The Mage-Fire War

by Modesitt. Jr. , L. E.

  The innkeeper swallowed. “Ser … he said that he’d stay where he pleased and that he’d pay nothing, and that he’d have any woman he wanted, and that I could agree with him or die.”

  Beltur nodded, then looked at the armsman. “Did you say that? Or words to the same effect?”

  “You speak so well, Mage.” The bravo smiled again.

  “Answer the question.”

  “I don’t have to answer you or anyone else.”

  “No … you don’t, but you might have a chance to leave Haven alive if you do.”

  “No one threatens Mordosh.”

  “Are you going to answer the question?”

  “Why should I?”

  “To have at least a chance at staying alive.”

  “If you had the guts to kill me, you already would have.”

  Beltur clamped a containment around the bravo and tightened it. When Mordosh began to turn blue, he loosened the containment, then waited a moment before saying, “Did you threaten the innkeeper and insist that any woman was yours if you wanted her?”

  “I’m not about to answer your questions or anyone else’s. Kill me if you dare. If you can.”

  Beltur shook his head, then added a smaller containment around the bravo’s throat, tightening it until Mordosh’s throat was crushed. He didn’t release either until the death mist passed over him.

  Bythalt shivered.

  “You told the truth,” replied Beltur. “He didn’t want to. If he’d told me that he’d threatened you, and he honestly promised to walk away from Haven, I would have let him. But I won’t play games with lying bravos.” Beltur smiled sadly as he walked forward. He bent and unfastened the sword belt. The man’s wallet held but three coppers.

  Beltur examined the sword belt. The hidden coin slots there were all empty. He shook his head and retrieved the dirk. He handed two of the coppers to the innkeeper. “You can take care of the body.”

  Beltur carried the dead man’s weapons up to the chamber adjoining the one where he and Jessyla slept and left them there. Then he relocked the door, and replaced the order lock. He walked downstairs and then back to the Council House through the rain that had subsided to a drizzle.

  When he stepped inside, Tulya looked up, as did Therran from where he stood by the rear archway.

  “There was a bravo at the inn. He’d already threatened Bythalt. I had to kill him. If he’d left town without threatening or harming anyone, I’d have let him go.” Beltur shrugged.

  “How did he get to the inn without anyone seeing him … or sensing him?”

  “How heavy was the rain?” asked Beltur. “There was just one man, walking through the rain, likely taking back streets … and at the time, Lhadoraak and I were at the houses, not here.”

  Tulya nodded, clearly thinking about how the rain hampered sensing. “How many more will show up, do you think?”

  “More than I’d like. I keep hoping that some are halfway decent men just down on their luck. We could use more like the four of you.” Beltur looked to Therran.

  “You really would have let him walk away, ser?”

  “I’d have followed him to make sure he did, but I would have.”

  “Could I go?”

  “Your leg is almost healed deep inside. In another day or so, it will be enough that you could travel. You’d be sore, but you could, if you want.”

  “Why not until then?”

  “Because the chaos in your leg could flare up. It might not, but it could, and, as a healer, I don’t want to be responsible for letting you go until you’re well enough to travel.”

  “I won’t be telling anyone, ser. I won’t.”

  “I wouldn’t think so.”

  “No, ser. I won’t.” Therran was almost shivering.

  “I added his weapons to those in the inn. We’ll need somewhere to store them once we move.”

  “What about in the root cellars in the houses?”

  “For a while, anyway.” Beltur turned. “I need to tell Jessyla and let Aaskar know that it’s safe to go back to the inn.” Then he left the Council House.

  As soon as he entered the healing house, he looked to Aaskar. “It’s safe for you to go back to the inn now.” Then he handed the single copper to the boy. “That’s for being brave and coming to tell us.”

  “Yes, ser. Thank you, ser.”

  In moments, Aaskar was gone.

  “I take it that it was a bravo and that he had no intention of being reasonable,” said Jessyla.

  “Less so than any of the others. I left his weapons in the inn. Tulya suggested we store them in the house cellars. I agreed with that—once we move in.”

  “I’d agree. When will that be, do you think?”

  “If we want to sleep on the floor, possibly an eightday. Jaegyr will craft us bedsteads once he’s done what he can on the houses.”

  “You mentioned that already.”

  “I have been known to repeat myself … more than once.” Beltur offered a crooked smile. “We also need to worry about mattresses or pallets … or something other than boards in the bedsteads.”

  “I’ve talked to Julli about that. She has some older women who are working on stitching heavy mattress covers. A few silvers should cover all three covers. Then they can be stuffed with wool.”

  “When were you going to tell me?”

  “I meant to last night. You had other … matters on your mind.”

  Beltur smiled ruefully, even as he shook his head.

  XX

  While the rain ended late on oneday and twoday was clear, the air was still heavy with moisture. Whether as a result of the rain or for other reasons, neither armsmen nor traders showed up on twoday, but when Beltur left the inn for a midday patrol on threeday, he had no doubt that either freelance armsmen or traders, if not both, would be entering Haven before all that long. That was another one of the reasons he’d decided to wear the blue uniform, with the black-banded sleeves and visored cap of a Spidlarian arms-mage, a uniform he’d carried across four countries, largely because he’d been reluctant to discard such costly apparel.

  With sweat oozing from under the visor cap, he guided Slowpoke out the east road first, where he saw more sheep and young shepherds, each with the same type of white woolly dog he and Jessyla had seen earlier, except this one was more massive, almost a yard high at the top of its shoulders. As before, the young shepherds were wary of him, or of the strange uniform.

  Short of the curve in the road, he turned Slowpoke and headed back toward Haven.

  When he neared Julli’s cot, she raised an arm to hail him and then walked from the garden to the edge of the street. “Whose uniform is that?”

  “Mine. From when I was an arms-mage in Spidlar. Lhadoraak has his as well. We thought it might be better if we wore them while patrolling.”

  “That’s a good idea. It’ll remind people that there’s at least some order coming back to town.”

  “More than some.” We hope.

  “Jaegyr can’t wait to get started on those bedsteads. It’s been so long since there’s been real work for him.”

  “There’s likely to be more, but it may take a while.”

  “Even gardens take time and work.” She nodded. “I won’t keep you.”

  Beltur took a more circuitous route through town, just so people wouldn’t get the idea that he only patrolled the main street, but he did swing past the Brass Bowl, which seemed to be quiet. He also rode to the houses, where he saw Gustaan lugging a bucket of water toward the house.

  The former bravo set down the bucket and walked toward Beltur, then stopped and looked at him. “Some sort of Spidlarian officer’s uniform, ser?”

  “It’s mine. Spidlarian arms-mage. I thought wearing it when I’m patrolling might help remind people.”

  “It might make you a target, too.”

  “It might … but that will show me who’s a problem.”

  “Are you really going to have a Civic Patrol?”

  �
��Once we deal with the initial problems. Are you interested?”

  “I just might be. Some of the others might, too. Haven could be better than a lot of places I’ve seen.”

  Beltur smiled. “That’s the idea.”

  “I heard that there was a problem at the inn the other afternoon.”

  “Not for long.”

  “I heard that, too.” Gustaan nodded. “If you’ll excuse me, ser, the mason needs this water.”

  Beltur watched until Gustaan entered the second house, then turned Slowpoke toward the main street. From there he studied each of the dwellings he passed. He thought that fewer of them had closed shutters, but whether that was his imagination, or even the warmer weather, he couldn’t say.

  Beyond the west end of town, the ground was rugged and rocky, with far fewer grassy stretches and more stands of trees that appeared to have grown almost haphazardly. At one point, Beltur saw two men working a crosscut saw to bring down what looked to be a dead or dying tree. Neither gave him more than a passing glance.

  When Beltur was within a kay or so of the defaced kaystone, he saw a cart moving toward Haven, drawn by a single horse led by a man. He extended his senses as far as he could, but he couldn’t sense anyone else to the west or south of the traveler.

  Beltur’s first thought was that the cart might be carrying produce, but as he rode closer he could see that oiled canvas covered objects of various sizes and shapes. The man leading the cart horse could have been thirty or fifty, with a weathered and tanned face and a brown beard that was roughly trimmed.

  “Never seen a uniform like that before,” offered the peddler, bringing the cart horse to a halt as Beltur reined up in the middle of the road.

  “It was the uniform of a Spidlarian arms-mage. Now, it’s the temporary uniform of a Haven town patrol mage.”

  “That you?”

  Beltur nodded. “I’m one of several.”

  “I heard that there was a new council there. Been a long while since I’ve been in Haven. It was run-down a fair bit. Changed much?”

  “The Council House is open. There’s a healer in the healing house. The fountain in the square is flowing again. There haven’t been any honest traders returning yet.”

  “Some of them will take a look.”

  “What about you?” Beltur gestured toward the cart.

  “I’m no trader, just a tinker and a knife-sharpener. I sell a few things, pots, skillets, knives, a blade or two.”

  Thinking of the tinker he’d seen in Analeria—just about a year ago, but a time that almost seemed like another life—Beltur asked, “Are you thinking of staying in Haven for a time, or do you just travel from town to town?”

  “I travel. Stay only as long as folks need me. Maybe a bit longer if I feel welcome.” The tinker chuckled. “Have to say that doesn’t happen that often.”

  “I understand that.”

  “Mages are like tinkers that way. Folks don’t like us around once they don’t need us.”

  “Haven will be different. Most of the new councilors are mages or healers.”

  “How’d that ever happen?”

  “That was the price the Duchess had to pay to get us to clean up Haven.” Beltur smiled pleasantly. “Did you happen to see anyone else headed this way?”

  “Can’t say as I did. I don’t travel all that fast, though, and no one passed me going either way.”

  “Thank you. I imagine I’ll be seeing more of you.” With that, Beltur turned Slowpoke back toward the town, hoping that he’d see more like the tinker than like Duurben, who was bound to show up again before very long.

  XXI

  Fourday morning after breakfast, Beltur went to find Aaskar, who might be able to help him with a particular problem. He found the boy removing straw and manure from a stall with a rake taller than he was.

  Aaskar looked up dolefully at Beltur.

  “Aaskar,” said Beltur, “how would you like to earn some extra coppers?”

  “What’d I have to do for them?”

  “Just come over to the Council House or the healing house and tell someone if a new trader or bravo has come to town. Or tell me if I’m closer. I’ll pay you a copper a day for the next eightday, and we’ll see how it works out.”

  “A real copper? Like last time. Every time?”

  Beltur shook his head. “One copper every day. You get the copper even if no one comes. You get one copper even if two traders come.” He paused. “But if you don’t want the coppers, I could find—”

  “No, ser! I’ll do it.” The boy looked inquiringly at Beltur.

  “You get paid every morning for the day before … after the work’s done.”

  Aaskar sighed. “Yes, ser.”

  Beltur managed not to laugh at the obvious acting. “Tomorrow morning. Now … keep your eyes and ears open.”

  After leaving the stable Beltur straightened the blue uniform, because he and Lhadoraak had agreed it made more sense for Beltur to do all the patrolling until the two houses were both livable, since Lhadoraak had some skills in woodworking and Beltur did not. Then he walked to the market square adjoining the inn, heading to where the tinker had set up his cart not all that far from the fountain. Several yards away was another cart that Beltur had never seen, its wooden sides bare, the donkey that had pulled it drinking from a wooden pail while a stocky, dark-haired woman in faded brown watched both the donkey and the cart. Her lined face suggested she was at least fifteen years older than Beltur.

  Beltur stopped and looked at the array of vegetables laid out on the extended tailgate of the cart. Some of the leafy greens he didn’t recognize, but he definitely could pick out the bunches of carrots and radishes.

  “You one of the mages that fixed the fountain?”

  Beltur turned. “I’m one of the mage-councilors who paid Faastah and some others to fix it.”

  “You’re wearing a uniform today.”

  Even though Beltur had never seen the woman, she’d obviously seen him. “The uniform is for when we act as town patrollers.”

  She barked a laugh. “Do you intend to do everything?”

  “We’ll do what needs to be done. In time, we’ll have a regular patrol.”

  “That might be a mite difficult. There aren’t many young men left here.”

  “Not at the moment,” agreed Beltur. “That will change.”

  “You seem sure of that, Mage. Others might not be.”

  “You’re here in the square. So’s the tinker. That’s a change, isn’t it?”

  “If it stays that way. Would you like some fresh vegetables?”

  “Not today,” Beltur replied with a smile. “We don’t have everything in the house yet.”

  “The ones you’ve got Jaegyr and Gorlaak working on?”

  Beltur nodded.

  “Those houses aren’t that large. Not for mages who are councilors.”

  “They’re big enough for us.” At least for now. “Especially since we didn’t bring much with us.”

  “You can afford to stay in the inn.”

  “Only for a time, and only because the Duchess is paying for it.”

  “Perhaps you should have insisted she pay more.”

  “We’re all she could afford. Montgren has far more sheep than people.”

  “What’s in it for you, then?”

  “A town where we’ve got some control of our lives and a chance to make things better. Isn’t that what most people want?”

  “Some of the traders that frequent the inns want more than that.”

  “They can have it … if they behave and don’t hurt or beggar people.”

  “Keeping them from doing that might be a challenge even for mages.”

  “We didn’t think it would be easy,” replied Beltur genially.

  “Also a few local folk who like it the way it is.”

  “Such as?”

  “The ones who make coins. Who else?”

  “Phaelgren, you mean?”

  “He’s one.”<
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  “Bythalt?”

  The woman shook her head. “He gets by. Too honest to cheat enough. And too scared to stand up to the traders. I’ll leave it for you to discover the others. Phaelgren’s the worst, though.”

  “My name’s Beltur, by the way.”

  “I’ve heard. Ennalee. You won’t have heard of me. My consort is Vortaan.”

  “He’s a grower, I’ve heard. Or are you the grower, and he has the land?”

  “I like the land.” Ennalee smiled faintly.

  That was enough of an answer for Beltur.

  “I imagine we’ll be seeing you around,” said Ennalee, easing the bucket away from the donkey.

  “Most likely.” Beltur turned and walked to the tinker, who was setting up a small foot-powered sharpening wheel. “Greetings … again.”

  “Greetings, Mage.”

  “Do you think you’ll have customers?”

  “I will. How many … who knows?”

  Beltur studied the items laid out for sale on the tailboard—several knives, used but sharp and in decent condition; one sabre, with a plain leather scabbard; three copper skillets of different sizes; two copper cookpots; and a small kettle. “Do you buy as well as sell?”

  “More likely trade, but I do all three.”

  “Where are you from, originally?”

  “Worrak. That was a long time ago. Haven’t been back. Won’t be.”

  Beltur looked at the large skillet. “What might something like that skillet go for?”

  “Whatever I can get that’s more than what it cost me.”

  Beltur nodded, guessing that such a skillet might well cost several silvers, possibly more. “Have you had any trouble?”

  “Not yet. I probably won’t.”

  “Because you’re from Worrak?” That was an allusion to the fact that so many pirate vessels used the natural harbors around Worrak.

  “It doesn’t hurt.”

  From the square, Beltur made his way to the Council House, where Tulya was seated at the table desk, working on the town tariff ledger.

  “I sent Therran to help with the houses. Jessyla said it wouldn’t hurt him, and she’s keeping an eye on the square in case anyone should head this way.”

  “I’m paying Aaskar to report any traders or bravos. If he can’t find me immediately, he’ll come here. I thought it might be best if we knew some of those coming into town. If you’d also write down the trader’s name or anything Aaskar knows.”