“Poor Vyanat…acted quickly because he is an honorable man, and now he faces dishonor.” The Emperor pauses to gather breath. “…Because he wished to show that he would punish the unjust were they even his brother.” A lopsided smile appears on Toziel’s face and vanishes.
“The most honorable head of Dyjani House continues to maneuver to incite the merchanters, particularly the weaker large houses, like Kysan and Bluyet-against the Mirror Lancers, and to add more armsmen to the green-suited guards-”
“What of Sasyk?”
“As self-centered as ever. His second consort vanished on a short voyage from Cyad to Summerdock. After a time, he will find another young blonde woman.”
“You dislike him.” Toziel smiles.
“No more than you. He makes Tasjan seem principled.” Ryenyel’s fingers touch Toziel’s forehead. “You must rest. You must.”
“Can Lorn or Rustyl deal with Tasjan?”
“We will see, and before all that long.”
“That…I hope…” Toziel’s words break off into a fit of coughing. When the coughs cease wracking his tall and slender form, his eyes close.
Ryenyel’s hand remains lightly on his forehead, even as she also shivers, and her own complexion pales.
CXLIII
Lorn looks out through the small side window of the sitting room into the darkness, watching the white forms of the geese. After a long moment, he turns back to Ryalth.
“What are you thinking, dear?” She has Kerial seated in her lap, and the two play finger games. “ ‘One little hare, and he goes there…second little hare, and he goes there…’” Despite the bright tone of her rhyme to Kerial, her eyes are dark as they look to Lorn.
“Geese, iron locks and bolts, more and more use of the chaos-glass…your use of information from Ryalor House, armed guards to escort you…”
“All because an Emperor is dying and will not name an heir,” she says.
Lorn smiles tightly. “He cannot name an heir. The heir must name himself and be recognized as the sole scion by enough of the Quarter, Mirror Lancer Court, and the Plaza. Now…they see no one.”
“And…you cannot see…”
“I can see, but not without blood across the sunstones, and more bloodshed after that, and Emperors are not anointed in blood in Cyad itself. Alyiakal was the only one to shed blood on the sunstones…and recall how he is remembered?”
“I understand,” she says slowly, her fingers still playing with those of Kerial. “For reasons very clear to all-and we have talked about this for seasons-the Mirror Lancers have not kept any armed companies in Cyad. Now there are two companies-fourscore with firelances.” She looks up from the settee toward her brown-haired consort and smiles softly. “All my sources tell me Tasjan has gathered more than tenscore armed guards, and they have been trained by Sasyk and by other former lancers. Pheryk knows some of them. That’s like five lancer companies, is it not?”
“They have no firelances, but if they moved on the Palace in support of Tasjan, we would have to use ours, and most of his guards would die. I cannot see the merchanters being pleased with such, or with anyone who commanded or ordered such.” Lorn shrugs.
“Waiting may not help, dearest,” Ryalth points out. “Tasjan has now begun to suggest that Vyel was killed to keep anyone from finding out the extent of Vyanat’s corruption. And when your companies began maneuvers the day before yesterday, Tasjan again sent out word that he was looking for additional guards for his vessels, another twoscore.”
“Six companies-does he plan to turn the sunstones red with blood?”
“You can handle them,” Ryalth says.
“That I know, but what will happen to Cyad? Will there be blood in the streets?”
“What if Tasjan is not there to call them forth?” she asks.
Lorn raises his eyebrows.
“Sasyk wishes to seize the Palace. Few know this, but Pheryk was able to talk to some of Sasyk’s guards he knows. Tasjan may suspect Sasyk’s ambition, for he will meet with Sasyk only when Sasyk could not leave without encountering those guards who are loyal to Tasjan. Yet Tasjan needs Sasyk, because he cannot train or command armsmen. So the two contest silently. Many merchanters will not support Sasyk-not if Tasjan were to die now. Sasyk wishes conflict and unrest, and he would have it last long eightdays, until all would settle on any heir, and he would either be that heir, or the right hand of that heir. If Tasjan were to die or vanish…now,” Ryalth says slowly, “the Dyjani would either select Tyrsal’s friend Husdryt or Tasjan’s nephew Torvyl as clan head. Neither would support Sasyk, and either would not oppose the Mirror Lancers, were they needed to destroy the green-suited guards.”
Lorn shakes his head. “I would be bringing firelances and death into every way and road in Cyad. Would you have me do this?”
“I would have you as a merchanter or a lancer captain still in Isahl.” Ryalth leans forward and nuzzles Kerial. “Good…. good boy.” Then she looks back up at Lorn. “I have supported all you have done. Would you like less than my judgment on what will happen?”
“No.” Lorn purses his lips. “Yet…”
“You do not wish to be the lancer majer who loosed the firelances in Cyad.”
“No. I do not.”
“Did you encourage Tasjan to bring in guards? Did you tell the Emperor to have no heirs and to name no one? Were you the one to raise the tariffs on merchanters and trade?”
“No…but…firelances in Cyad?”
For a time, there is silence in the sitting room.
“Lorn, dearest…why do you think that the people of Cyad are any different from those of Jera?”
“Because…because…do you remember the poem about Cyad…the one in the book?”
“Not really,” she confesses.
“The lines…I don’t remember them all, but there are some that go like this…
…for Cyad holds the fate of all this earth,
and all of soul and skill that is of worth.
So shine forth both in sun and into night
bright city of prosperity and light.”
He clears his throat, then looks at her. “How can I be the one to bring firelances into Cyad?”
“You do not have to be that one. You can be the one who stands by and lets Tasjan and Sasyk destroy Cyad, and spill other blood on the stones. If you do nothing, Tasjan will order out his guards within an eightday of the Emperor’s death. What will the Majer-Commander order you to do?”
“Bring the firelances to the streets of Cyad,” Lorn admits.
“You did not hesitate to attack Jera, because you felt it was the right thing to do for Cyador. You did not hesitate to kill scores to protect what you believe in. You have killed, and rightly, I believe, those who are corrupt and evil, like Dettaur. Yet Cyad is beginning to fall apart, and you question whether you should use the weapons at hand to prevent it.”
Lorn’s amber eyes meet her blue eyes. He sees neither greed, nor guile, nor ambition. He senses no untruth. After a long time, broken only by Kerial’s murmurings, he takes a deep breath. “You have the right of it.” He offers a crooked smile. “I must do what is right, though it will cost me all I have sought, for if I bring the Mirror Lancers to the street, I may well be respected, but once more it will be the respect for a skillful butcher.”
He shrugs, then takes a deep breath. After a moment, he shakes his head. “Still….”
“I know,” she says. “Yet…how would you feel if you stood by?”
“Worse than I do, I would wager.” He walks to the window once more, looking out into the darkness yet again. It is some time before he turns. “So…where do you think I can best dispatch Tasjan?”
“There must be somewhere that the guards do not follow,” Ryalth says, “somewhere where you can wait, and he will come to you.”
Lorn nods. “Where he will come to me…”
“He knows he is followed in the glass. Will that not cause him to be more careful?”