The Mage-Fire War (Saga of Recluce)

by Modesitt. Jr. , L. E.

  “Any damage that they do will be considered as significant by those who suffer,” pointed out Tulya.

  “If we prevail in the end, we can put things back together,” said Beltur. “If we don’t, it doesn’t matter.”

  “Putting things back together, as you put it,” replied Jessyla, “could take years, and we can’t undo death.”

  “You’re both right,” admitted Beltur. “What do you suggest that would be better?”

  “Isn’t there any way you could do that whittling before the Hydlenese attack steads?” asked Tulya.

  “We could try, but it would be a guess,” said Beltur. “It’s unlikely that they’ll attack steads north and east of the town. There’s no easy way to get east of town, and there really aren’t many steads to the north and west. But that still leaves a large area.”

  “I could patrol the road to the west,” declared Jessyla. “Not too far out. If you could watch the south … and each of us had a courier with us … then the courier could ride to tell the others.”

  “Shouldn’t I be doing that?” asked Lhadoraak.

  Jessyla shook her head. “Your shields are stronger, I think, but I can sense farther than you can. That means that you need to be able to come to help whoever senses the raiders. I can’t hold them off as well, but I can give you more time.”

  Lhadoraak looked to Beltur, with an expression both questioning and rueful.

  “She can sense farther, and your shields are stronger.” But not by much and probably not for long.

  “Then that makes sense,” declared Lhadoraak.

  “Also,” interjected Tulya, “that just might allow you to finish working on the quarters building, and that might mean that some of those workers might just be willing to serve as patrollers or armsmen.”

  Lhadoraak shook his head, then smiled. “I can’t argue about any of that … and I’m getting very hungry.”

  XXXII

  At one point during the night, rain pounded the roof so violently that hammering impacts woke Beltur, tired as he was. Even after getting back to sleep, when he woke up in the deep gray before dawn, he had a slight headache, of the sort he had usually experienced during a northeaster … although the rain had subsided to a drizzle, at least from what he sensed and heard.

  He sat up slowly, then massaged his forehead.

  Jessyla turned. “My head aches, too.”

  “Congratulations. That’s one of the benefits of magery. You get headaches during severe rainstorms. I’ve heard it’s even worse for whites.”

  Jessyla slowly sat up on the mattress, then yawned. Finally, she said, “Do you think Taelya has a headache?”

  “She might. I’ve never heard anything about whether young mages get headaches from storms.”

  “I’ll ask Tulya if I see her before you do.” She glanced toward the window. “After all that rain, I’d be surprised if the Hydlenese would choose to ride out and attack anyone today.”

  “I’d think not, but you never know. They might do it because they think no one would be expecting it.”

  “I’d wager they don’t.”

  Beltur smiled. “I won’t wager against you.”

  Before that long, the two of them were sitting at the old, sturdy, and slightly warped kitchen table. Beltur sipped the ale he definitely appreciated and slowly ate the oat porridge he liked a great deal less. The ale and the porridge seemed to help in lifting the headache.

  After a time, Jessyla said, “Before dinner last night, I had this feeling you left something out when you said that Lhadoraak had stronger shields. What didn’t you say?”

  “He has stronger shields for now. If you keep working, yours will be stronger.”

  She frowned. “You aren’t just saying that, are you?”

  Beltur shook his head. “Your technique is better than his.”

  “That’s because you taught me.” She paused, then asked, “Why doesn’t he see what you do and follow it? He’s seen how much you’ve taught Taelya, and he’s listened to how you’ve explained things.”

  “He’s older than I am, and I’m not about to force him. Besides, he may have tried some of what I’ve explained and found it doesn’t work for him. Magery doesn’t work the same for all mages. There are abilities mentioned in both The Wisdom of Relyn and The Book of Ayrlyn that I couldn’t figure out, but they definitely happened, and Karch was definitely surprised by the way I used containments … as if he’d never seen that before.”

  “If he said he hadn’t, then he hadn’t.”

  Beltur didn’t doubt that. The captain wasn’t the deceptive type.

  “When we get more mages,” added Jessyla, “you should be the one teaching them.”

  “If they’re willing to listen,” he replied wryly, finishing the last of the ale and looking at the empty and slightly chipped beaker, then toward the window, its glazed surface beaded with rain. “I’m really glad I got the ale yesterday.”

  “Do you think we should patrol today … the way we planned last night?”

  “I thought we’d wait just a little. I really need to clean out the barn, and I’m hoping that the rain will let up a little more. Even if the Hydlenese are planning an attack, they won’t be near Haven for a little while, not with the roads as muddy as they’re bound to be.”

  “Then I’ll go to the healing house … and you’ll meet me there, say, in a glass?”

  Beltur nodded. “But don’t forget to fill your water bottle with ale.”

  “Thank you. I almost forgot that we have ale.”

  Less than a glass later, Beltur rode east along the side street from the house to the square. He carried two full water bottles of ale, just in case. While the rain had stopped falling, patches of fog had appeared here and there, largely above places where hail had fallen, Beltur thought, since he could see a thin layer of white. That suggested that the storm he’d largely slept through had been more violent than he’d thought, and likely explained his earlier headache.

  Too bad you can’t call up a thunderstorm when you need one—like when the Hydlenese attack with a battalion or more.

  When he reached the Council House, he tied Slowpoke there, beside the mounts of the two troopers, and walked next door to the healing house.

  As soon as he walked into the front room, Jessyla called out, “Beltur … would you help me here?”

  He immediately hurried into the second room, where a woman supported a child, sitting on the edge of the table.

  The woman stiffened.

  “He’s also a healer and mage,” Jessyla explained. “With him helping, it will be easier on your son.” Her head turned to Beltur. “He was attacked by a pig. We need to clean out the wounds and stitch the worst of the slashes. I’ve cleaned off his arm around the bites.” The cloth in her hand showed blood, dirt, and other substances before she dropped it into the basket beside the table. “If you can hold his arm still…”

  Beltur understood. She didn’t want the child squirming and threshing while she cleaned the wounds properly and then did what stitching was absolutely necessary. He tried not to wince when he sensed the bites on the child’s forearm, one or two almost to the bones. Just cleaning and stitching was going to be more than a little painful for the boy, who was likely younger than Taelya.

  “I do have some clear spirits. I got them from Julli and used order on them as well.” Then she looked to the mother and the boy. “This will hurt some. Beltur is going to do something so that you don’t move, either yourself or your arm. That will go away once your arm is bound up. It’s only to keep you from being hurt more.”

  Beltur eased a containment around the arm, leaving an open area around the wounds. He also linked the containment to the floor.

  Jessyla took another cloth, but as soon as she touched the first wound, even gently and deftly, the boy screamed. The mother winced, but kept her arm around her son as Jessyla continued to clean and debride the wounds.

  More than a quint passed before the wounds were clean
ed, dressed, stitched where necessary, and the arm bound. Then Beltur used free order to remove the worst of the wound chaos.

  By then, the boy had stopped crying.

  “You’ll need to bring him back on threeday,” Jessyla told the mother. “I’ll need to check the wounds. I might need to change the dressings.”

  “Will his arm work when he heals?”

  “He has a good chance … if you bring him back on threeday. What Beltur did will have to be repeated.”

  The mother looked at Jessyla questioningly.

  “It didn’t look as though he did anything, but he took away some of the chaos that the pig’s bite put in your son’s arm. That’s something that only a mage-healer can do.”

  “Thank you, Healers.” The woman inclined her head. “I would pay anything to see him well. I have nothing.”

  “Just bring him back on threeday.”

  Once the two had left, Beltur asked, “Do you still want to ride west this morning?”

  “Of course. And you’ll go to where that forest is and see what you can sense.”

  The two left the healing house and walked next door to the Council House, where Waerdyn and Ruell were waiting in the front room.

  Before either could speak, Beltur said, “There aren’t any strange riders within a kay of Haven. We needed to heal a boy. Waerdyn, you’ll accompany Jessyla, and Ruell will ride with me. If she senses any Hydlenese, you ride back and get Lhadoraak to help her. If they’re coming from the south, I’ll send Ruell to let Lhadoraak and you two know.” He paused. “I don’t think it’s likely after all the rain, but they might try an attack because it is unlikely.”

  Waerdyn nodded.

  Beltur gestured toward the mounts tied outside the Council House, then followed the others outside, closing the door firmly. Once everyone was mounted, he watched as Jessyla headed out with Waerdyn beside her, then turned to Ruell. “We’re headed through the back streets of Haven.”

  “To that stead they attacked before, ser?”

  “Not exactly. To a place where I can sense whether they might be headed there … or to a number of other places along the south side of town.”

  As Beltur and Ruell rode through the intermittent fog and cooler damp air along the back lane that angled from the southwest side of Haven to the stone dwelling in the middle of the stony grasslands, the trooper cleared his throat, then said, “Beggin’ your pardon, ser … but … how did two Spidlarian arms-mages end up in Montgren? If you don’t mind my asking?”

  “The black mages of Elparta didn’t like me, and they didn’t like the fact that Lhadoraak’s daughter is a beginning white mage. Neither did the Council of Axalt. Lord Korsaen was looking for mages with our talents. So we’re here.”

  “Seems like you went from one war to another.”

  “We didn’t plan it that way. Neither did the Duchess or Lord Korsaen.”

  “You know that, ser?”

  “I can usually tell when people lie to me. We did know we’d have trouble.” Beltur laughed softly. “Just not as much trouble as it looks like.”

  “Why did you kill the Hydlenese officers, and not the troopers?”

  “They gave the orders. Troopers have to carry them out. Samwyth killed one of the troopers. They killed him. I can’t blame them for that.”

  “Some would … beggin’ your pardon, ser.”

  “Would you?” asked Beltur.

  “I can’t say as I would, ser, but I’m a trooper.” After another pause, Ruell went on, “They say blacks don’t use magery to kill.”

  “And you’ve heard that I’ve killed more than a few?”

  “Yes, ser.”

  “Most black magery isn’t suited to attacking. It’s better used for defending. I’m better at defending, but I’ve found ways to attack as well. Killing bothers almost all blacks. I guess, after what I’ve seen, it bothers me a lot less.”

  “You said you’d been a scout.”

  Beltur decided to give a short answer that he hoped would foreclose more questions. “When Gallos invaded Spidlar, I was assigned to a mounted recon company as an undercaptain. I was with the company until the last battle, when I was assigned to support the attack on the Gallosians. I ended up protecting companies attacking the enemy. Sometimes I ended up leading the attack.” He smiled pleasantly. “Does that answer your concerns?”

  Ruell swallowed. “Yes, ser. Mostly.”

  “And?”

  “Do you know any other mages who did that?”

  “Not in Spidlar, Gallos, or Axalt. I have no idea what other black mages do in other lands.”

  “Thank you, ser.”

  When they reached the northwestern edge of the overgrown forest, Beltur reined up and concentrated on sensing. There was a small flock of sheep less than half a kay south of the stone dwelling, and, with the flock, one figure, most likely a grown man, and a large dog. No one was outside in the gray mist near either Samwyth’s or Vortaan’s stead. Nor could he sense any riders anywhere.

  For the rest of the morning and early afternoon, he and Ruell moved more to the southwest, but never caught sight of any troopers. At second glass, he sent Ruell to Waerdyn, with instructions for them to stop patrolling and rest their mounts and for Jessyla to return to the healing house.

  Then he rode along the south side of Haven halfway to the kaystone, but still found no signs of travelers or troopers. So he headed back toward the center of Haven, but decided to stop by the house on the way, possibly for an ale, since, over the course of the day, he’d gone through the ale he’d brought.

  But when he neared the house, he was surprised to see a wagon pulled up close to the rear door and Jessyla’s mount tied to the hitching post next to the dray horse. As he rode closer to the door, she hurried out, followed by Jaegyr.

  Jessyla was smiling broadly. “Jaegyr came by the healing house. He brought our bedstead. Well, he brought two, one for us and one for Lhadoraak and Tulya. He already delivered and set up theirs.”

  Jaegyr looked up to Beltur, who was still mounted. “I would have brought them earlier, but it was still too damp, and I don’t have enough oilcloth to cover them,” explained the cabinet maker.

  “Come in and take a look!” Jessyla smiled again.

  Beltur dismounted, tied Slowpoke, and walked to the front porch, where he carefully wiped and brushed off his boots before following her inside and to the bedroom.

  The golden oak bedstead was set between the two narrow and high windows on the east wall of the house. The broad headboard featured but a single adornment—a hexagon carved into the wood just below the middle of the gentle arch that formed the top. The lines were strong, graceful, and simple, far better than Beltur had expected. “It’s beautiful.”

  “It’s an oil finish, and you’ll have to rub it down every so often for a while. I left some oil in the kitchen,” declared Jaegyr. “I had to put something on the headboard, and the hexagon’s the old-time symbol for order. Seemed fitting to me.”

  “He also brought a wash table. I put it in the washroom,” added Jessyla.

  “Thought you could use that as well.”

  “We owe you a good amount then, for both of them.”

  “Ten days’ work, and two silvers for the wood.”

  “That’s all?”

  Jaegyr nodded.

  Beltur took out his belt wallet, then handed the cabinet maker the seven silvers. “What would you suggest next?”

  “I could do a padded bench for the front parlor with two wooden armchairs—same set for each of you. That’ll take a little longer.”

  Beltur looked to Jessyla.

  She nodded.

  “Go ahead.”

  Jaegyr smiled. “Good to have real work again. Julli’ll do the pad for the bench.” He looked to Jessyla. “You tell her what you want. She can do cushions for the chairs, too, but that’s extra, and you need to work that out with her.”

  “I can do that.”

  After a clearly happy Jaegyr left, Beltu
r looked to Jessyla. “We might even have a properly furnished house by the end of summer.”

  “Maybe even before that.”

  As they took their mounts to the barn, neither one mentioned the Hydlenese.

  XXXIII

  Twoday dawned cloudless, if misty with patches of fog, but the bright white sun above the mist promised a hot and muggy day once the mist and fog burned off. Beltur and Jessyla were dressed and out of the house early, just after sixth glass, riding toward the square and the Council House to meet with the four troopers.

  “You should be the one to check on the southern steads today,” said Beltur as they neared the square.

  “Why do you think that?”

  “I couldn’t say … not exactly, except … well … it rained a lot yesterday, and the back roads and paths would be muddier.”

  Jessyla smiled. “I’ll accept your feelings more than your words. You sound like you’re trying to find a reason for something that you feel.”

  “I probably am,” he admitted.

  “Probably?”

  “I definitely am.”

  “We’ll go with your feelings,” said Jessyla.

  “Because you feel the same way?”

  “I was going to suggest it, if you didn’t.”

  “Feelings … or reasons?” he asked, gently teasing.

  “Both. If they’re trying to make people fear them or make people want to get rid of us, it doesn’t benefit them to attack the same place again. They’ll want to strike lots of different places to get the idea across that we can’t stop them.”

  Beltur nodded. “That makes sense.” And it was a better reason than any he had thought of, not that he really wanted to admit that out loud.

  It was still before seventh glass when they reached the square and turned their mounts toward the Council House, although the exact time was a judgment based on the sun and feeling, since Haven didn’t have a bell ringer, let alone a bell tower, unlike all the other places in which Beltur had lived.

  Just before they reached the Council House, Beltur sensed the approach of two riders from the direction of the East Inn. Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw that the two were Taasn and Chestyn. “Do you have any preference for whether Taasn or Chestyn rides with you?”