Perhaps his father could have, but Lorn has already found that his strengths do not lie in scheming, but in acting. With all the schemes already laid against him, he fears that not to act swiftly would have been his undoing.
And innocent men do not hire assassins immediately upon meeting a Mirror Lancer officer who only pledges to carry out his duty.
But…that does not change the sickening feeling that twists Lorn’s guts. Nor the anger that goes with his sadness and regret. Anger that he is faced once more with situations where no choices are perfect, and anger at himself for not foreseeing the complications.
Lorn rides slowly along the road back toward the compound.
A kay farther along toward the harbor, he drops the door bar’s sections into a drainage ditch. His head throbs, and even in the darkness, he is seeing double images. He has drawn far more chaos from around him than is wise, and used it far more than he would have preferred, and partly in ways he regrets…and will always regret.
XVIII
Lorn is at his study desk early the next morning-though not at dawn, not after the long night he has had, and the dreams about the young woman, who has appeared in them…pleading, her face taking on Myryan’s countenance, perhaps because Lorn had never really seen her visage. For a time, he looks blankly in the direction of the open window.
Trying to push away the image of the pleading figure, he tries to draft the phrases that may prove useful in dealing with Neabyl, the remaining senior enumerator, when Helkyt appears.
“Ser?”
“Yes, Helkyt?”
“There be a problem, ser.”
Lorn raises his eyebrows. He can think of several, though they seem trivial compared to his dreams of Flutak’s mistress. “Yes?”
“Mayhap not a problem, but a matter most strange.”
“What might it be?”
“You see, ser, there is a man. His name is Drakyt. None knows how he lives, but folk die, usually from blades stuck in them in the dead of night, and thereafter Drakyt has coin enough for good raiment and the best ale.”
Lorn nods for Helkyt to continue.
“This morn, the guards heard mounts outside the walls, and when they went to see, there were three horses tethered there on the west side, well away from the gate. One of the mounts was a black that none but Drakyt can ride, or so ’tis said.” The senior squad leader pauses, then continues as he sees that Lorn will not question. “There was also a hempen seaman’s rope, tarred black, fastened over the wall. But none have seen any men within the compound.”
Lorn shrugs. “Perhaps the guards scared them off. Until they show up to claim their mounts, all we can do is stable the mounts. When they return, we’ll charge them for feeding their horses and put the charges in the payroll chest. Every copper will help. You might pass the word to the folk around the compound that’s what we’re doing.”
“But…if they return not?”
“Say…in half a season, the mounts belong to the Mirror Lancers.” Lorn looks at Helkyt. “Or do you think it should be longer?”
“I know not.…” Helkyt frowns. “This Drakyt is not one to anger.”
Lorn laughs. “How would that anger this fellow? He leaves his mount, and the Emperor’s Mirror Lancers feed it and take care of it? And we ask to be paid for the feed and care?”
“Ah…ser…”
“Yes?”
“It is said you went riding late last evening, and returned far later.” Helkyt purses his lips. “You did not see or hear the mounts?”
“I didn’t see a soul around the courtyard or outside the walls,” Lorn replies most truthfully, if not with the entire truth. “If I had, I am certain all of the compound would have heard.”
“Most strange.” Helkyt bows, still frowning. “I will tell Tashqyt to have the mounts stabled.”
“Tashqyt? He’s one of the junior squad leaders? Dark-haired, with a square beard?”
“Yes, ser.”
Lorn nods. “I’m trying to put faces to names. Is there anything else?”
“No, ser.”
“Will we have a cart to carry off the rubbish from the north barracks?”
“This very morn, ser. Two.” Helkyt smiles, an expression of relief.
“Good. I knew you could do that.” Lorn rises. “All this talk about stray mounts reminded me. I need to talk to Chulhyr. I shouldn’t be gone long.”
“Yes, ser. I be going to the enumerators for the payroll, after I task Tashqyt with the stray mounts.”
Lorn nods, and the two men separate as they leave the administrative building. Helkyt heads for the barracks, while Lorn crosses the courtyard through the light but cold rain that has turned the paving stones a darker sheen of gray. Despite the rain, Lorn nods, smiling, at the younger lancers who already are carrying debris from the north wing of the barracks into a nondescript cart. A worn and near-swaybacked mule stands in the harness.
At the stable, Lorn draws Chulhyr aside. “You know mounts well, do you not? Exceptionally well?”
“I might say so, ser, better than all but the farrier, and Spherl.” Chulhyr frowns, waiting. “Have you found the chestnut wanting?”
“Dark angels, no,” replies Lorn with a light laugh he does not feel. “We will be getting more lancers. We will be needing more mounts, and I would prefer it not be known yet. Can you scout around…?”
“Ah…that I can do. And now is a good time, for last year’s harvests and trading were not so good as in other years.” The ostler pauses. “How many?”
“Enough for another company by autumn.”
Helkyt and four other lancers enter the stable to find and saddle their mounts. The senior squad leader inclines his head as he passes the overcaptain. The lancer following him carries a small chest.
“It might take that long unless you wished to pay more than such would be worth,” Chulhyr replies slowly.
“We have some time, but that’s why I wanted you to begin looking as you can.”
“Yes, ser.”
“Let me know when you have some you think we should purchase. You know where my study is.”
Chulhyr nods. “I will bring you word, ser.”
“Thank you.”
The overcaptain walks back across the courtyard under gray clouds that appear lighter than before. Behind him, he hears the sound of hoofs on stone as Helkyt and the lancers set out to pick up the payroll.
Back in his study, Lorn writes several more thoughts on his list of items that need action. He had forgotten to ask Chulhyr about saddles and riding gear-whether there remained saddles from the time when two full companies had been quartered at Biehl and, if so, how usable they might be. Each idea begets more problems, and more work.
Then Lorn goes back to his plans for the enumerators.
He has finished what he can plan, drafted a scroll to the District Guard Commander in Ehlya suggesting that he will be visiting in the near future, and is working on the outline of a lancer training program at Biehl when the door from the outer study opens, then closes.
Thrap! Even before the sound of the knock dies away, Helkyt puffs into the inner study.
“Ser…ser…”
Lorn looks up from the draft of the training program.
“Ser…ah…there is a problem…with the pay chest. Senior Enumerator Flutak cannot be found.”
“Cannot be found?”
“No, ser.”
“Doesn’t anyone know where he is?”
“All Neabyl would say is that he was missing from his villa and that no one knew where he had gone.” Helkyt shrugs.
“Just because he’s gone off on furlough or whatever doesn’t mean we don’t get paid,” Lorn points out, forcing annoyance to creep into his voice.
“He is not on leave or furlough, ser. That is what Neabyl says.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem.” Lorn frowns. “Isn’t Neabyl a senior enumerator as well?”
“Yes, ser. But he does not wish to release the payroll without the assent of Flutak.”
Lorn stands, then walks to the window, as if considering what Helkyt has conveyed. After a time, he turns. “Helkyt…this is a problem. We are entitled to a full draw of two companies, is that not true?”