“That last part might be a bit strong.”
“You’re right.”
“We don’t have to worry about that part of it.” Altyrn smiles again. “Your father does. He will worry, but likely not too much. He sent us to keep Casseon from taking over the Verd. We did. Or rather, you did much of that.”
“I think there should be very little said about what I did.”
“That is your choice. That might be the wisest course, but you will have to see what your father says.”
And how it affects Lephi. That could be another problem, one that Lerial has not considered.
“You’ll have some time to think about that on your return to Cigoerne. You’ll be leaving on twoday.”
“I will?” Lerial has not even thought about what he would do, or be required to do, after dealing with the Meroweyans.
“There’s nothing else you can do here now. You’ve certainly demonstrated your father’s and your commitment to Verdheln. Your father needs to hear what happened, especially from you. I’ll send a sealed and written report with you. Two copies. One for your father, and one to Majer Phortyn. I trust you also won’t mind carrying a letter to Maeroja … and the girls, of course.”
“Not at all.” Lerial understands that, especially since he will get to see Ryalah and Amaira, while Altyrn is still mired in Verdheln. Absently, he also wonders how Rojana is doing. Without the lodestone she had given him … He returns his attention to Altyrn.
“You’ll lead half a squad of mostly Verdyn Lancers. You’ll need some Mirror Lancers as well. We’ll go over who they should be tomorrow.”
“What about you?”
“I’m not done. We need to train more Verdyn Lancers, and give the ones who’ve survived more training. What do you think about Bhurl as acting undercaptain for second company?”
“He’d do better than Moraris or Fhentaar. You might think about putting Moraris in charge of procurement or supplies. I think he’s a born trader.”
“That might not be a bad idea … if he even wants to stay.”
“How long do you intend…?”
“Another season should see them well enough established that they can provide companies to help Cigoerne … if necessary. What’s important is that they have a core of Lancers who’ve been through skirmishes and battles.”
Lerial stifles a yawn. He is tired.
“You need some sleep, I can see. There’s one other thing.”
“Ser?”
“Did you ever think that, if something happened to me, you would be in command of the Verdyn Lancers?”
“No. Actually, I didn’t.” That is certainly true enough.
“I’m not chastising you. What you did was the right thing to do. I would be happier if you had made that decision after considering all the factors. Those are things you will need to weigh in the future.”
That, Lerial also understands.
“Go get some sleep.”
Lerial doesn’t protest. He just stands. “Good night, ser.”
After he leaves Altyrn’s study, thinking about returning to Cigoerne and carrying a report from Altyrn to Majer Phortyn, a thought strikes him. Outside of the letter from Emerya and the one dispatch from Phortyn to Altyrn, they have received nothing from Cigoerne. Because no one wants to spare men as couriers … or because Phortyn doesn’t consider Altyrn’s task a true Mirror Lancer mission and only sent the one dispatch because it cost him little to do so?
Another yawn comes over him. He is tired.
LXXIX
A good night’s sleep and some solid, if not particularly appetizing ghano-acorn hash for breakfast has Lerial feeling far better on oneday morning when he goes to meet with Altyrn to discuss who might be best to accompany Lerial on his return journey to Cigoerne.
When Lerial enters the small study, Altyrn seems preoccupied for a moment, then says, “I think we’d better go over my report.”
“I trust that you didn’t identify the ordermage who created those ground lightnings,” Lerial says evenly.
“I thought you might say that.”
“You hoped I would.” Lerial offers a lopsided smile as he sits down in front of the desk.
“That, too, but I’ve noticed that you don’t want much credit.”
“I like praise as much as anyone, but I like not being a target even more.”
Altyrn extends a sheaf of papers. “Then read.”
“You must have been writing all night.”
The majer shakes his head. “I’ve written each section as it happened. You forget less that way. You also have less temptation to revise occurrences in your favor.”
Lerial can see both points. He eases the report before him and begins to read. When he finishes, he says, “The only thing I’d suggest is to add something about the loss of not only Essiana, but also a chief archer who was the daughter of an elder on the High Council. And something about the number of hamlets burned and Verdyn killed.”
“I’d thought about the hamlets. Why do you want to mention Klerryt’s daughter?”
“It’s a way of pointing out that the Verdyn are similar.”
Altyrn nods. “You’re right. That will strengthen your father’s resolve to keep supporting them.”
Lerial hands the report back.
“For your return party, I’d thought to ask for four Mirror Lancer volunteers, well … three now, and six Verdyn Lancer volunteers.”
“Three now?”
“Bhurl has requested permission to return with you.”
“How does he know I’m going?”
The majer grins. “He doesn’t. He requested that he be allowed to return to Cigoerne whenever it was possible and in the interests of the Mirror Lancers. He has a family in Cigoerne, his consort and three children. Most of the other Mirror Lancers do not-or if they do…” Altyrn shrugs.
They’re in no hurry to return to that family … for one reason or another. “Will there be trouble getting volunteers?” Lerial is thinking that some of the rankers may prefer to remain as squad leaders in Verdheln, even if they are not being paid as such.
“We can order some of the Mirror Lancers to go, if necessary, but I doubt it will be. Out of six companies … five now, I’m certain we can get six Verdyn volunteers to escort the Duke’s son and to have a chance to see Cigoerne.” Altyrn’s lips quirk into a smile.
“When you put it that way…” Lerial shakes his head.
“You’ll need to get used to things like that.”
Lerial supposes he will, but has another thought. “Fhentaar could handle second company … with guidance.”
“We’ll see. I’ll also be sending a request for weapons to train and outfit more companies of Lancers. The elders have agreed that more are necessary.”
“There were quite a few weapons recovered from the Meroweyans.” Lerial’s statement is bland.
“There were. Once we have them all gathered up, we’ll send some of those, the ones that aren’t suitable for Lancers. Your father or Majer Phortyn can arrange for their sale or their reforging into sabres or lances.” A faint smile crosses Altyrn’s lips. “There is one other matter. Klerryt and I will be riding with you to Verdell. The full Council of Elders wants to meet with both of us to go over an agreement they wish you to present to your father.”
“What sort of agreement?”
“Something to bind him and his heirs to allowing the people of the Verd to retain their own customs in return for their allegiance and tariffs.”
There is something about that idea that bothers Lerial. He has no problem with the Verdyn wanting to retain their customs, yet …
“You have a problem with that?” asks Altyrn pleasantly.
“I have no problem at all with them retaining their own customs.”
“Then why are you looking so concerned?”
“There’s just something…” Lerial knows there is, but it is a matter of feeling, or more of the fact that what is wrong is so obvious, and yet he cannot put his finger-or his thoughts-on what that is.