The Mage-Fire War (Saga of Recluce)

by Modesitt. Jr. , L. E.

  “I’d best tell Ennalee and Vortaan,” said Beltur, “before someone else does.”

  “We both should,” suggested Lhadoraak.

  Even before the two of them neared the small crowd, Ennalee’s eyes fixed on Beltur.

  He reined up several yards from the wagon’s tailgate, on which rested samples of various root vegetables.

  “The two of you have that same look,” said Ennalee. “Did the Hydlenese attack our stead?”

  “No. They raided Samwyth’s before I got there.” Beltur then went on to explain what had happened.

  “Samwyth just should have let them take the lambs.” Ennalee shook her head.

  “Always was a stubborn cuss,” added Vortaan.

  “There’s stubborn, and there’s stupid,” replied Ennalee, a disgusted tone to her words.

  “You going to let them walk in here?” asked Vortaan.

  “No,” replied Beltur.

  “How are you going to stop them?”

  “However I can.”

  “What about the Duchess?” asked Ennalee. “Where are her troopers?” She gestured to the four by the fountain. “Not a few.”

  “The Duchess has said that she’ll send troopers if the Hydlenese bring more than a company of their troopers to attack Haven.” That wasn’t quite what Korsaen had written, but it was close enough. “That’s why those four are here.”

  “Feel a lot safer if those troopers were here now,” pointed out Vortaan.

  “They’re not, and they won’t be unless the mages here can hold off the Hydlenese for a time.” Ennalee looked directly at Beltur. “Isn’t that so?”

  “Most likely,” Beltur agreed, knowing that he and the others on the fledgling Council were going to have to be very creative in dealing with the likely invaders. “Now … if you’ll excuse us…” He inclined his head, then turned Slowpoke in the direction of the Council House.

  XXXI

  After Beltur and Jessyla finished breakfast on eightday, he announced, “I’m going to patrol out west first, then stop by the Widow Taarbusk’s place on the way back.”

  “Just because of the ale?” asked Jessyla, with a hint of a smile.

  “Just because?” Beltur shook his head. “I’m tired of drinking just water. So are you. She’s the only one around who brews a decent ale. That’s what Claerk said, anyway, and I don’t want to fight battles drinking only water.”

  “And what do you expect me to do?”

  “Would you rather get the ale?”

  “No. I’m not about to try to carry a keg back here, and I doubt the widow delivers kegs, at least not on eightday.”

  “Good. I’d like you to ride out to Vortaan and Ennalee’s stead, just to sense if there are any Hydlenese around. If there are, find me.”

  “I can do that. Tulya and I thought you might be thinking like that. She’s fixing dinner for all of us. Half past fourth glass. That’s if the Hydlenese don’t raid or attack.”

  The two walked to the barn, where Beltur saddled Slowpoke and Jessyla saddled one of the former Council horses. Once they had led the horses out and Beltur had secured the barn, he mounted Slowpoke and turned to Jessyla, already in the saddle. “I thought I’d head out west from here. I don’t sense anyone in the square, and there’s no point riding there, and then back.”

  She nodded and said, “Why don’t I ride out east and then to the south?”

  “That would be good.”

  “And don’t spend too much time with the widow,” she added.

  Beltur frowned. “Why would I do that?”

  “So you won’t get stuck. I imagine there’s a reason why they all call her ‘the Widow Thornbush.’” Jessyla grinned at him.

  “I just want some decent ale,” declared Beltur.

  “I’d enjoy that as well.”

  “I thought I’d get some for Lhadoraak and Tulya as well.”

  “They’d enjoy that. Now … after I scout out the steads to the south,” added Jessyla, “I’ll stop by the healing house for a bit, and then I’ll be at Tulya’s helping her fix dinner. Lhadoraak is working on the quarters building until the second glass of the afternoon.”

  “He’d said he would be. He wants to finish that as soon as he can.”

  Once they reached the main street, Beltur turned west, and Jessyla east.

  As he rode past the brick posts at the west end of Haven, Beltur tried to sense anyone or anything that might be out of place, but he found nothing. When he reached the side lane where he’d once sensed Hydlenese troopers, he followed it for almost a kay, but neither saw nor sensed any riders. He couldn’t help wondering where they might be and when the next attack might come … and what form it might take.

  Since there was little point in waiting for what might not come for glasses or even days, he turned Slowpoke back toward Haven, and less than half a glass later, he was reining up in front of the weathered stone and timber dwelling that he hoped was that of the widow. After tying Slowpoke to a somewhat battered but seemingly sturdy wooden post, he walked to the front porch and knocked on the door.

  A youth opened it. His eyes widened as he took in Beltur in his patrol uniform. “Yes, ser.”

  “I’m here to see the Widow Taarbusk.”

  “Yes, ser.” The boy turned and called, “It’s one of the mages for you, Ma.” Then he stepped back.

  The woman who appeared at the door wasn’t at all what Beltur expected. Not only was she much younger, most likely only ten years or so older than Beltur, but she was broad-shouldered and only a few digits shorter than Beltur. While her face had a definite angular hardness to it and her eyes were a cold green, and her hair a short-cut whitish blond, the figure beneath, even in a long-sleeved shirt, worn brown leather vest, and brown trousers, was definitely feminine. The dirk at her waist was in a worn sheath. “Why might you be here, Mage?”

  “I understand you brew the best ale around.”

  “We brew the only ale for sale.”

  “I was referring to the better brew that Bythalt offers. Do you have some of that, or something better?”

  “How much do you want?”

  “Two kegs, if you have them.”

  “The regular is four silvers, and two extra for the keg. You bring back the keg, and the next keg is four. The best is five silvers.”

  “I’d be interested in the best. Two kegs.”

  “A gold and four silvers.”

  Beltur managed not to wince, but he reminded himself that he was buying eightdays’ worth of ale, at far less than it would have cost at the inn. “That would be fine. About carrying them…?”

  “I don’t do that. I can lend you a leather keg sling that will hold two kegs—if your horse will carry it—and you’re willing to walk him back to town. Otherwise, you’ll have to hire a wagon.”

  “What does each keg weigh?”

  “Six stone full, or thereabouts.”

  That meant the two kegs weighed almost a stone more than Beltur, but Slowpoke could carry that. “I’ll borrow the sling.”

  “Since you’re a mage, I won’t ask for surety for the sling. I’d appreciate having it back within the next few days.”

  The word “surety” struck Beltur as odd. “Are you originally from Haven?”

  “No more than you, Mage. My late consort’s father was a brewmaster in Renklaar. So was my consort.”

  “Might I ask how you came to Haven?”

  “You can ask, but all I prefer to say is that Haven suited us better. Now … if you’ll lead your horse to the brew house—that’s the second and larger building at the base of the small hill.”

  Beltur didn’t press, and by the time he walked Slowpoke back to the second structure, the widow was waiting for him with two kegs and a sling-like leather harness set on a wooden platform in front of the door. She’d obviously lifted the kegs herself. He handed over the gold and the silvers.

  “Thank you.” She nodded. “I’ll hold the harness in place, while you center the first keg. The
n, I’ll come round and hold that keg in place while you center the second.”

  Beltur lifted the first keg—and it was definitely a solid six stones—and managed to get it centered in the harness without scraping or bumping Slowpoke. Then he repeated the process with the second keg.

  “Your mount is well-behaved, Mage.”

  “We get along well. We’ve been through a lot together.”

  She just nodded.

  “I’ll bring the harnesses back before too long.”

  “We’d appreciate that.”

  She remained in front of the brew house, watching as he led Slowpoke back out to the lane and began the kay-long walk back to Haven.

  Three quints later, he led Slowpoke up to the back door of Lhadoraak’s house, glad that he hadn’t sensed any raiders or troopers.

  After he tied Slowpoke, but before he could knock, Tulya opened the door. “Beltur! What are you doing here?”

  “Delivering a keg of ale. I got tired of just drinking water, and I thought you three might have felt the same way as well.”

  “Beltur … we can’t let you—”

  “We’re all going to need this ale if we get into battle after battle. It’s the only way to keep going when you’re fighting from the saddle. Besides, you both deserve it.” He lifted the heavy keg, watching the sling harness, but it didn’t move. Then he carried the keg into the kitchen and set it beside the kitchen cistern, belatedly realizing that neither house had a stand in which to place the keg for easy use of the spout. “For now, Lhadoraak will have to tie the keg in place on top of the cistern, maybe anchor it with an order link.”

  Tulya looked at him. “Thank you. We appreciate it.”

  “I got you all into this mess. The least I can do is come up with some ale.”

  “I had a part in it, too. I hated the cold in Axalt. Here, at least, things seem … more real. And I can do things besides cook and clean and watch Taelya.”

  “You’ve made everything much easier. I appreciate your taking care of the ledgers and paying Bythalt.”

  “Beltur … do you think we can…?”

  “I think so.” I just don’t know how many people will die for how long. Or whether anyone besides the five of us will think it worth the price. He offered a cynical smile. “We might have to kill a lot of troopers whose only fault is that they serve the Duke of Hydlen.”

  She looked at him evenly. “It won’t be the first time.”

  “No. Unfortunately.” He paused. “I need to get the other keg put away and then get back to scouting … just in case.”

  “Can I do anything?”

  “Besides what you’re doing? No.”

  After leaving Tulya, Beltur then led Slowpoke back across the street to his and Jessyla’s house, holding on to one side of the sling. Once there, he tied Slowpoke to the rear hitching post and then lugged the second keg into the kitchen, setting it beside the cistern and shaking his head at the thought that he’d never considered the need for a stand or small table.

  Then he left the house, locking it behind him, and removed the sling harness before mounting Slowpoke. Since he didn’t sense anyone to the west, he rode back to the widow’s place. He didn’t even have to dismount, since he saw her outside the brew house and rode there.

  “Thank you for the sling.” He handed it down to her.

  “Thank you for buying the ale. Few want to pay extra for the better brew.”

  “Does Phaelgren ever buy it?”

  Beltur’s question drew a barked laugh. “He brews his own. It’s worse than swill. Bythalt knows better.”

  “You must sell to others, then.”

  “It’s a living. You’ve got better things to do than talk with me, Mage.”

  “Beltur.”

  “You’ve got better things to do, Beltur.”

  “Knowing about the people in town is one of those better things,” he replied. “Until next time.” He offered a friendly smile before turning Slowpoke back toward the road.

  Because he could sense Jessyla’s presence at the healing house, that was his next stop, since he wanted to know what, if anything, she had seen or sensed.

  When he entered the healing house, he found Jessyla busy with her mortar and pestle.

  She looked up and said, “I stopped by Julli’s and picked up some knitbone. That’s not what I’m working on. I’m powdering more gypsum so that I can do casts.”

  “Did you find out anything?”

  “It’s quiet out to the south. I stopped and asked Ennalee if they’d seen anyone. They haven’t. Not so far. I also talked to some shepherd girls out east. No one they didn’t know has been on the road this morning. What about you?”

  “No sign of anything. There’s a keg of the widow’s better ale in our house and in Lhadoraak and Taelya’s. The widow’s not very talkative. I didn’t learn much from her, except that she and her consort and consort’s father came from Renklaar … and that Phaelgren makes his own brews, and they’re terrible.”

  “How did you carry two kegs?”

  “I borrowed a sling harness from her and Slowpoke carried them. I walked him. Then I returned the harness and came to see how you’d fared.”

  “What will you do now?”

  “More scouting to the south and west. I need to know which ways the Hydlenese are most likely to take if they decide to bring a larger force here.”

  Jessyla frowned. “I thought you had worked that out.”

  He shook his head. “There are several ways for mounted troopers, but if they bring a larger force, they’ll have wagons. Wagons need better roads. Also, the better the road, the faster they can advance.”

  “Try to get back by third glass.”

  “If I can’t, we’ll likely all not be worrying about dinner.”

  “I’d rather worry about dinner.”

  Beltur definitely shared that sentiment. He walked around the table, bent down, and kissed Jessyla on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

  When he left the healing house, he rode by the quarters building. Although he didn’t see anyone, he could sense a number of people working on the upper level, including Lhadoraak. Two women were filling buckets at the fountain. Neither looked at him.

  As he rode westward on the main street, he saw a few people outside in the warm and muggy air. One woman, whom he didn’t recognize, waved, and he nodded in return. The rest of the ride through the west side of Haven was similar. Beyond the brick posts, since there were fewer dwellings, he saw only a handful of people.

  As he neared the kaystone five kays west of town, Beltur studied the side lanes intently. All but the one that he’d explored earlier in scouting the two Hydlenese troopers ended within less than a kay of the main road. Even when he passed the kaystone and reached the junction with the road north to Weevett, he sensed no travelers. So he kept riding west.

  Beltur reined up two quints later, slightly more than two kays farther west, just past a hill on the south side of the road that extended into a long ridge running toward the southwest, an unusual direction, Beltur thought, given that all the other hills in the area seemed to run largely east-west. He studied the junction ahead where another road branched off, angling to the southwest. The southwest road had clearly seen more travelers recently, but since there hadn’t been that much rain, it was almost impossible to tell when the latest travelers had passed by.

  From what he could sense, there were no travelers on either road … except … he thought he could sense a single figure on horseback farther west, on a low rise between the road to Hydolar and the road to Jellico. Most likely a Hydlenese scout.

  Beltur kept watching and sensing, but the rider didn’t move.

  Finally, a quint later, Beltur turned Slowpoke back toward Haven … and saw a wall of dark thick clouds to the northeast, clouds that were definitely moving toward the town.

  If that brings a good solid rain, it just might slow down whatever the Hydlenese might have in mind. And if you don’t keep riding, you
and Slowpoke just might get caught in the rain.

  The first few drops began to fall as Beltur dismounted outside the barn, and a light rain was falling by the time he’d groomed and watered Slowpoke and was walking up to the house to wash up. After doing that, he had to dash through a heavy rain to Lhadoraak and Tulya’s house.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” said Jessyla as he stepped inside. “I was afraid you might get caught in the storm.”

  “I tried some of that ale you brought,” said Lhadoraak, his voice level.

  Beltur tried not to wince. “Is it all right?”

  The older mage grinned. “It’s actually much better than decent, and far better than Bythalt’s best.”

  Beltur took a deep breath. “Good.”

  “What do we owe you?”

  “You don’t. Ale’s a necessary supply, and I’m afraid it’s going to be more necessary. We need to get in the habit of carrying at least one water bottle full anytime we’re patrolling.”

  “Did you see any signs of the Hydlenese?”

  “Just one scout some four kays west of the kaystone.”

  “You went that far beyond the junction with the road north to Weevett?”

  “I wanted to see where the road to Hydlen turned off. Karch mentioned it, but I’d never seen it.” Beltur explained briefly, including the fact that a large force would likely take the road.

  “Then why did they take back roads and attack from the south?” asked Tulya.

  “I’m only guessing,” replied Beltur, “but I didn’t see much along that road, just sparse grasslands and lots of low rocky hills. The company I followed had taken over a stead. It might be one of the few in that corner of Hydlen. Also, they didn’t have any wagons.”

  “Then maybe it would be worth it to post the troopers out west, during the day, anyway,” said Lhadoraak, “where they can see any large force approaching. The smaller forces can’t do that much damage, and we can whittle them down if they keep attacking.”