“You may not. If you do, you will regain some feeling in your legs … possibly within a season. If you don’t, it’s unlikely that you will.”
Rhamuel nods, if in a manner conveying a certain resignation. “That’s what Jaermyd said as well. He also said that, without what you did, I might have had even less feeling below my waist.” He looks to Sammyl. “What are your thoughts about taking over the countinghouses of Effram?”
“Take temporary possession of them, but leave everything as it is until matters are settled, one way or another, with Heldya. If Khesyn does not restore Fhastal’s countinghouses, then turn Effram’s over to Fhastal.”
“Have you heard anything about Mykel?” Lerial isn’t quite sure why he is asking, except that the gate squad leader had mentioned a courier from Lake Reomer, which was where Mykel had been headed.
“He never reached the lake,” replies Rhamuel. “Neither did Oestyn. There’s no sign of either. I’ve sent out men to search for signs of them along the way they took.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You had nothing to do with whatever happened.”
“No … but I can be sorry for everything that has happened to you and your family.”
Rhamuel shakes his head. “You represent Cigoerne. We have not always seen eye-to-eye. Yet you and your family have supported me and mine more than most in Afrit. Sometimes … I find the world strange.” He forces a smile. “There’s not much you can do here at the palace. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”
“Then I think I’ll ride over to Aenslem’s and see how he is doing. I still worry about him.”
Rhamuel raises his eyebrows, but only says, “Haesychya will appreciate that. Aenslem might … also.”
In less than a half glass, Lerial and his squad are outside the iron gates of Aenslem’s villa. The guards look suspiciously at Lerial and the Mirror Lancer squad.
“I’m Overcaptain Lerial, and I’m also a healer. I was the one who helped Merchanter Aenslem last night. You can ask him or Lady Haesychya. We’ll wait.”
Despite what Lerial has said, he and the lancers do have to wait almost a tenth of a glass before a guard comes running back down the lane and talks quietly to the head guard. After several moments, the head guard looks up.
“I’m sorry for the delay, ser. I didn’t know. With everything that’s happened…”
“I understand. You’re doing your duty.”
The guards open just one of the iron gates and watch as Lerial and Second Squad ride through.
While Lerial hopes that Kyedra might be the one to meet him at the entrance to the villa, Haesychya is the one waiting after he dismounts and walks up the steps to the double doors. “Thank you for coming. I’m glad you did.” She gestures toward the entry hall.
Lerial accompanies her into the coolness of the villa. “How is he?”
“Much better … but…”
“But not so much as you’d like?”
“He’s still pale to my eyes.”
“He may be for several days. I’ll see.”
Haesychya smiles gently as she walks through the archway into the north corridor. “I can see you hoped to see someone else. She’s playing plaques with her grandfather. He insisted on it.”
“That’s still a fair improvement. It’s not a strain on him?”
Haesychya shakes her head. “He’s just not … maybe I worry too much.”
All Lerial can say is, “I’ll have to see.”
“How are you doing?”
“Much better. How are you doing?”
“As I can. I doubt you’re back to full strength.”
Her words tell Lerial not to say more, even indirectly, about her loss of her consort and son. “Physically … I’m much, much better. In order-chaos terms, it will take a little longer.”
As close as he is to Haesychya, Lerial can sense, even without trying, a certain sense of chaotic feeling. About her losses? Or about you? About Kyedra? His lips twist into a wry smile. That makes sense, given that he’s possibly saved her father, yet is the “wrong brother.” Then, it’s more likely she’s not even thinking about you. She’s got far greater problems and losses.
As he steps into the study behind Haesychya, Lerial sees that Aenslem is now seated in one of the leather armchairs with the side table before him. Across the table from the merchanter sits Kyedra in a straight-backed chair. Both hold plaques in their hands, and there are small piles of plaques set facedown on each side of the small table. Kyedra looks up and toward the door. Then she smiles warmly as her eyes take in Lerial. Once again, Lerial is amazed at how her smile transforms her from an attractive young woman to a beautiful one, and he can’t help but return the smile.
“I didn’t know you’d be coming again,” Kyedra says, rising from the chair.
“I thought it wise. I wasn’t at my best yesterday afternoon, and I worried that I might have missed something.”
Aenslem chuckles. “Missed something, Lord Lerial?”
Lerial hopes he is not flushing too obviously as he replies. “Even Rhamuel thought I should come.”