Mage-Guard of Hamor
Page 17
“Begging your pardon, ser, but I did follow those orders. I did not understand at first the meaning of all that I had seen, and when I did tell the captain, he felt that I was exaggerating the seriousness of the situation. When I observed what was happening in the course of my assigned pier watch, I tried again to tell him, but he had already vanished. I believe, as does Overcommander Taryl, that he had already been killed by the undercaptain. Even so, I told the undercaptain, and he called me aside. There he insisted that I had disobeyed orders. Keeping one’s eyes open while on duty and then reporting what one has seen to one’s superiors is not disobeying orders. He attempted to kill me. Obviously, to me, and as events later proved, he was attempting to cover up what was happening. I was not skilled enough to disable or to immobilize him, and in trying to remain alive to report what was happening, I did kill him.”
“There was no way to stop him? I find that hard to believe.”
“There may have been, but I saw no other way at the time.”
“No other way? Are you so blind as to think that each situation has but a single possible resolution…”
The questions and insinuations seemed to go on forever.
Then, abruptly, they stopped.
“Raise any shields you require to defend yourself against a chaos-attack.”
Rahl did so.
A moderately strong bolt of chaos flared against Rahl’s shields, then a stronger one. At the same time order hammered at them so hard that he was almost knocked off his feet. Abruptly, the packed clay under his left foot began to disintegrate.
Rahl forced himself to check the ground on both sides, then jumped farther to left and squared his footing.
A chaos-bolt that was more light than flame seared his eyes, leaving them watering, but he sensed that something else was coming.
A dart of iron, propelled by chaos-force, slammed into his shields, and then a small ball of chaos seemed to come from it and began to unlink his shields. Rahl erected a second set of shields behind the first, then collapsed the first around the chaos-worm or-serpent.
The serpent exploded, lifting Rahl and throwing him backward. While he held his shields, he had to scramble back to his feet.
A soundless scream shivered his ears, so loudly that they rang.
He could sense fog growing between him and the two figures, almost a miniature storm of some sort, and a small jagged bolt of lightning flashed toward him. He managed to turn it away from him, although it passed through his shields.
He could sense another forming. Immediately, he used order to gather the heat from the chaos-forces used and create a hot breeze directed at the miniature storm. The storm dissolved into fog—although it was fog he could only feel and not see. Then the fog vanished under the force of his hot wind.
Then…there was silence.
Rahl tried to sense what might be coming next, but he could only feel a growing chill, an arc growing larger, an arc that was likely to surround him before long.
How was he supposed to stop chill? He couldn’t generate heat from chaos the way a chaos-mage could.
How were they creating the chill?
Order. It had to be order, so structured that it was lifeless.
He could feel the heat being sucked away from him. What could he do?
Movement!
He recalled Taryl’s exercises and concentrated on a patch of clay on the ground just at the inside edge of the arc, beginning to move bits of order around, tugging at the ground under the arc, then linking order. Abruptly, he realized that the arc was linked together in the same way as the black wall of Nylan, but not nearly so intricately. With a smile he began to investigate the linkages, probing their “hooks.”
Light flared everywhere, and Rahl was flung backward. His shields cushioned him somewhat as he was shoved into the stone wall beside the door, but he had to take several gasping breaths.
He thought the explosion had knocked down both other figures, but by the time he could gather himself together, they were apparently standing where they had been.
“You may go, Mage-Guard.” The words were cool but not cold, impersonal but not mocking or indifferent.
As he stepped out into the midday sun, Rahl understood that he had been tested on the limits of his abilities and personal control. That had been obvious. Why was another question.
Taryl was waiting, standing beside the coach.
Did he look relieved or worried? Or merely disinterested? Rahl wasn’t certain.
All emotion was concealed behind impenetrable shields, as Taryl said calmly, “The driver will take you back to the quarters, then return for me and the others. We will meet in the library after the evening meal. It is much smaller than the one at headquarters, but it will suffice. It appears likely that we will embark on the lead river steamer before long, but I should know more by tonight. In the meantime, I would suggest your reading the manual on tactics for cavalry and other mounted units. I took the liberty of leaving a copy on the desk in your quarters. It is yours to use and keep for as long as necessary.” Taryl nodded.
Rahl returned the nod, climbed into the coach, and closed the door.
As the coach pulled away from the bunker, he tried to think about everything that had occurred. First, Taryl had pushed and pressed him to develop every possible order-ability he might possess. Second, Rahl had been introduced to some of the highest officials in Hamor and been recognized by them. Third, he had been effectively examined twice, once in arms and once in order and chaos. Fourth, Taryl had pressed him to learn what he could about healing.
All of that suggested that Taryl was preparing him for something. Was it that the overcommander had deep concerns about what awaited the forces being assembled to deal with the rebellion? Rahl didn’t know, but what he did know was that Taryl was being mysterious, and the longer they had been in Cigoerne, the more mysterious he had become.
Taryl clearly didn’t trust either Triad Fieryn or Triad Dhoryk, but if he didn’t, why had he been recalled from Luba? Or had he asked Jubyl to be recalled? Or was something else happening?
Rahl shifted his weight on the coach seat, realizing something else. He was going to be sore and stiff.
Following Taryl’s advice, Rahl returned to his quarters and began to study Mounted Tactics. Because he had ridden little and had no military experience, he read slowly, and had only gone through two long basic chapters by dinnertime. He consoled himself that the reading had taken so long because he had actually drawn out some of the simple maneuvers to be able to understand them. He did wish the manual had more diagrams.
He brought the manual down to the mess but kept it tucked inside his uniform.
At the evening meal, Rahl looked to see Taryl, but the overcommander was not seated at the seniors’ table, which held but a few officers, who appeared to say little to each other. Rahl sat across from the garrulous Bertayk and another younger captain named Uhlyr. To Rahl’s left was Sevala. The place to his right was empty.
“Word is that you went off in a formal coach last night with the overcommander,” Bertayk said cheerfully, spearing two slices of mutton marinated in firemint. “Word also is that you went to the Imperial Palace. What’s it like?”
Rahl laughed gently. “Big. The halls are wider than the mess. The columns are tall and white, and there are guards in crimson everywhere.”
“How did you get that lucky?” persisted Bertayk.
“When you’re the assistant to an overcommander, you go where you’re told and try not to be obvious.”
“Did you see the Emperor?” asked Sevala. “What does he look like?” Her interest was genuine, Rahl felt, and she was less pushy than Bertayk.
“I only saw him in passing,” Rahl replied. “I’m just a mage-guard. He wore black and white and a vest of some sort. He seemed to spend a little time with each of the senior officers. Both the Land Marshal and the Sea Marshal were there.”
“You were with some powerful officers,” observed Uhlyr.
“This is your first tour in Cigoerne, you said the other night,” offered Sevala, after a sip of what looked to be dark ale. “How does it compare to Nylan?”
Rahl grinned, thankful for the question. “There’s almost no comparison. Cigoerne is far larger, and the buildings are far taller…” He went on to describe Nylan at great length and in extreme detail. By the time he finished, so was dinner.
Rahl had also drunk a second lager, more than he usually did.
As he rose to leave the mess, he turned to Sevala. “Thank you.”
The lanky captain flushed slightly. “Thank you. Bertayk is always pushing to find out anything he can about seniors.” Her voice was pleasant, but slightly husky.
“You work with him?”
“I’ve had to.” She smiled. “I did enjoy the description. I don’t think anything I’ve read conveys the sense of the black city the way you did, but…I do have some reports to write.”
“My condolences.”
“It’s part of the duty. Good evening, Rahl.”
“Good evening.”
Rahl made his way to the library, but only read three pages of the tactics manual before Taryl appeared. He closed the book and carried it with him to follow the overcommander down to a musty chamber on the lower level. Unlike the one where Taryl had offered instruction, this chamber was dank with a clay floor.
Taryl lit the lamp, and Rahl closed the door.
“There are few places with privacy in Cigoerne, especially in Mage-Guard Headquarters,” Taryl began. “The Triad Fieryn has indicated that he would like to meet with you tomorrow. We’ll go from breakfast to his study. When we return, you will spend the remainder of the day with Majer Xerya. When she dismisses you, you are to continue reading the tactics manual. I’d also like you to continue your efforts to sense and forecast the weather. It is possible that we may embark and depart on twoday. I still have much to do, and you will see little of me until we are on board the river steamer. It appears likely that you will be assigned as the mage-captain of a mounted heavy infantry company used for in-force reconnaissance. That is not certain yet, and I would caution you not to mention it until I can confirm it.”
The tactics manual made more sense, not that Rahl doubted Taryl did anything without a solid reason—even if Rahl had no idea what that reason might be.
“Can you tell me more about this morning’s…examination?” Rahl finally asked.
“Your performance was satisfactory. There was some discussion about whether your last effort was defensive, but since it was addressed at the means of attack and not the attackers, it was considered defensive, if somewhat unique. It was also suggested that I instruct you on a less explosive means of dealing with order strangulation.”
“Order strangulation—is that what it’s called when they use order to pull all the heat away from everything?”
“It’s more complex than that, but that is often the effect.” Taryl turned back toward the door. “If you’d put out the lamp.”
“Is that all?” asked Rahl.
“For now. You look like you could use a good night’s sleep, after you read a bit more, and I have another large stack of reports to read. Among other things.”
Rahl didn’t quite know what to say. Taryl hadn’t really answered his question about the meaning of the examination in the bunker and clearly wasn’t going to say more. All manner of intrigue was taking place, from what Rahl could surmise, and yet he couldn’t figure out who wanted what from whom or why, and Taryl wasn’t saying, and Rahl didn’t know enough to figure it out, especially since those involved kept tight personal shields.
So Rahl used a touch of order to put out the lamp and followed Taryl back up the narrow stone stairway to the main level, where each went his own way.
XX
Rahl’s back and shoulders were stiff and more than a little sore when he woke on oneday. He hadn’t slept all that well, either, because his thoughts had kept circling around the questions of what actually was happening that was so preoccupying Taryl.
The Emperor supported Taryl, and so did Jubyl. Because the Emperor did, so did Fieryn, but Rahl had the feeling that neither Dhoryk nor Fieryn was all that supportive of Taryl, particularly with the selection of Byrna to succeed Charynat. But why would Dhoryk and the Overmarshal want a less effective commander? Or was it that they feared an effective commander’s future ambitions? In his brief meeting with Land Marshal Valatyr, Rahl had been less than impressed, although Valatyr had certainly been pleasant. While Rahl could not support his feelings with any real proof, he had the definite feeling that much of the Emperor’s decisiveness rested with Jubyl and the Empress and that their influence was no secret. That would also explain why Serita was a tool of Dhoryk and Klassyn of Fieryn and why the allegiances of the assistants were no secret. That way, Jubyl and the Emperor could claim that they were keeping no secrets from the other Triads.
Against that background, Taryl’s appointment as Mage-Guard Overcommander of Merowey was a necessity for the Triad, if a grudging one. Taryl’s preoccupation and general attitude since they had arrived in Cigoerne suggested that not everyone in positions of power beneath and beyond the Triad accepted that necessity.
Rahl finished dressing and took a deep breath. Just thinking about the intrigue tired him. He could only hope that matters would be less involuted once they reached Merowey and embarked on the campaign against the rebels.
At breakfast, he sat with Alfhyr, Sernyt, and Bleun, all of whom were speculating on which of their companies would be picked for what specific duties once they reached Kysha. Rahl could offer little information on such and mainly listened and ate.
After breakfast, he had to wait some time outside, standing in a brisk breeze under high, scudding clouds, before Taryl appeared in another timeworn tan duty coach. Taryl did not leave the coach but just motioned for Rahl to climb in.
The overcommander had a large stack of papers in his lap, and Rahl had to ease past him carefully in getting into the coach and the seat on the far side from the door.
“You see that smaller stack of dispatches there?” asked Taryl.
“Yes, ser.”
“Start reading them. You don’t have to do anything with them. Just read them. Notice how they’re written. It’s possible you may have to write some.”
Rahl began to read. Even though the road was paved, he found concentrating on the dispatches difficult, both because of the style of writing and the swaying of the coach. Although the windows were only cracked, he also had to make sure that nothing blew away.
Reading the dispatches raised more questions than answers, although some of those questions were more irritating than substantial. Why had a Majer Dheryan asked for “additional equine replenishment prior to river-ine transport and deployment” when it would have been so much simpler to just say that he needed more mounts before his companies were shipped to Kysha and the campaign got under way?
Rahl only managed about a third of the dispatches before the coach pulled up before the Triad’s wing of Mage-Guard Headquarters, and his head was aching.
“How many have you read, ser?”
“That stack I handed you amounts to two days’ worth. I’ve had to catch up on almost a year’s worth. You have to read what’s not written as well as what is.” Taryl climbed out of the coach, leaving the dispatches on the coach seat.
Rahl followed him, but he did not see a single mage-guard or clerk in the corridors through which Taryl led him, not until they reached a foyer off the main corridor, where an older mage-guard sat behind a table desk.
The mage-guard stood upon catching sight of Taryl. “Overcommander, I’ll tell the Triad you’re here.” Even before he c
ould move, the door behind him opened.
“Mage-Guards…come in.” Fieryn was a slender and wiry man, almost a head shorter than Rahl, with blond hair that clung to his scalp in tight ringlets. His eyes were a watery pale blue that seemed more intense, perhaps because his pale eyebrows were almost invisible. He had an easy smile as he stepped forward. “Taryl, I’ve been most interested in meeting your assistant. It’s good of you to bring him here.” His eyes lighted on Rahl.
In reply, Rahl inclined his head. “Triad.”
“Do come in,” repeated Fieryn, stepping back and gesturing for them to follow him into the study beyond.
Rahl walked behind the two senior mage-guards and was about to shut the door behind him when Fieryn’s assistant did just that.
The study was scarcely overlarge, an oblong chamber fifteen cubits by ten, with a single bookcase of golden wood set against the west wall and filled with leather-bound volumes with spines chased in gilt and arranged in order. Rahl suspected none had been read recently. In front of the east wall was a table desk with several documents laid carelessly across it and a wooden armchair behind it. Set before the window in the south wall that overlooked the interior courtyard garden was a circular table with four chairs around it.
Fieryn took the chair on the west side of the table. “We might as well sit down. Everyone will have a long day.”
Taryl settled into the chair on the east. Rahl took the chair that faced the window. As he seated himself, he could sense the faint but thorough probes at his personal shields.
“Good shields, but I wouldn’t have expected less…if you’re working for Taryl.”
Rahl wondered at the slight hesitation, but he replied, “I’ve tried to follow his example.”
Fieryn laughed. “I’m glad you used the word tried. Few have been able to actually follow that example.” His eyes focused directly on Rahl. “So you’re the mage-guard who managed to disrupt the Jeranyi scheme in Swartheld?”
“I did what I could, ser,” replied Rahl deferentially.