“Would there have been any point in revealing that he had distorted the records? Would it have helped the Mirror Lancers?”
“No.” Luss shakes his head. “Most sub-majers who found their actions debased by a superior would not have acted in such a fashion.”
“I cannot say I enjoyed letting Majer Dettaur have an honorable death,” Lorn admits. “But my satisfaction would have served the lancers ill.”
Luss nods. “Indeed it would. Your restraint there was impressive. Because of the difficulties that might have occurred, Majer Dettaur’s reports to lancer headquarters have also been destroyed, and, as you had apparently already suggested, I have requested that Commander Ikynd have duplicates of your reports copied and sent here for the records.”
“I think you will find them thorough and accurate,” Lorn replies.
“Of that, I am most certain.” Luss smiles. “I have little else to add. I did wish to meet you, but the Majer-Commander will be detailing your duties. He was most particular that you would be working directly for him. You should feel flattered. He seldom takes such an interest in a sub-majer.”
“I feel most fortunate,” Lorn replies. “In working for the Majer-Commander, and in having your interest and advice, ser.”
“I am glad you feel so, and trust you will always do so.” Luss rises and steps around the table. “We need to bring you to the Majer-Commander.”
Lorn stands and follows the senior officer back past the conference table and out into the foyer area, past the staffer’s table and to the double doors on the north end of the foyer.
Luss opens the door and motions for Lorn to enter. The sub-majer does so, and Luss follows him inside, closing the door.
The study is the same length as that of the Captain-Commander, but wider, close to thirty cubits, and there are windowed doors that open onto a roof terrace that, Lorn can see through all the windows on each of the three walls before him, surrounds the study.
The gray-eyed, gray-haired Mirror Lancer officer who stands beside his table desk is not so tall as either Lorn or Luss, and more slender, yet there is the strength of a tested sabre in his frame, and in the gray eyes that seem to take in everything.
“Ser…Sub-Majer Lorn,” offers Luss.
“Greetings.” Rynst looks at Luss. “And thank you, Luss. I will be talking to you later about the deployments.”
“Yes, ser.” Luss inclines his head and slips back out of the study.
Lorn stands waiting.
“Come on…have a seat. It’s more comfortable than a firewagon. Tygyl said that you came almost directly here.”
“Yes, ser.” Lorn steps forward, past the conference table that is more than twice the size of the one in the Captain-Commander’s office, and takes the seat opposite the left-hand corner of the polished table desk. Through the window before which Rynst sits, Lorn can see both the gray-blue waters of the harbor and the Palace of Eternal Light, the outlines of both blurred by the mist of the late-spring day.
Rynst’alt surveys Lorn slowly. “You are indeed your father’s son. It’s too bad that he didn’t live to see it. I’m sorry for his death.”
Lorn forces his himself to swallow and his face to turn blank. “His death?”
Rynst frowns. “You didn’t know?”
“No, ser. I did not know. I worried because there was no response to my scrolls home, and I have feared, but I did not know. I did fear the worst.”
“You were sent scrolls.”
Lorn offers a tight smile. “Majer Dettaur thought it best I should not be troubled by scrolls from my consort or from my family-only from my sire.”
Rynst’s face tightens. “Those are harsh words about a fellow officer, and someone who has been close to your family.”
Lorn meets the older officer’s eyes. “I do not trouble myself to lie, ser. He would have destroyed the outpost at Inividra to ensure my death. He put my men at risk with every order he issued in the name of Commander Ikynd.”
Rynst raises his eyebrows. “If that be so…it might explain much. Yet I cannot see why he would do such. He had a bright future.”
“Mine looked brighter to him, ser. That, he could not abide.”
“You will have to deal with this…”
“I already have. When I reported to Commander Ikynd, Dettaur attacked me with a sabre. I was forced to defend myself.” Lorn smiles. “I took the liberty of bringing his orders for you to examine.” The sub-majer extends the rolled bundle.
As he takes the scrolls, Rynst sighs. “You are indeed your father’s son. Act quickly, and support your actions.” He pauses. “Your father was more than any knew, as you will discover.”
Lorn lowers his eyes for a moment, trying to control the burning in them, even though his father’s death is not the sudden shock he has expressed. He swallows. “I’m sorry, ser. Even though I suspected…”
“I can understand that.” Rynst nods. He reads through the scrolls, cursorily, then looks at Lorn. “You did not protest Dettaur’s actions?”
“How?” Lorn’s lips twist. “By dispatching a lancer messenger for a three-day ride to post a scroll that would be read by the Captain-Commander?”
Rynst frowns. “Do you really think you can wear Alyiakal’s mantle?”
“No, ser. No man can wear another’s.”
“That sounds like Kien.” The Majer-Commander shakes his head. “Such honesty is most dangerous in Cyad, young Lorn.”
“Ser…dishonesty with you is far more dangerous.”
Rynst laughs, a low rueful sound, shaking his head. “Chaos-light…you sound so much like your sire. The dry honesty…” He shakes his head again. After a long moment, the Majer-Commander pulls a pouch from his desk drawer and extends it. “You’ve been promoted. You’re a majer. I can’t afford to have aides who are less than majers. No one listens to them. Most don’t listen to majers, but you’ve enough background and a reputation for action that being a majer should be enough. Besides, too much rank right now would not be wise.”
“Yes, ser.” Lorn takes the soft shimmercloth pouch.
Rynst leans forward. “Your tasks are very simple. You do what I ask. You do nothing for anyone else, unless you are certain it is to accomplish what I have set before you.”
“Yes, ser.”
“You have not had any furlough or leave in close to two years. Is that not correct?”
“Yes, ser.”
“You need to see your consort and your family, especially after learning of your father’s death. You have the rest of this eightday, and all of the next. When you return, in addition to your normal reporting duties, your first task is straightforward enough. You write well, and swiftly. That is clear.” Rynst’s lips twist into a smile that is near-ironic. “Not all appreciate that. You know that the chaos-towers are failing. Otherwise you would not have gone to Jera. Draft a plan for dealing with the Jeranyi. For the first draft, do not consider the factions in Cyad. Once you return, you will draft what you believe to be the best lancer solution. Do not put a line to paper until you return. Is that clear?”
“Yes, ser.”
“I will see you an eightday from oneday.” Rynst smiles slightly as he stands, “And Majer…two matters: First, put on the insignia before you leave the outer study. And, second, it might be best if no other officers and enumerators disappeared-at least for a while. I don’t have officers to waste, even bad ones, and I’ve suggested, even to the Captain-Commander, that you’ll refrain from such if he will. Now…go and spend some time with your consort and family.”
“Yes, ser.” Lorn stands.
Rynst’s smile is fatherly-almost-as he watches Lorn leave his study.
LXXXV
Lorn wants to touch the emblem on his collar-the miniature crossed lances-as he sits in the carriage that conveys him back down to the Traders’ Plaza. The short trip seems almost a metaphor for his recent life, as he feels he moves from point to point with nothing exactly being settled, each action somehow not quite finished.
He glances through the carriage window. A patch of blue sky has finally appeared over the harbor, spreading slowly as he watches, and mist begins to rise off the white sunstone piers where the warm sun strikes them.