever… but in the five years before and the years I was there that was true.”

Gyraet moistens his lips.

“Is Sub-Majer Hybyl still there?” Lorn asks, almost idly.

“Yes, ser.”

Lorn wonders how much he dares say or intimate. After a moment, he decides on another approach. “You’ve doubtless been briefed by Commander Ikynd and Majer Dettaur?”

“Commander Ikynd was rather short.”

“He probably said that I had a good record killing barbarians, and that was what you were being sent here to do.”

“Something like that,” concedes Gyraet.

“And he said it bluntly, and perhaps added a few words about the fact that you’d best be careful because I’ve been known to be hard on officers who don’t agree with me.”

Gyraet remains silent, but Lorn can sense through truth-reading that he has been accurate enough.

“Majer Dettaur, on the other hand, was doubtless more detailed, and suggested rather indirectly that while everyone is pleased with the results of what I do, that you be most careful in how you deal with me.”

“Ah… something like that.” Gyraet tries not to shift his weight in the chair, and his eyes do not meet Lorn’s.

“I could be most charming and welcoming,” Lorn goes on, “and mislead you, and cast doubts about the characterizations that have been made. I don’t think I will, because you’re obviously perceptive, and feel you’re in a most difficult situation, being assigned to command a company under the Butcher of Nhais.” He smiles. “Have you read the battle report about Nhais?”

“Ah… no, ser.”

Lorn walks to the end chest, which he opens, and from which he extracts one of the copies he has brought to Inividra with him. He closes the chest and then tenders the report to Gyraet. “Read it. Now. I’ll wait.”

“Yes, ser.” Gyraet doesn’t conceal his puzzlement, but takes the report.

As Gyraet begins to read, Lorn scans Dettaur’s scroll again, then sets it aside and glances toward the window. While his old acquaintance’s tone bothers Lorn, he has to ask himself whether Dettaur is so bent on revenge that he will take any opportunity to goad Lorn, or whether his missives are designed to push Lorn into early and unwise action.

Lorn frowns. Dettaur certainly had been unable to see Jerial’s disgust with him, but bright enough to understand exactly how Lorn had managed the Biehl situation. Then, Lorn reflects, does he have any choice but earlier action when firelance charges are becoming ever scarcer and the numbers of barbarian raiders growing?

“Ser?”

Lorn glances up. “I’m sorry. I was thinking.” He pauses. “You’ve finished it?”

“Yes, ser.”

“As you can see, many of the details of the report were authenticated by others, including various officers and enumerators. I wanted you to read it so that you would have some idea of what is happening north of the Grass Hills and why you’ve been assigned here.”

“Majer Dettaur did not mention the Hamorian blades.”

“He probably didn’t mention the fivescore herders and women and children they slaughtered, either.”

“Ah… no, ser.”

“And I doubt he mentioned that we usually have plenty of spare mounts here-close to twoscore at the moment.”

“No, ser.”

Lorn smiles once more, then nods. “That’s all for now, Captain. You might want to talk to the other officers, especially the more senior ones. I’m sure each has his own view of matters.” He stands. “I’ll see you shortly, at dinner.”

“Yes, ser.” Gyraet stands, then bows before he departs.

Lorn walks to the study window and looks out at the intermittent fat flakes that drift by the ancient panes of glass.

Did the ancients have to deal with the same kind of infighting? Or had they pulled together more because they had been required to in carving a land out of the wilderness and in fighting against the
Accursed
Forest
?

Somehow, Lorn suspects that what he sees in the Mirror Lancers, and with Dettaur, is scarcely new. The melancholy tone of the silver volume of ancient verse attests to that.

And yet… the melancholy ancient was one of those who built the City of
Light, of which there is no equal.

LVIII

Lorn watches from the study window as two provisions wagons roll through the light rain and across the courtyard to the storerooms beside the stables. With the rain, he is glad that he has not dispatched any patrols. While the snow beyond the Grass Hills is melting, his use of the chaos-glass has shown Lorn that the barbarians remain within their hamlets and that they have not yet begun to gather.

Unhappily, the unknown magus or Magi’i continue to follow him, clearly trying to determine what he is doing. Also unhappily, more traders have docked at Jera, and more Hamorian blades have been unloaded and stored in the warehouses there. Before long, the blades will make their way up the branches of the River Jeryna to an even greater number of barbarians.

Lorn turns, frowning, as there is a knock on his study door. “Yes?”

“Ser… there is a dispatch.” Nesmyl bows, then extends the scroll.

“Thank you.” Lorn nods and takes it.

As he leaves the study, Nesmyl closes the door. Lorn breaks the green lancer seal and begins to read.

Sub-Majer Lorn, Mirror Lancers, Commanding at Inividra,

Winter is about to end, and at the turn of spring, you can anticipate an increased number of barbarian raids. Commander Ikynd wishes to convey once more his concerns about the tactics you have used in the past. He would emphasize that regular single-company patrols are to be used. Multi-company patrols offer far too great a risk of allowing the barbarians to attack an unpatrolled area, especially now.

Furthermore, your field expertise will be needed, and therefore you are strongly urged to take command of the company of your choice, preferably one commanded by an undercaptain. In such circumstances, it should be noted that using multi-company patrols might be seen as preferential treatment for those lancers you command personally, and this is another reason why multi-company patrols should be minimized…

Assyadt has yet to receive additional mounts to support those companies transferred from the
Accursed
Forest
. Large losses of mounts, as may occur with patrols involving more than one company, cannot be replaced…

These are trying times for all Mirror Lancers, and their commanding officers should and must rely on the practices and tactics that have served so well for so long, and to that end Commander Ikynd strongly urges that you turn your energies and talents.

For Commander Ikynd

Majer Dettaur

Assistant Commander, Assyadt

Lorn sets down the scroll and walks to the window once more, looking into the gray day and drizzle for a time. Finally, he turns and crosses back to the door where he peers out. Nesmyl glances up.

“Nesmyl… if you would send word for the officers to gather in the officers’ study… I’d like to meet with them there.”

“Yes, ser.”

“Thank you.”

Lorn turns back to the study, and walks to the footchest against the wall that holds dispatches and other communications to the outpost, generally from Assyadt, but at times from Mirror Lancer headquarters in Cyad. He begins to sort through the dispatches, pulling some, leaving others, until he has close to a halfscore. He arranges them, then rolls them up, with the latest scroll from Dettaur around them.

He nods, hoping his instincts are correct. Finally, he tucks the scrolls under his arm and steps from the study.

“They should be ready, ser.” Nesmyl is standing by the desk with Yusaet beside him. The more-junior senior squad leader had either been the one to convey the message, or to hold the desk while Nesmyl did. “Thank you, Nesmyl. Or you, Yusaet, whoever passed the word.”

“Thank you, ser.” Yusaet bows.

“…got that cold look… wouldn’t want to be whoever’s he angry with…”

Lorn takes a breath as he leaves the square tower. He doesn’t need to show his anger with Dettaur to the officers. The drizzle seeps around him as he crosses the courtyard to the barracks building that holds the officers’ study. Under his arm is the large roll of scrolls.

As he enters the officers’ study, Lorn looks at the six officers who rise from where they have been sitting around two adjoining tables. “Please sit down.”

He looks around the room as he unrolls the scrolls and sets the pile before him. He realizes he is wagering much on what he is about to do, but he needs to know how they will react. After a long moment of silence, he says, “Most of you have asked about the patrol schedule for the spring. For the moment, I’m not going to post one.”

He waits again, noting the faint frown on Quytyl’s face, and the eyebrows that Esfayl raises momentarily. “Instead, I’d like to read you all something.” He pauses. “These are all dispatches I have received from Assyadt over the past several eightdays.” He picks up the first scroll.

We regret to inform you that you can expect no more than three firelance recharges, as the Commander has conveyed earlier in the year…

Then he reads from the second.

We cannot supply any spare mounts, and will not be able to do so until at least sometime in late spring or early summer…

And the third.

We must also insist that you refrain from the practice of using multi-company patrols. Mirror Lancers must be able to take on significantly larger barbarian forces without needing to rely on additional lancers…

Emsahl snorts… loudly.

Lorn picks up the last scroll and reads.

Further, it is most strongly suggested that you relieve your least effective company commander and take personal command of that company…

Lorn waits, letting the words sink in before he speaks again. “Those all came over the course of the winter. This morning, I received yet another such scroll, which repeats all of those messages and adds another. I’d like to read that as well.” Lorn clears his throat and reads Dettaur’s latest scroll in its entirety. As he reads, he surveys the room, and from what he can sense, most of the officers are disturbed.

As he finishes reading the last scroll, Lorn sets it down on the table before him. He looks across the six faces, again studying them before he speaks. “I’ll leave these here for each of you to read so that you can see for yourself that I have not made up or distorted the language.” He pauses and lets the silence draw out. The room remains still for a long time.

“Ser… were those all from either Majer Dettaur or Commander Ikynd?” asks Esfayl.

Lorn nods.

“We lost fewer lancers last fall than any time since I’ve been here,” Emsahl says slowly. “And you tell us that-”

“No. I’m not saying that. Those were dispatches from Majer Dettaur on behalf of Commander Ikynd.”

“Never was much of a patrol commander…” suggests the normally silent Cheryk. “Worse than Sasyk, and he was a sour pearapple…”

Gyraet’s eyebrows lift.

“Well, he wasn’t. He’d always take on the biggest barbarian, and forget about the rest of the lancers.”

Lorn clears his throat, loudly. Cheryk’s words will be more effective later, when Lorn is not around. “I wanted you all to know the kind of suggestions I’ve been receiving.” He smiles. “I’d like you all to consider that I have not yet been forbidden to use multi-company patrols. And I have not been ordered to relieve one of you. ‘Strongly recommended,’ but not ordered.”

“It sounds like that won’t be long,” suggests Emsahl.

“If we keep doing things the way we have been, I’m sure that’s true. If each of you patrols by yourself, we’re going to take some heavy losses.” Lorn pauses.

Emsahl smiles. “I’m thinking, ser, that you got an idea. Elsewise, you wouldn’t be having us here.”

“I do.” Lorn nods. “It’s something different. Commander Ikynd told me we could go where we wanted once we were in Jeranyi territory. I think it might be a good idea to put a stop to some of these raids where they ought to be stopped-over in Jerans-and I believe we can do it. We’ll have to do it before I get any more dispatches.” Lorn lifts the most recent scroll. “I got this one today, and it will probably be two eightdays before we’re sent any more provisions, and dispatches.”

“You’re thinking of going into Jerans?” asks Gyraet.

Lorn nods. “We had better odds when I tracked down the raiders in Biehl and hit them when they didn’t expect it. If we wait… they’ll just gather more and more barbarians.”

“Pretty risky…” offers Gyraet.

“Not so risky as fighting eightscore with one company,” suggests Cheryk. “That’s what it’s coming to, these days, if the sub-majer follows those directives.”

“What if they attack here?” asks Esfayl.

“That’s a good question.” Lorn smiles. “But if we strike first, what barbarian will dare leave his homeland to attack Cyador while we white devils are in Jerans?”

“No… they’d not be doing that,” affirms Emsahl. After a moment, he grins. “When do we start, Majer?”

“How about next twoday?” Lorn smiles grimly.