Mage-Guard of Hamor

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Before long, Taryl rejoined him.

  “What do you think?” The overcommander sat down heavily beside Rahl.

  “They were sent out to disrupt things. No one really cared if they returned. There probably won’t be many others, but how would we know?”

  Taryl nodded. “They send out a little more than a score with an ancient cannon. It will cost us a full day, and fifteen dead, counting everyone in the pilothouse, twenty wounded, half of it from that powder explosion. Most likely, those they sent are the kind who wouldn’t do well in ranks, anyway.”

  “You think there will be more things like this?”

  “I’m certain of it. Pits in the roads, ambushes, poisoned food.”

  Rahl grimaced.

  “Golyat’s already shown his colors. He promised loyalty to Hamor and his brother, and he was loyal exactly as long as it took him to build his own treasury and army. He’ll do whatever it will take to make this a long and unpleasant war, and if he can’t win, he’ll try to destroy Hamorian unity. That’s what we have to stop, and that means winning as effectively and quickly as possible and with as few casualties among the people as possible—even among those quietly supporting Golyat.” Taryl offered a wintry smile. “There is one exception to that. The life of any mage-guard who rebelled is forfeit.”

  “Ah…I think I understand.”

  “It’s very simple, Rahl. There are few mage-guards around who could not escape once he or she knew what was happening. Even if they chose to remain and keep the peace, they don’t have to support Golyat. There’s also another reason—if the mage-guards aren’t held to a higher standard of loyalty, then how can we claim the right to enforce order in Hamor?”

  Rahl understood that. He also understood why the Emperor had insisted on Taryl as overcommander, and he wouldn’t have wished to be a disloyal mage-guard who fell into Taryl’s hands.

  XXIV

  After the cannon ambush on sevenday, and the delays caused by the counterattack and the interrogation of the prisoners, as well as the makeshift repairs to the Fyrador, it was late evening before the convoy resumed its progress upriver. The acting captain of the Fyrador had surrendered the lead to the Syadtar, given the awkwardness of piloting with makeshift arrangements, and Taryl had fretted the rest of the way, despite his earlier words to Rahl about the likelihood that no attacks would occur much closer to Kysha.

  Rahl debated writing about the ambush in his letter to Deybri before signing and sealing it, but, in the end, only added a few words of affection—as well as the observation that the hold of the past was stronger than ever. He really didn’t want to use the trite phrase that he missed her, much as he did. Then he gave it to the dispatch clerk, whose eyebrows lifted at the address—and the cost—four silvers.

  The Fyrador finally steamed into the timeworn and battered timber piers at Kysha slightly before noon on oneday. The sky was gray, and the day was chill enough that Rahl wore his mage-guard cold-weather jacket, the first time that he’d needed to do so. From the upper deck, as the crew doubled up the lines, Rahl and Taryl surveyed the town, perhaps half the size of Land’s End, if that.

  From what Rahl could see, almost all the dwellings and buildings were of a yellowish brown brick, with gray-tile roofs, and none was of more than two stories. To the southwest, beyond Kysha, he thought he could make out areas of forest.

  “How far does the forest go?” he asked Taryl.

  “About halfway to Dawhut. From there on it’s a mix of trees and grasslands that becomes more grass as you head southwest. It’s all grasslands beyond Dawhut until you get near the coastal hills, and then you get trees again in most places.”

  Rahl surveyed the river piers, realizing as he did that they held only the stevedores and dockworkers—and several score armed guards stationed along a recently constructed timber fence separating the piers from the rest of the town. “They’ve blocked off the piers.”

  “That’s because the local cutpurses were robbing the troopers, and the vendors on the piers were shortchanging them.”

  “There aren’t enough mage-guards, then?”

  “There never are,” Taryl replied. “But with the troopers here, Kysha has more than twice as many people as it did a season ago. Fieryn doesn’t want to move more mage-guards from other cities, because that will leave them shorthanded.”

  “And, besides,” Rahl added, “you’re now the Mage-Guard Overcommander of Merowey, and it’s your problem.”

  “There might be a certain truth in that, but time will tell. We need to get to what passes for the campaign headquarters as soon as we can. Marshal Byrna’s headquarters is located on the south side of Kysha, in what was the district army center. He’s not here yet, and Submarshal Dettyr’s in command for now.”

  Rahl could sense Taryl’s disgust, even through the older mage-guard’s personal shield, but that might have been because Taryl wasn’t that worried about Rahl, rather than because of any increased ability on Rahl’s part.

  “Most of the troops are to the west, in field bivouac.” Taryl shook his head as he turned. “If the submarshal or the marshal doesn’t get them moving, before long, we’ll have sickness, then more sickness. It would already be a problem if it were still summer or early fall.” He strode toward the ladder and the trooper who stood by all his gear.

  Rahl had to scramble to pick up his kit. He didn’t catch up with Taryl until they were both on the main deck. At least one company of troopers was formed up on the small forward section of the main deck, crowded together, each trooper with full gear.

  Just before he stepped onto the gangway, Taryl said quietly to Rahl, “We may have to walk, and I’d suggest that you have your patrol truncheon in hand once we leave the piers.”

  “How far?”

  “Close to a kay.”

  Rahl wasn’t looking forward to that, but surprisingly, at least to Rahl, there was a tan wagon with a squad leader waiting at the end of the pier. “Overcommander! Here, ser!”

  The trooper with Taryl’s gear eased it into the back of the wagon, then climbed in with the equipment, taking Rahl’s single bag and setting it alongside Taryl’s. Rahl sat in the second wagon seat next to Taryl.

  At the direction of a single mage-guard, two pier-guard troopers opened a turnpost gate that was little more than a long plank attached to a wheel on a vertical axle, and the squad leader guided the two drays and the wagon through the gate and into a crowd of vendors, who eased away from the horses and the wagon slowly and reluctantly.

  “Make way or get run over!” called the driver.

  Rahl didn’t see that his words made much difference.

  The first building Rahl saw on the far side of the pier road was a chandlery. The shutters and door were painted blue, but time had faded the color almost to a gray. Next to the chandlery was a tinsmith, and a thin line of gray smoke rose from the soot-covered bricks of the chimney.

  At the second street into the town from the pier road, the driver turned the wagon south, and in less than four blocks, they had left the shops and trades places behind and were driving past small brick dwellings, with their gray-tile roofs. Unlike the dwellings in Swartheld or Cigoerne—or even Guasyra, the little town south of the ironworks of Luba—the dwellings were not constructed around a central courtyard but tended to have walled gardens in the rear.

  Ahead, Rahl could see a compound of several brick buildings, surrounded by a brick wall little more than head high. There was no gate, just an opening in the wall to accommodate the paved lane leading into the compound.

  “Headquarters just ahead, ser.” The driver halted the wagon in front of a brick walkway, flanked by a scruffy knee-high hedge, that led to a two-story building, one only about forty cubits across the front and half that in depth. A narrow porch extended the entire width of the structure, its roof supported by six brick pillars. On the south side of the dying hedge was a paved area, where a group of troopers stood in loose formation, as if waiting to be mustered.

&nb
sp; “I shouldn’t be long,” Taryl said as he climbed down from the wagon.

  “Yes, ser.”

  Rahl swung down to the pavement after the overcommander, but only moved a few steps from the wagon before his attention focused on the troopers, sensing both chaos and danger from one man near the back of the score or so.

  The single trooper was looking toward Taryl as the overcommander stepped onto the covered porch of the building. Then the man lifted a small crossbow.

  Rahl boosted his own shields and stepped sideways to use them to block the shot, reaching for his truncheon as he moved.

  Thunk!

  Rahl staggered back from the impact against his shields, then straightened, and dashed toward the man who looked blankly at Rahl for several moments. Then the trooper reached for the short-sword at his belt.

  Rahl’s truncheon was faster, far faster, and the crunch of the ironbound black oak told Rahl that the man wouldn’t be using that arm anytime soon—even before he felt the chaos-pain from the trooper. Rahl yanked the trooper upright with his free hand. “Why did you fire that crossbow at the overcommander?”

  “Don’t know, ser.” The words were mechanical.

  “Did someone order you to shoot?”

  “Don’t know, ser.”

  Rahl could sense that the trooper truly didn’t know. Then, suddenly, the man collapsed, his weight yanking the part of his uniform that Rahl had held right out of the mage-guard’s hand. Rahl could sense that he wasn’t dead, but why had he collapsed?

  The other troopers edged away.

  “Just who are you? What are you doing here? These are my men.”

  Rahl glanced sideways at the stocky captain who had appeared from around the corner of the headquarters building. “Mage-Guard and Captain Rahl. And you?”

  “Captain Helyrt to you. What business did you have attacking my trooper?”

  Rahl could feel white-hot anger seething through him, but he managed to reply. “Captain, if you had watched what happened, your trooper fired a crossbow at the overcommander.” He gestured at the weapon on the packed clay. “That crossbow. I was trying to restrain him when he pulled his blade. He attacked two officers. I merely broke his arm to keep him from injuring me.”

  “A likely story.”

  Rahl offered a cold smile. “Mage-guards don’t lie, and they don’t ignore evidence in front of their eyes, and they don’t immediately offer disrespect to other officers, apparently unlike army officers, who apparently do all three, and who don’t seem able to control or restrain their men.”

  Helyrt’s face began to turn red.

  At that point, an overcaptain made his way through the squad of troopers and walked up to Rahl. “Enough of this disrespect. You may be a high-and-mighty mage-guard to the civilians, but here you’re just a captain like scores of other officers. You’re even less than them because you’re just an ordermage, and ordermages aren’t all that useful in killing rebels. And…you’re subordinate to overcaptains, and I expect an apology for the way you addressed Captain Helyrt. I expect it now.”

  Rahl had sensed the presence of chaos even before another mage-guard stepped forward, beside the overcaptain, and he had strengthened his own shields. “One of Captain Helyrt’s men used a crossbow against a superior officer—”

  “Mage-guards aren’t superior officers. They’re not in the chain of command,” snapped the overcaptain.

  Rahl was both angry and amazed. “It’s attempted assault in any case, and mage-guards are in the line of command if the officers with whom they work are disabled.” He probed with his order-senses, only to discover that the other mage-guard was shielding the overcaptain. As he probed, the other troopers slipped away, leaving Rahl facing a captain, an overcaptain, and an unfamiliar and clearly unfriendly mage-guard. Exactly what was he supposed to do?

  “An apology now, mage-guard, or a court-martial tomorrow.”

  Rahl knew something was wrong. Why did he always end up in such situations? Anything he did would be wrong, if for differing reasons. He channeled as much order as he could into the truncheon and moved—not toward either army officer, but toward the mage-guard.

  Chaos flared around his shields, harmlessly, and Rahl could sense the concern and fear in the other mage-guard, even as he jab-feinted toward the other’s gut, then slammed upward into his throat and chin, before coming back across his temple. The mage-guard pitched to one side, dead.

  The captain looked stunned, but the overcaptain had his sabre half-out when Rahl’s truncheon slammed into his skull. Although Rahl’s blow should only have stunned him, Rahl could sense his death instantly.

  The captain started to run, then froze in place.

  Rahl could sense the shields holding the captain and turned.

  Taryl appeared, seemingly from nowhere, and Rahl realized that the overcommander had used a sight shield to see at least some of what had happened.

  The color drained from the immobilized Helyrt’s face as he looked from Rahl to Taryl.

  “I’d be within my purview as head of all mage-guards in Merowey to execute you on the spot, Captain.” Taryl smiled. “Or…I could have Mage-Guard Rahl take you apart with his truncheon. I won’t. I’ll be merciful.”

  Before Rahl could say a word, something like a bolt of concentrated order flashed from Taryl to the captain. Helyrt started to open his mouth, then pitched forward onto the ground, dead.

  Rahl swallowed. Finally, he spoke. “You were watching the whole time, weren’t you?”

  Taryl nodded.

  “You wanted me to handle it.”

  “Yes. Everyone has to know that you can handle difficult situations without my being around. They also have to know that you have my backing to act independently without asking my permission. That will be very important.”

  “There’s more,” Rahl suggested.

  “There is, indeed. What would be the reaction if the overcommander of mage-guards killed three troopers as soon as he arrived?”

  “Not very good.”

  “And if his assistant killed three who had actually fired on him?”

  “People still won’t be happy, but they’ll be asking questions about the officers as well.” Rahl paused. “I killed all three?”

  “It’s better that way.” Taryl’s smile was grim. Then he laughed. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. If I dropped dead right now, there wouldn’t be any difference. You can only be executed once.” After the slightest pause, he added, “Now…we’ll have to explain to Submarshal Dettyr that his command is riddled with traitors, and he will claim that it’s not possible, that we’re mistaken, and that if we’re not, it’s all our fault, or the fault of that traitorous mage-guard who influenced the poor overcaptain and captain.”

  Rahl bent and picked up the crossbow. “What do we do with him?” He pointed to the unconscious trooper still lying on the stone.

  “I’ll take the crossbow. You’re younger and stronger. Drag him in. He won’t have much left in the way of brains anyway.”

  Fortunately for Rahl, the trooper was not all that heavy. Rahl did stagger on one step, because his boot caught on something, but he recovered. Taryl held the headquarters door for him, and they walked toward the table desk and the orderly seated behind it.

  “Mage-Guard Overcommander Taryl to see the submarshal.”

  The duty orderly looked from Rahl and the unconscious trooper he had stretched on the floor to Taryl and then to the closed study door behind him.

  “Yes…ser.” The orderly turned, opened the door, and slipped into the study. He returned almost immediately. “The submarshal has just received…some disturbing news, Overcommander. He will see you in just a few moments.”

  “Aren’t you his superior, in a way?” murmured Rahl, as they stood at one side of the outer study.

  “His superior in rank, but I’m not in direct command,” Taryl replied in a low voice. “He can’t order either of us to do anything, but I can’t order him, either.”

  After a
time, the study door opened, and Submarshal Dettyr stood there. He was a shade taller than Rahl and broader in both the shoulders and the midsection, considerable broader in the middle, reflected Rahl. Although his expression was noncommittal, his entire being radiated displeasure and outrage, from the top of his thinning brown hair down to the toes of his shimmering black boots. “Mage-Guards…” He gestured for them to enter, then turned and walked into his study.

  Once inside, Rahl closed the door.

  “Overcommander.” Dettyr did not incline his head.

  “Submarshal.”

  Taryl’s glance would have frozen boiling water, Rahl thought.

  “I’ve just heard what happened in the courtyard, Overcommander, and I cannot say that I am pleased. In fact, that would be an understatement. I would call it an outrage. I understand your duties and brief, Overcommander, but I must protest. You have just arrived, and not even reported, when you and…your assistant—”

  “Mage-Guard and Captain Rahl,” Taryl replied coolly. “Mage-Guard Rahl was protecting my back, Submarshal. It is indeed an outrage. When an overcommander of the mage-guards is attacked by your troops, and when a mage-guard who is protecting the overcommander is belittled and attacked by your officers—that is the outrage. Were the Emperor to hear of this, I have my doubts that you would long remain as the marshal’s second-in-command, regardless of any other factors.”

  Rahl sensed the absolute conviction and power of command projected by Taryl.

  After a moment, so did Dettyr. “Ah…I can see your concerns, Overcommander. Perhaps I was a bit hasty, but…I trust you understand…and, as was reported to me, much of this could be laid at the feet of a certain mage-guard. Are not those mage-guards your responsibility.”

  “They are, and that is why I was appointed. I also might note that Mage-Guard Rahl only initially used disabling force against my attacker and the rebel mage-guard. Your officers had only to step away. They did not.”

  “But were they not under the control of the rebel mage-guard?”

  “Your officers could not have been under his control without their consent at some level. A mage-guard of his comparatively limited power could not compel individuals against their will. The fact that Rahl was able to overcome him so easily attests to his limits—and to the complicity of your officers.” Taryl smiled politely. “Now…I am most certain we could trade blame and counterblame for some time. For various reasons, I would rather not. Nor should you wish to. It would be far more productive for us to work together.” Taryl turned to Rahl. “If you would excuse us.”