Lorn shakes his head. As he has already determined, the destination has to be one of the towns west of the Grass Hills in Cyador, for there are no other Jeranyi towns west of the barbarian column. At their pace, they will enter the lands of Cyador in less than three days, perhaps four.
The Mirror Lancers leave to inspect the District Guards at Ehyla in the morning, and he has done what he can. His lancers know that they are headed out on maneuvers, and a possible scouting effort. Some of the older ones nodded knowingly. Several had already cached extra food, and the cooks have lodged a complaint with Helkyt.
Lorn smiles at that thought.
He lets the image fade, then calls up another image-this one of a trader in blue. Despite the lateness of the day, she remains in the large room he has come to recognize as her trading office. His lips curl as he recalls her lecture on the difference between studies and offices.
He lets that image fade quickly, for he does not wish to disturb her, although she glances up, her eyes narrowing, just before the image fades. As he sets the glass aside, Lorn wonders again what secrets lie in her ancestry-for she has sensed a chaos-glass searching when he was with her-and only those with abilities of the Magi’i can do such.
After a moment, Lorn reaches for paper and the pen he must substitute for being with Ryalth. In time, he writes slowly, trying to take care with each word.
My dearest,
When you receive this, it is likely I will be in the lands just east of the Grass Hills, west of Biehl and east of Jera. I have learned that a large group of barbarians may be massing and preparing to attack Cyador itself in an area where they have not attacked in generations, if ever.
There is no way to verify what I know, except by traders’ words, and thus, we will be scouting, not knowing what we may find. If we do find barbarians, there will be no way to warn the Majer-Commander. What I attempt is a great risk, not only for me, but for you and for our son-to-be. Yet I fear the danger to Cyad and to us will be far greater if I do not act. I know you understand whereof I speak…
The barbarians have begun to attack in greater and greater numbers. It will not be long before the Majer-Commander requests that the young lancers I have trained be transferred to Assyadt or elsewhere, and then there will not be the forces necessary to turn away any attack through this, the most rugged section of the Grass Hills. So I must act while I have the forces to do so, and prevent the depredations that I fear will come if I do not.
I have heard from my parents that you have been kind to visit them and dine often with them and with Jerial, and for this latest kindness I am also grateful. When I will have furlough or home leave is most uncertain, and that I will not know until winter, at the earliest, if then.
He closes with the words, My love, and his signature, although it yet feels strange to be able to say such safely, for expressing love to one’s consort is certainly acceptable, even in the Mirror Lancers.
The scroll will go to Helkyt in the morning, to be dispatched by firewagon. Even if it is read along the way, Lorn will have acted, and the results will be known, one way or the other, before any other officers can do anything to harm or assist.
He stands, and begins to roll the few maps he knows he will need. While he would like to take the glass, here in Biehl, unlike in a larger Mirror Lancer outpost, the glass will be safer left behind, for a camp is open to all, and lancer Magi’i are still most unwelcome to all too many Mirror Lancers-and especially to District Guards.
XXXII
In the light of early morning, on the flat below the District Guard headquarters at Ehyla, the First and Second Companies of the Mirror Lancer garrison at Biehl remain in near-perfect ranks as Lorn studies the lines of District Guards. He rides the chestnut mare down each line, occasionally stopping to check for riding rations and especially for water bottles. Only Tashqyt rides with him.
Commander Repyl remains on his own mount, before his two companies, and the partial squad of newer guards.
Lorn finishes the inspection, and nods to Tashqyt. “I will not be but a moment. While they are ready for maneuvers, I doubt Commander Repyl is ready to transfer his command.” Lorn turns and rides toward the commander.
“And how do you find them, Overcaptain?” asks Repyl, even before Lorn reins up.
“In good order, Commander.” Lorn gestures toward the guard building. “I have a matter of great importance to discuss with you. If you would accompany me?”
Commander Repyl’s thin and perfect eyebrows lift. “This whole matter has been unusual.”
“Perhaps unusual in recent years, but the requirement has been in the Emperor’s Code for many, many years,” Lorn says quietly, turning his mount eastward.
When they are a good hundred cubits from the nearest lancer, Repyl reins up. “I trust this will provide the…discretion…you wish?”
“For both of us.” Lorn hands over a scroll. “I thought you would prefer to read this in a more private setting.”
“Oh?” Repyl begins to flush even before he has finished the first section. Finally, the District Commander stares at the overcaptain. “You are within your rights, Overcaptain, but the Majer-Commander will hear of this.”
“I am certain he will.” A lazy smile crosses Lorn’s lips. “Since I fully intend to tell him.” Lorn waits. “I would suggest that you not be too hasty, Commander. If all goes well on these maneuvers, and your guards are as effective as they look, then you are likely to be well-regarded. If, somehow, I make pottage of the maneuvers, then you can claim you were being cooperative, as is your duty, and still appear fair and just.”
The flush fades slowly. “I cannot say I am pleased.”
“I wish it were otherwise,” Lorn admits. “Do you wish to announce that your companies are being transferred to my command, and offer them your praise and support? Or would you rather that I do so?”
“I will do so-with grace, and I hope, skill.” Repyl smiles tightly. “I trust you know what you are doing.”
“I am trying to protect Biehl…and Cyador.”
“With maneuvers?”
“I have received word that there is a large band of barbarians riding into the area east of here. We are the only forces available, and it will be better to stop them before they commit many depredations.”
“You trust mere word?” Repyl’s eyebrows lift.
“Commander, I could wait until I were absolutely sure. Then…if I wait, many will die, and much will be lost. If I am wrong, your guards obtain some riding and some training. If those who would have me wait are wrong, then the Mirror Lancers will be faulted for failing to protect the people.” Lorn does not mention that the chaos-glass is seldom wrong, or that he has already seen the raiders massing to the northeast, moving along the narrow valleys into the Grass Hills and toward Biehl. His lips curl slightly. “I trust you understand.”
“I fear I do, Overcaptain, and I fear even more that you may be right than wrong.” Repyl nods. “I shall do my duty with grace, and hope you are wrong, not because I wish you ill, but, as I have just said, because, if you are right, we, too, will soon face the continuing attacks that have so far graced Assyadt and Syadtar.”
Not if I act swiftly. Lorn does not voice the thought. “Thank you.”
The two turn their mounts back toward the assembled Mirror Lancers and District Guards.
XXXIII
The sun is little more than a hand above the golden brown grasses of the rolling hills as Lorn finishes checking his map. After using the northern beaches as a highway, he and his force have headed inland. They now ride to the southeast, toward where he calculates the barbarians should be making their way out of the Grass Hills-along a narrow creek that meanders out of the rugged terrain and then dries up less than twenty kays from where it emerges. There may be scattered holds along the way, but small individual huts are hard to pick out using a chaos-glass-especially for Lorn when he is trying to map lands he has not seen. He hopes there are not too many such holds along the route the barbarians may take-or may have already taken.