He looks at the two official dispatches, then shrugs and breaks the seal on the one that looks shorter. He unrolls it and begins to read.
…hereby inform all officers bearing commands throughout the Mirror Lancers that losses of provisions and other supplies have been reaching unacceptably high levels…strongly recommend that all commanders review the use and storage of such, and that the use of local supplies be adopted whenever possible…
The seal and signature are those of Luss’alt, Captain-Commander of the Mirror Lancers.
Lorn nods to himself as he sets the scroll aside and picks up the second one with a Mirror Lancer seal. It is addressed to him as, Commanding, Inividra.
As noted in the scroll which you are receiving from the Captain-Commander of Mirror Lancers, the handling and storage of provisions has become a problem at many isolated stations, such as Inividra. Therefore, individual commanding officers must take a greater role in assuring that such provisions are stored and used with care and are not wasted…
The commander has noted that your last request for supplies is somewhat higher than that of previous sub-majers, and has requested that you explain such.
Lorn snorts. The answer is simple. He has more men still alive than did Sub-Majer Kysken, and more men require more food.
…and request that you send a response with the next scheduled courier to Assyadt.
The signature and seal are Dettaur’s, as Lorn has known even without reading them, for Dettaur is clearly trying to establish any possible grounds for proving Lorn is less than competent. Moreover, the odds are good that, sooner or later, Lorn will be out on a patrol when some request for something comes in, and Lorn’s response will be late, thus giving Dettaur yet another example of Lorn’s unresponsiveness. Dettaur is clearly very good at setting up officers to be discredited.
The sub-majer looks out into the darkness beyond his study window and the inner shutters that he has not closed, despite the chill coming off the ancient panes of glass. He half stands and, shaking his head, closes the shutters. He reseats himself and opens his father’s scroll, reading slowly.
We trust all is well with you at Inividra. Life continues here much as it has throughout the winter, and for those of us for whom the cooler weather is not such a joy as once it was…
Although Mycela is expecting a child this summer, young Kerial is our first grandchild, and a delight he is. All of us can but hope you will be able to see him while he is still young. I can recall when you were that young, dark-haired and smiling as well, and it seems not that long ago. Life is fleeting and fragile, and we forget that when we are young and strong.
Your consort continues to amaze all, and Ryalor House prospers. Her enumerators are known both for their probity and loyalty, and in these days, after the revelations about the former Merchanter Advisor to the Emperor, those qualities are more greatly respected than in recent years. It is interesting to note that none recall or have mentioned the events that led up to the disclosures, and for that we can be grateful, although it is said that the Emperor knows far more than any but those directly involved.
Lorn frowns slightly. While he had sent a copy of his battle report to the Hand of the Emperor, with its references to Hamorian blades, he does not recall that he made any reports about the sorry state of the Emperor’s Enumerators in Biehl. Did Neabyl report more? He continues to read.
Myryan is already planning for improvements to her garden for next year. Ciesrt and Vernt continue to work together, although I understand this may not continue when Vernt is advanced to a lower first. Your brother works hard, and that has made his understanding of chaos far deeper in some ways than those who are more facile. His understanding of the fundamentals of chaos application may prove most useful to the Mirror Lancers and to you in the years ahead.
I trust you will be prepared for the spring with the barbarians and all that may ensue, and we both wish you well…
Lorn finds himself frowning once more as he looks over the scroll. The words and the script are those of his father, yet there is a hint of shakiness about the characters that he does not recall, and that bothers him. Perhaps because of that shakiness, he recalls the questions his father had given him, questions to which he has yet to find satisfactory answers.
Then…each day, he finds more questions for which he has no answers which satisfy him.
Although he is tired, and it has been all too long a day, he eases aside his father’s scroll and slips out the chaos-glass. He will allow himself a quick screeing in the glass.
He concentrates, and the silver mists form, and then part, to reveal two figures sleeping side by side in an ornate bed he recognizes only from the glass, and in the room he also has determined, but only through screeing, that is a part of newer and larger quarters for his consort. While Kerial does not move, Ryalth turns, almost as if she senses the chill of the glass, and Lorn releases the image.
For a time, he sits in the dimness, his eyes closed, massaging the back of his neck and head with his left hand, then dropping his chin against his chest to stretch tight muscles in his neck and upper back.
Finally, he stands, and twists down the lamp wick. Tomorrow promises another long day in catching up on reports from his last patrol and in composing a polite reply to Dettaur, yet one which will refute the hidden allegations, he hopes without angering his old schoolmate, at least not any more than Dettaur is already angered.
LVI
At the sound of the door opening, Kharl turns, a welcoming smile upon his face as he advances across the fourth-floor balcony of the west wing of the Palace of Eternal Light.
The man who steps onto the sunstone floor tiles of the balcony is muscularly wiry, with black hair streaked with gray. His eyes, a pale and piercing blue, fix on the dancing green orbs of the Second Magus. He wears shimmercloth blues and bows. “Honored Second Magus.”
“Honored Merchanter Advisor,” returns Kharl.
“You suggested that it might be better to meet informally.” Vyanat gestures around the empty balcony and smiles. “Most informal. Neither furnishings, nor obvious eavesdroppers. You will pardon me, honored Kharl’elth, if I lack the polish and the obscuring language of my predecessor. I am a plain-spoken trader. What do you wish?” He slips toward the chest-high cupridium railing, where he leans forward into the slight breeze. “It is rather pleasant here. The air is not only warm, but fresh.”
“Fresh, it is, and sometimes there is much to be said for forthrightness,” replies the red-haired Second Magus. “This may be such a time.” He smiles. “As with many in Cyad, there are certain aspects of my life over which I have no control, yet about which I must confess that I have certain…concerns.”
“As you say, most of us find that to be true. In what particular does this concern me? You would not have requested a meeting with me if it were not a matter of intrigue or trade.” Vyanat smiles. “And if you did, you are wasting time for both of us.”
“As you may know,” Kharl begins, looking out across the winter-gray waters of the harbor, his eyes looking into the distance, “my eldest son is consorted to a healer, and she is from a most distinguished family. Her father is Kien’elth, of whom you are likely to have heard.”
Vyanat nods, waiting.
“And one of her brothers is likely to become a first-level adept magus in a season or two, if not sooner. The other was not destined for the life of a magus, but has become quite well-known as a most effective Mirror Lancer battle commander.”