He studied the heavy lock, then attempted to use order to manipulate the tumblers inside.
Sweat was pouring down his face before he could open the lock and lift the locker lid, propping it open with the attached lever.
He repeated the process with the nearest two other lockers before returning to the first locker and the lantern, where he used his belt knife to help rip and cut a strip of cloth from his undershirt. He sheathed the knife and then pulled the filler plug from the lantern, then threaded the strip of cloth into the reservoir until he held just one end. Next he pulled the cloth from the reservoir and twisted it into a makeshift wick.
He lifted the lantern and held it over the powder bags in the locker, tilting it so that lamp oil fell on the bags, puddling slightly in one spot. He set the lamp on the powder bag next to the oil that was already sinking into the cloth. Then he ran his makeshift wick from the puddle to the reservoir and then up to the top of the lamp mantle, poking it just inside the mantle. Quickly, he wicked up the lamp and turned. While the passageway through the hatch was empty, he decided on caution and raised his light shield, even as he began to move at almost a run.
At the base of the ladder topside, he slammed into a crewman. As the sailor staggered back, Rahl scrambled up the ladder and along the upper passageway, and then out onto the main deck.
“Lines away! All hands to battle stations! All hands to battle stations!”
Behind him, Rahl could sense that his impromptu fuse was burning too fast. The gangway had been lifted, and even if he could jump to the pier, the pier was so wide he wouldn’t be able to reach the far side in time, and he’d be fully exposed to the blast or fire… or both. Yet the ship was so close to the pier that he might well get crushed between the hull and the solid stone wharf wall.
He tried to hurry aft, unseen, trying to follow one sailor; and then another.
“There’s a mage-guard on board… on the main deck aft!”
A whitish powder exploded, and Rahl kept hurrying along the railing, although he could sense that he was covered with something. He dropped the light shield and discovered he was covered with a luminescent powder, like glowing flour.
“There!”
“Get him!”
Rahl flung himself over the railing, scraping against the hull as he fell. He could barely swim, but he didn’t have much choice. The water was chill, despite the warmth of the air, and his entire body spasmed as he plunged under the surface.
A muffled explosion pressed the water around him, and momentary knives stabbed into his ears. Then both subsided, and he struggled to reach the surface.
Flame was everywhere, and he ducked back under the water, trying to struggle away from the ship. He kept paddling until he reached the smooth stone wall of the pier, which he could barely grasp, and pulled himself up just enough to get another breath before using his fingers to push himself under the water toward the base of the pier.
Another quick breath, and he ducked underwater and tried to keep moving toward the shore. He was so lightheaded, but he couldn’t give up, not yet. Pull and breathe, and duck, and pull and breathe and duck… pull and breathe…
The water was so deep he couldn’t feel or sense bottom, and he had to keep half-swimming, half-pulling himself toward the base of the pier.
Finally, he was well clear of the flaming hulk that had been a ship, but there was no way he was going to be able to make his way much farther, especially since another vessel was tied up before him, with frantic activity on its deck. Stars pinwheeled across his vision, points of intolerable light and pain.
“There’s someone in the water!”
“It’s Rahl! I knew he was down here…”
“How did he… ?”
“The blast must have thrown him into the water.”
“… have to get him out…”
“… not that far from the ladder…”
Rahl strained, trying to find the ladder, and finally seeing the niches carved into the stone, and the iron railing beside them. Slowly; so slowly, he tugged himself to it.
His fingers were raw, and he could hardly grasp the rough iron of the ancient railing. Somehow he managed to get his boots onto one niche, then another…
Hands pulled him up the last steps, and hot darkness swept over him.
XCIX
“I You don’t look back… look back… The past has no hold on you.” The words echoed through the hot darkness, only to be replaced by other phrases, one after another. “He doesn’t seem inclined to listen… not inclined to listen… has to learn everything the hard way… everything the hard way… it’s up to you… life doesn’t provide private tutors… use your skills without thinking… you lack adequate forethought… just keep to the piers… do your own job… always blaming others… whiner…”
The words vanished, only to be replaced by the image of a brown-haired woman in healer green, looking sadly at him even as her image dwindled into the distance and vanished.
Deybri… vanishing once more…
Rahl coughed, then shuddered.
His face felt as though it were on fire and still burned. Slowly, he opened his eyes. He was in an unfamiliar chamber, and it was light outside the single narrow window. How long had he been struggling through the darkness? What had happened?
“You’re awake. Good.” The voice belonged to Hewart, who stepped closer to the bed on which Rahl lay.
“Where… ?” Rahl croaked.
“In the infirmary. You’re lucky to be alive. Very fortunate,” Hewart said, looking down at him. “Suvynt said that you’d gone to check on the Jeranyi vessel, or we wouldn’t have been looking for you.”
“Captain… undercaptain?” Rahl croaked.
“No one can find the captain. We think that he might have been killed by the blast on the Jeranyi ship. Someone killed the undercaptain. At least, it looks that way. All we could find were his blade and boots, and insignia and parts of his cap and uniform. It looks like a Jeranyi plot. You were just lucky.”
“Who takes over… in charge?”
“The regional commander is running things, but Jyrolt and someone from Luba are coming as well. The Jeranyi were up to more than what anyone knows happened, so far, anyway, but no one’s quite sure what happened. They think it might be tied into the rebellion in Merowey.”
“Rebellion…” Rahl tried to remember. He had known something about that, about the Emperor’s brother being behind it. How could that be tied to the Jeranyi? He didn’t know, and it was still hard to think, and his face burned, and his breathing was labored.
“You don’t have much order left in you, Rahl, but you should be all right before long.” Hewart lifted a mug of something. “Heavy beer. It’ll help a lot.”
Rahl had to swallow slowly, and his throat was more than a little sore, but he got all the beer down.
“Good.” Hewart smiled. “Now you need to rest”
Questions swirled around in Rahl’s head, but before he could ask any more, the hot darkness rose and swallowed him once again.
C
The heat and fever continued, and Rahl drifted in and out of it for several days. The words and phrases echoing through his head became fewer, but the dreams more vivid—if scenes from his past were truly dreams, particularly those involving Puvort and Kadara. The dream-scenes were seldom pleasant. Even the dreams of Deybri included the time she had chastised him for trying to shield himself against nonexistent chaos in learning how to handle the falchiona.
In time, he did wake from the fever, on oneday morning, according to Hewart, who had hovered over him and clearly had some ability as a healer.
“Have I just lain here the whole time?”
“Hardly… you’ve eaten and washed and talked, but you weren’t really here,” replied Hewart. “You had as much of an order-loss fever as a real one, and there was some wound chaos in your throat and lungs. That was probably from being so close to the Jeranyi ship that caught fire and exploded. You talked some.
”
“Ah…” Did he really want to know what he’d said? “What did I say?”
“Most of it didn’t make too much sense, especially at first when you mostly muttered and whispered, but you did keep saying that you tried to find the captain and tell him, and something about the Jeranyi getting caught in the fire of the Nylan Merchant place, but that made sense, because that was where the big fire happened.” Hewart looked embarrassed. “Did you have a girl named Deybri? You kept saying her name.”
“She’s a healer, but she was never my girl. I wish she were,” Rahl admitted.
“Rahl… what happened on the pier? Do you remember?”
How much should he say? Rahl took another swallow of the beer in the mug on the table beside the bed before answering. “I thought one of the concealed guns on the pier side of the ship exploded, and then there were more explosions. I felt like the whole ship would explode and there was nowhere to go. So I jumped into the harbor.” All that was true, if hardly complete.
“That was smart. It probably saved your life. Did you see the captain?”
Rahl shook his head. “I was looking for him, but I never saw him.”
Hewart looked to the infirmary door. “There are some important mage-guards here who need to talk to you. They’ve been waiting.”
Rahl could feel a chill go all the way through him. “Who?”
“The regional commander, Jyrolt, and a mage-guard from Luba named Taryl. I never heard of him, but both the others defer to him,- and I never saw a regional commander ever defer to anyone except the Emperor, the over-commander, or the Triad.”
“I heard that he was once part of the Triad.” Rahl just hoped Taryl would understand and could help. Otherwise, he was likely headed for Highpoint or Luba, if not worse.
“Oh…” Hewart looked to the infirmary door as it opened. “I think they’re here.” He moved away from Rahl’s bed.
Taryl was the first one into the room, and he merely looked at Hewart, who immediately stepped back, then departed after Jyrolt and a third mage-guard entered.
“Rahl,” began Taryl, “you know Jyrolt, and this is Regional Mage-Commander Chaslyk.”
“Ser…” Rahl inclined his head to the tall and‘ muscular figure, whose black eyes, olive skin, and angular face created a physically commanding presence. Even so, Taryl dominated the room.
“I have this feeling,” said Taryl, a slight smile upon his face as he looked at Rahl, “that you know far more than you’ve said about the situation here in Swartheld.”
Rahl noted that Jyrolt felt more than a little nervous. Chaslyk, despite shields at least as tight as Craelyt’s had been, was both concerned and angry.
“Before we begin, however,” Taryl added, “I’d like you to tell me honestly what you think each of us is feeling.”
Rahl didn’t want to, but Taryl had saved his life, and he .owed the older mage-guard. After a brief hesitation, he said, “Yes, ser. You’re somewhat amused. Mage-Examiner Jyrolt is nervous and worried, and Regional Mage-Commander Chaslyk, behind his shields, is angry and most concerned.”
Chaslyk’s concern grew more intense.
“Do you know why I asked that question?” Taryl was still smiling.
“I don’t know, ser, but I would guess it might have something to do with Undercaptain Craelyt.”
“What happened to him?” Chaslyk’s voice was cold. “Did you have anything to do with his death?”
“Commander.” The coolness in Taryl’s one-word address froze the senior officer. “I think we need to hear what happened from the beginning. Then you can address specific questions to the mage-guard. If you would, Rahl…”
“Yes,, ser.” Rahl cleared his throat. “It began even before I was drugged and sent to Luba. That was when I smelled the vinegar in the Nylan Merchant Association warehouse and saw the barrels of Feyn River pickles…”
“Pickles?” murmured Chaslyk.
Rahl paused, and Taryl looked at Chaslyk. Chaslyk, seething beneath his shields, closed his mouth.
‘There was no reason to ship pickles…“ Rahl went on to explain how he’d ended up in Luba, been discovered and trained, returned as a junior mage-guard to Swartheld, and then how he’d been reminded of the pickles and discovered the link between the pickles and the Jeranyi, and what had happened afterward. The only thing he omitted was his killing of Asmyd, the mage-guard who had tried to kill him back when he’d been a clerk. ”… and when the ship was about to explode, I jumped in the harbor.“
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” asked Chaslyk.
“I did, ser. I told Captain Gheryk that I thought there was a tie between the Jeranyi and Shyret as soon as I figured that out; but I didn’t know what it was except that they were shipping barrels marked as pickles, and that didn’t make sense. I probably should have recalled earlier that cammabark was always shipped damp in vinegar, but I just didn’t. He told me that was something serious and not to snoop around more, and that he’d take care of it. I didn’t snoop any more, but when I saw the three Jeranyi ships and all those pickle barrels headed for the Merchant Association warehouse, I realized that there might be a terrible problem, and I went looking for the captain. I never found him, and the undercaptain wasn’t there, either, or I would have reported what I discovered to him. But when I couldn’t find either one, after what had happened with the attack on the pier-guard station and the strange way Caersyn acted, I didn’t know who I could go to.”
“Do you know why the undercaptain attacked you?” asked Taryl.
“No, ser. I knew he was angry that I had discovered what was happening with the Jeranyi, and he was quite clear in telling me that my investigating was insubordination. He also didn’t want me to tell anyone else.”
“You actually heard the Jeranyi giving orders to attack other merchanting warehouses?” demanded Chaslyk. “Yes, ser.”
“It appears that all of the workers at the Merchant Association were killed. We did find the remains of the director and a clerk.”
All of them? Rahl had suspected that, but it was another thing to hear it.
“Why do you think that this Shyret was cooperating?”
“Because the warehouse was empty of all goods, ser. I would guess—it’s only a guess—that he sold or moved them and was going to claim everything burned. I’d been. drugged, and one of the drivers was killed in an accident. I don’t think it was an accident. Also, one of the clerks before me had just disappeared. When I learned all of this, and remembered that Shyret was going to be moved to another post this year, it made more sense.” Rahl paused. “Oh, there was one other thing. When I was a checker in Luba, another checker who’d been a merchant clerk said he’d been framed. His name was Masayd, and he claimed that a mage-guard supervisor named Ventaryl destroyed certain records and did things for certain factors when the undercaptain told him to, but he didn’t say which undercaptain.”
That brought Chaslyk up with a start.
“I didn’t tell anyone that,” Rahl added, “because I didn’t know who the undercaptain might be, but Masayd thought he was telling the truth.”
Jyrolt nodded. After a moment, so did Chaslyk.
“Why didn’t you trust the undercaptain?”
Rahl shrugged, almost helplessly. “Ser… I wish I could tell you. He kept his shields so tight all the time… oh, and the other things were that he really emphasized that I should keep away from the Merchant Association— but the captain told me not to tell the undercaptain anything, and I didn’t. And when the undercaptain pulled me off the pier while the Jeranyi were loading the pickle barrels—”
“The captain told you not to tell the undercaptain?”
“Yes, ser. He said to tell no one but him anything, and to approach him only in a way that was not obvious.”
Taryl looked to the regional commander.
Rahl could tell that Chaslyk’s anger had almost vanished, but his concerns were far greater.
“Pickles…” There was an actual
note of humor in the commander’s voice. “Total disaster averted because a mage-guard smelled pickles.” He shook his head. “Years from now, it will make a great story. Right now… I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it to those of us here.”
“Yes, ser.” Rahl couldn’t hide his puzzlement. There was obviously far more going on than he knew.
Chaslyk straightened. “Jyrolt and I have a few more items to take care of, including talking to certain mage-guards. I believe you can handle what else Rahl needs to know, Taryl. If you would excuse us…”
Taryl smiled. “I can do that.” Taryl smiled at Jyrolt. “My congratulations and condolences, Captain.”
Captain? Jyrolt was being made captain of the mage-guard stations in Swartheld? Or somewhere else?
Taryl did not speak until the infirmary door closed once again. “There is more, of course. It appears Shyret was killed earlier, but his body was badly burned. We have found no records, even at his dwelling, but his house and the barn upon his grounds are filled with goods, and there were more than a thousand golds in a hidden strongbox there. We have seized the golds and goods as reparations for the damage created by the Jeranyi and Shyret. Furthermore, all Jeranyi vessels have been banned from all ports in Hamor.” Taryl snorted. “That will do little good because they will simply sell their stolen goods elsewhere, or transfer them to other vessels for consignment sales here, but at times even the Emperor must make great and meaningless gestures.”
“What was the purpose… ?”
“Of the attack? If they had succeeded in destroying all the warehouses, they would have reduced trade to a fraction of its volume for some time. A good amount of the Emperor’s revenues come from the tariffs. That would have made it more difficult to fund the efforts against the rebellion in Merowey, and the Emperor would have been required to send at least some warships on patrols and efforts against Jeranyi pirates, and perhaps waste time and effort blockading and bombarding the port of Jera. Any success would have been slight at best, but not doing so would have signified weakness and indifference, and those are even more costly. Using warships against the Jeranyi would have resulted in fewer ships to patrol the approaches to Sastak and the smaller ports in the southwest and would have made it easier and less costly for the rebels to obtain supplies. It also would have raised the prices that the Jeranyi could charge for what they sold. At least for a time.” Taryl paused.
Natural Ordermage Page 57