(eng) L. E. Modesitt - Saga of Recluce 11 by Scion of Cyador

Author:Scion of Cyador [Cyador, Scion of]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

LXXIX

In the early-morning light, Lorn rides toward the firewagon portico in the center of Assyadt, followed by the two lancers from Esfayl's Second Company. The two will return the white gelding to the stable at Assyadt before leaving with Esfayl to ride back to Inividra.

As the three lancers pass the south side of the square in the early-morning light, Lorn can see a number of people under the porch of the Cuprite Kettle, the largest inn in Assyadt. Most of those on the porch seem to be watching him. His chaos-trained ears pick up the low words he should not be able to hear.

"Sure enough... that's him, the one they call the Butcher."

"Looks young..."

"...rode all the way to Jera... sacked every town... killed scores and scores."

"...say he took over the compound here... made the head of the lancers in Cyad meet his terms."

"...can't be... just a sub-majer."

"That's what they say."

"...looks like a nice young officer..."

"...what's a real killer look like? No different from anyone else..."

Lorn keeps his shoulders square, and a smile on his face, even as he wonders how the whole town knows. Then, how could they not know, not when six companies of lancers held the compound for an eightday?

The three ride through the square and toward the white sunstone portico that lies another three hundred kays ahead.

"We'll wait, ser, until the firewagon pulls up," offers one of the lancers.

"Thank you. I think it will be awhile before Captain Esfayl is ready, anyway."

"Rather wait here than help load wagons," suggests the second lancer.

"Ser... how long 'fore the barbarians start raiding again?" asks the first.

"Midsummer, I'd judge. The raids will be small ones. I'd be surprised if you saw any large raids until next year. It might be longer if the Majer-Commander does something about Jera."

The two lancers look at each other. Lorn understands the look. Neither ranker believes anyone will do anything. The three ride in silence to the smaller square that holds the firewagon portico. There, Lorn reins up on the far side of the paved way, in the shade of a weaver's shop, waiting for the firewagon.

At the low rumbling of wheels on the stone pavement, Lorn turns, but he only watches as the firewagon comes to a stop under the portico. A handful of incoming passengers, which includes a young undercaptain, disembarks before Lorn dismounts and begins to unfasten his gear. "Undercaptain!" he calls to the thin red-haired young officer.

"Yes, ser?" The undercaptain glances toward Lorn.

Lorn looks up at the lancers. "If you'd let him ride the gelding back... ?"

"Be a pleasure, ser."

"Ser?" asks the undercaptain.

"I'm leaving. Rather than walk, you can ride my mount back to the compound. That's where you going, isn't it?"

"Yes, ser. That is, I'm going there on the way to Inividra."

"You're in luck," Lorn says. "Second Company is leaving this morning with Captain Esfayl. He and Commander Ikynd will be very happy to see you." He looks to the lancers. "Best you be getting the undercaptain to the compound. I'll be fine.

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