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

“Was I wrong?”


She shakes her head, then says, “I would suggest that you have Norstaan pass the word to all pier guards that a healer from Cigoerne may be coming and that he will supply a squad to convey her to the palace if such a healer arrives. Norstaan will keep that confidence, as will I.”

“I should have thought of that. He did make the arrangements for sending the dispatch, and I know it got as far as Subcommander Ascaar and that he sent it on.”

“Then it is in your father’s hands … and hers.” She looks directly at Lerial. “Thank you. Even if it is not to be, thank you.”

Lerial decides not to bring up the possible complications if Emerya does choose to come to Swartheld, although her presence would not likely cause as much of a concern as once it might have—you hope—given what the Mirror Lancers have done for Afrit.

Kyedra offers a full smile, the one that transfigures her. “I’m glad you came.”

“So am I.”

“I want to hear more about you, your sister … not about the fighting…”

“Only if you’ll offer the same…”

“But nothing about what may or may not be. Do you understand?” Her voice is firm as she asks the question.

“I do. Too many others can determine the future.” Lerial phrases his words that way because he is not willing to accept that others have full control of their fate.

“Start with your sister.”

While Lerial wonders about why Kyedra would wish that, he begins, “She was only two when we first met, and she’s changed quite a bit since then. Like you, she knows her own mind, and there have been times…”

Lerial and Kyedra are still talking nearly a glass later, when there is a knock on the study door.

“You can come in, Mother,” says Kyedra with a smile, saying in a lower voice to Lerial, “It can’t be anyone else.”

The study door opens and Haesychya follows the serving girl bearing a tray into the study. On the tray are two platters, one of butter biscuits and one of small cakes, along with three beakers and a pitcher of pale lager.

Lerial understands fully, but lets Haesychya make the obvious statement.

“I can’t let you have all of Lerial’s time, Kyedra.”

“I’m glad you let me have some of it.” Kyedra smiles cheerfully.

So am I, thinks Lerial, knowing that after the refreshments, and casual and polite conversation, it will be time for him to take his leave.





XLVII


After leaving Aenslem’s villa late on sevenday afternoon, Lerial rides back to the palace and meets briefly with Norstaan, conveying exactly what Kyedra has suggested.

The undercaptain smiles. “Yes, ser. I’ll make sure of that.”

“I can’t say if the healer is coming, but if she does, I don’t think there should be any hindrance to anything she may be able to accomplish in improving the duke’s health.”

“No, ser. We’re agreed on that. Thank you for letting me know … and I won’t tell him until you want me to.”

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure, ser.”

Lerial returns to Afritan Guard headquarters, where he summons his officers and Dhoraat, whom he has promoted to senior squad leader, to the small conference room, “I had a meeting earlier today with the duke—he’s is now the duke in name as well as in fact. He has requested that we undertake one more task before we leave Afrit—once Subcommander Ascaar arrives in Swartheld.”

All three men facing him across the table look dubious, and Lerial cannot blame them.

“You all know that one of the reasons why the Afritans lost so many men, and why Duke Atroyan was killed, was because there were traitors among the Afritan merchanters. It also appears that one or two of these merchanters may have had some part in the disappearance of Lord Mykel, the duke’s younger brother…” Lerial goes on to explain what Rhamuel has relayed to him and Rhamuel’s “request.” He finishes by saying, “We could refuse this, but after all the years of poor relations with Afrit, I think having the duke owe us would be better than declaring he is on his own on this, especially since, if he were the one to discipline the traitors, many of the merchanters would view him badly … and he cannot afford that much ill will at present.”

“More dirty work, if you ask me, ser,” declares Kusyl.

“Absolutely, but, all things considered, it’s worth doing. It also makes the point that the duke trusts us, and that might just make his merchanters less likely to cheat Duke Kiedron’s merchanters as well … or not so badly.”

Kusyl’s sour expression indicates his feeling about merchanters so expressively that Lerial can barely refrain from laughing.

“When will this happen?” asks Strauxyn.

“Not before oneday at the earliest, because Subcommander Ascaar hasn’t arrived yet.”

“What company are you thinking about?” asks Kusyl.

“Eleventh Company, unless any of you have other suggestions.” Lerial looks from Kusyl to Strauxyn, and then to Dhoraat.

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