After that, bit by bit, they extended the final glazing. With each section of glazing, the inside of the cistern got hotter.
Two quints later, with hot air swirling up out of the cistern, Beltur called a break and helped Taelya down.
“How do you feel?” Lhadoraak asked his daughter immediately.
“A little tired. It’s getting easier each time.”
“That’s because your control is getting better,” said Beltur. “But you need a break, and so do I.” He could use the break, but Taelya definitely needed it.
Faastah climbed up the ladder and started to peer into the cistern, before moving his head back. “It’s a mite bit warm in there.”
“You said it took heat to finish the glaze,” said Beltur, before taking a swallow of ale and blotting his forehead with the back of his sleeve. He broke off a chunk of bread and handed it to Taelya. “You need to drink some water, too.”
“I am thirsty.”
After a time, the two went back to glazing the cistern, and that was the pattern—working until heat and fatigue required a break, then returning and glazing, until they finally finished in midafternoon. By the time Beltur stepped away from the cistern, he had long since removed his tunic, and his shirt was soaked, and all three water bottles were empty. But the inside of the cistern was glazed, and Beltur had the feeling that between the embedded order net and the order ties he’d added, the glaze—and the cistern—would be solid indeed.
He wasn’t looking forward to glazing the other cistern on sevenday, but he knew that was something that needed to be finished before Karch and his troopers left. He also knew it wouldn’t be a good idea for him to be tied up once he and Lhadoraak needed to be acting as both councilors and town patrollers.
He turned to Taelya. “You did an excellent job, and it’s something I really wouldn’t have wanted to have done without your help.”
Taelya frowned. “But you’re so much stronger.”
“Handling all that chaos would have been a strain on me. It’s much easier for me to contain your chaos, than to muster chaos and then contain it as well. There are too many conflicts, and conflicts wear you out. You’d have a similar problem trying to handle lots of order.” Especially now, but much less so as you get more accomplished as a mage. Still, Taelya had done marvelously for so young a mage, and it suggested that she might end up a very strong white.
Faastah climbed up the four steps of the ladder and looked inside. “Don’t know how you two did that, but the glaze sure looks good.”
“We did it because we didn’t like hauling water far, especially in winter.”
The mason glanced around the house. “Already a right sturdy dwelling. Both inside and outside shutters, too. Never saw those before.”
“They have them in Axalt,” replied Lhadoraak. “Keeps a house warm when it’s really cold.”
“Also give a housebreaker a second thought,” said Faastah.
What he really meant, thought Beltur, was that it might dissuade unhappy brigandish traders. He just nodded, then turned to Lhadoraak. “Taelya and I have done all we can and should do for now. We’ll head back to the Council House and the healing house.” Then he looked to Faastah. “We’ll need more glaze on sevenday morning. That’s when we’ll do the other cistern.”
“I’ll have it.” The mason paused. “Think you’ll need any more cisterns?”
“Not any time soon.” Not if Beltur had anything to say about it. The last thing he wanted was to glaze the interior of a third cistern—ever.
XVI
After breakfast on fiveday, Beltur went, as usual, to find the innkeeper to pay him.
Bythalt was in the tiny study off the entry foyer of the inn. He looked up from the narrow table desk worriedly as Beltur tendered the silvers. “Thank you, Mage. You’re a man of your word.”
“You’re looking troubled,” said Beltur.
“I’ve heard that the troopers will be leaving soon.”
“You didn’t expect them to stay, did you?”
“No,” replied Bythalt dolefully, “but this has been the best time in years, and pretty soon you and the other mages will be living in your own houses, and the troopers will be gone. Then the traders will come back. Then what will I do?”
“Charge them what’s fair.”
“They won’t pay.”
“Then send for the Civic Patrol.”
Bythalt frowned. “There isn’t one.”
“The Council will act as the Civic Patrol until a Civic Patrol can be formed.”
“You will?”
“That’s one of the reasons we’re here.”
“Some of the traders won’t come back, then.”
Some of them may not leave, if what we’ve heard is true. “That’s possible, but in time you’ll get more paying customers.” Beltur smiled. “And we will eat here occasionally.”
“Still be hard for a while.”
“Would you rather be dealing with that white wizard?”
“Demons, no! It’s just … there won’t be many silvers before long … maybe not many coppers.”
“You’ll still get a few from the men working for the Council. They’ll need food and lodging for a while. That’s a silver a day.”
Bythalt brightened for a moment, then asked, “For how long?”
“I can’t answer that. It depends on how long they want to stay and work for the Council.” Beltur paused, then added, “From my calculations, you’ll have gotten almost thirty golds from the Council and the captain by the time the troopers leave. Some of that should last you a while.”
“A few eightdays, perhaps … because we did not get paid much … by the others.”
Beltur wasn’t about to mention that part of the problem was that no one in the town had either wanted or been able to stand up to the brigandish traders or the whites. “Matters will get better. They’re already better, but it’s going to take time. It took a while for them to get to where things were, and it will take a little time for what we’re doing to work out.”
“What if it doesn’t?”
“You’ve got thirty golds you didn’t have, and you don’t have to worry about a white mage enslaving you.”
“That’s easy—”
“Bythalt,” interrupted Beltur coldly, “you aren’t risking anything near as much as every single member of the new council, and you’ve already benefitted more than you could have imagined. Stop complaining.”
The innkeeper swallowed.
“We’ve fixed the fountain and repaired the water pipes. We’ve gotten rid of the white mages. We’re rebuilding parts of the town square and two houses. You’ve got a healer and a healing house for the first time in a generation. Just what the frig do you expect in two eightdays?”
“Ser … you’re right. But … once hope is offered … when there was none … I fear losing that hope…”
“We understand that more than you’d think,” said Beltur sardonically. “That’s why we have no intention of leaving. Now … stop worrying and get back to repairing the damage caused by the whites and others.”
“What if…?”
“I told you. If you can’t handle it, let one of us know.”
“But … what if they demand silvers?”
“If your life is in danger, give them what they ask for. Then come get us. We can tell who tells the truth and who doesn’t.” Beltur turned and headed for the stable to groom and check on Slowpoke.
Jessyla was already there, checking on her mount. “What took you so long?”
“Reassuring Bythalt. He’s getting worried because he knows the troopers will be leaving before long. Once the traders start coming in, we’re likely to be busy setting down the law.”
“Maybe we should post some rules at both inns.”
“Pay the innkeeper the posted tariff? No fighting, and leave the locals alone?”
“Perhaps something more general. Haven has a new council that expects law-abiding behavior. That gives you more leeway.”
>
“That’s a better idea.”
“I do have them occasionally.” Jessyla smiled mischievously. “Tulya has a beautiful hand. I’ll ask her if she’ll make up a notice for the East Inn. I don’t think the Brass Bowl needs one.”
Beltur shook his head and grinned, then said, “You won’t have any problem with Taelya’s spending the day with you and Tulya?”
“She’s well-behaved, and she can shield herself for a short time.”
“She can also focus a point of very hot chaos. That’s what she did in the glazing.”
“And?”
“I didn’t even hint that could be a weapon … but it could be.”
Jessyla nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind … just in case, although I’d prefer for her not to think of it that way yet. I thought she and I could ride out to see Julli and that grower—Vortaan—just in case they might have something useful, like garlic. It smells awful, but you can use the juice to clean out wounds if there aren’t any spirits.”
“That’s good to know. The way it smells, it makes sense, but I’d never heard that.”
“It’s something Mother picked up.”
“That reminds me. I’ll be writing that letter to send to Ryntaar. What about your mother?”
“I already started on one to her. I thought we could have Karch give them both to Essek to send.”
“It could take only a few eightdays or as long as a season to reach her. It just depends on the traders and the weather, but it’s likely to be quicker now that we’re more than halfway through spring.”
“That’s hard to believe.”
That wasn’t hard for Beltur to believe. What was hard to believe was that, little more than a year before, the two of them had been in Gallos, Beltur a struggling white mage and Jessyla a senior apprentice healer whom he’d never met.
Beltur was still mulling that over when he walked up onto the small stone stoop of the first house. After studying the solid door, freshly oiled, he opened it and stepped inside, not really a hall or a foyer but the left end of the large room that was the front parlor. To his right was a wall, behind which was the small bedroom. A two-sided hearth, flanked by a wall on each side, separated the front room from the kitchen. Beltur could see the back of the kitchen stove from where he stood.
The main bedroom was in the right rear corner of the house, with a small washroom between the small bedroom and the larger one. Directly opposite the front door was the door to the narrow staircase leading down to the root cellar, and farther back, in the back wall beside where the kitchen ended at the main bedroom wall, was the rear door.
The entire dwelling was a rectangle broader than deep, roughly eleven yards across the front and nine deep, making it comfortably larger than the cot that they had so briefly occupied in Axalt, and with a root cellar. The barn was also more than welcome. The house across the street was built the same way, except it didn’t have a barn, only a small shed.
As Beltur was studying the house, Lhadoraak turned from where he and Jaegyr were resetting the door to the main bedroom. “Beltur … Jaegyr has a proposition for us.” The older blond mage smiled.
Beltur walked across the end of the empty front room to where the two stood. “What is it?”
“Well, ser … once we finish fixing up the second house … there won’t be that much work to do, and seeing as you don’t have much in the way of furnishings…”
“And seeing as you’re a cabinetmaker, you think you could remedy that?” asked Beltur with a smile.
“Mostly, ser. I’ve always made cabinets, but I could make bedsteads and tables and chairs. I’ve done those. Settees … haven’t done any of those, but I could.”
“It seems to me,” said Beltur, “that bedsteads and good tables and chairs and a kitchen worktable and cabinet would be the first things we need.”
“Tulya’s located an old table and chairs,” said Lhadoraak. “We could use those for a while.”
“How much would this cost?” asked Beltur.
“Same as you’re paying now. Five coppers a day, plus whatever Gorlaak charges for the wood.”
“And just how long would it take?”
“Depends on how simple or ornate you want the furniture.”
“Simple and clean,” said Beltur. “And strong.”
“I don’t know exactly how long,” confessed Jaegyr, “but let me craft two bedsteads for you, and then you can see whether you think it’s worth it.”
Beltur looked to Lhadoraak.
The older mage nodded.
“We’ll start with two bedsteads—after the houses are done and livable.”
“Yes, ser. Thank you. You won’t regret it.”
From what Beltur had seen of Jaegyr and his work, Beltur didn’t think so, but then, how else were they likely to get furnishings in Haven?
XVII
Sixday brought more rain, something Beltur didn’t find unexpected, given how warm and damp Montgren seemed to be most of the time—or at least damp, especially compared to Gallos, and even to Spidlar, although he understood that Montgren seldom received the windy lashing downpours like the northeasters of Spidlar, largely because the land was farther south and a greater distance from the Northern Ocean that spawned the violent storms.
Since both houses were roofed and the roof tiles finally replaced, if with a mix of tiles of different colors, and since the first house was finished, or at least as much as it could be, except for plastering the walls, all the work crews except Faastah and Therran moved to Lhadoraak and Tulya’s house, while Faastah finished plastering Beltur and Jessyla’s house. Beltur had the feeling that the house would feel more like a barracks for a while, but the sooner they could stop paying Bythalt, the better.
Beltur left the houses early and made his way through the rain to the main square and the healing house, where he sat down at the table desk and began to write while Jessyla prepared dressings and other supplies. When he finished, he beckoned to her. “Here’s what I’ve written to Ryntaar and the others. Would you like to add anything?”
Jessyla took the sheets and began to read. When she finished, she looked at her consort. “You make it sound almost easy.”
“I don’t want them to worry too much.”
“We did have to deal with brigands and bandits and those Certan officers in Corumtal and Bortaan. Then there was that trader in Rytel. The one who sounded like he had ties to the Viscount and his family.”
“Factor Greshym,” supplied Beltur. “But both Greshym and Jhotyl have ties to the Viscount of Certis.”
“Greshym was nice enough to us, but only because he was afraid of you. He almost said that when he had us for dinner.”
“It was a good dinner.”
“You worried about the mushrooms…”
Beltur had to smile.
“Do you think you ought to mention that Haven doesn’t have any coppersmiths?”
“So far as I know, there’s not a real ironsmith around, either. Torkell does have a forge, but he admits that he only does that because no one else does. I’ll add something like that, and that there aren’t any cupridium blades around, but there also isn’t anyone who could afford them, at least not until we clean up Haven and honest traders start traveling through again.”
In the end, the letter was another page longer, with passing mentions of brigands and Certan officers and squad leaders, and that didn’t include the two paragraphs that Jessyla added below Beltur’s signature.
By then it was almost time for the evening meal.
The two of them closed up the healing house and stepped out into the rain.
Jessyla glanced back. “Someday, it will be what it should be.”
“Longer than you’d like, but sooner than most will think possible,” replied Beltur.
The dinner was unremarkable, mutton slices and potato slices covered with brown sauce, but at least it was hot and filling.
Beltur and Jessyla went to bed early to the sound of rain, but sevenday
dawned sunny and bright. Even before Beltur and Taelya had crossed the square on the way to her house-to-be, Beltur was beginning to sweat. It didn’t help that he was carrying two water bottles of ale, one of water, and a loaf of bread. He definitely had the feeling that by midsummer he was going to be very uncomfortable. Montgren was markedly warmer than either Elparta or Axalt, and the air was much moister than in Gallos, but …
This is where you can build something … If they could deal with everyone who either wanted Haven or didn’t want the four of them to have it. And if they could gather more people with skills.
As the two neared the second house, Taelya turned to Beltur. “This really will be our house?”
“It is already. It’s just not ready for you to move in.”
Beltur followed Taelya through the front door and into the front room, where Jaegyr was already working on one window.
Taelya stopped and looked around. “It’s all on one floor, but it’s bigger than our house in Elparta.”
“And you have a large root cellar, too, and a shed.”
“I think I’ll like it.”
Beltur smiled. He had lived in bigger houses, first with his uncle and then with Athaal and Meldryn, but the house that was now his and Jessyla’s was the first that was not someone else’s, and certainly larger than the cot in Axalt had been. As he thought back on the house where Lhadoraak and Tulya had lived in Elparta, he realized that despite being on two levels, that house had indeed been smaller—and Lhadoraak and Tulya had only been able to rent it, not own it.
Beltur nodded toward the kitchen, then made his way to the cistern, Taelya beside him.
Faastah was already there with the bucket of glaze and the brush.
“We have to do this one the same way?” asked Taelya.
“We do.” Beltur nodded. There might be a better or faster way, but since the first cistern had turned out well, and since he didn’t plan on doing more, there wasn’t any point in changing something that had worked.
“You sure you won’t do more of these?” asked Faastah as he handed the bucket of glaze to Beltur.
“Not any time soon, I hope,” replied Beltur. “You’ve seen how much work it is.”
The Mage-Fire War Page 12