“Everyone left looks to recover.” Kusyl stops and looks at Lerial directly.
“You’re wondering when we’ll be able to leave for Cigoerne.” Lerial shrugs. “I’ll meet with the duke tomorrow and see what we can work out.” He’s not about to promise anything, especially before talking to Rhamuel, not with more than a few matters unresolved, such as the entire question of what to do with the merchanters so that the same situation doesn’t reoccur in a few years, with even worse results. “If there’s nothing else … that’s all for now.”
The yawn that Lerial stifles after his last words reminds him of just how tired he really is. He stands and manages to smile. As he walks back toward his quarters, the belated realization strikes him that he has never sent another dispatch to Cigoerne.
Another thing to do tomorrow.
LV
As tired as he is on sixday night, Lerial still has trouble falling asleep, and what sleep he does get is filled with disturbing dreams, most of which he does not recall. The one fragment of a dream he does remember when he wakes at dawn on sevenday is one where Kyedra is telling him that she must either consort his brother Lephi or the son of Merchanter Maesoryk. Lerial does not recall whether the Kyedra of his dreams explained why, but recalling what that explanation might have been is unnecessary. Lerial understands all too well that her mother and grandfather or Rhamuel, if not all three, will choose her consort for either his power or his wealth.
Lerial hurries to the mess to grab something to eat and finds Norstaan there, as if waiting for him.
“Good morning, ser.”
“Good morning.”
“If you wouldn’t mind, ser, I’d prefer to accompany you to the palace this morning so that we could both report to the duke at once.”
“I wouldn’t mind at all. That way he won’t have to listen to two reports, and we’re likely to present a fuller picture together.” Lerial appreciates Norstaan’s deference, since the undercaptain could easily, and justifiably, have reported directly to Rhamuel. Then too, he suspects Norstaan might not want to be the one reporting Mykel’s death and the apparent lack of action in dealing with Maesoryk. Either way, a joint appearance and report will be better for all concerned.
“We should eat, though. I’ll need to spend a moment with my captains after breakfast, and write a quick dispatch that I’ll have to impose on you to have sent, I fear. All that, I hope, won’t take long.”
“However long it takes, ser.”
After eating and then meeting briefly with Dhoraat, Strauxyn, and Kusyl, Lerial immediately writes a brief dispatch to his father, although it is formally addressed to “Kiedron, Duke of Cigoerne.” The dispatch is effectively a summary of what has happened with a conclusion stating that he will be remaining in Swartheld for at least several more days to assure that a few more matters are completed. He does not specify what those are.
With Norstaan’s assurances that the dispatch will wend its way southward to Cigoerne, since Lerial does not wish to send a full squad, which is what would be necessary, to convey it with Mirror Lancers, Lerial sets off for the palace with Norstaan and his squad, and Kusyl and his first squad from Twenty-third Company escorting the wagon that contains Mykel’s body. They enter the palace gates at a third past seventh glass.
Norstaan makes arrangements for guards for the wagon. Lerial leaves Kusyl with his squad, having quietly suggested that the undercaptain find out what he can while waiting for Lerial.
Lerial and Norstaan are climbing the staircase to the second level when Lerial senses someone hurrying after them. He glances back to see Ascaar and waits for the commander. Norstaan eases back down several steps and waits as well.
“Do you have a moment before you meet with the duke?” asks Ascaar.
“Since he hasn’t summoned me, I have as many moments as you need.” Lerial grins. “What do you have in mind?”
“Just telling you a few things.”
“Such as?”
“While you were gone finishing up what I imagine were unpleasant details, I interviewed as many surviving captains and majers as I could.” Ascaar raises his eyebrows.
“And?” Lerial doesn’t feel like guessing, not after having dealt with both Jhosef and Maesoryk.
“They all believe that Atroyan was an idiot to even think of attacking Cigoerne and that Rhamuel was a genius to ask for your assistance. They’ll never say that. It’s what they meant. There were phrases like ‘I’d never want to face the overcaptain across a battlefield’ … little things like that.” Ascaar’s tone is gently sardonic. “A few would follow you to the Rational Stars. I also heard that you executed an insubordinate majer on the spot.”
“Not the most diplomatic thing to do. Subcommander Drusyn was less than pleased.”
“And then you led his battalion to victory at South Point.”