“Commander Ikynd was rather short.”
“He probably said that I had a good record killing barbarians, and that was what you were being sent here to do.”
“Something like that,” concedes Gyraet.
“And he said it bluntly, and perhaps added a few words about the fact that you’d best be careful because I’ve been known to be hard on officers who don’t agree with me.”
Gyraet remains silent, but Lorn can sense through truth-reading that he has been accurate enough.
“Majer Dettaur, on the other hand, was doubtless more detailed, and suggested rather indirectly that while everyone is pleased with the results of what I do, that you be most careful in how you deal with me.”
“Ah…something like that.” Gyraet tries not to shift his weight in the chair, and his eyes do not meet Lorn’s.
“I could be most charming and welcoming,” Lorn goes on, “and mislead you, and cast doubts about the characterizations that have been made. I don’t think I will, because you’re obviously perceptive, and feel you’re in a most difficult situation, being assigned to command a company under the Butcher of Nhais.” He smiles. “Have you read the battle report about Nhais?”
“Ah…no, ser.”
Lorn walks to the end chest, which he opens, and from which he extracts one of the copies he has brought to Inividra with him. He closes the chest and then tenders the report to Gyraet. “Read it. Now. I’ll wait.”
“Yes, ser.” Gyraet doesn’t conceal his puzzlement, but takes the report.
As Gyraet begins to read, Lorn scans Dettaur’s scroll again, then sets it aside and glances toward the window. While his old acquaintance’s tone bothers Lorn, he has to ask himself whether Dettaur is so bent on revenge that he will take any opportunity to goad Lorn, or whether his missives are designed to push Lorn into early and unwise action.
Lorn frowns. Dettaur certainly had been unable to see Jerial’s disgust with him, but bright enough to understand exactly how Lorn had managed the Biehl situation. Then, Lorn reflects, does he have any choice but earlier action when firelance charges are becoming ever scarcer and the numbers of barbarian raiders growing?
“Ser?”
Lorn glances up. “I’m sorry. I was thinking.” He pauses. “You’ve finished it?”
“Yes, ser.”
“As you can see, many of the details of the report were authenticated by others, including various officers and enumerators. I wanted you to read it so that you would have some idea of what is happening north of the Grass Hills and why you’ve been assigned here.”
“Majer Dettaur did not mention the Hamorian blades.”
“He probably didn’t mention the fivescore herders and women and children they slaughtered, either.”
“Ah…no, ser.”
“And I doubt he mentioned that we usually have plenty of spare mounts here-close to twoscore at the moment.”
“No, ser.”
Lorn smiles once more, then nods. “That’s all for now, Captain. You might want to talk to the other officers, especially the more senior ones. I’m sure each has his own view of matters.” He stands. “I’ll see you shortly, at dinner.”
“Yes, ser.” Gyraet stands, then bows before he departs.
Lorn walks to the study window and looks out at the intermittent fat flakes that drift by the ancient panes of glass.
Did the ancients have to deal with the same kind of infighting? Or had they pulled together more because they had been required to in carving a land out of the wilderness and in fighting against the Accursed Forest?
Somehow, Lorn suspects that what he sees in the Mirror Lancers, and with Dettaur, is scarcely new. The melancholy tone of the silver volume of ancient verse attests to that.
And yet…the melancholy ancient was one of those who built the City of Light, of which there is no equal.
LVIII
Lorn watches from the study window as two provisions wagons roll through the light rain and across the courtyard to the storerooms beside the stables. With the rain, he is glad that he has not dispatched any patrols. While the snow beyond the Grass Hills is melting, his use of the chaos-glass has shown Lorn that the barbarians remain within their hamlets and that they have not yet begun to gather.
Unhappily, the unknown magus or Magi’i continue to follow him, clearly trying to determine what he is doing. Also unhappily, more traders have docked at Jera, and more Hamorian blades have been unloaded and stored in the warehouses there. Before long, the blades will make their way up the branches of the River Jeryna to an even greater number of barbarians.
Lorn turns, frowning, as there is a knock on his study door. “Yes?”
“Ser…there is a dispatch.” Nesmyl bows, then extends the scroll.
“Thank you.” Lorn nods and takes it.
As he leaves the study, Nesmyl closes the door. Lorn breaks the green lancer seal and begins to read.
Sub-Majer Lorn, Mirror Lancers, Commanding at Inividra,
Winter is about to end, and at the turn of spring, you can anticipate an increased number of barbarian raids. Commander Ikynd wishes to convey once more his concerns about the tactics you have used in the past. He would emphasize that regular single-company patrols are to be used. Multi-company patrols offer far too great a risk of allowing the barbarians to attack an unpatrolled area, especially now.
Furthermore, your field expertise will be needed, and therefore you are strongly urged to take command of the company of your choice, preferably one commanded by an undercaptain. In such circumstances, it should be noted that using multi-company patrols might be seen as preferential treatment for those lancers you command personally, and this is another reason why multi-company patrols should be minimized…
Assyadt has yet to receive additional mounts to support those companies transferred from the Accursed Forest. Large losses of mounts, as may occur with patrols involving more than one company, cannot be replaced…
These are trying times for all Mirror Lancers, and their commanding officers should and must rely on the practices and tactics that have served so well for so long, and to that end Commander Ikynd strongly urges that you turn your energies and talents.
for Commander Ikynd, Majer Dettaur,
Assistant Commander, Assyadt
Lorn sets down the scroll and walks to the window once more, looking into the gray day and drizzle for a time. Finally, he turns and crosses back to the door where he peers out. Nesmyl glances up.
“Nesmyl…if you would send word for the officers to gather in the officers’ study…I’d like to meet with them there.”
“Yes, ser.”
“Thank you.”
Lorn turns back to the study, and walks to the footchest against the wall that holds dispatches and other communications to the outpost, generally from Assyadt, but at times from Mirror Lancer headquarters in Cyad. He begins to sort through the dispatches, pulling some, leaving others, until he has close to a halfscore. He arranges them, then rolls them up, with the latest scroll from Dettaur around them.
He nods, hoping his instincts are correct. Finally, he tucks the scrolls under his arm and steps from the study.
“They should be ready, ser.” Nesmyl is standing by the desk with Yusaet beside him. The more-junior senior squad leader had either been the one to convey the message, or to hold the desk while Nesmyl did. “Thank you, Nesmyl. Or you, Yusaet, whoever passed the word.”
“Thank you, ser.” Yusaet bows.
“…got that cold look…wouldn’t want to be whoever’s he angry with…”
Lorn takes a breath as he leaves the square tower. He doesn’t need to show his anger with Dettaur to the officers. The drizzle seeps around him as he crosses the courtyard to the barracks building that holds the officers’ study. Under his arm is the large roll of scrolls.
As he enters the officers’ study, Lorn looks at the six officers who rise from where they have been sitting around two adjoining tables. “Please sit down.”