The Mongrel Mage

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

“That’s not all bad,” replied Laugreth. “Would you really have wanted to face two companies the way we did the last time we were here out east?” Without waiting for a reply, he went on. “I’ll report to the majer that there are certainly Gallosian scouts east of Elparta. I’ll tell him that they turn and gallop for the hills at the first sight of any Spidlarian unit, and that we could find no traces of any significant Gallosian forces anywhere near the Axalt road. Also no signs of raiding or pillaging.” He laughed humorlessly. “That’s not out of honor, but because there’s precious little left here to pillage, not right after the Council tariffs have to be paid and when most of the herders have left their flocks in the north.”

  “Even with the chance that they’ll be trapped there if the fighting drags out or there’s an early snow?”

  “Most sheep can survive snow. They don’t survive being slaughtered.”

  Beltur could see that. He just nodded and took another swallow of ale.

  LXVII

  Meoryt, the duty squad leader, roused Beltur and Zandyr out of sleep well before dawn on eightday. “The Gallosians are attacking. Second Recon is to form up immediately.”

  Beltur was halfway dressed before Zandyr struggled into a sitting position on the side of his pallet bed.

  “Attacking on eightday before dawn,” muttered Zandyr. “Uncivilized barbarians.”

  “It doesn’t matter whether it’s uncivilized,” replied Beltur, pulling on his boots. “It only matters whether it works.”

  Zandyr was still struggling into his uniform when Beltur hurried to the mess with his water bottles. He got all four filled and stuffed a loaf of bread into his tunic before hurrying off to saddle Slowpoke. Even with his stop at the mess he was mounted and reined up in front of First Squad before several of the rankers appeared. As usual, Zandyr was almost the last one in place, again barely getting into position with Third Squad before the captain appeared.

  “Company! Forward!” ordered Laugreth, who then lowered his voice and turned to Beltur. “We’re headed to the river road to reinforce the foot company that’s about a kay south of the end of the piers. Let me know if there are any Gallosians nearby.”

  After several moments, Beltur replied, “I don’t sense anyone between us and the foot company.” When Laugreth said nothing, Beltur uncorked his first water bottle and took a long swallow of ale. He wasn’t that hungry; so he didn’t eat any of the bread.

  The eastern sky was just beginning to gray when Second Recon neared the rear of the foot company holding position on the river road and reined up.

  “The Gallosians are four hundred yards south,” Beltur reported. “They’re not moving.”

  “How many are there?”

  “At least two companies, possibly three, but they’re split into three groups with about a hundred yards between each. The closest is on the road to the south. There’s another group just up the fork to the east. The third is on a ridge west of the middle group.”

  A single rider moved out of the gloom toward Laugreth. “Chelstaat, Captain, Eighth Foot out of Kleth.”

  “Laugreth, Second Recon. We’re here to support you, if necessary. The Gallosians are attacking about a kay to the southwest. Have you seen any movement here?”

  “No. So far as we can tell there are three forces south of us. It’s hard to tell how many.”

  “About three companies in all,” replied Laugreth. “Do you have any archers?”

  “No. We have a squad of shield and pike, and the rest are heavy foot. What about you?”

  “We’re standard recon. Sabres and bows.”

  “The commander must have sent you to make sure we don’t get flanked.”

  “The majer didn’t say.”

  “Do they ever?”

  “Not often.” Laugreth punctuated the words with a laugh. “We’ll leave one squad at the ready, and have the others stand down until there’s any sign of movement from the Gallosians.”

  “Good with us. If we learn anything, I’ll send word.”

  From the exchange between the two captains, and what he could see in the dim light, and sense, Beltur had the feeling that Captain Chelstaat was more like Gaermyn—older and tough. He’d probably worked his way up all the way from ranker to captain. That also raised again the question of how Laugreth had become a company commander.

  “Vaertaag,” ordered the captain, “have First Squad stand down. Pass the word that Third Squad and Undercaptain Zandyr will be the ready squad for the next glass. Second, Fourth, and Fifth Squads are to stand down as well.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  “You don’t expect an attack in the next glass, ser?” Beltur asked quietly.

  “I think it’s the least likely then. But I want you to keep sensing what the Gallosians are doing. If I’m wrong, you need to let me know immediately.” Laugreth dismounted and led his horse to the side of the road.

  “Yes, ser.” Beltur followed the captain’s example. After tying Slowpoke to a short but stout pinyon, he felt his stomach growl. Rather than take out the bread immediately, he said, “I brought a large loaf of bread. Would you like some?”

  Laugreth laughed. “For a mage, you’ve got an armsman’s common sense. No, I won’t, but that’s because I did the same thing. So neither of us has to feel guilty or worry about sharing. I do thank you for the courtesy, though.”

  Beltur didn’t wait to sample the bread. It was still warm in the middle, and he felt a great deal better after eating about a third of the loaf. He had needed to eat more than he’d realized, because he could now sense farther away. That was a mixed blessing because he could now discern, barely, the fighting taking place about a kay and a half to the southwest … and the continuing puffs of dark black mist that indicated death after death.

  “Ser? The Gallosians to the south of us haven’t moved, but the fighting to the southwest is fierce. Lots of men are dying.”

  “Ours or theirs? Can you tell?”

  “No, ser.” Beltur concentrated. “Those fighting seem to be staying in pretty much the same place, from what I can tell.”

  “That usually means a large number of casualties.”

  That made sense to Beltur. He took another swallow from his water bottle, then finally asked the question he’d pondered earlier. “Might I ask how you came to be a Recon officer?”

  “You can. I’ll even answer. It’s no secret. I’m the youngest of four sons. My father is a merchanter, not wealthy enough to be a trader. I was never interested in trade, but I liked learning about blades and bows, weapons of all sorts. My father couldn’t afford a commission for me in any of the Spidlarian regulars, but he had some friends, and he managed an apprentice squad leader position for me in the naval marines—the ones who protect the cargoes on ships. I was good enough that I became a squad leader after five years. Then the Suthyans attacked Diev. Rather, they tried to. My ship was in port there, and the Council ordered us to reinforce the troopers there while they mustered and sent more armsmen. We were assigned to support Second Recon. In the fighting, the company undercaptain was killed, and so was the First Squad leader. That wasn’t surprising for a number of reasons I’m not going to explain and one that I will. We were greatly outnumbered at first, until armsmen the Council sent finally arrived. I was foolish enough to take over temporarily, and fortunate enough to survive. After that small war was over, I was offered a commission as undercaptain, in part because the senior squad leader and the other squad leaders pressed for me. I took it. If I had to fight, I preferred to do it in Spidlar, and the Council wasn’t likely to start any wars. Starting wars is bad for trade. When the captain was promoted to majer five years later, I made captain.”

  “The senior squad leader wasn’t Undercaptain Gaermyn, was it?”

  “How did you come to that conclusion?”

  “I couldn’t say, except that it made sense. I had the feeling he came up the long way.”

  “He did, indeed. Best undercaptain in Spidlar, I’d say.”

 
Which was likely one of the reasons why Laugreth was a good captain, Beltur suspected.

  Before Beltur could have asked another question, not that he had intended to, Laugreth asked, “What about the Gallosians to the southwest?”

  “It’s about the same, ser. They’re still fighting, and men are still dying. I can’t sense that they’ve moved much.”

  “And the ones on the road to the south?”

  “They haven’t moved either.”

  A good glass passed, and Third Squad stood down, with Fourth Squad becoming the ready squad. Just after that happened, Beltur began to sense a change in the more distant fighting. At first, there were far fewer bursts of the black death mists. Then, there were almost none. After that, he began to sense a growing separation of the two masses of order and chaos.

  “Ser, the Gallosians to the southwest are pulling back and the fighting seems mostly to have stopped.”

  “Is there any other movement toward Elparta anywhere?”

  “Not where I can sense it, and right now I can sense all the way to the river and almost two kays to the south.”

  “Keep a close watch. They might be pulling back to support an attack somewhere else. I’m going to let Captain Chelstaat know.”

  While Laugreth strode away toward the foot lines, Beltur continued to try to sense for any sign of a possible attack, but all he could determine was that the Gallosians were withdrawing to a position in line with the Gallosian units that had not attacked. He ate some more bread and had a few more swallows of ale … and waited.

  When the captain returned, he asked Beltur, “Is there any change?”

  “The Gallosian companies that were fighting have withdrawn to what looks to be their previous position. I can’t sense anyone else moving forward. Not yet anyway.”

  “They probably won’t attack again today. They picked what looked to be the weakest spot and tried to surprise us. The next attack, whenever it comes, will likely be in full force on all our positions, or full force between our positions.”

  “When do you think that will be?”

  “Whenever they think we’ll least expect it,” replied Laugreth dryly. “I’m going to talk with Gaermyn. If anything changes, let me know immediately.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  A half glass passed. The captain returned but said little. Another half glass went by, and Fifth Squad became the ready squad. At ninth glass, First Squad took over, and at noon, Second Squad relieved First Squad. During those nearly three glasses, neither Beltur nor the foot scouts could discern any sign of Gallosian movement.

  Just after Third Squad relieved Second Squad, Beltur finally sensed some movement. “The Gallosians on the river road are moving back, ser. So are the groups on each side.”

  “All three of them?”

  “Yes, ser.”

  “I’ll let Chelstaat know.”

  While Laugreth strode toward the foot company, Beltur kept checking, but the Gallosians continued to move back.

  Less than a glass later, the Gallosian forces that had faced Eighth Foot and Second Recon had halted and established a new position half a kay south of their previous location. At third glass, a messenger arrived with orders for Second Recon to return to the piers.

  Laugreth lost no time in having the company mount up and begin the ride back.

  “Did the orders say why or what might be next?” asked Beltur once the company was riding north on the river road.

  “I’m just to report to the majer immediately upon our return,” replied the captain. “If I learn anything, I’ll let you and Gaermyn know.”

  “Yes, ser.” Beltur doubted that the captain had omitted Zandyr accidentally, but he wasn’t about to ask about that. He’d sensed from the beginning that Laugreth did little other than intentionally.

  “Vaertaag, pass the word,” ordered Laugreth. “All squads to mount up and prepare to return to Elparta.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  Beltur took out another water bottle and took a quick swallow of ale, before untying Slowpoke. While he was more than glad that Second Recon had not been required to fight, he had no doubts that the Gallosian withdrawal was only temporary before another onslaught.

  LXVIII

  Despite the ale and bread, Beltur’s stomach felt empty by the time he’d unsaddled and groomed Slowpoke, and he made his way to the mess, where he found the cooks serving any officer who appeared. What they offered was mutton slices and boiled potatoes slathered with a thick brown gravy.

  To Beltur, it didn’t matter in the slightest. The meal was hot, and he was famished. He’d only taken a few bites and a swallow of ale when Zandyr dropped onto the bench across from Beltur and waited to be served.

  “I wondered where you went so quickly,” offered the younger officer, watching as a server immediately appeared with a platter and a mug.

  “I was hungry.”

  Zandyr looked at the platter with an expression of disgust. “I was, too, until they served me this.”

  “It’s not bad. I wouldn’t let it get cold, though.” Beltur took another mouthful of gravied potatoes.

  Zandyr looked again at his fare. “Better than cold bread and cheese, I suppose. I’ll be glad when it’s all over, and we can go back to eating real food.”

  Beltur nodded, although he’d certainly eaten worse in his life, much of it that he’d had to cook himself for his uncle and Sydon, not to mention more cold meals than he wanted to count. But you never went hungry at Uncle’s house.

  After several more bites and a swallow of ale, Zandyr looked directly at Beltur. “Did you see what they did to me today?”

  “Who did what?” asked Beltur, actually puzzled, because the only slight he’d heard was something the younger undercaptain couldn’t have heard.

  “You didn’t see? You really didn’t? How could you not have seen?”

  “I’m confused,” Beltur admitted. “All we did today was stand by as reserves in case the Gallosians tried a flank attack.”

  “Exactly!” Zandyr set his mug on the table with a thump. “And they treated me just like a squad leader. A squad leader. I’m an undercaptain, not a frigging squad leader.”

  “I didn’t see that.” Beltur also didn’t see that it had happened that way. Zandyr had been in charge of Third Squad. What else was the captain supposed to do? Turn over command of the company to Zandyr when the captain was still right there?

  “It happened just that way.” Zandyr shook his head. “They can’t do that to me. They can’t. Just wait until this war is over. Then they’ll see.”

  “We’re junior undercaptains,” Beltur pointed out. “That means we have to obey orders.” Even orders we might question … unless they’re completely mad, and neither Gaermyn nor Laugreth has ever given orders like that.

  “There’s such a thing as courtesy and respect. We deserve some respect. From the rankers, and especially from the captain.”

  “That’s true, but I haven’t seen any lack of respect.” Perhaps some doubt at the beginning, but no outright disrespect.

  “That’s because you’re a mage. They worry about that. They think they don’t have to respect me because I’m a very junior son of a trader. Well … they’re wrong.”

  “Have you talked to the captain about this?”

  “He won’t listen. And Gaermyn’s worse. I can tell by the way he looks at me.”

  “One way or another, the fighting can’t last into winter,” Beltur said evenly, trying to calm Zandyr. “The Gallosians will have to withdraw by then.” If they haven’t taken the city. If they had, Zandyr and Beltur’s problems would be far worse than a supposed lack of respect.

  “What if they don’t?”

  “If they haven’t taken Elparta by then, they’ll starve and freeze. You should know. Doesn’t the snow get at least a yard or two deep everywhere, and doesn’t the river freeze over?”

  Zandyr opened his mouth, then shut it. After a moment, he said, “That’s true. And the snows start even befo
re winter.” He stopped again. “But we’re still eightdays from the first snow. That’s usually halfway through fall. That means I have to put up with them for at least another four eightdays. Four full eightdays.”

  Beltur wanted to sigh. He did not.

  Abruptly, Zandyr rose, leaving half his meal untouched. “I’ll see you later.”

  Taken off-guard, Beltur barely managed to say, “Until later.” He watched as Zandyr hurried out of the mess. Then he finished the last of his ale.

  He was about to stand and leave the mess when he saw four officers walk in, one of whom was definitely older with white hair. It took him a moment to realize that they were all mage officers … and the white-haired one was Cohndar. He thought that the black-haired and bearded officer was Waensyn, but he couldn’t be certain because the mage had seated himself with his back to Beltur. None of them so much as glanced in his direction.

  Beltur wondered if he could shield both his order and chaos and use a concealment to get close to the four mage officers. He smiled. Why not? It also might tell him just how good his concealments were, and if they discovered him, he could simply claim he was testing his shields in a setting where the results wouldn’t be fatal. And that’s not a bad idea in itself.

  He looked around, and convinced that no one was paying attention to him, he raised both kinds of concealments, then stood and eased toward the four mage officers, getting only close enough to be able to hear, and standing to the side while they were served. Once the servers finished, he edged slightly closer, but kept his back to the rough plank wall.

  “It’s hot. That’s about all,” said one of the two mages Beltur hadn’t recognized.

  “What do you expect in Elparta?” replied the other unknown mage. “To get the best food, you have to eat in Kleth or Spidlaria.” After a pause, he asked, “How was the food in Fenard?”

  “Too often spoiled,” replied Waensyn, with the arrogance that Beltur had hated from the moment he’d met the mage. “There were too many white mages, and their chaos taints the more subtle flavors, almost anywhere you eat.”

  “You blacks didn’t favor inns where the whites didn’t go?”