After blotting his forehead, for the evening is warm despite the ocean breeze that helps to cool the upper level of their dwelling, Lorn takes several more deep breaths before he leans forward and returns to the chaos-glass.
He concentrates again, and the silver mists part to reveal the red-haired Commander Sypcal sitting on the edge of a bed in a modest bedchamber. Sypcal is bare-legged and wears but an undertunic. The woman to whom he is talking is gray-haired. She is propped up with pillows and wears a high-necked white cotton gown. She smiles as the commander speaks.
Lorn releases that image quickly as well, but with a more cheerful feeling.
The next image he attempts is that of Rynst, but the gray-haired commander sleeps on his back in a bed next to a figure Lorn suspects is the Majer-Commander’s consort.
The following image he calls up is that of the Captain-Commander. Luss sits alone at a table in a dwelling, with a bottle of wine before him. Lorn almost feels sorry for the man, even though he knows Luss has plotted for Lorn’s failure more than once.
At last, Lorn slides the chaos-glass into the compartment at the back of the drawer, and stands. He has learned little, as he does most nights and afternoons, but he knows more of those with whom he deals, and those insights gain more value with each passing day.
He walks down the hall to the bedchamber, remembering to slide the iron bolt in place as he steps inside.
Ryalth looks up from the bed, where Kerial nurses at her breast. “Did you discover aught?”
“Very little new. Rustyl is using his glass-almost every night, I think, but I have not sensed him seeking us, and I wonder if he is so discreet that I cannot sense him.”
Ryalth shakes her head. “He is of the Magi’i. A fallen student magus who is but a majer is no threat to a high first-level adept.”
Lorn laughs. “That could be.” He shakes his head, and his eyes go to the silver volume beside the bed. He picks it up, and flips through the pages until he finds the lines. He reads softly.
“I wonder yet about that verse,” Ryalth says softly, easing Kerial into a different position for nursing.
“I don’t even know who this Sampson was,” Lorn says, “but I feel like he must have faced what we do.”
“You are wise enough not to have simple trust, dear lancer,” Ryalth says. “Not in Cyad.” After a moment, she adds, “Even if you do want to think of Cyad as something special.”
“It is. There’s never been a city in the world like it.”
“That is true,” Ryalth concedes, “but it was created by people like any other.”
Not quite, Lorn reflects, or Cyad would not exist.
Ryalth eases Kerial to her shoulder and pats his back. He burps softly, then yawns.
Lorn smiles at his consort.
“He’s sleepy,” she says softly.
“Good,” murmurs Lorn. “Good.”
“So am I,” she says with a faint smile as she rises to slip their son into his bed. “Sleepy, I mean.”
Lorn manages not to roll his eyes. He can use the sleep.
CX
Lorn bows after he closes the door and enters the study of the Majer-Commander. “Here are the reports of the last meetings, ser. You requested that I deliver them personally.”
Without looking up from the scroll he peruses, Rynst gestures for Lorn to seat himself on the far side of the wide table desk. Lorn does so, his eyes momentarily taking in the cloudy morning, and the Palace of Eternal Light framed by the window behind the senior lancer officer.
Rynst finally sets down the scroll and shakes his head. “What did you find out when you met with the Third Magus?”
Although he had not mentioned the meeting to anyone, Lorn is scarcely surprised that Rynst has discovered that it took place. “Not that much, ser. He is troubled by the confidence that the First Magus places in Rustyl, and he expressed a certain lack of surprise that I had never met the father of my sister’s consort.”
“Why did you go?”
“My father’s last letter to me, the one he left in his papers, requested that I pay my-and his-respects.”
Rynst nods. “Do you intend to visit him again?”
“No, ser. Not in his study. Not unless you have a duty for me.”
“I note a careful phrasing there.”
“My best friend is likely to become the consort of his daughter. If this happens, I may see the Third Magus again.”
“Ah…” Rynst smiles, somewhat more warmly. “He is the one with whom you spar.”
“Yes, ser. He is very good.”
“That is what Commander Lhary said. In fact, the commander suggested that the young man might have made a good lancer officer.”
“I told Tyrsal that, ser, but he did not believe me. If I might relay the commander’s observation…?”
“You certainly may.” The Majer-Commander pauses, as if to signify his desire to change subjects. “Majer…” Rynst draws out the title.
“Yes, ser?”
“I have not spoken to you about your report. Nor will I for a time.”
“Yes, ser.” Lorn waits.
“The Captain-Commander has expressed some interest. Has he inquired of you?”
“He asked if I had completed it. I told him I had submitted a draft and that you had made no comments.”
“A draft. Very good phrasing, Majer. And what did he say then?”
“He said that you would read it, and that you would use it in the best fashion to benefit the Mirror Lancers.”
“Anything more?”
“Only that I should not expect recognition for my work, that the Mirror Lancer Court was not the place for such. I told him that such was what I expected.”
Rynst glances at the reports Lorn has set on the desk.
Lorn eases them across the polished wood.
“Luss is right. For that you can be thankful.” Rynst nods brusquely. “You may go.”
“Yes, ser.” Lorn rises and bows before turning and departing the study.
CXI
Ryalth pats her hair into place as the hired carriage rolls eastward along the Road of Perpetual Light, past the Sixth Harbor Way East. “I still wonder why the invitation was sent to Ryalor House.”
“First, because it is a social occasion, and second,” Lorn continues, “because a lady trader who heads a house is more important than a mere junior majer in the Mirror Lancers.”
“You will turn my head with such words.” She puts out a hand to steady herself as the carriage turns uphill.
“I do hope so.”
“You don’t think Jerial minds taking care-”
“If Jerial minded,” Lorn says dryly, “we’d both know it.”
“Yes. We would.” Ryalth laughs. She shakes her head. “I still can’t believe that Rustyl had the nerve to ask her if she would be his consort when he had already asked Ceyla.”
“He didn’t ask that seriously. He did it to try to upset her, and me.”
“He picked the wrong healer for that,” Ryalth says. “If it had been Myryan…”
Lorn nods. “I’m glad it wasn’t.”
“I can see why you don’t care for him.”
“He still could be dangerous with Chyenfel supporting him.”
“Only because his mistakes will hurt innocent people.” Ryalth snorts.