After eating a sizable if not particularly tasty breakfast, he gathers Strauxyn, Kusyl, and Dhoraat together in one of the small conference rooms in the headquarters building.
“This must be serious, ser,” says Kusyl, glancing around the chamber before taking a seat opposite Lerial across the circular table that could accommodate six at most.
“It is. You know I met with Arms-Commander Rhamuel early last evening to report on what happened at Estheld. There was one other matter I did not mention.” He pauses and looks at Kusyl, who is shaking his head, just slightly, then grins. “It’s not quite that bad, Kusyl. The arms-commander has requested that we remain here for a short time, just to make certain something else doesn’t happen.”
“There aren’t more Heldyan armsmen somewhere else, are there?” asks Strauxyn worriedly.
“Not that we know of. The problem he faces is that, right now, everything is up in the air in Swartheld. The Afritan Guard has suffered so many casualties and deaths that it doesn’t have a single intact battalion, and the only decent field commander is Subcommander Ascaar. He is on his way here, and I think that he’ll be very helpful in straightening out matters.”
“The new duke doesn’t trust some of his officers?” asks Kusyl.
“It’s not a question of trust. All those left are loyal.”
“Oh…” murmurs Strauxyn. “He wants someone who can lead who knows one end of a lance from the other—until Subcommander Ascaar gets here.”
“There’s also the problem that several merchanters may have been helping the Heldyans, and one may have a company of private guards and a chaos-mage or two.” Lerial has his doubts as to whether Maesoryk’s mages have survived, but he has no doubts that the merchanter’s private guards are still intact … and that no one seems to know where they are.
“Begging your pardon, ser,” Kusyl says slowly, “but it seems like trying to leave Afrit is like trying to swim out of a vat of molasses.”
Lerial can’t help but smile. “I’ve never tried, but…”
“I was pushed into one when I was ten. Starshit near drowned and died before they pulled me out. You don’t float and can’t swim, and can barely breathe.”
“What we face isn’t likely to be quite that bad,” Lerial replies, “but Cigoerne can’t afford to have Afrit fall apart after all this … and…” He isn’t quite sure what to say that is at least most accurate, yet persuasive.
“We’re the only ones the new duke is sure of, because all we want is to get out of here with as much skin left as we can keep,” says Kusyl.
“That’s partly what it comes down to,” admits Lerial. “The other part is that we’ve now got a duke who did his best to keep Afrit from attacking Cigoerne when he was arms-commander, and it would be a good thing to make sure he stays duke.”
Strauxyn’s face shows puzzlement.
“The only attack in the last five years was ordered by Duke Atroyan when Arms-Commander Rhamuel had such a bad flux they weren’t sure he’d recover.”
“Star-frigging thing, ser, when we got more interest in Afrit having a good duke than they do.” Kusyl shakes his head.
“So you can see why we need to be here a little longer.” Too long, considering we left Cigoerne almost exactly a season ago … well … a few days short of a season.
All three men nod, Kusyl offering a sardonically disgusted expression as well.
“It’ll be a story you can tell for years,” Lerial says.
“The worst thing, ser,” adds Kusyl, “is that we’ll be telling the truth, and everyone will think we’re lying.”
“As for today,” Lerial goes on, “I need a squad to accompany me to Merchanter Aenslem’s and then to the palace. They’ll likely be gone most of the day.”
“My second squad hasn’t seen that fancy villa,” volunteers Kusyl.
“Then they will,” replies Lerial.
A third after seventh glass, Lerial and the Second Squad from Twenty-third Company ride out through the headquarters gates and take the shore road to the avenue leading to the merchanter’s hill, a route Lerial chooses so that he can observe the harbor. From what he can tell, more than half the merchanter vessels that had been tied at the piers have departed. While Lerial is not absolutely certain, he has the feeling that all of those that have set sail, or most of them, anyway, were ships belonging to Alaphyn.
Was he aboard one of them? That wouldn’t have surprised Lerial in the slightest. But then, given the arrogance of at least some of the Afritan merchanters, it wouldn’t have surprised Lerial if Alaphyn remained, stoutly proclaiming his allegiance to Rhamuel.
Lerial can maintain only very slight shields, and does so, given what has happened to all too many senior officers … and also given his lack of trust, but no one even comes close to the Lancer squad on its way to Aenslem’s villa.
Haesychya is the one who meets Lerial in the circular entry hall of the villa.