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that knowledge as well.
As he faces the wall, dry and smooth in the dawn despite the dew that coats
the wall road and the ground, he can sense where the chaos flows end, perhaps
a hundred and fifty cubits to his left, at the last functioning ward. Without
the flaring webs of the chaos net, Lorn can sense the order-chaos depth of the
Accursed Forest, and the solid granite wall by itself seems a frail barrier to
the height and power of that intertwined order and chaos.
Lorn cocks his head, trying to recall words from his days as a student magus.
 Always called the Forest order-death& never mentioned twined order and
chaos, he murmurs to himself. He looks up again, both with chaos-order senses
and eyes, but he is not mistaken. The Forest has a depth of order wrapped in
chaos, or chaos wrapped in order.
Despite the breach in the chaos net, as he continues to study the Accursed
Forest, Lorn senses no probes of either order or chaos, and no creatures
massing beyond the granite. He studies the Forest for a time longer, until the
sun begins to rise above the deadland and fields to his left, but the silent
presence and lack of overt threat does not change. When the sun falls on his
shoulder and side, he turns and walks silently back toward the bivouac area.
By the time he reaches the tielines where the mounts are tethered, Olisenn is
waiting, looking as bedraggled as Lorn feels.  You were at the wall, and it is
not warded there. Was that wise, captain?
 Probably not. Lorn laughs.  I ll learn, I m sure. He pauses as Kusyl walks
toward them.  Good morning, Kusyl.
 Good morning, ser.
 I checked with all the sentries before I left. Lorn s eyes fall on Kusyl.  I
was inspecting the ward-wall this morning. It s been quiet all night.
 Might be more creatures this morning, hazards the junior squad leader.
 There might be, Lorn agrees, looking at Olisenn.  How long before the
Engineers arrive?
 They have firewagons that can make good speed on the perimeter roads, and I
would judge that they might arrive by midday-if they left last evening or
early this morning.
Lorn nods.  Both of you set some pickets, say, four from each squad. Just use
the firelances to keep anything away. We re not going to try to destroy
anything else right now. His smile is wry.  We don t have the charges for
that.
 No, ser, we don t, Kusyl says strongly.
Olisenn frowns, but nods.
 I m going to take a few men and ride back around the crown. Lorn unties the
gelding from the tieline.  Does it matter who I ask?
 No, ser.
After picking four men, nearly at random, Lorn checks the girths and the
bridle and mounts the gelding. He and the four lancers slowly ride around the
mass of tangled branches and crushed and uncrushed leaves that had formed the
crown of the enormous tree. They circle the tangled mound at a distance of
well over two hundred cubits from the nearest greenery. While there are
occasional rustlings, and more than a few birds, including two enormous
vulcrows that burst from the branches, they see no other creatures.
On the northwest side, a dozen vulcrows are tearing at the carcass of the stun
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lizard, but the birds scarcely raise their sharp hooked beaks. Two night
leopards slink back to the branches as the riders near the dead creature.
After studying the area of the struggle with the lizard, and determining,
again, that there is no sign of his lancer sabre, and no other creatures
visible, at least, Lorn turns the gelding.  We ll ride back now.
As the five riders return to the main body of Second Company, Lorn watches the
deadland and the battered crown, but while the rustlings continue, nothing
emerges except occasional birds that he does not recognize, not that he has
ever spent much effort in studying avians.
Olisenn and Kusyl are waiting, eyes expectant, as Lorn and his lancers reins
up.
 Nothing. Vulcrows, two leopards that scurried back to the tree, some birds.
Lorn shrugs and dismounts. He pulls out a water bottle that will need to be
refilled before long and takes a swallow, then blots his forehead.  We watch
and wait for the Mirror Engineers.
He is blotting his forehead again, in the midday heat, when a voice rides
through the silence.
 Ser! calls the duty sentry, pointing to the north.
Lorn unties the gelding and mounts, as do the four lancers he had selected
earlier. From the saddle he can see three firewagons approach, crossing the
deadland from the outer perimeter road, and angling toward the point where the
trunk and the ward-wall intersect.
 Mount up! Engineers are here.
 Mount up! Kusyl and Olisenn echo Lorn s orders.
Lorn fingers his grimy and stubbly chin, then eases the gelding toward where [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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