Rahl took the missive and scanned it.
Captain, Third Company—
You are hereby ordered to secure the town of Helstyra, including the barge piers. No craft are to be allowed to depart downstream. You are to maintain security until the arrival of the advance elements of the Second Army. As necessary and required, you are to scout the immediate area and to inform the advancing elements of any and all potential dangers.
There was no signature, just the seal of the submarshal.
“I didn’t know we were part of the Second Army,” Rahl said.
“Neither did I,” replied Drakeyt. “Maybe they’ve split the campaign into two armies. Be nice if they told us.”
“It doesn’t say how long it will be.” Drakeyt motioned for the courier.
The trooper crossed the room. “Ser.”
“How far away are the advance forces?”
“They were about fifteen kays back when I left last night, ser.”
“So they could be here as early as tonight?”
“I couldn’t say, ser.”
“Thank you. Get something to eat. Tell the server Third Company will take care of it.”
“Yes, ser.” The trooper inclined his head, then took a seat several tables away.
Drakeyt looked at Rahl and lowered his voice as he spoke. “They’re moving fast. We’ll need to go over the whole town today.”
“I’d like to talk to the town administrator,” Rahl said. “I can’t believe he didn’t know something, and if we’re supposed to secure the town…”
“You’d better take part of a squad with you—or a whole squad.” Drakeyt stood.
So did Rahl. “Half will do. That way, the others can help scout around the town.”
When he left the public room, Rahl searched for the proprietor, finally locating him in a small study off the kitchen. The round-faced man rose. “Ser? Is there a problem?”
“No.” Rahl forced a smile. “I was just hoping you could tell me where the town administration building might be.”
“It’s in the block behind the river piers, ser. If you follow the main street, just turn at the avenue before River Road—that’s where the piers are, River Road is.”
“Thank you.” Rahl nodded.
When he left the proprietor and walked out into the courtyard of the River’s Edge, the sky was overcast, and a bitter damp wind blew out of the east. Rahl couldn’t sense any hint of rain, not yet, at least, but he had a feeling that it would arrive before the next day dawned.
After locating Fedeor, Rahl gathered half of fourth squad, leaving the remainder with the squad leader for such duties as Drakeyt might require. With eight men behind him, he rode out of the inn courtyard and down the main street.
The administration building was a small square stone structure a block back from the river piers. The door was unlocked, and, hand on his truncheon, order-senses extended, Rahl stepped inside. The small foyer was empty except for a gray-haired woman seated at a table desk in the corner. A stack of paper was at her elbow.
She turned. “How might I—” Then she paled without finishing her sentence.
“I’m looking for the town administrator.”
“Administrator Esryk? Ah…he’s not here.”
“I can see that. Where could I find him?”
“I couldn’t say, ser.”
“Did you know that there were rebels in town who attacked Imperial forces yesterday?”
“No, ser.”
Rahl got the feeling that while she did not know, she wasn’t totally surprised. “Where does Administrator Esryk live?”
“He’s only an administrator part-time, ser. He also runs one of the barge services. He has two steam tugs.”
“And he lives where?”
“A good ten blocks back on the street that’s next to the main street.”
“Tell me more about his house.” Rahl projected a certain amount of authority.
“Ah…it’s on the rise. The house has a brick wall with an iron gate. There are gables on the second level, and the front door and shutters are green.”
“Thank you.”
Rahl forced himself out of the small foyer and back into the chill wind. Swinging up into the saddle didn’t hurt quite as much the second time, and he led the half squad back in the general direction from which they had come until they came to a gentle slope—and the dwelling of the errant administrator.
The two-story redstone dwelling was impressive, with wide windows and roofed porches, and a paved lane from the street to a stone stable and carriage house, with what looked to be quarters above. Both the lane and the paved walkway to the front entry had heavy iron gates.
Rahl was ready to pull down the gates, but the carriage gates were unlocked, and he rode up to the mounting block at the side of the mansion, well short of the rear carriage house. Although he said nothing, two of the troopers dismounted and flanked him as he walked to the main door.
A girl in a serving maid’s dress opened the door, then threw up her scarf over her hair. “Ser…” Her voice quavered.
“Majer Rahl to see Administrator Esryk.”
“Ah…ser. He asked not to be disturbed.”
“Tell the administrator that he can either see me immediately, or these troopers, and those in the side lane, will make certain he is greatly disturbed. And leave the door open.”
Her eyes widened. “Yes, ser.” She backed away, then scurried out of the entry foyer and out of sight.
Rahl extended his order-senses, but he could only sense five people in the house, and four were women. Both troopers unsheathed their sabres.
A slender man with deep black eyes walked toward the open door. Esryk’s jet-black hair had been dyed, Rahl realized, as had his eyebrows, but the deep blue velvet jacket was genuine, as was the gold chain around his neck, and the fharong embroidered in silver thread. Rahl hadn’t seen a jacket over a fharong, and he immediately probed with his order-senses. The jacket covered sheathed twin daggers that dripped chaos within their scabbards—poison.
Esryk smiled, but only with his mouth. “This is a private residence, Captain.”
“Majer…and mage-guard,” Rahl replied politely. “The reason why I’m here is that we were attacked by rebels when we entered Helstyra yesterday.”
“I cannot see what that might have to do with me, Majer.”
“You are the town administrator, and it should concern you.” Rahl could sense the fear and worry behind the cool words and almost-insouciant smile. “Were you aware that there were rebels in Helstyra?”
“How would I know that?”
Rahl could sense the lie concealed by the question. “Why are you trying to avoid answering me?”
“Ser…I don’t keep track of every person in the town. I collect the tariffs and refer the delinquents to the regional overcommander of the mage-guards.”
Rahl realized that he was being short with the administrator, but he hated verbal fencing and the use of words and procedures to obscure matters. It reminded him too much of Puvort. “All right. Let’s make this very simple.” Rahl smiled. “Are you supporting the rebels or Prince Golyat, either directly or indirectly?”
“How can you possibly charge a town administrator with such a matter?” demanded Esryk.
“Because I’m a mage-guard, and it is part of my duty to discover who is loyal to the Emperor and who is not.”
“You will find that I am most loyal to the rightful emperor, Majer.”
“Good. Just tell me that you’re loyal to the Emperor Mythalt.”
“Didn’t I just say that—”
Rahl reached out and grabbed Esryk by the lapels of the velvet jacket and slammed him into the door casement, following the blow with an order-thrust. Esryk sagged, and the half-drawn dagger clattered on the stones.
“Don’t touch it,” snapped Rahl. “Fourth squad! Weapons out!” He stepped back, then ripped the belt from under Esryk’s jacket and tossed it and the twin scabbards, one
with the dagger still in its scabbard, back away from the house. He dragged Esryk down the three steps to the stone walk.
“I’ll have you court-martialed and executed,” declared Esryk, straightening. “Mage-Guard Overcommander Ulmaryt will destroy you.”
“That’s not likely,” Rahl replied. “I report to Mage-Guard Overcommander Taryl.” He could sense that the name meant nothing to Esryk. “Tie him up with whatever you have,” he told the troopers.
“What are you doing to my consort?” A woman much younger than Esryk appeared at the door.
“Administering justice to a traitor who attempted to kill a mage-guard with a poisoned dagger,” Rahl replied coolly.
Her face paled, but she did not shut the door.
Rahl turned back to Esryk. The troopers were finishing binding his hands in front of him with heavy cord.
“Have the rebels been here from the beginning of the revolt?”
Esryk said nothing, but Rahl could sense that they’d probably been there even longer.
“How many?”
There weren’t that many, Rahl decided.
“Why did you support Golyat?”
“Because Mythalt is a miserable weakling, ruled by his own consort.” Esryk straightened. “Go ahead and murder me. Go ahead.”
“I think not. Not yet, and it will be an execution in the square. A very public execution.” Rahl smiled. “How close are the nearest rebel companies?”
Esryk didn’t know, but they weren’t that far.
“Twenty kays?”
The administrator didn’t know.
“What did you do to support the rebels…?
“Who else is town is backing them…?”
Rahl kept asking questions, trying to sense and judge Esryk’s silent reactions. In the end, he didn’t discover much more than the fact that Esryk had been supplying and feeding a squad of rebels, that the man had probably been promised a position by Golyat or Ulmaryt, and that all the town’s tariffs had been sent to Golyat in Nubyat.
After it was clear that either the man didn’t know any more or Rahl couldn’t discover it, Rahl ordered the troopers to hoist him onto a mount, and they rode back toward the River’s Edge. Rahl just hoped that Taryl would be with the advance forces and could learn more from Esryk. It might even be better if Taryl were the one to execute the traitor.
Once Rahl had arranged for the traitorous administrator to be bound and confined in what amounted to a closet in the stable, with a trooper posted as a guard, he and fourth squad made a series of patrols of the river district of Helstyra. Hard as he tried, and it was difficult enough that his head was splitting by the time they finished, he could discover no other signs of rebels. He did get the impression that Esryk was far from the only one in the town who supported Golyat—at least tacitly—and he wondered why.
The other aspect of the town that struck him, as he was riding back to the inn after the patrols, was that all the women were covered from ankle to wrist to neck, and that the scarves and head coverings were far more substantial and opaque than those he had seen anywhere else in Hamor, especially more so than in Swartheld and Cigoerne.
He had just ridden back into the courtyard, when a trooper—Reolyn from first squad, Rahl thought—rode in behind him.
“Ser! The submarshal’s forces are riding up the main street here, and the overcommander wants to see you.”
Rahl managed to dismount, although he staggered when his boots hit the ground.
“Ser,” called Fedeor, “we’ll take care of your mount.”
“Thank you.”
Rahl hurried across the courtyard to the inn and out onto the wide front porch. A gust of wind chilled him, but passed, as he stood there alone. Before long, a score of outriders appeared, scanning everything. With them rode Drakeyt and first squad.
With the first full company, Rahl could make out Taryl. The overcommander eased his mount away from the company, although a squad followed him, and reined up next to the porch.
“Good afternoon, ser.” Rahl wasn’t quite sure what else he could say.
Taryl dismounted, slightly stiffly, and handed the gray’s reins to a squad leader, then climbed the two steps to the porch.
“Can we can sit in the corner of the public room?” asked the overcommander. “I could use something to drink. We’ve been riding harder than I’d like.”
“There’s no one else there right now,” Rahl said. “There wasn’t, anyway, a little while ago.”
Taryl gestured for Rahl to lead the way, and the younger mage-guard did, making his way through the foyer and into the public room, and to a corner table. Once there, Rahl gestured to the servingwoman.
“All we have is ale.”
“All?” Rahl raised an eyebrow. At least, that didn’t hurt.
“There’s a bit of lager, but not much.”
Rahl looked to Taryl, who nodded, then seated himself.
“If you could come up with two lagers, that would be appreciated.”
“Yes, ser.”
Rahl sat down across from the overcommander, whose thin face looked even more drawn. “I didn’t see the submarshal,” Rahl finally offered, not wanting to ask.
“The submarshal is not with us. I find myself effectively acting as commander, and that’s not my expertise. Fortunately, Commander Muyr has been a great help. I suggest something, and he tells me whether it is possible or wise, and then we discuss that.” Taryl sighed. “I’m a little sore. I’m not so young as I used to be.”
Rahl just nodded. He didn’t really want to admit how stiff and sore he was.
“Before I hear what you’ve been doing, could you recommend where we might set up temporary headquarters?”
Rahl almost laughed. “I would suggest the rather elaborate residence of the town administrator.”
“Oh?” Taryl paused as the servingwoman set two mugs of lager on the table.
“Thank you.” Rahl did slip her a pair of coppers, because the lager was special, and got a momentary smile in return.
Once she left, Taryl looked to Rahl. “About the town administrator?”
“I have him in custody. He also owns and operates one of the barge businesses shipping goods up and down the river to Nubyat. He threw in with the rebels, but I couldn’t find out much, except that he fed and supplied a squad, and that he’s been sending all the tariffs to Golyat because he thinks Mythalt is weak and ruled by his consort.”
Taryl smiled faintly. “Do you think he is that much in error on that judgment?”
For a moment, Rahl was stunned. Then he reflected on what he had seen at the Imperial Palace, and the interaction between Taryl and the Empress. There had been something else there, too. He’d seen it at the time, in the way Taryl had looked at the Empress, almost sadly, yet with something more. Rahl decided not to mention that. Whatever that had been was Taryl’s business. “I’d say she influences him. I don’t see that as bad.”
“It is not bad. She has excellent judgment, far better than either Mythalt or Golyat, and she is more than Mythalt deserves, but what all Hamor needs.” Taryl nodded, as if to dismiss the issue of the Empress. “You think this residence is suitable?”
“It’s the largest one I’ve seen. It has some grounds, a small coach house and stable, and the owner is a traitor, not only to the Emperor, but to his position as administrator. There are two other inns, but they’re smaller…” Rahl shrugged, then winced.
“You’ve been injured, I see. What else happened?” Taryl’s voice was almost tart, as if Rahl were a spoiled child.
“After the problems on the causeway, there was this hay wagon…” Rahl went on to explain what had happened, both with the makeshift barrel cannon, and then with the rebel squad on the roof.
Taryl just nodded, but with the overcommander’s tight order shields, Rahl couldn’t tell what the older mage-guard really felt.
“Anyway…we’ve been following orders, and checking the town. There are more than a few rebel sympathizers,
but there don’t seem to be any more outright rebels.”
“Have you checked to see who’s not here?”
“Not here?”
“If there are a number of dwellings without men, particularly with young consorts, they’ve likely taken up arms with Golyat and gone to Nubyat. There can’t be too many, because, if there were, they’d have mounted more resistance here. Still, that would give you a better idea of how many tacitly support the rebels.”
Rahl nodded slowly. He hadn’t thought of that. Why was it that Taryl always could think of something he’d overlooked?
“Because I do have experience, and because you’ve gotten sloppy with holding your shields.” Taryl smiled, but there was an edge to his voice.
Rahl winced. The past days had not been good, and matters were not getting better.
“Did you check the tariff books to see how much was sent to Golyat?”
“No, ser.”
“What about the records of the barge business? What in the way of goods has he shipped downriver?”
“I don’t know, ser.”
“You should.” Taryl sighed. “It could be that I’m expecting too much of you. I wouldn’t have thought you’d have forgotten about commerce.”
“It was difficult to remember when so many people have been attacking us.”
“And afterward?”
Rahl didn’t want to admit that he’d just been exhausted.
“I will question this administrator, but you will execute him tomorrow in public, in the square. That is not usually done, but there is a reason for that this time. Not a good one, but a necessary one.”
“Ser?”
“I will tell you later, when it is appropriate.”
Inside, Rahl stiffened, then forced himself to relax. Taryl had always acted in Rahl’s best interests, and Rahl would just have to trust the overcommander. But he still hated it when people did things for his benefit without telling him why.
“And you will go over the records of the town and the barge operations.”
“Yes, ser.” After a moment, Rahl ventured, “I’ve had a few difficulties…”
“Most of us usually do in matters such as these.” There was little sympathy behind Taryl’s words.
Mage-Guard of Hamor Page 38