Free Scion of Cyador by Jr. Modesitt L. E. Page B

would not, ser."
    "You can return to whatever you were working on, Helkyt. We'll depart to see the enumerators in a bit. I have a few notes I would like to make."
    "Yes, ser." Helkyt rises gingerly.
    Lorn adds several items to the personal list that has gotten alarmingly long in less than the full day since he arrived in Biehl, then leaves his study.
    In the outer study, Helkyt looks up from a stack of papers. "Ser?"
    "I'll meet you at the stable."
    "Be there in a moment, ser, if you will."
    Lorn nods and slips out, past the door to the unused room across the corridor, the room that seems designed to be an audience chamber or some sort of official function space. Outside, the wind is stronger than earlier, but warmer and out of the south.
    He is met at the stable by an ostler who, like many of those at Biehl, is older-white-haired and missing a good fraction of his teeth. "I be Chulhyr, ser." He looks at the uniform speculatively.
    "I'm Lorn, the new overcaptain. I arrived yesterday, but you were not here, Helkyt said." Lorn smiles. "I need a mount. If you could recommend a good one..."
    "You be wanting a stallion, ser?"
    Lorn laughs. "I'd like a mount that will do as I wish and not argue about it."
    The ostler laughs back. "Yes, ser."
    As Chulhyr is leading out a chestnut mare, Helkyt hurries across the courtyard and arrives, breathing heavily. The ostler looks at Lorn. "She be having a will, but a firm hand be all you need."
    "Thank you." Lorn studies the mare, then swings himself up into the saddle, where he checks the Brystan sabre. Then he and Helkyt ride across the courtyard.
    "Have you found anyone to cart off the rubbish?" Lorn asks as they ride through the compound gates and past another too-young lancer guard.
    "I'll be knowing that this afternoon, ser."
    "And you'll have names for instructors?"
    "Yes, ser."
    Lorn nods. "Tell me about the places we pass, if you would."
    "Yes, ser." Helkyt clears his throat. "There be the warehouse for the olive-growers, where they store the olives while they season, and beyond that be the potters, save that Aluyt casts but the large jars for seed oils and the like...."
    Lorn listens as they ride back toward the harbor, trying to fix the names and the structures in his mind, and match them to the map he has studied earlier. As when he had first entered Biehl, he sees few souls out and around the ancient town.
    The enumerators' single-story building stands west of the piers, and slightly to the south of the chandlery, a square structure fifty cubits on a side, partly hidden from the rest of Biehl by a tall hedge. The green shutters are freshly painted, the panes of the windows clean of the salt that streaks the panes of the lancer barracks and, indeed, even of the windows of Lorn's quarters.
    Lorn and Helkyt rein up at the side of the structure, where there are several stone hitching-posts, dismount, and tether their horses, before making their way to the square arched doorway. Inside is a narrow table, at which is seated a brown-haired young man in blue, whose tunic bears thin cream-and-green piping.
    "Master Squad Leader," says the enumerator.
    "Comyr," returns Helkyt, "this be Overcaptain Lorn. He is the new commander of the Mirror Lancers, and he has come to call on the senior enumerators."
    "They had heard of such, and both will be glad to see you, Overcaptain." Comyr bows. "If you would but come with me." Comyr ushers them through a set of double doors into a large room, similar to the one in the lancers' headquarters building, except two men are seated at the table on the dais, with several stacks of paper between them.
    The two rise. Both senior enumerators wear the same type of uniform: blue tunics over green trousers, with cream-colored web belts. On the forearms of their sleeves are two gold slashes.
    "Senior Enumerators, this is Overcaptain Lorn," Helkyt announces. "Overcaptain, Flutak... and Neabyl."
    Flutak bows. He is a broad man, almost totally bald, but with a muscular