“The Emperor appointed him. He used to be a Triad.”
Drakeyt laughed softly. “I think we’ll all be happy to get on the road.” He eyed the long truncheon at Rahl’s belt. “That’s…”
“I guess you could call it a riding truncheon. A regular truncheon’s too short for horseback.”
“It’s better than nothing, I suppose,” Drakeyt acknowledged.
Rahl had to force himself not to say what came to mind—that he’d killed men with a truncheon. Instead, he nodded. “I think it will prove useful.”
“How are your riding skills? Pardon my asking, but most mage-guards aren’t trained to ride.”
“Slight, but I do have some little ability to deal with mounts. I can probably keep one in line.” That wouldn’t be the hard part, Rahl knew.
“We can probably find a mount that’s not too spirited.” Drakeyt frowned. “Are you a healer, too?”
Rahl shook his head. “I have been given some instruction there, and I can do a few things, like keep chaos out of a wound if the wound isn’t too severe. I can tell when a bone is set right and when it’s not, but I’ve only set one or two, and that was with a trained healer looking over my shoulder.”
“That’s more than most field healers.”
“I can also sense people in hiding, if they’re not too far away, and I have a little ability to tell what the coming weather might be like.”
The captain’s puzzlement continued, and he frowned. “Can I be a bit more direct?”
Rahl had an idea of what was coming. “Go ahead.”
“Most battalion commanders would kill to get a mage-guard with your abilities. Do you have any idea why you’re being sent out with a recon company?”
“I don’t know, but I have some thoughts.” Rahl paused, then went on as Drakeyt nodded. “The overcommander wants good reconnaissance reports. He also feels that I need to learn more.”
“There must be more,” suggested Drakeyt.
“It’s better if I don’t stay in Kysha at the moment,” Rahl admitted.
Drakeyt frowned, then slowly nodded, as if he had realized something. “It’s not my business, but one of the messengers said that there was trouble at headquarters, and that someone took a crossbow to a mage-guard and three officers were dead, and no one was saying anything.”
How much should Rahl say? After a moment, he replied, “I’d prefer not to go into details. A trooper did take a shot at the overcommander, and when I deflected it and restrained the trooper, his captain and the captain’s overcaptain objected. So did a traitorous mage-guard—a chaos-mage. Let’s just say that none of them will be causing more trouble, and that the submarshal is more than happy to send out a reconnaissance company.”
“With that…truncheon?”
“No. I used a standard short one.”
Drakeyt shook his head, then smiled, more warmly. “We need to get you a mount and a bedroll…and lean on the quartermaster. If we both tell him that the overcommander delivered the company orders, he might cut us some slack and add a few things.”
Rahl could see that possibility. He just hoped they wouldn’t run into trouble before he learned more about riding.
XXVI
In the end, by midafternoon, Rahl found himself in the saddle of a chestnut gelding near the front of Third Company, riding southwest on the narrow stone highway that led to Dawhut—some three-hundred-odd kays to the southwest. Drakeyt rode to his left, and the vanguard was close to a kay ahead on the straight road. Kysha was some five kays behind them.
A space half a kay back from the road had been cleared years before, and small holdings periodically dotted the open area, with fields empty of much except browned grass and vegetation. The forest behind was partly evergreen and partly broadleaf hardwoods, but the leaves of the hardwoods were in winter gray.
“Does it snow here?” asked Rahl.
“Some, they say, but I couldn’t say from experience,” replied Drakeyt. “I’m from Elmari originally. I’d wondered if you knew more about the area, but…”
“I don’t sound like I’m from around here?”
“Sastak, maybe, or Atla, but not here. They talk flatter.”
“My last duty station was as a harbor station mage-guard in Swartheld.” Rahl smiled, even as he wondered whether he could have said more about where he was from. He’d tell Drakeyt sooner or later, but he worried about saying too much too soon because he couldn’t help but like Drakeyt. “Where do we start the reconnaissance patrols?”
“We’ve been running patrols as far as five, sometimes ten kays this way out of Kysha. We haven’t seen any signs of the rebels in those sweeps. The next town—one that’s more than a hamlet—is Troinsta. It’s about fifteen kays from Kysha. We’ll set up there. If there are rebels around, there’ll be some signs. While we’re setting up, you and I will talk to some of the locals. Can you get some idea of whether they’re telling the truth? I know some ordermages can.”
“I can get some idea with most people,” Rahl replied. Almost anyone except a mage with good shields.
“That will help.”
Rahl glanced to the north side of the road, then beyond the small herd of sheep beyond the split-rail fence to the south. On either side, beyond the scattered dwellings, the trees were taller, and the undergrowth far thicker than the scattered forests on Recluce, but that was probably because this part of Merowey got more rain than Recluce did. While he was thinking of rain, Rahl made another attempt to see if he could determine what the evening’s weather might be. The wind had switched from the northeast to the northwest, and the air felt drier and cooler. He thought that meant less likelihood of rain, but he wasn’t about to say so unless asked.
“There’s a lot of forest here, and not that many people.”
“The ground here doesn’t suit most field crops. The forests belong to the Emperor, but they’re rented to foresters who are allowed to cut a certain amount each year. Mostly the hardwoods for cabinets and furniture. That’s one reason why the main road’s paved. Those wagons are heavy. Then, there are places with nothing but nut orchards when we get closer to Dawhut.”
“Are there more Imperial lands in Merowey?” Rahl asked.
“There are some in most administrative districts. Usually, they’re places where farmers were using the land wrong. Most of them are rented at low tariffs, but with conditions on how the land can be used. That way, people get use of the lands, but they don’t get ruined again.”
“I was wondering why Prince Golyat…” Rahl didn’t finish the sentence.
“Who knows?” Drakeyt shook his head. “Merowey’s not the richest district, but it’s not the poorest, either.”
The company continued to ride southwest, with the outriders continually returning and reporting, but there were no signs of rebels. The company had to leave the road for timber wagons a half score of times. The road was wide enough to share with the other wagons—factors and farm wagons.
In late afternoon, the company rode up a long, gradual slope that leveled off into a flat area filled with orchards, some with different types of trees. Whatever the variety of nut being grown, the trees in that orchard were old, with broad trunks, but they had been pruned and shaped so that their tops were never more than ten or fifteen cubits.
“We must be getting close to Troinsta,” Rahl said.
Drakeyt just nodded.
They rode another kay before the land and the road began to descend again, and Rahl could see Troinsta. The town was set in a valley close to five kays wide. A stream meandered down the middle of the valley, running from the south but angling to the northeast, probably eventually draining into the Swarth River, Rahl thought, conceivably not all that far from where the Fyrador had been attacked.
“Are there any back roads that run from Troinsta more to the northeast?” asked Rahl.
“There are back roads everywhere, but the maps we’ve got don’t show them,” Drakeyt replied. “Why?”
“Some
rebels had a cannon on the river, and they fired on the Fyrador. Roads tend to follow water.” Rahl had read that in the tactics manual, but he didn’t have to admit it. “I was looking at the stream down there, and it runs northeast. It struck me that it might enter the Swarth about where we took fire.”
“We’ll have to keep that in mind,” replied the captain. “I’ve already sent an outrider patrol forward to scout around the town. They won’t find much, but it’s good practice. The closer we get to Dawhut, the more careful we’ll have to be.”
“I thought Dawhut was loyal to the Emperor.”
“That’s what the reports we get say. Even if it is, it doesn’t mean that there aren’t rebels in the lands outside the city, or that there won’t be attacks or raids.”
The sun was hanging just above the hills to the west when Third Company rode into Troinsta. The town was laid out in the same fashion as most towns and cities in Hamor were, at least from what Rahl could determine, with a cleared area of grassy meadows, now winter brown, just outside the outermost dwellings. There was no sprawl of huts or hovels away from the town proper. The main streets and roads were laid out in a grid, with all the dwellings and other buildings with walls of either stone or brick. Troinsta had both, but the roof tiles were all the same shade, a grayish faded pink. The shutters and the doors were all painted, and most shutters matched the doors.
While a few people hurried away from the road, which after crossing a stone bridge turned into the main street, most just watched as Third Company rode into the town. By the time the company reined up in the town square, both the local town administrator and the head of the local patrollers were waiting.
The administrator was a heavyset and round-faced blond man who might normally have looked jovial, but his worried expression and manner overrode any sense of joviality. He looked at Drakeyt, but his eyes kept returning to Rahl. “Everyone here is loyal to the Emperor, most loyal, Captain…Mage-Guard. There’s not a rebel here, not a one, and we wouldn’t be having it, even if there were.”
Rahl could sense both the truth and the fear in the administrator’s words.
“We’ve been sending our reports and tariffs direct to Cigoerne, sers. You must know that.”
Drakeyt glanced to Rahl.
Rahl nodded.
“Since you all are loyal,” Drakeyt said, “I’m certain you will be able to help us settle in for a few days. We need a base to do some scouting. Even though Troinsta is most loyal, we’ll need to make sure that loyalty extends to the lands around it.”
“Ah…we can do that. The inns haven’t been seeing that many travelers, and we’ve got some barns…” The administrator’s head bobbed up and down.
Drakeyt turned to the local patrol chief, a rangy graying man wearing a pale blue uniform long-sleeved uniform shirt, a darker blue vest, and khaki trousers. “What have you seen and heard?”
The patroller glanced from Drakeyt to Rahl, then back to the captain before he replied, “We haven’t seen much of anything here, sers. Some of the steadholders to the north, the ones that harvest the hardwoods—the ones that go downriver to Cigoerne and Swartheld—one of them claimed he saw wagons on the back lanes, must have been an eightday ago.”
“You don’t get many travelers here, I wouldn’t think,” offered Drakeyt. “Not in the winter.”
“No, ser.”
“Has anyone been complaining about their sheds or barns being raided, or things missing?”
“There’s always some of that.” The patroller looked to Rahl. “Not being a mage-guard, I can’t always tell who might be telling what. I can’t say that there’s been more than usual, though, not unless someone’s not saying, and that’s always possible.”
“We’ll be talking to people, and we’ll be sending patrols around, but for now, we need to get the company and mounts settled.” Drakeyt smiled politely. “Where are these inns?”
XXVII
Rahl stayed with Drakeyt all through the process of getting Third Company settled into the area close to the larger inn—the Painted Pony—even though his thighs felt raw from all the riding. While he certainly didn’t want anything to happen to the captain, he also didn’t want to be any more unprepared than he had to be if something did happen to Drakeyt, and the more Rahl knew about what the company commander did, the less unprepared he’d be.
He and Drakeyt ate a modest meal at the inn, late, and Rahl probed gently about as much as he could about the company, while, in turn, Drakeyt asked similarly gentle questions about what he could expect from Rahl as a mage-guard.
After dinner and then accompanying Drakeyt on an inspection tour of all the areas that held the company, Rahl retired to a room in the Painted Pony, one not that much larger than the cabin on the freighter, with a single bed and little more. He had thought about adding to his letter to Deybri, except his buttocks and thighs were so sore that he doubted that he could sit for long enough on the single stool to write.
He stretched out on the bed and slept, if uneasily, waking early on threeday morning, even stiffer and sorer than when he’d gone to bed.
He eased himself to his feet and used the pitcher and bowl to wash and shave as he could, then climbed into his uniform. He packed his gear, but left it on the bed and headed down the stairs to see if he could get something to eat.
Drakeyt was already in the public room, although he could not have been there long because a small girl was standing at his table listening, and there was nothing on the table. Rahl eased into one of the other chairs.
“There’s little enough choice for breakfast,” Drakeyt said.
“We only have ham and fried heavy corn—and fresh bread. It’s two coppers each for you.”
“Do you have lager?” asked Rahl.
“No, ser. We have ale. It comes with breakfast, for you, Mama said.”
“Then that’s what we’ll have,” Drakeyt said.
“Yes, ser.” The girl turned and walked quickly past the brick fireplace with its cold gray ashes and through an archway into the kitchen.
“How are you feeling this morning?” asked Drakeyt.
“Sore,” Rahl admitted.
“It’ll pass.”
Rahl hoped so.
“I walked around some last night, talked to some of the locals,” offered Drakeyt. “No one seems to have seen anything here.”
“The town administrator was telling the truth about sending their tariffs to the Emperor.” Rahl paused as the girl, who couldn’t have been more than ten, approached and set two mugs of ale on the table.
“Your ales, ser. The rest will be here before long.”
“Thank you.”
The meal that arrived on orangish brown crockery platters might best have been described as hash composed of chopped corn niblets, bits of carrot, and ham chunks held together with glue and a hint of egg. Rahl just looked at it for a moment.
“It’s good,” the girl said. “You’ll see.”
Rahl couldn’t help smiling as he put three coppers on the table. “You help a lot around here, I’d wager.”
“Yes, ser.” With that she was gone, almost scampering back to the kitchen, but not until she’d collected the three coppers from both officers.
Rahl took a bite. Surprisingly, it wasn’t bad. He wasn’t sure he would have called it good, but he’d eaten far worse, and the bread was hot and good. He did save the largest carrot chunk, still partly raw.
“Good bread,” offered Drakeyt. “The rest is filling.”
They ate quickly, and neither left anything, although Rahl did save half his small loaf of bread and slip it into his cold-weather jacket pocket.
“Wise man.”
“I didn’t have a chance to gather much else,” Rahl pointed out.
“We’ll be heading out shortly,” Drakeyt offered as he rose from the table.
“I thought I might have a word with the chandler,” Rahl said. “My gear is ready, and I’ll get saddled and ride over there. It shouldn’t take long.�
��
“I thought we’d split the company. You want to go north or south?”
“North. I’d like to see if I can find anything about the raiders who fired on the Fyrador.”
“I’ll send Quelsyn with you and two squads. He’s the senior squad leader. They’ll form up outside the stables and wait for you if you’re not back when I take the other squads south.”
“I’ll try not to keep anyone waiting.”
After leaving Drakeyt, Rahl gathered his gear and walked out into the morning chill and toward the stable across the churned clay that would have been ankle-deep mud had there been any rain at all. Outside the stable he paused, looking to the north, but the wind was light and the clouds thin. He spent a moment probing the air to the north, but he sensed little water in the thin clouds. There was a hint of more, but beyond the range of his abilities.
He entered the stable, with careful steps, making his way to the third stall. There, he set down his gear and studied the gelding. If he could just remember how to saddle the horse…he looked at the saddle blanket. That came first.
“Be needing a hand, ser?”
Rahl turned to see a young trooper standing there and smiling. He grinned back. “I could, but I’d better do it myself. You just might not be here next time. I would appreciate it if you’d watch and tell me if I’m going wrong.”
“Yes, ser.” The trooper smiled.
Before even lifting the blanket, Rahl eased up beside the gelding’s shoulder, patting him and projecting both control and warmth. The horse tossed his head slightly, then turned it. Rahl offered the small chunk of carrot he had brought from the inn, on his open palm. The gelding took it, gently. Then Rahl slipped the saddle blanket in place, followed by the saddle.
“Ser…be better if the blanket and saddle were just a touch back, maybe half a span.”
Mage-Guard of Hamor Page 22