The young man wearing a maroon tunic standing in the front foyer immediately inclined his head. “Honored sers…”
Beltur heard the catch in his voice and could sense the man’s worries from the swirl of natural order and chaos. “We’d like to see the innkeeper. Now.”
“I don’t know…”
“He’s likely hiding someplace,” replied Beltur. “Find him and tell him that he won’t have an inn if he doesn’t appear. We’ll wait. For a very short time.”
The young man hurried away, ducking into a side corridor that led to the steps to the upper level.
“You think that will work?” asked Karch.
“One way or another. I mean what I say.”
“I’ve noticed that.” Karch’s tone verged on the sardonic. After a moment, he ventured, “I’ve never seen a mage do what you did.”
“What do you mean?”
“Block arrows that way, and bind men so that they can’t move. I thought blacks could only block chaos, not weapons.”
Beltur frowned. “I couldn’t say. I learned about containments in Elparta. After that, I just figured out more ways to use them.”
Karch raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say more.
Before that long, the young man and another emerged from the door that led to the staircase. The innkeeper was half a head shorter than Beltur, but broad-shouldered and beefy enough that his maroon tunic was bulging around his midriff. His eyes fixed on the three, but did not meet Beltur’s steady gaze.
He stopped a yard short of Beltur and stammered, “Honored sers … I had nothing to do with it. The white mages insisted that I house them…” The innkeeper’s entire figure shivered.
Beltur could sense that most of what the man said was true. Doubtless he was shading matters somewhat, but who wouldn’t have with what Beltur had seen already in Haven? “I understand that, innkeeper. The Duchess has proclaimed a new council for Haven. That is why we were escorted here by a company of her troopers. I trust you will have no problem in housing a few squads—and the five of us who are the new council—until we can find other suitable housing and begin to restore order to Haven?”
“No, ser. I mean, that’s not a problem … I mean, if it doesn’t … ah…”
“You’re saying that it costs you something to keep the inn going. Is that it?”
“Yes, ser.”
“We’ll talk about reimbursement later,” said Beltur. “After we know more.” A great deal more. He turned to Karch. “If you would make the necessary arrangements here and at the Brass Bowl … If you have any difficulty, please let me know. Oh … and we’d like to keep any arms and mounts left by the armsmen.”
Karch frowned.
“We’ll need them. You can always get more. I doubt we will.”
“Yes, ser.”
Beltur smiled warmly, trying to project that warmth as well. “I do appreciate all you’ve done. We should meet over dinner here and discuss what needs most to be done.”
“I’ll return here once the arrangements are made at the Brass Bowl.” Karch inclined his head, then turned and departed.
“You said … something about the new Council of Haven, ser?”
“Yes. We’re part of that council. There’s another black mage as well. We have several documents from the Duchess. They’re packed away for the moment.” Beltur looked directly at the innkeeper. “But you really don’t think the Duchess would have sent a full company of armsmen—”
“A full company?”
“Oh, we left two squads at the Brass Bowl and two squads in the main square. One or two of those squads will be joining the one here. Now, innkeeper, you can show us to the rooms used by the mages. And, no, we likely won’t be staying in them. We’ll need others. Please lead the way.”
“He took the best rooms overlooking the square.” The innkeeper turned and headed toward the staircase. Beltur and Jessyla followed.
Once he was on the second floor of the inn, Beltur could have made his way to the chambers taken by the white mages without any guidance, given the amount of residual free chaos that loomed from the pair of adjacent chambers on the west side of the inn.
Beltur sensed Jessyla’s wince at the excessive chaos as she followed the innkeeper and Beltur to the larger chamber, which had clearly housed the stronger mage. The room was comparatively neat, with a single set of grayish whites hung on a wall peg and a set of clean smallclothes folded on the corner of the writing table. The shutters were drawn back and the pair of narrow windows did indeed offer a good view of the deserted square.
After scanning the room with both eyes and senses, Beltur discovered a box hidden in the bed frame, not only hidden, but dusted with chaos and a sort of concealment that made it hard even to look at. He concentrated enough free order on the chaos to reveal a small strongbox, which he removed and set on the writing table.
Then he went through the two leather kit bags, looking for any sign of documents or papers. He found nothing of that sort, nor anything that suggested the mage’s origin, but under the folded smallclothes was an excellent map of Haven and the surrounding area.
Beltur studied the map, one that appeared far more recently drawn than any possessed by Korsaen, looking for any hint of from where it might have come. The only indication was a set of initials—“D H”—and the name “Hydolar” along the bottom right edge of the border.
“The map was drawn either in Hydolar or by someone from Hydolar,” said Beltur as he pointed out the initials and name to Jessyla before turning to the innkeeper. “Did the mages or their men ever say where they came from?”
“The white in charge only said that where they came from didn’t matter. I asked those in town, and all anyone could say was that they rode in from the west.”
“What was his name?” asked Beltur.
“The chief white mage—he never said what his name was—he just said to call him ‘Mage’ or ‘ser’—he said that things were going to change in Haven and that Fairhold would be the new name and that it would soon be an independent land, just like Montgren, except greater in time.”
“That sounds like he was boasting,” said Jessyla.
“No, Healer. He said he had visions of a great city rising here. He claimed to have seen it, with a great shining tower, and that mages would make it great.”
Beltur and Jessyla exchanged glances.
Then Beltur asked, “What else can you tell us?”
“There is nothing else to tell, except he killed one server because she touched him with something iron. It burned his arm. He would not talk. He just kept saying that things would get better before long. He would not say why or how. After he killed Kaslena, I did not ask.”
After several more questions, which elicited no more information, Beltur asked the innkeeper to show them the second mage’s chamber. He brought the strongbox and handed the map to Jessyla. The second room had neither a strongbox nor any documentation.
When they finished looking over the second room, Beltur turned to the innkeeper. “Where are the best rooms on the other side?”
“I will show you.”
In the end, Beltur and Jessyla settled on a room on the northeast corner of the inn that had windows on two sides, and the one adjacent for Lhadoraak and his family, after which they dealt with the horses and the mule, and moved their gear to their room, and took what else they thought would be useful from the mages’ rooms, finishing just as the innkeeper was leading Lhadoraak and Tulya up to their room.
Once the innkeeper left, Beltur turned to the older mage. “Did you have any trouble?”
Lhadoraak shook his head. “The innkeeper at the other place is a sour sort, but he seemed almost relieved that we were here.” After a moment, he asked, “What did you say to Karch?”
“I didn’t say much of anything—”
“It wasn’t what he said,” Jessyla interjected. “It was what he did.”
“He said two white mages threw firebolts and that you threw them ba
ck and turned them to ash. What else were you supposed to do?”
“I think the captain was surprised at the way Beltur took command,” suggested Jessyla.
“I told Karch you had more battle experience than any mage in Spidlar,” said Lhadoraak. “He shouldn’t have been surprised.”
“He was,” affirmed Jessyla.
“We should probably wash up and get ready for dinner,” said Beltur. “We’re all meeting Karch in the public room. Think about what we need him and his men to do for the next eightday or so. Also about what are the first things we need to do.”
“We can do that,” said Tulya firmly.
Once Beltur and Jessyla returned to their room, Beltur took out the small strongbox and began to try the keys he’d found in the dust. The first was clearly too big. The second worked, but Beltur placed a shield between himself and the box, then lifted the hinged lid with the tip of his knife.
A small bolt of chaos flashed toward the shield, then flattened harmlessly.
“That could have killed someone,” observed Jessyla.
“That was likely the intention.” He glanced at the second key, wondering what it was for. Then he shrugged and set the ring and keys on the writing table.
There were close to a hundred golds in the chest. Beltur looked at each of them. Ninety of them showed an identical image he didn’t recognize, meaning that they hadn’t been minted in Gallos, Spidlar, or Axalt. He didn’t think the image of the stone-walled citadel represented any place in Montgren, either. There were two other golds he didn’t recognize, but he just put one of the golds like the ninety he didn’t recognize in his pocket. After he replaced the golds, he placed a concealment and an order lock on the strongbox and slid it under the bed.
After washing up, they made their way down to the public room. The captain rose from the circular table where he’d been waiting. Beltur sat on Karch’s left, and Jessyla on his right.
“They only have dark ale,” said the captain. “That figures. To neither of our tastes. I told her to bring six.”
“Thank you.”
“Before the others arrive, I’d like to ask you a few things.”
“Go ahead,” replied Beltur.
“You offered the mages two chances. Did you know they’d refuse?”
“Anyone who flames people who disagree wasn’t likely to want to share power, but I felt I had to offer.”
“You knew you were more powerful, didn’t you?”
“I was fairly certain.”
“So they never had a chance?”
“I gave the mages the opportunity to join us. It would have allowed them to live, but they would have had to share in the work. They knew that, and they refused. I gave the armsmen the choice to surrender—after I’d destroyed both mages. They refused. What else was I to do that wouldn’t have gotten your men killed needlessly?”
“You were more than a mere arms-mage, weren’t you?”
“No. I was just an undercaptain arms-mage. I never commanded more than half a squad. We were always outnumbered. Any Gallosian who survived made it that much less likely that we’d live, let alone be able to drive the Gallosians out. I learned that quickly.”
“Did you ever tell Lord Korsaen that?”
“He didn’t ask. He did see me deal with a band of brigands.”
“The Duchess will benefit enormously from what you do,” said Karch slowly. “I’m not so sure her heirs will be quite so pleased.”
“Why do you say that?”
“She’s given you a free hand to rebuild Haven. You’re as ruthless, in a kinder way, as any ruler in Candar. You’re also committed to working with other mages to rebuild the town. The only other places where blacks have rebuilt lands are Axalt, Westwind, and Sarronnyn. None have been conquered. You’re beginning with more mages than any of them, and as word gets out, I’d wager more will join you.”
I certainly hope so. “It won’t be that easy.”
“That obviously hasn’t stopped you so far.”
“We’ve had to leave three different lands,” Beltur pointed out.
“There’s a difference between blind and senseless courage and wise withdrawal until you can prevail. All of you understand that.” Karch’s eyes flicked toward the archway.
Beltur gestured for Lhadoraak, Tulya, and Taelya to join them.
As soon as they did, the young man who had first met Beltur, Karch, and Jessyla reappeared with a tray holding six beakers of dark ale. “We only have a fowl pie tonight. It smells rather good, though.”
“Then we’ll take it,” said Beltur cheerfully.
Once the server left, Beltur raised his beaker. “To rebuilding Haven.”
“To rebuilding Haven.”
After everyone took a swallow, Beltur said, “That was the easy part. We might have a few other difficulties.” He extracted the gold from his pocket. “The white mage had a number of these in his wallet.” He handed the gold from the strongbox to Karch. “Do you know where this was coined?”
Karch frowned. “That’s a gold from Hydlen.”
“The head white mage had a score of golds like it.” For his own reasons, Beltur wasn’t about to let Karch know the real total. “Most bore that image.”
“That suggests he’s from Hydlen.”
“Or that someone from Hydlen gave him the golds,” said Beltur. “I’d like you to keep that one and give it to Lord Korsaen when you return, and tell him about the white mages.”
“You’re keeping the rest?” Karch raised his eyebrows.
“If the Duke of Hydlen was behind those mages, we’ll need every gold we can find. Just as we’ll need whatever mounts and arms they had.” Beltur paused, then asked, “Do you disagree?”
Karch’s lips twisted. “I have the feeling that you’re usually right. I also have the feeling that disagreeing with you, without good and solid reasons, is unwise. That one white mage should have known better.” Karch looked to Taelya. “You’re a white mage. What do you think?”
Taelya frowned. “Uncle Beltur knows best. That’s why we’re here.”
“Exactly.” Karch nodded. “Perhaps we should leave other arrangements until tomorrow when we’re more rested and have had a chance to consider matters.”
“An excellent idea,” said Lhadoraak.
Neither Beltur nor Jessyla disagreed.
V
Much later that night, after a long and quiet dinner of a decent but not outstanding fowl pie, and a good glass after Beltur and Jessyla had returned to their room, Beltur stood before the open window, looking eastward along the street that became the Lydiar road outside Haven, the cool air of a spring night flowing slowly past him. He was all too conscious that he’d chosen a room that turned his back on the ruined square. But going forward means turning your back on the mistakes and ruins of the past and moving forward, but not forgetting what led to those mistakes and ruins.
The silence stretched out.
“Karch said he’d never seen a mage do what you did with shields and containments,” Jessyla said quietly, “that other blacks could only stop chaos and not shafts or weapons.”
“I think every mage must be a little different, maybe more than that.”
She looked at him inquiringly.
“Everything in the world is made up of order and chaos,” he finally replied. “So are shields and containments. It seemed logical to me.”
She shook her head and laughed softly. “You see things others don’t.”
“That’s because I was raised as a white.”
“Perhaps, but that’s not all.” After another long pause, she went on, “The white mage said there would be a great city here, that he had visions. He died thinking that.”
“Are you asking if he was wrong?”
“Wasn’t he? He died.”
Beltur shook his head. “It could be that his vision was true. I read something like that in The Wisdom of Relyn when we were in Axalt, in Barrynt and Johlana’s parlor. I came across it again i
n the past eightday. Relyn was writing about Nylan. Nylan said that Ryba’s visions were true, but the meaning she ascribed to them was often different from the truth of the vision. That’s because all that we want to see is not always there in the truest of visions.”
“You think the white mage saw the truth, or just what he wanted to see?”
“Why not both?” asked Beltur sardonically.
“Then we could be pursuing a vision that’s only part true, as well.”
“You’re right. But nothing strong gets built without vision. We can build a strong town that will grow into a city … eventually. Well after our time. Cities don’t grow overnight, and the city we hope for likely won’t be quite what we envision. That’s something we can’t worry about.”
“So you’re saying his vision was true?”
Beltur smiled wryly. “How many lands have we traveled so far, just to find a place where we can be who we are?”
“I haven’t counted,” replied Jessyla almost playfully.
“Five. I don’t argue with visions. I just try to do what I can. I know we can rebuild Haven. Changing the name would help.”
“Not Fairhold.” Jessyla’s lips twisted in distaste.
“No.”
“What, then?”
“Fairhaven. A fair haven for all, but especially for mages, black or white, and for healers, and others who will build and contribute, no matter where they come from. Like us … or Taelya.”
“Fairhaven,” repeated Jessyla. “I like that.”
“But we should keep that name to ourselves until we’ve at least made a good start,” said Beltur. “Once Haven no longer resembles a shambles of a town, then we can suggest a new name.”
“With a few hints before that,” added Jessyla.
“Of course,” replied Beltur.
VI
Beltur and Jessyla awakened early, partly because the sun poured in through the cracks in the shutters of the east-facing room … and partly for other reasons. Even so, they thought they reached the public room fairly early, but found Captain Karch was already there. They’d barely seated themselves at the circular table when Lhadoraak, Tulya, and Taelya joined them.
The Mage-Fire War Page 4