Heritage of Cyador (The Saga of Recluce, #18)

“What else have you studied?” presses Mykel.

Lerial finishes what he is eating, then takes a swallow of the lager before replying, since the Atlan pork is not so much spicy as throat-searing and nose-burning, small as the mouthful he took had been. Finally, he speaks. “History, geography, practical mathematics, grammar and logic, the basics of engineering. Later on, with Majer Altyrn, I learned about strategy, tactics, and maps … And … of course, blades.”

“The education of an officer,” says Oestyn blandly.

“You should be glad of it,” Rhamuel responds. “He kept Luba from suffering great destruction.”

“No great loss,” sniffs Mykel.

Oestyn nods, if only slightly.

Lerial understands that the purpose of the dinner is not just to make sure he is fed. Even so, he is hungry, and he takes a bite of the more succulent fowl, a far larger bite, and far more to his taste, he discovers.

“Perhaps not to the builders of poetic epics,” says Rhamuel, “but that damage would have resulted in reduced tariffs … and you know how the duke would have felt about that.”

The duke? Very interesting. Rhamuel’s choice of words in what is almost a family dinner is most suggestive.

“He’d use it to cut my stipend. You don’t have to remind me, Rham.”

“Sometimes, I do.” The arms-commander’s words are gentle.

“You’d think verse and painting were an offense against the laws.”

“Just a privilege allowed by the laws,” Lerial finds himself saying, “and made possible by those who defend them.”

“Lerial … you sound like my brother here. No wonder he likes you.”

“We share many similarities.” Lerial makes his words both light and wry.

Oestyn smiles, but Lerial finds the expression both defensive and somehow predatory.

“Are you here to court my niece?” asks Mykel.

“Not that I know of,” replies Lerial. “I was invited by your brother, and according to his invitation, it was because I rendered some assistance to Afrit against Duke Khesyn.”

“The barbarian of Heldya,” sniffs Oestyn. “He pursues anything with a head scarf, especially those close to him or his favorite merchanters, and if his pursuit is not successful, then those merchanters fall out of favor … and sometimes permanently out of sight. Some men can be so…”

“Uncultured?” suggests Lerial.

“Precisely,” agrees Oestyn.

“Khesyn wouldn’t know a verse if it paraded before him wearing nothing but a head scarf,” adds Mykel.

“Especially if it wore nothing but a head scarf,” corrects Oestyn.

“I understand you also paint,” Lerial says, trying not to hurry, but definitely wanting to change the subject.

“Mykel is quite adept with pastels,” says Rhamuel. “He did a beautiful portrait of Kyedra.”

“It was one of my best,” admits Mykel. “I don’t do many portraits. I prefer landscapes. There’s a beautiful scene at the lake…”

Less than a third of a glass later, Rhamuel clears his throat and rises. “I’m glad we could get together, but I have several matters to attend to before tonight’s entertainment, and I believe Lerial does as well.”

“Unfortunately, I do.” Lerial stands. “I do appreciate the chance to meet both of you. I assume you will be at the ball.”

“We will be,” replies Mykel. “Oestyn and I wouldn’t wish to displease our brother the duke.”

“Then I’m sure we will see each other there.” Lerial inclines his head politely, then leaves with Rhamuel.

Neither man speaks until they are well away from the dining room.

“I thought you should hear what Mykel has to say in less formal circumstances.”

Lerial isn’t quite sure what to say, but finally manages, “He’s not quite what I’d thought. After meeting everyone else, I’d expected someone … less robust-looking.”

“Oh … for all his love of painting and verse, he’s an excellent rider, and he’s swum across Lake Reomer any number of times. He could be good with a blade. He’s actually rather accomplished with a staff, but he says blades make him ill.”

They might at that. Lerial just nods and says, “I’ve heard that edged weapons, even knives, can do that to some people.”

“It’s a good thing you and I don’t have that problem.” Rhamuel stops at the foot of the staircase. “I’ll see you tonight. I do have to check and see if there are any dispatches.”

Modesitt, L. E., Jr.'s books