The Mongrel Mage

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Although Jorhan offered a thoughtful frown, Beltur could see that he appeared almost relieved. After a moment, the smith replied, “Fourday and sevenday? That shouldn’t be a problem. We’ve got the casting part in hand. Come to say, that might work out better. Give me more time to do the finish work.”

  “I would have liked to have let you know, but Athaal and Meldryn said that, because I’d come from Gallos, I shouldn’t waste any time reporting to the Council clerk.”

  “I can see that. You ready to get to work?”

  “I am.” Beltur slipped off his tunic and hung it on a wooden peg by the smithy door.

  The rest of threeday was very much like the other days in the smithy had been, with another and larger blade being cast, and two decorative women’s mirrors, as well as smaller items, including two bud vases.

  With another pair of silvers in his wallet, Beltur left the smithy just after fourth glass, raising his full shields as soon as he stepped outside, partly because he realized that he was now carrying enough silvers to make him a more tempting target for thieves.

  As soon as he reached the house late that afternoon, he hurried upstairs and washed up, changing into his clean smallshirt, and thinking that he needed to get another set of garments, especially undergarments, now that he actually had some coins to pay for them.

  Both Meldryn and Athaal were in the kitchen by the time Beltur felt presentable and joined them. He could smell something that reminded him of roast fowl, but the scent was somewhat different, but still very appetizing.

  “How did your meeting with Raymandyl go?” asked Athaal.

  “I thought it went well. They gave me a medallion, and I have duty on fourdays and sevendays, starting tomorrow.”

  Meldryn raised his bushy gray eyebrows. “You must have impressed someone. Those are the days when thieves are the most active.”

  “Remember, Mel, he already proved that he could put a cutpurse in a shield. Also, the Council wants other mages free to help the forces if the Prefect actually decides to attack.”

  “Raymandyl told me that Denardre has already sent a threatening missive to the Council.” Beltur went on to explain what he had learned.

  After Beltur finished, Athaal nodded. “That’s another reason why they’re giving Beltur that duty.”

  “I can’t believe that Denardre would make that kind of threat,” said Meldryn. “He has to know how serious the Council is about trade and tariffs.” He turned to Beltur. “How strong do you think Wyath’s mages are?”

  Beltur thought for a moment. “Uncle was able to use chaos to cut through the roof beams of that chamber in the palace and drop the beam on one of Wyath’s mages. And they were strong enough to kill him.” Beltur swallowed as that image came into mind. He shuddered just slightly. If you’d only known what you know now … He shook his head, doubting, even with all the exercises Athaal had given him and the effort he was making in casting cupridium, that he would have been able to hold shields against that many mages.

  “You still remember, don’t you?” asked Athaal.

  “I probably always will.”

  “If Kaerylt could cut a roof beam in two places, while holding shields against that many whites,” mused Meldryn, “we’re going to have trouble. More than a little trouble. We need to talk that over with Cohndar and Felsyn.”

  The two nodded.

  “How are you doing with Jorhan?” asked Athaal.

  “I think he’s happy I won’t be there every day. He’s gotten behind on the finish work.”

  The other two exchanged glances.

  Beltur had the feeling that what he said had surprised them both, although he couldn’t immediately tell why.

  “We’ve got something different for supper this evening,” Meldryn said after a moment of silence. “A fowl stuffed with pearapples and roasted with a pearapple and honey glaze.”

  Just hearing the description made Beltur’s mouth water. He couldn’t help but smile.

  XXXIV

  Beltur woke earlier than usual on fourday morning, not because the wind blew harder, or there was rain pounding down, but because he was worried about getting to City Patrol headquarters well before seventh glass. He was actually dressed and downstairs in the kitchen before Meldryn left to return to the bakery.

  “Up early, I see,” observed the oldest mage.

  “I worry.”

  “The City Patrol won’t exactly turn on you with chaos.”

  “Or even set Osarus after you,” added Athaal. “He’s not that type anyway.”

  Beltur poured a mug of ale, helped himself to a portion of the omelet that contained an assortment of chopped vegetables, at least two cheeses, and some small bits of undefined meat, and sat down. After several bites, he took a swallow of ale, then cleared his throat, and said, “I’ve been thinking…”

  “That can be dangerous,” said Meldryn with a smile.

  “You rescued me, and you’ve fed and clothed me, even given me my own room. So far, I’ve contributed very little except trying to clean up when and where I can. Finally, I’ve begun to earn some coins.”

  “Finally?” interjected Athaal. “You’ve only been in Elparta for a bit more than two eightdays.”

  It had seemed longer than that to Beltur, but he wasn’t about to say that. “I know, but … well … as I said. I’m making coins now. Not enough to buy a place or rent a nice room, but enough that I can pay something to you and Meldryn. What about two silvers an eightday for now…?” Beltur found himself trailing off the words.

  Meldryn and Athaal exchanged glances. Then Athaal nodded to his partner.

  Meldryn offered a smile. “We both appreciate your concern. We also appreciate that as soon as you began to earn something you didn’t want to be a burden. Right now, you can only count on two silvers an eightday—that’s from your City Patrol duties. You might make more from Jorhan. You might not. We’d feel more comfortable if you just paid a silver an eightday, at least until you have accumulated a few more coins … and have a more stable income.”

  “I can’t argue with your reasons, and I’ll agree to that for now. But I don’t want to be a burden. I really don’t.”

  “You aren’t a burden, and if you pay a silver an eightday, you definitely won’t be.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “We’re sure,” added Athaal.

  “Thank you. Both of you. What day would you like to be paid?”

  “You won’t get paid until twoday or later,” said Athaal. “So what about fiveday? Starting next fiveday. Not tomorrow.”

  “I can do that.” Beltur was relieved in more ways than one. He hated being a burden, and he’d offered what he thought was fair, and they’d been more than kind in halving that. “If you wouldn’t mind … what should I keep in mind about this City Patrol duty?”

  “Keep your shields up at all times,” began Athaal. “Don’t always use a concealment. It helps to walk a row of vendors without a concealment, and then appear to vanish. If you don’t show yourself periodically, people forget you’re there. If you’re always visible, then the thieves will strike at the side of the market square where they know you aren’t.”

  “It also helps to be in different parts of the square from the patroller you’re working with,” added Meldryn.

  “Also, remember that often thieves work in pairs, and one will make a fuss someplace, but not steal anything, while the other is sneaking something off a nearby table. Sometimes, they’ll even fight…”

  “Don’t worry too much about foodstuffs. If someone steals an apple or pearapple, or even a melon, all they can do with it is eat it, and it doesn’t hurt the seller as much as hard goods, or scarves or laces, or silks. They’re really interested in things they can sell in the alleys or that their scurf can pawn or sell to outland traders, the ones that don’t care where something comes from.”

  Beltur listened as he ate, hoping that he could remember everything that the two told him.

  He left the house
at a fifth past sixth glass, with a small loaf of bread wrapped in cloth and tucked inside his tunic, since both Athaal and Meldryn had said that he’d want it later. While there weren’t that many out on Bakers Lane that early, the streets were anything but deserted, although most of those he saw were men, like him, hurrying to get somewhere. A brisk breeze blew out of the north, slightly cooler than the lighter winds of the past few days, but there were no clouds in the sky, and only a trace of haze to the north.

  The City Patrol headquarters was five long blocks west of the market square, roughly halfway between the square and the river. When Beltur neared the building, he eased the medallion out from under his tunic and let it show. Since Athaal had told him to enter by the north door, he kept walking down Patrol Street, although it was clear that the main entrance had to be elsewhere, because there was no one heading toward the narrow single door on the north side.

  Beltur took a deep breath and opened the door. He expected some kind of odor, but all he could smell was the faintest bitter scent of pine. Immediately inside the door was a modest foyer, and a table desk set forward of the other door in the foyer, presumably to a hallway leading deeper into headquarters. Behind the desk sat a graying and angular patroller in blue, who looked up, his eyes on the silver medallion.

  “You’re the new mage…” He looked down at the ledger-like book open before him. “Beltar?”

  “Beltur, Patroller. I was told to be here well before seventh glass.”

  The patroller turned the book and pointed to Beltur’s name. “Sign right after your name.”

  Beltur dipped the pen lying on the blotter in the inkwell and signed. “Do I sign in every time?”

  “Yes, you do. If you want to get paid. You’ll be working with Laevoyt. He should be here any moment.”

  “I haven’t done this before, and I haven’t been in Elparta that long.”

  “Laevoyt can tell you all about it. You can sit on the bench over there. Might as well. You’ll be on your feet for the rest of your shift.”

  “Thank you.” Beltur sat down on one end of the bench. He wasn’t about to point out that the duty time was shorter than the days he had been putting in—all on his feet.

  Before long, the door behind the patroller’s desk opened, and another blue-uniformed figure stepped out and glanced at the duty patroller, who gestured to Beltur. The patroller who walked toward Beltur had a long face with a thin, beakish nose under reddish blond hair. His eyes were pale blue. Given his height and muscular thinness, he immediately reminded Beltur of a river heron—except for the friendly smile. “You must be Beltur. I’m Laevoyt.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you.”

  “The same. You’re the mage from Gallos who’s staying with Athaal and Meldryn?”

  “I am.”

  “What have Athaal and Meldryn told you about what’s expected?”

  “Everything they could think of, I think,” replied Beltur. “So much that I’m afraid I won’t remember it all.”

  The patroller laughed. “That sounds more like Athaal to me.”

  “He did do most of the talking.”

  “We should start toward the square. I’ll try to fill you in on the way.”

  “That would be helpful.”

  Once they were outside headquarters, Laevoyt asked, “How did you end up in Elparta?”

  “After the Arms-Mage of Gallos killed my uncle and tried to kill me, I fled to the house of a healer I knew. Athaal happened to be there, and he and the healer suggested I should come to Elparta. I did, and I arrived with the clothes on my back and little else.”

  “There’s usually work of some sort…”

  “I started out by helping Athaal, and now I’ve been working with a smith. How long have you been with the City Patrol?”

  “Not quite ten years. It’s not that bad here, especially since you mages help. Trakyll said that you’ve already caught one cutpurse…”

  “I was at the market with Athaal. He was shopping. I was looking. Someone yelled out, and I saw someone running. So I put shields around them—and it turned out to be a girl posing as a boy. Then the patroller and Athaal showed up. The patroller gave me a disk, and, well, that’s how I ended up getting a summons to work with the City Patrol so soon after I got here.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Not quite three eightdays.”

  Laevoyt laughed. “They did find out about you quickly. That might have been why Trakyll gave you the disk. They’re supposed to go to mages who’ve already worked with the City Patrol. Then, maybe it was because you were with Athaal.” He paused. “You can do concealments, can’t you? Some mages have trouble with them.”

  And they still make them work with the City Patrol? “I can. I wasn’t when I was there with Athaal. I was just seeing what there was at the market. Is there anything I should know that Athaal and Meldryn might not have told me?”

  “Probably. I wouldn’t know what it might be. The thing is to keep moving. There are just the two of us patrolling the square. With just the two of us, we’ll still miss some of the thieves. Keeping on the move helps.”

  “If two aren’t enough…?”

  “Why doesn’t the Patrol add more patrollers? Because mages and patrollers cost silvers. The Council figured that two are enough to keep the theft down. More men than that doesn’t make it much better, and it costs a lot more. They’d have to add two more patrollers, one for each market square.”

  “Do you patrol the square every day?”

  “I don’t except when there’s a mage on duty. I’ll be working with you for two days every eightday. The other days, except on eightday, someone else patrols. We only have mages twice an eightday. There aren’t enough mages to have one every day.”

  As they neared the square, Beltur saw that it was already filled with people, not nearly as crowded as it had been when he had been there the last time with Athaal, but with far more people buying and ready to buy than he would have expected so early in the morning. “It’s crowded, already.”

  “Morning’s worse,” declared Laevoyt. “Midmorning, especially. You being new, might not hurt to circle the square so they can see you. After that, try to be seen some of the time, and be unseen much more. Oh … I almost forgot.” He handed Beltur a copper whistle on a lanyard. “Put this around your neck. If you catch anyone, blow three sharp blasts on it. If I don’t show up before long, do it again until I show up. Most of the time, you should try to be in a different part of the square from where I am.” Laevoyt smiled. “That’s up to you, because I shouldn’t be able to see you very often.”

  After slipping the whistle lanyard around his neck, Beltur nodded. He should have thought of that, but hadn’t.

  “Plan to meet me here on the corner at ninth glass, and the first glass of the afternoon, and then again just before fourth glass.”

  “Ninth glass, first glass, and fourth glass,” Beltur repeated.

  “You’ve got it. I’ll see you at ninth glass, unless you catch someone.” With a smile following his words, the tall patroller turned to his right and began what looked like an initial walk around the square.

  Beltur readjusted the silver medallion and headed south along the west side of the square, past the part that seemed to host more goods, such as lacework, scarves of various fabrics, pottery, woven baskets, even some decorative buckets. From what he recalled, more of the produce—melons, pearapples, apples, and other fruits and vegetables—was concentrated more along the south side of the square.

  He kept a pleasant expression on his face as he moved, trying to take in as much as he could, as well as listening. Most of the talk was too far away for him to hear, or too mixed with other conversations, but he did pick up a few fragments as he walked.

  “… younger mage…”

  “… wind’s picking up … might be rain tomorrow…”

  “… told you … not too close to the front edge of the table…”

  “… another new mage �
� where they get them…”

  “… the best in needle lace … can’t find any better anywhere in Candar…”

  “… any cutwork lace … Sligan style…”

  Cutwork lace … needle lace? Beltur briefly wondered just how many types of lace there might be.

  Just before he reached the midpoint of the square, so far without seeing or hearing anything that seemed untoward, Beltur saw Laevoyt coming the other way. The patroller caught sight of Beltur and motioned for him to continue, then turned down a line of stalls and tables toward the middle of the square. Recalling what both Athaal and Laevoyt had said, Beltur walked more quickly as he passed the row of produce carts and baskets filled with everything from potatoes to carrots, turnips, and radishes … and assorted varieties of melons and fruits. When he neared the corner of West Street and Patrol, he raised a concealment.

  “… young mage just vanished…”

  “… all the strong mages can do that … still see what’s happening…”

  While “seeing” wasn’t exactly correct, Beltur could sense shapes and the flow of order and chaos within and around people. He did have to move more carefully, at least at first, since perceiving people wasn’t the same as seeing them.

  He kept walking, and sensing, avoiding people because they couldn’t see him, but he couldn’t see or sense anything untoward—not during the first glass he patrolled, nor even during the second glass. Although he was careful to drop the concealment at intervals and walk openly, none of the vendors even attempted to sell him anything, although several almost did … until they saw the medallion.

  At ninth glass, he had nothing to report to Laevoyt.

  “That’s fine. Our being here sometimes is enough.”

  Beltur resumed his efforts.

  Sometime later but before first glass, Beltur could sense a slight rise in chaos some five yards away, a row of stalls to the north, and he immediately slipped between two tables, brushing by someone he sensed to be older and likely a woman.