“That way Drusyn would only have to worry about weapons and not wizards,” concludes Sammyl.
“That would be the plan,” says Lerial.
Left unsaid is the understanding that, in battles, seldom will matters go as planned.
Almost a glass later, after the three have agreed on the general approach for fiveday and sixday, and some of the supporting details, Sammyl leaves, promising to return shortly. While Rhamuel rests, Lerial sits down at the table desk in the sitting room and begins to draft a dispatch.
When he finally finishes it, he reads over the words once more.
Ser—
This may be the first word you receive of the Heldyan attack on Swartheld. The Afritan Guard is fighting two invasion forces, as well as extensive treachery. This treachery included an explosion which destroyed part of the ducal palace in Swartheld and killed the duke and his son, the heir presumptive. This has left Rhamuel, the arms-commander and the brother of the duke, as the heir apparent. He was injured as well, and has severe damage to his lower back and legs. Despite the injury, he is fully alert and in command. Given matters here in Swartheld, a more complete recovery on his part is beyond my limited abilities as a healer, and I would suggest that a more experienced healer, if at all possible, the healer who made certain he recovered from his previous injury, be escorted to Swartheld, by watercraft, in order to assure that Afrit will have its most capable duke in the best possible health for as long as possible. I would not make this suggestion did I not feel that its implementation would be of the greatest possible benefit for both Cigoerne and Afrit.
After reading it over, he signs it with his name and rank. Next, he addresses the sheet that will become the envelope.
Kiedron
Duke of Cigoerne
Of the Rational Stars
Then he summons Norstaan.
When the undercaptain appears, Lerial says, “I understand you have often arranged for dispatches to reach places expeditiously, sometimes not always through the usual … manner.” This is totally a guess on Lerial’s part, but given what he has seen so far in Afrit, someone has to have done that for Rhamuel.
Norstaan frowns, pauses. “Ser…”
“I need a dispatch sent.” Lerial extends the sheet. “I need this dispatch sent, and it needs to get to its destination swiftly. Go ahead and read it.” He extends the envelope sheet. “And here is to whom it will go eventually.”
Norstaan’s eyes widen.
“Just read the dispatch first. Then you can ask questions.”
When Norstaan finishes, he looks at Lerial, his expression half-quizzical, half-hopeful.
“The dispatch you have,” Lerial explains, “will be enclosed, sealed, within a dispatch to Majer Jhalet, the commander of the Mirror Lancers in Cigoerne. Can you arrange for this, even with the chaos around us?”
“Yes, ser. Do you think…”
“I don’t know. I only know two things in this regard. The first is that Rhamuel is likely to be the next duke and his health is paramount for the sake of Afrit. The second is that the healer in question is the only one in all Hamor who might be able to do more than I have.”
“Ser … I can get it to Subcommander Ascaar in Shaelt … but to go farther south…”
“Then do so. His men, or Major Chorazt’s in Luba, should be able to get the dispatch to the Lancer post in Ensenla, and the lancers there can get it to Cigoerne.” You can only hope that this will work. Even so, it took you almost two eightdays to cover that distance. A fast courier might do it in half that time.
”Yes, ser. Will the duke…?”
“I don’t know. But I have to ask.”
“Yes, ser.” Norstaan nods. “I’ll get the dispatch to Subcommander Ascaar. Both dispatches, I mean.”
“Good. I’ll have the package ready in less than a glass.” Lerial pauses, then adds, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell the arms-commander. I wouldn’t want to get his hopes up.”
“Yes, ser. I understand.“
You just hope Father and Emerya will understand as well. A second thought crosses his mind. The majer would.
XXIX