Mage-Guard of Hamor

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Mage-Guard Rahl—

  From our best estimates, at present, on this sevenday, our forces are less than two days travel time behind you. The submarshal has instructed Captain Drakeyt to wait for us at the town of Saluzyl, if we do not meet up with you before then. You are to scout the approaches to Dawhut, but not to approach nearer than ten kays on such scouting missions.

  Several smaller high-speed frigates under the ensign of Fairhaven used the cover of a storm and darkness to enter Nubyat two eightdays ago. Given the chaos surrounding them, it is likely that several white wizards were on board. They will not be involved in action far from Nubyat, I would judge, but their presence may free other mages for more adventurous enterprises.

  I have also enclosed a letter, presumably from the healer in Recluce. Should you wish to respond, once we rejoin you, such correspondence can be carried with dispatches, although the charge is five silvers.

  Except for the elaborate “T” at the bottom, that was the extent of the dispatch. Rahl folded it and put it back into the envelope, then slipped the letter and pouch under his arm before leaving the porch and remounting the gelding. He rode to the stable at a walk, thinking.

  White wizards supporting the rebels? It made sense if Fairhaven wanted to weaken Hamor. But would weakening Hamor really strengthen Fairhaven? Outside of trade, Hamor hadn’t had that much to do with Candar, and especially with Fairhaven. From what he’d observed in Nylan, Rahl could see that weakening Hamor didn’t benefit Recluce. Wouldn’t the same be true regarding Fairhaven and Hamor? Did Fairhaven see Hamor as a potential enemy?

  He shook his head. Any land that was strong could be considered a potential enemy. He replaced the letter in the pouch and walked down to his mount, leading the gelding to the stable.

  Once he stabled and unsaddled his mount, Rahl forced himself to take his time in grooming the gelding. The mount shouldn’t suffer because of his impatience. Besides, he wasn’t certain he wanted to know what was in the letter from Deybri.

  Just as he finished and was ready to leave the stable, Drakeyt led his mount in.

  “How did it go?” Rahl asked.

  “Same as always. No one’s seen anything. No one’s heard anything, and there aren’t any tracks anywhere. What about you?”

  “The same,” Rahl admitted. “It’s like they just left this part of Merowey alone.” He paused. “Did you get the dispatches for you?”

  “There was just one. The submarshal wants us to stop and wait for him at Saluzyl. According to the maps, it’s fifteen or twenty kays from Dawhut, maybe two days’ ride from here the way we’ve been going. We’re not to scout closer than ten kays.”

  “Did he say why?”

  “Submarshals never explain. Not this one. That’s all he said.”

  “I got a dispatch from the overcommander. He wrote about the same, but he also said that some Fairhaven fast frigates avoided the fleet and ported in Nubyat. He thought they might have some white wizards on board.”

  “That’s all we need—more chaos types for the rebels.”

  “They didn’t send fleets or large numbers of troops,” Rahl pointed out.

  “Of course not. They’d prefer to cause trouble with as little cost as possible.”

  That description fit more than a few people, Rahl thought, and Puvort came immediately to mind. Rather than exert himself in the slightest, the magister just pushed people into exile, and some of the magisters and magistras in Nylan weren’t much better. For that matter, he conceded silently, some in Cigoerne seemed the same way—especially Cyphryt, but he wasn’t so sure about Fieryn, either.

  “See you in the public room?” asked Rahl. “I’m going to wash up.”

  “In a bit.”

  Rahl tried not to rush back to his small room. Even so, he permitted himself a smile once he was alone there and had the letter out and in his hand. He stood beside the window, letting the last light of day fall on the envelope in his hands.

  He could sense that it had not been opened and that the seal was intact. Equally important was the sense of order around the seal. Somehow…it felt like Deybri. He used the tip of his belt knife to slit the envelope—carefully—then smoothed out the single sheet of paper and began to read.

  My dear mage-guard,

  Your letter arrived today, and I am replying as soon as I can. From your words, if I do not respond soon, you may not read what I must say for a season or more. Please pardon my haste and penmanship. I almost hesitate to write you anything in reply to your elegant words and beautiful letters, yet I must.

  Rahl was afraid to look at the next words, and he glanced out the window, toward the sun that was sinking below the rooftops to the west. After a moment, he turned back to the letter and continued reading.

  I cannot deceive you. Although I am older than you in years, I am not that much older in my feelings. You have seen and felt those feelings, as I have felt yours. You know what I feel about you and about Hamor. At the same time, it is like I have seen the sun for the first time in years. I am half-blinded by all the light, and I cannot say what will come of what I see. I cannot promise you, not now, but your words and letters offer hope and love in a world of too much order. I must sort through all that I feel under the light of this different sun. For me either to close or open a door when I am still half-blind would serve neither of us well.

  Until then, and always, my deepest affection.

  Her deepest affection? Those words sounded as though she actually might recognize that she loved him. Yet…would she accept that? Could she? His eyes returned to the top of the page.

  After rereading her letter, Rahl folded it and slipped it inside his tunic, smiling. At least, she hadn’t closed off all possibilities—even if he had no idea how he would manage to see her again…or when.

  He might as well wash up and meet Drakeyt for dinner. After that he could begin to wrap up the letter he had been writing to Deybri so that he could have it ready for dispatch.

  XLI

  Two days later, just past midafternoon on fourday, Third Company reached Shaluzyl, another town set amid widely spaced low rolling hills. The spaces between the hills were filled with heavily worked bog meadows, many of them abandoned and filled with black water. Neither the scouts nor the outriders nor Rahl had discovered any sign of rebels or traps, but Rahl couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before they encountered either or both.

  As they rode into the town, Rahl could make out several brick buildings that looked to be distilleries, with chimneys seeping gray smoke against a sky that was as much gray as green-blue. The brick houses were neat enough, but older, and the bricks were dingy, doubtless from years of smoke from the distilleries, and the air held the same pungent odor as it had in Fhydala.

  The chandlery in Shaluzyl was fair-sized and across the square from the Inn of the Dun Cow. As the company drew up in formation, Rahl turned in the saddle and said to Drakeyt, “Once we get everyone quartered, I think I’ll go over and talk to the chandler. We’re close enough that he might know something, and what he’s selling or not selling or can’t get should tell us something.”

  “The chandlers in the past haven’t been too helpful,” Drakeyt pointed out.

  “They’ve told us that there weren’t any rebel forces or strangers, and that seemed to be right.”

  “They missed the mages and saboteurs.”

  Rahl wasn’t quite certain how to respond to that. After a moment, he asked, “Do you have a better idea about whom in town we should question?”

  “You might as well question him. Then we can claim that we’ve done our best when the marshal complains, not that he’ll listen to us. I just don’t think questioning people here is going to tell us much.”

  “Probably not, but how will we find out if we don’t try?”

  Drakeyt shrugged. “We’d better get on with dealing with quarters and food.”

  Rahl nodded. He was still going to talk to the chandler.

  As in the other
towns, the proprietor of the Dun Cow was willing to take script for quartering and feeding Third Company, but it was late afternoon by the time Rahl finished helping Drakeyt with quartering arrangements. Then he had to stable and groom the gelding. After that, he left his gear in the small room and walked to the chandlery.

  The white-haired chandler was beginning to close the inner shutters when Rahl walked through the door. He turned.

  Rahl saw that the man had but two fingers on his left hand. “Good evening.”

  “Evening, Captain. You’re almost too late. You interested in some good riding fare? Or replacing some gear?”

  “I might be interested in the fare. If it’s not too costly. What do you have?”

  “Hard white cheese wedges, and some dried beef strips. I’ve got some biscuits, special-like, a pack for a copper.”

  “Those might be useful,” Rahl admitted. “Could I see them?”

  “Over here, Captain.” The chandler’s two fingers pointed to a table against the wall. “In the tin on the left.”

  Rahl opened the tin. The riding biscuits were squares a span on a side and of a finger’s thickness. Rahl suspected it would take strong teeth to chew them, but that they might fill his stomach at times. “How long will these last before they spoil?”

  “Two seasons if you keep ’em dry.”

  The chandler believed what he said, Rahl could tell. “How many in a pack?”

  “Five, but I’d make it six for you.”

  “Two packs, then.” Rahl could have bargained for a lower price, but it had been a long day, and that wasn’t his purpose in being there.

  “Have to wrap ’em in grease paper unless you got a biscuit tin.” The chandler smiled. “Got one of those, too. Old, but clean. Could let you have it for three coppers. It’ll hold fifteen biscuits.”

  Rahl laughed. “How about half a silver for the tin and fifteen biscuits?”

  “Suppose I could do that. Have to be for coin, not script. Been slower than I’d like lately.”

  “Coin it is.” Rahl handed over five coppers. “Slow as it is, you still must get some travelers from Dawhut.”

  “Not many. Not these days, Captain. Just those who want to sell me the things I don’t need more of because there aren’t that many travelers.”

  “Are there any at all coming from the coast?”

  “Not travelers.”

  “Then who?”

  “Coast city traders and factors, looking for goods, or to sell ’em.”

  “What do they tell you about the rebels?”

  “What rebels?” The chandler snorted. “Closest rebels are a good hundred kays southwest of Dawhut. The High Command garrison in Dawhut’s got three companies. My cousin there…well, he’s really Aviera’s second cousin, but he’s selling all he can get from everywhere else in Merowey because the rebels aren’t letting any goods leave the coast.”

  Three companies in Dawhut? Then why hadn’t they done any scouting? Or sent any scouts or messengers? Or had they, and had the rebel mage-guards captured or killed them? The latter possibility didn’t seem that likely to Rahl, but he couldn’t disregard it.

  “What about goods here? Is anyone selling much?”

  “Big thing is the Vyrna, and business there is piss poor. The Emperor won’t let ships leave Nubyat, and the distilleries are stocking up Vyrna in barrels, hoping it’s all over before long. A lot of folks sold their garden produce when one of the factors from Nubyat came up here last eightday. Some sides of mutton, too. Didn’t think much of letting go of what they had for coin, but they will. They will. Can’t eat coin, and prices’ll go up come late winter and spring.”

  “You didn’t, I take it?”

  “I’m just a town chandler, but I know when I’m looking at a long winter.”

  “Produce wouldn’t keep for that long, not on a wagon back to the coast.”

  “Not fresh, but he had pickling barrels in his big wagon, and lots of salt.”

  “There weren’t any rebel troops with him?”

  “Haven’t seen a one. Aviera said they were staying away from the main road. Wouldn’t have been surprised if the fellow with the pickling barrels hadn’t already sold what he got before he’d even delivered.” The chandler finished packing the biscuit tin and handed it to Rahl. “Here you go, Captain.”

  “Thank you. Have you seen or heard anything else that might be of interest?”

  “The factor fellow was looking for bitumen. Didn’t find any. The only place you can get that is in the hills north of Elmori. Other than that, haven’t heard or seen anything…or anyone. Suppose that’s of interest, seeing as we usually get more travelers this time of year than in summer or harvest.”

  Rahl could sense that the older man wasn’t hiding anything and had said what he knew. “I appreciate the tin, the biscuits, and the information.”

  “I appreciate the coppers, Captain.” The chandler smiled.

  Rahl inclined his head, then turned and left. Even before he’d taken more than a few steps across the square toward the inn, the chandlery was shuttered and locked.

  Drakeyt was standing on the front porch of the Dun Cow, looking northward at the puffy white clouds that were moving southward. “Rain, you think?”

  “Not tomorrow, or not from those clouds,” replied Rahl.

  “What have you got there?”

  “A biscuit tin, filled with biscuits.”

  “When a mage-captain buys hardtack biscuits…” Drakeyt shook his head. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “The chandler said a factor was here an eightday ago, buying all the produce he could get, and pickling it. Some mutton, too—salting it.”

  Drakeyt frowned. “So the rebels have taken steps to load up on supplies.”

  “That’s my guess. The chandler’s, too. Oh, the factor from Nubyat was looking for bitumen, too.”

  Drakeyt winced. “They’re looking to make Cyadoran fire. Nasty stuff.”

  “They didn’t get any here, but there’s supposedly some north of Elmori.”

  “We’d best hope that they don’t ship a lot to Nubyat.”

  “Did you know there were three companies in Dawhut?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” replied Drakeyt.

  “Why couldn’t they keep the roads open and deal with the few rebels that there are?” asked Rahl.

  “Three companies three hundred kays from Nubyat are enough to hold a large town,” Drakeyt pointed out. “That is, if the rebels don’t send ten companies and if the companies don’t get whittled down in piddling engagements.”

  “So these traps were designed to whittle them down?”

  “More to slow and whittle us down. The rebels had to know that the majer in Dawhut wouldn’t risk troopers on road patrols. He might even have had orders to hold the town. That could be why we’ve been ordered to wait for the submarshal.”

  “Because he’s worried that there might be rebel forces around Dawhut? Or because the majer might attack us if we tried to enter the town.”

  Drakeyt shrugged. “It could be either. We’ll find out when we start sending out scouting patrols tomorrow. We wouldn’t want the submarshal to encounter any surprises.”

  “I should be with one of the patrols near the main road,” Rahl offered.

  “I’d thought you would be,” Drakeyt replied. Then he smiled.

  Rahl couldn’t help grinning…but only for a moment.

  XLII

  Later, after eating with Drakeyt, Rahl retired to his small room. There he sat on the edge of the bed, using the small washstand as a desk, under the dim light of the single lamp, trying to find the right words to close his letter to Deybri so that he would be able to dispatch it as soon as Taryl and the submarshal’s forces joined them.

  He murmured the words, “I have just received your letter…”

  No, that wasn’t right.

  “We are in the small town of Saluzyl, and I’ve read your letter four times already since I received it two days ago
…”

  He frowned, then shook his head. What he needed to do was to write a short cover letter expressing his feelings in response to her letter, and then enclose with it the more lengthy correspondence he had been writing a bit at a time. But how could he begin? Finally, he began to write, one slow word at a time.

  Your letter was its own sunshine when it arrived, and I have savored the light brought by each and every word.

  You wrote about being blinded by the sun. I also saw the sunlight, except it crept upon me like a slow sunrise, and I did not know that you were the source of that light until I realized that the days when I saw you were the brightest. Yet how could I tell you that? Then, I did not have the words or the courage.

  Now, I know that there is at least a faint hope that we may share that sunlight, and that if I do not write and tell you that, then we both may lose that warm and loving light. Yet I do not wish to compel anything of you, and should you choose to close the shutters and turn from that light, I will grieve at the loss, at the thought of what might have been between the two of us, and at the dimming of the light you have brought into my life, but I will respect your decision.

  I am far from wise enough to know what steps are the best for us to make sure that light endures, but I am confident that, together, we could determine what those steps might be, if that is your wish and decision. While it appears that I have found a place as a mage-guard, ordermages are welcome in at least some other lands besides Recluce and Hamor, and healers are welcome the world over.

  Whatever we decide, I am obligated to finish this campaign, for I owe that at the very least to Taryl, for he saved me from Luba. Without his wisdom, his patience, his tutoring, and his perception, I would have nothing, and I would never have seen or written you again.

  This time, he did sign it, “With all my love.”