Heritage of Cyador (saga of recluce Book 18) by Jr. L. E. Modesitt Page A

stress on the word “effective.”
    “Thank you, Commander,” replies Drusyn.
    Ascaar merely looks at Drusyn and shakes his head, then murmurs, “Valatyr knows everything.”
    “How long…?”
    “Have I been a Mirror Lancer? Close to seven years.”
    “You don’t look that old.”
    “I’m not,” Lerial admits. “I’ll be twenty-three just after the turn of summer.”
    The two exchange glances.
    “He killed his first raider when he was sixteen,” interjects Valatyr. “He destroyed more than three battalions in the last battle of the Verdyn rebellion. He wouldn’t have told you that, and neither of you needs to know more.”
    Lerial understands fully why Valatyr has offered his last words. Obviously Rhamuel knows who the undercaptain was who also destroyed a full battalion of Afritan Guards at Ensenla … and would prefer that information remain unknown.
    Ascaar tries to stifle a grin as he looks at Drusyn and says in a low voice, “You had to know.”
    “Your sire obviously didn’t pamper you,” says Drusyn dryly.
    “He didn’t pamper either of us … and he’s never indulged himself.” Before either subcommander can say more, Lerial asks, “What is the routine here? Is there an area where I could have my companies practice maneuvers—starting tomorrow? The horses need some rest.”
    “The grasslands southwest of the hunting park are open for maneuvers,” answers Drusyn. “We have to get approval from Subcommander Valatyr. That’s just so we don’t interfere with each other and the arms-commander knows who’s doing what.”
    “The routine?”
    “It’s up to each commander to keep his forces ready in whatever manner he sees fit.”
    “What about archers?”
    “We each have a company. Each battalion has four companies of lancers that can double as mounted foot, and one company of archers who can do the same.” Ascaar looks to Lerial.
    “My companies are lancers, who can attack with either lances or sabres, or be mounted foot. Two of the companies have one squad that can double as mounted archers.” Lerial pauses, then goes on. “The Meroweyans had companies of heavy foot and used a shield wall for advances against archers and even lancers. Do you have any heavy foot, or does Duke Khesyn?”
    “We have two companies. They’re in Swartheld. They’re more suited to defending a city, according to Commander Nythalt.”
    “He’s the commander in charge in Swartheld?”
    Both subcommanders nod.
    Lerial takes several more bites of his breakfast, and a swallow of lager.
    “Do you have any other questions?” asks Drusyn.
    “How many companies or battalions are still in Swartheld?”
    “Ten battalions I’ve heard tell. No one’s said. Anything else?”
    “Well…” Lerial grins. “There is one. Exactly where are the ironworks? The city didn’t look much like there were any there.”
    Ascaar smiles in return. “There aren’t. The ironworks are more than ten kays to the west, at the end of the west road.”
    “The wide east-west road?” asks Lerial.
    Ascaar nods. “They mine it and smelt it there, and pound it into rough plate. The plate comes here. Some is sent downriver to Swartheld. Most is smithed here.”
    “I just wondered, because everyone talks about the ironworks at Luba.”
    “There’s really not a town there. Most of the heavy work at the works is done by lawbreakers.”
    That makes a certain sense to Lerial, since the irrigation ditches in Cigoerne are dredged by lawbreakers and new canals dug in the same fashion.
    As Valatyr rises and leaves the dining room, Ascaar glances in his direction, then back to Lerial. “It won’t be that long until the morning meeting, not if you want a quick word with your company officers. Commander Sammyl is prompt.”
    “I told them not to expect me this morning until after the senior officers’ meeting. That won’t be a problem, not with the horses needing rest. They know where to find me.”
    “They always do,” comments