Scion of Cyador

CVI

Lorn glances down the white granite walls of the public corridor that leads from the section of the Quarter of the Magi’i where parents can bring their children to be tested for chaos-order talents, to the adjoining doorway. Beyond the door is a second corridor, one that leads to the building where the older student Magi’i receive their instruction.

Lorn steps through the doorway with confidence, and into the corridor that is usually empty in midmorning. A good hundred cubits farther, he steps through a side door, whose chaos-lock he slides aside. He smiles, briefly, noting to himself that sliding a chaos-lock is far easier than sliding a bronze or cupridium bolt. He hopes his order-chaos abilities have been long since disregarded by the Magi’i, or at least undervalued, as he closes the door behind him and walks along another, far less public way to a narrow set of white granite steps.

Lorn takes the side stairs, the ones he has scouted with his chaos-glass, and the ones that are used only by the Magi’i-not that there is any overt prohibition on use by others, since it requires the skills of a first- or second-level adept, or a renegade lancer magus, to unlock the doors.

At the top of the steps is a foyer, far smaller than those in Mirror Lancer Court, with a single table desk set on the shimmering polished-sunstone floor.

The fourth-level adept, painfully young-faced, glances up from his table, then looks again as he takes in the formal cream-and-green Mirror Lancer uniform and the insignia of a majer. His mouth works, then finally offers a question. “Ser?”

“Majer Lorn of the Mirror Lancers, son of Kien’elth. I am here to see the Third Magus.” Lorn smiles pleasantly.

“I…I’m not sure…”

“Spare me the lie,” Lorn says gently. “He is in. He may choose to see me; he may not; but let us keep that part honest. Just ask him if he will spare me a few moments.”

“Ah, yes, ser. I’ll see.” The very junior magus scurries down the corridor his desk blocks, knocking at the second door on the left, and then stepping inside.

Lorn waits, a half-amused smile on his face.

Almost immediately, the fourth-level adept returns, trying not to shake his head. He looks at Lorn, the surprise evident on his young face. “He…he said he would see you, ser.”

“Thank you.” Lorn inclines his head slightly. “I appreciate your assistance.”

“It’s the second door, ser.”

Conscious of the wondering gaze of the junior adept on his back, Lorn walks to the indicated door, which had been left ajar, and steps inside.

Liataphi stands as Lorn closes the door behind him. Lorn bows and straightens, waiting.

The fourth-floor study, like that of the Majer-Commander, has a view of the Palace of Eternal Light, save that the Palace is to the northwest, rather than to the east. The study is also smaller even than that of the Captain-Commander, and not all that much larger than the study Lorn had used as commander in Biehl. The furnishings are simple, ancient, but polished and unmarred, consisting of a wide table desk, four golden-oak bookcases set against the granite of the inner wall, and three wooden armchairs set before the desk and one behind it.

Liataphi himself looks at Lorn with dark circles under pale gray eyes that are nearly colorless, except for the hint of sun-gold that seems to come and go. His blond hair is thin, short and wispy, yet he is broad-shouldered and muscular, and half a head taller than Lorn. After a moment, he smiles, faintly, yet not coldly. “I must say that your appearance here does not totally surprise me. You are your father’s son.” He gestures to the chairs and reseats himself.

“Thank you for seeing me.” Lorn takes the chair closest to the door.

“I must remind you, Majer, that for a junior member of the Majer-Commander’s personal staff to seek out the Third Magus would be considered…unusual.”

“Possibly, I should have done so earlier. My father left me a letter which suggested that I should pay my respects to you. I was transferred back to Cyad, as you may know, rather quickly, and I have not done this kind of work before…” Lorn lets the words drag out slightly.

“All that you say is true. As was all that your father said. But I suspect that there is far more there, or you would not be here.”

Lorn smiles and nods. “My father also suggested that I would need to make contacts outside the Mirror Lancer Court, and he felt that you are and have always been trustworthy.”

“That does not mean that I will agree with you-or with the Mirror Lancers,” the Third Magus points out.

“No, ser, it does not.”

“Might I ask why you would not seek out the father of your sister’s consort?” A smile lightens Liataphi’s eyes, but does not move his mouth.

“You could, ser, and I would respond that most times it has been unwise to go against my father’s advice.”

Liataphi laughs, a booming sound that fills the study. “Would that my daughters felt that way.”

“Your third daughter respects and accepts your advice. I have never met the others, except Syreal, and that was but in passing.”

“You and your consort have impressed Aleyar. Her judgment is usually sound, I have found, like that of her mother.” Liataphi nods. “I am not unaware that you are a friend of young Tyrsal. Most times I would not pry, but…this time I will. Is he a good match for my daughter?”

Lorn considers for a moment. “I would think so. He is a good person. He is the most honest and the most thoughtful of all those I knew as a student mage. I do not know your daughter well, for I have had dinner with her and Tyrsal but several times, and that is why I could not venture more. I would that my sisters had shown interest in him.”

“You believe that.” Liataphi nods.

“Yes, ser. But I would not suggest that Tyrsal be considered a likely candidate for one of the Three Magi’i.”

“You feel he is somehow deficient?” Liataphi’s eyebrows lift.

“No. He is perceptive, intelligent, and trustworthy. He can discern plots and schemes from the slightest hint. I do not believe he is devious enough.”

“Another fourth magus-like your sire?”

“He is much like my father in those ways,” Lorn admits.

Liataphi laughs. “When I listen to you, Lorn, I almost wish I had had a son.”

“You can talk to Tyrsal. He will listen and consider.”

“From you…from your family, those are high words.” Liataphi pauses. “Why did your sisters not choose him?”

“Jerial will choose none. Myryan cares too much to deceive Tyrsal about what she does not feel.” Lorn feels that he must be honest and direct, but the revelations are dangerous. Still, he can no longer wait and react. He may have waited too long already.

Liataphi nods slowly. “You risk much in seeing me. Especially so directly.”

“I risk less in coming directly. Often the Majer-Commander has members of his staff discuss matters with Magi’i, and I am very junior.”

“Not so junior as you think. Still…” Liataphi’s sad, pale eyes focus directly on Lorn. “What do you seek from me?”

“Your advice, and, if you feel so inclined, your support in the future.”

Another of the booming laughs fills the study. When the sound dies away, Liataphi shakes his head. “In that…In that, you are most unlike your sire.”

“I lack his ability to convince indirectly, ser. I can but ask.”

“That you have. That you have.” There is a pause. “I will do what I can, but I will not act against the spirit of the Magi’i. I will not oppose your efforts unless they threaten the Magi’i.”

“I can ask for no more.”

“You could, but you know I could not give it.” Liataphi smiles. “And what of Tyrsal?”

“He understands, and…he is like my sire.”

“I thought as much.” Liataphi stands. “I think we should take a brief walk, if you do not mind. I would like to have you see an old acquaintance of yours. He is an assistant to the First Magus, and a cousin through consortship to the Second Magus, and he may be yet related through his own consortship of the Second Magus’s daughter. I suppose that would make him a relative of yours as well, in more than one way.” The Third Magus shrugs. “Then, most of us are related somehow.”

“That must be Rustyl,” Lorn says as he rises.

“He has risen quickly within the hidden side of the Quarter, and some say that Chyenfel is grooming him to be one of the Three.” Liataphi walks to the door and opens it, turning down the corridor and away from the foyer.

“The hidden side? Would there not be more support for him were he more visible?” asks Lorn openly as he hurries to stay with the taller and long-legged Second Magus.

“I do not question the First Magus about some matters,” Liataphi says lightly. “Neither does the Second Magus, although it is likely our reasons are somewhat different.”

“The Second Magus…it’s strange, but I’ve never actually met him,” Lorn says.

“I am sure you will in time, especially with your sister as his son’s consort.”

“That may be. I’m told that Ciesrt has become more and more capable as a magus, and that he applies himself with great diligence.”

“His diligence would be a credit to any magus, and his devotion to chaos, I would judge, even outstrips that of his sire.” Liataphi slows as he takes another corridor that branches off to the left. He stops at a half-open door and knocks on the heavy golden-oak door itself, then pushes it open and steps into the small study that holds little more than a table desk, several bookcases, and three chairs, one behind the desk. A light warm breeze blows from the single narrow window.

“Ser!” Rustyl stands, his deep-set eyes flicking from Liataphi to Lorn, his narrow features impassive.

“Majer Lorn, I believe, was once a student with you.” Liataphi offers a pleasant and superficial smile. “He is now on the staff of the Majer-Commander, and I found him quite unexpectedly, and thought I would bring him by to see you before he returns to Mirror Lancer Court.”

“It’s been quite some time, Rustyl,” Lorn says easily. He gestures. “I see that you are a full first-level adept. That’s quite an honor and accomplishment.”

“Oh…thank you. I’ve been fortunate in what I’ve been able to do in the Magi’i.”

“Were you involved in the Accursed Forest ward project? If so, I’d like to thank you,” Lorn goes on. “Its success has made possible the transfer of more lancers to deal with the threat of the barbarians.”

“That was an effort by the First Magus, and my part was minor,” Rustyl admits. “At the time, I was assisting the Mirror Engineers in Fyrad.”

Lorn detects the shading of truth in the response, but merely nods. “And now?”

“I do whatever the First Magus requires.”

“As do we all,” Liataphi says dryly.

“Well…whatever you do, I’m sure it is for the good of Cyador, and I know that you will continue that work. It’s good to see you.” Lorn smiles and nods.

“I’d best be escorting the Majer out of the Quarter, Rustyl, but I thought it would be a shame if I did not bring him by.”

“Thank you, ser.” Rustyl inclines his head. “It was good to see you again, Lorn.”

“And you, too.” Lorn can easily detect the lack of truth in Rustyl’s parting words, and the dislike beneath their pleasant tone.

Liataphi and Lorn walk back down the corridor.

“I thought you should see Rustyl, if briefly,” offers the older magus.

“Your kindness and perception are much appreciated,” Lorn replies.

“In these times that verge on great change,” Liataphi continues, “it is best to know how those who may affect you feel, and not how they are presented by yet others. For that reason alone, I am most pleased that you followed your father’s suggestions.” The Third Magus walks past his own doorway and toward the foyer. He does not halt until he has passed the desk and the fourth-level adept who sits there. “It has been good to see you, Majer. Convey my best to the Majer-Commander, and assure him that the Magi’i will do their best.”

“That I will, ser.”

“And perhaps my consort and I could host you and your consort at a dinner with your friend Tyrsal and Aleyar.”

“I would like that, and I think Ryalth would as well. I have been out of Cyad so long that I fear she had thought we would never be able to meet people together.”

“I will send an invitation from my consort to yours. That will make it more social.”

“Thank you, ser.”

“You are welcome. I imagine you can find your own way from the Quarter.”

“That I can, ser.”

Liataphi smiles, then nods for Lorn to depart.

Once again conscious of eyes on his back, Lorn turns and walks down the steps. Will his meeting with Liataphi lead to more? That, Lorn cannot say, except that Liataphi has offered as much encouragement as any of the Three Magi’i could, and Lorn senses neither deception nor malice in the man. He wishes he could say the same for Rustyl.