Rynst nods slowly. “You will command those companies, Majer, and your duty remains as it always has been. You may go.”
“Yes, ser.”
Lorn stands, bows, and turns, wondering if Rynst has any parting comments.
The Majer-Commander does not, and Lorn leaves the study silently, walking steadily to the steps and back down to his study, holding a faint and pleasant smile in place. Yet he worries, knowing that he has been too honest, too direct, careful as he has been. Yet, if he says what others wish to hear, how long before he will do what they wish done, even when such actions are not right or for the good of Cyador?
He smiles grimly. Fine thoughts, when anything can be claimed to be for the good of the Mirror Lancers and Cyador. Everything in Cyador is mirrored in everything else, and some reflections are true, and some of those true reflections are yet false, for they portray true images reflecting onto and concealing deception.
CXXVI
Lorn stands in the middle of the bedchamber and concentrates again.
Ryalth looks up from where she sits on the bed and nurses Kerial. “I can see you, in a way, but perhaps that’s because I’m getting used to working around it, and because I know you’re there.”
“What if we go downstairs, and I’ll follow you,” Lorn says. “You ask, say, Kysia, if she’s seen me. Since I’ll be behind you, she won’t think you’d see me, and if she does, just turn and ask me where I was.”
The red-haired trader shakes her head. “Is your daily life in Mirror Lancer Court this convoluted?”
“Not yet, but I fear it will be. Word is out, among some of the senior officers, that I will be commanding the two companies of Mirror Lancers.”
“And they seek to curry favor? Or threaten you indirectly?”
“More threatening and warning.” He frowns. “I can feel all the currents, but there is nothing that anyone could really call proof. The Captain-Commander suggests that loyalty is to the position of Majer-Commander, not the person. The senior commanders try to make sure that they are seen as friendly to those who appear to have power. Eightday after eightday, it continues, because all know power will shift in Cyad. The Emperor will die in the seasons or few years ahead. Chyenfel and Rynst are old.” He pauses. “Vyanat’mer is not, but Tasjan still schemes, and Veljan does his best, if with the help of Syreal and Liataphi.”
“I like Aleyar and her father,” Ryalth says, patting Kerial on the back to burp him. “Veljan would be a better successor to Vyanat than Tasjan, but it would be best if Vyanat remained the Merchanter Advisor. Then, there are those such as Denys and Kernys who would support Tasjan.”
“Why? Vyanat has been good for the merchanters, has he not?”
“He has, but they are more interested in their own good or the good of their clan and not the good of all merchanters, or of Cyador.”
“You sound worried.”
“Many within the merchanters clamor against the tariffs. They claim that Vyanat does little for them but make it harder to prosper.”
“What do you think?”
“Vyanat cannot lower the tariffs. He knows this, but some would rather have blood on the sunstones than try to persuade the Magi’i and the Mirror Lancers to change.” Ryalth gives Kerial a last pat on the back, then lowers Kerial slightly on her shoulder, before easing off the bed and to her feet. “Let us try what you suggested. It seems silly, in a way, but I know it’s not.”
“Gaa…maamaaa…” Kerial offers sleepily.
“In a moment, sweetheart. In a moment.” Ryalth nods to Lorn.
He opens the bedchamber door and follows her down the stairs.
Kysia is standing beside Ayleha in the kitchen, and both are hanging the pots used in fixing supper on the rack to the left of the stove. Lorn lets Ryalth get far enough ahead as she enters the kitchen so that he could not be seen even if his effort fails.
“Lady?” asks Kysia, turning.
“Have you seen Lorn?” Ryalth asks. “He’s not in his study. I wondered if he’d come down here for something else to eat.”
Both women shake their heads.
Lorn eases farther into the kitchen, standing just behind Ryalth’s shoulder.
Kysia blinks. “I thought for a moment…No, Lady, I haven’t seen him.”
Lorn eases back out through the archway and releases the blurring effect. “Were you looking for me?” he asks, again stepping into the archway. “I was just walking around, thinking. I should have told you.”
Ryalth offers an exasperated glance at her consort.
“I’m sorry,” Lorn says apologetically.
Kysia smiles.
“Have you finished your thinking, my dear?” Ryalth asks. “It is time to put Kerial to bed.”
“I’m done for now,” Lorn admits.
“Good.” Ryalth turns back to Kysia and Ayleha. “I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
“It was not a problem or a bother, Lady.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Lorn adds, before he turns to follow Ryalth back up the stairs.
Neither speaks until Lorn closes the bedchamber door.
“I don’t know which was more frightening,” Ryalth says.
“Which?” Lorn’s brows furrow.
“I could feel you behind me, and they couldn’t see you. That was frightening. But the way you looked so innocent…in saying you were walking around. That was frightening, too.”
“It was the truth,” Lorn says.
“Dearest…you and your family…you all can tell the truth…words that are what is, and yet convey something else entirely. That is one reason why I am glad you are not a magus.” She slips toward Kerial’s bed and slips him into it, stepping back.
“Gaa! Maamaaa…gaa…”
Ryalth shrugs. “He will be awake for a time.” Her eyes stray to the stack of papers on the bedside table.
“I’ll play with him. You have to read those, don’t you?”
“I would appreciate some time,” she says.
“You shall have it.” With a smile, Lorn walks toward the small bed and his son.
CXXVII
The two men approach the shoreward end of the pier nearly simultaneously. Both wear merchanter blue, with similar blue wool cloaks to protect them against the cold wind that blows off the harbor. One, unlike the other, is trailed by two guards in green-and-gold uniforms. The guards stand back as he moves toward the unaccompanied merchanter.
“Oh, Vyel,” calls Tasjan, “how good to see you. I was going to stop by after I finished with my tasks on the Intryg.”
“She is a marvel, like all your vessels,” Vyel says pleasantly.
“I would hope so. We have spent enough golds on her.” Tasjan laughs. “I have been considering our last conversation, Vyel.”
The younger man raises his eyebrows.
The slender Tasjan smiles. “You know that a merchanter house cannot go to one who is not of the merchanter clan. Even the Emperor cannot change that.”
“That is true.” Vyel frowns slightly. “All know that.”
“And I have found some other interesting invoices.” Tasjan extends a sheet that appears from under his cloak. “This is a copy, of course. The one with the seals is in a very safe place.”
Vyel reads for a moment, then hands the sheet back. “An interesting invoice.” His eyes are dark.
“I thought you would think so.” Tasjan smiles. “I would not like to see Hyshrah Clan…disturbed by such…were they to become public. Oh…and if anything were to happen to me, some of them will appear in the hands of the Emperor’s Enumerators. Now…we had discussed the possibility of your obtaining a house of your own, and in a manner that would not harm the interests of Hyshrah Clan.”
Vyel nods. “I believe you had mentioned something about that.”
“I am certain you know those…who can arrange disappearances or perhaps those who are less fastidious but can obtain the same results. In these days…you understand that times are troubled, and it appears as though the majer who is the consort of the trader heading Ryalor House has made some enemies. More than a few.” Tasjan shrugs. “He is not likely to survive, one way or another, and right now should anything happen to him…well, all fingers would point somewhere in Mirror Lancer Court, or even toward the Quarter of the Magi’i. These things happen. One would not want an heir to revenge such an unpleasantness. One would not wish a consort with power, either, who might purchase such revenge.” A smile follows. “I am certain you understand.”