“Not much. Some came in here on sixday and bought some things, small stuff, mostly dried redberries. I think they were officers. I never saw any of them again.” She shivered so slightly that Rahl would have missed it had he not been watching closely.
“You were worried about them.”
“Why would I worry about officers?” The cynicism in her voice was barely veiled.
“Did anyone hurt you?” He tried to project concern, which was easy, because he hoped she had not been hurt or molested.
“No.” After a moment, she added, “But the way one of them looked…”
He nodded. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
“Is the Emperor coming back?” She didn’t want to discuss how she felt. That was clear.
“We’re the vanguard of Second Army. We’re here to put down the rebellion.” He paused, then asked, “Was the town clerk sending tariffs to the usurper?”
“Of course. Chyrl thought he should be so much more than a town clerk in Lahenta.” The scorn was even stronger than her previous cynicism. “He must have known you were coming. He rode out to join the rebels yesterday.”
“Did he leave any records? Where would he have kept them?” Rahl tried to keep his voice even.
“He took the main ledger, but there’s plenty of records left. He didn’t understand bookkeeping all that well, either.”
Rahl was getting a very good idea who and what Chyrl was, unfortunately.
“The rest of the records are on the table there. I suppose I should have burned them or something and said I didn’t know anything, but Lahenta’s too small a place to cover anything up.”
“You didn’t support the rebels, did you?”
“No. I couldn’t say much, but…” She shrugged helplessly.
Rahl could sense the total honesty of what she had said, but he needed to make sure about one thing. “You seem to know a lot about him.”
“I should. He was…I guess he still is…my consort. He ran the chandlery part, well as he could, and that wasn’t all that well, and I did the cooperage. Learned it from my da. Wouldn’t have consorted, except Da was dying.” She shook her head. “Don’t know why I’m telling you.”
“Because you believe in the truth,” Rahl suggested. “And you tell it.”
She looked at him more intently, and her mouth opened. “You’re a mage-guard, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Don’t worry. It’s clear you had nothing to do with what he did. I would like your help in going through the papers he left.”
“I guess…”
Rahl could sense the doubt behind her reluctant agreement. He smiled again. “You’re worried, and you don’t trust me. I don’t blame you for your caution, but I’m not here looking for people to punish because they didn’t resist the rebels. I’m only after the ones who went out of their way to support them, and that’s why I want to look over the records.”
“I’m Khelra.” She walked over to the shelf on the north wall that rested on two wooden brackets. “Here’s his draft ledger. He had to draft everything, because he never could get anything to balance the first time. I had to check his figures half the time.” She snorted. “I insisted, even from the beginning, when he was just a town clerk for the Emperor. Otherwise, I could just see the tariff enumerators visiting him with a mage-guard, begging your pardon, ser, and that wouldn’t have been good.”
Rahl was getting the feeling that the young woman had been far too good for her consort, and he almost hoped that Chyrl would be one of the unfortunate casualties of the revolt. He forced a pleasant nod as he turned to the last pages in the draft ledger.
After a brief study, Rahl turned to Khelra. “There are only five people who paid large tariffs, and by far the largest were paid by someone called Gorsyn. Who’s that?”
“Gorsyn owns the distillery. He has the big house on the south end of the square.”
“He makes the crimson brandy?”
“Grande Crymson—that’s what he calls it. We don’t sell it here. No one here has that kind of coin, except him and his family.”
“What did Chyrl do with the tariffs he collected?”
“He gave them to the enumerator who came from Nubya, the same as always.”
“But he must have known…”
“He knew. He even said that he was glad they were going to someone strong.” Khelra shook her head. “I’d prefer an Emperor who lets us be as much as possible…begging your pardon, ser.”
Rahl continued through the ledger. “Who are Desytt and Shavorn?”
“They’re the two biggest growers…”
When Rahl finished, he had a list of five men he needed to visit, starting with Gorsyn. Khelra had also supplied their approximate locations. He had a long afternoon ahead.
He found Gorsyn at his dwelling. In fact, the distiller was the one who stood there when the door opened, a carved goldenwood portal, flanked by two frosted-glass panels displaying stylized redberries.
“Ser Gorsyn?” asked Rahl, standing on the narrow front verandah.
“Yes?”
“I’m here to ask you a few questions.”
“Officer, I do not believe I owe you an explanation for anything.” Gorsyn’s voice was warm, smooth and modulated, as if it were nut oil flowing into a pan.
Rahl smiled. “It’s Majer Rahl, ser Gorsyn, and since I’m also an Imperial Mage-Guard reporting directly to the Imperial Mage-Guard Overcommander for Merowey…you do. Also, since that squad of troopers drawn up out there will do whatever I ask, I think it would be most unwise for you not to answer my questions.”
Gorsyn’s eyes flicked past Rahl to fourth squad, then back to the mage-guard. He smiled, but only with his mouth. “I suppose I must, mustn’t I? What do you wish to know?”
“You’ve paid your seasonal tariffs regularly, even the last one, haven’t you?”
“Of course. I’m a loyal citizen of the Emperor.”
“Did you know that Chyrl was paying those tariffs to the usurper?”
“Majer—it is Majer, is it not? I wouldn’t want to be disrespectful. As I was saying, Majer, my duty as a loyal citizen is to pay my tariffs to the Emperor’s duly appointed representative, and to the best of my knowledge, that was the town clerk, Chyrl. It was his duty to dispatch those funds to the appropriate authority, and I would certainly not wish to second-guess any Imperial functionary, whether minor or mighty.” Gorsyn smiled again.
Rahl could tell that Gorsyn had known what Chyrl had been doing. “Did you offer Chyrl any advice or suggestions once the fact of the revolt became known?”
“I wouldn’t presume, Majer. I’m a distiller, not an Imperial functionary.”
“Yes or no?”
“No.”
“Did you offer any assistance or aid to anyone known to be a rebel, or known to support the rebellion?”
“I did not, unless you would classify paying my lawful tariffs as support.”
That suggested most strongly that Gorsyn had known Chyrl’s sympathies and actions, but Rahl couldn’t very well discipline someone for what he knew, rather than what he had done, not in this case.
“Did anyone in your household?”
“Absolutely not.”
That meant Gorsyn had forbidden it, and that suggested a very clever man. By paying his tariffs to Chyrl and winking, so to speak, he had made sure that he’d remain in a good position, no matter what happened.
“You’re a very clever man, ser Gorsyn.”
“I’d like to think so, Majer, but that’s something time will tell, won’t it?” He smiled again. “Is there anything else you’d like to ask?”
Rahl could have asked more questions, but he’d sensed enough from Gorsyn to know that he’d find little more than what he’d already discovered, and nothing that would amount to proof of treason. “No. You’ve been most helpful, and I thank you.”
Those were the first words that created unease within the distiller, but Rahl merely smiled and stepped back. “Goo
d day, ser Gorsyn.”
“Good day, Majer.” The door closed gently, but firmly.
Rahl walked back to the fourth squad and the gelding, then mounted. He still had four others to run down.
In the end, he found all four, and his conversations will all four were remarkably similar to the one he had held with Gorsyn. All insisted—truthfully—that they had given no golds or support to the rebels and that they had only paid their lawful tariffs to the town clerk, trusting in his sense of duty. That meant that they’d all talked about how to handle the situation, and that, in a way, Chyrl had been partly set up, if willingly, to be the only true rebel in Lahenta.
He did not return to the square to meet Drakeyt until close to sunset. Along the way he did discover just how highly the distiller—or the distillery—was regarded. A paved lane ran from the distillery building on the south side of Lahenta to the highway leading to Nubyat, and it appeared to Rahl that from that point on, the road was stone-paved.
“What did you find out?” asked the captain.
“The town clerk handed all the tariffs for the past two seasons over to Golyat’s tariff administrator. He was active in supporting the revolt and knew full well that the tariffs went to support the rebellion, but none of Lahenta’s wealthiest did anything but pay their tariffs, and none of them did anything to support Golyat or the rebellion.”
“They had to know.”
“I’m sure that they did, but you can’t administer justice against someone because he didn’t stop a minor functionary from abusing an official position.”
“What about the clerk?”
“He rode off with the rebels. He left enough records that he can be charged with treason. That’s if he survives and we ever find him.”
Drakeyt snorted. “The wealthy snots knew, and they’ll get away with it.”
Rahl nodded. “I can’t administer justice against someone who only suspected a crime and didn’t look further.”
“I can see that…but it’s still wrong.”
“It is, but it would be more wrong to punish them. That way, we’d have to punish all of Nubyat and Sastak, and a good third to half of all the people in Merowey near the coast around those cities.”
“So they set themselves up to profit no matter who won?”
Rahl smiled sadly.
“We’ll see more of that, won’t we?”
Rahl didn’t have to reply to the question. Drakeyt already knew the answer.
LVII
Twoday morning Rahl was up early. He hadn’t slept well, even though he’d been able to lay his bedroll on some comparatively soft hay in the corner of one of the barns Third Company had taken over temporarily. He’d had nightmares about drowning in ooze while Deybri had looked on. He couldn’t recall what her nightmare image had said, but he felt that she had judged him for creating so much death. Yet what else could he have done? The rebels had left him nowhere to go, and he couldn’t throw order-bolts the way the chaos-mages could throw chaos-bolts. One such effort had left him so helpless that his own troopers had had to cart him back.
After he struggled out of the nightmare and into wakefulness, Rahl washed up as well as he could and ate stale field rations. He was saddling the gelding when he heard a trooper riding into the courtyard.
“Majer! Captain!”
Rahl turned, then waited as Drakeyt appeared. The two walked over to the trooper.
“Sers…there’s a full squad coming in. They’re ours.”
“Thank you, Shundyr,” Drakeyt said.
“My pleasure, ser. Wouldn’t want it said your scouts didn’t keep you posted.”
Both officers had their mounts saddled and ready in the light before dawn when Rahl could sense the oncoming riders, moving at quick trot. He turned to Drakeyt. “They’ll be here in a moment.”
Shortly, the squad rode into the open space west of the barn and reined up. A squad leader rode forward and halted. “Squad leader Lyrn reporting, ser, one full squad for duty. We have dispatches for Majer Rahl and Captain Drakeyt.”
“Welcome, squad leader,” offered Drakeyt.
“Welcome,” added Rahl.
Lyrn handed an envelope to Rahl, then one to Drakeyt.
“Have your men stand down and rest…water your mounts,” Drakeyt said. “You must have left early.”
“Yes, ser. We covered about six kays since we broke bivouac.”
Drakeyt opened the envelope and began to read, then looked over at Rahl. “We’re ordered to scout the approaches to Thalye—that’s the next town—with particular concern for possible opposition from the old back road. Squad leader Lyrn and his men are to replace fifth squad, and the previous fourth and fifth squad are to be consolidated under Fedeor as fourth squad, and squad leader Fysett is to be one of the messengers returning to Second Army. He’ll be reassigned as a squad leader there.”
Rahl nodded. The reassignment made sense. So did the suggestion of even more intensive scouting of the route to Thalye, particularly since the rebel attack on eightday and the beginning of the metaled highway to the coast signaled the edge of territory more likely to be defended more vigorously. According to the maps, Thalye was less than ten kays from Lahenta.
As Drakeyt watched, Rahl broke the seal on his dispatch and extracted the single sheet from the envelope, immediately reading the brief message.
Senior Mage-Guard Rahl—
Second Army will be joining you tomorrow. From that point onward, you will be working more closely with the main forces, and you may well be required upon occasion to brief senior officers on both the terrain and its peculiarities and on the probable disposition of rebel forces, as well as the level of civilian support for either the Emperor or the rebel forces.
In the interim, I would appreciate a short report on the situation in the vicinity of Lahenta, to be dispatched with squad leader Fysett, before you commence the day’s scouting on the approaches to Thalye.
The seal was that of the submarshal, and the single letter above it was a “T.”
“You don’t look exactly pleased,” observed Drakeyt.
“I’ve been requested to write a short report. Immediately, and to send it with Fysett before I do anything else at all.”
Drakeyt raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
“In effect, he wants to know most of what I already wrote up last night, but there are one or two things I’ll need to add. I’m going over to the chandlery. It’ll take less time there.”
“Better surroundings, too.” Drakeyt grinned.
“Not my type,” Rahl replied. “Besides, the one I like wouldn’t be too pleased.”
“How would she…” Drakeyt broke off his words, then asked, “Don’t tell me she’s a mage, too?”
“A healer, but…she’d know.” Rahl wondered why he kept thinking about Deybri. Despite her last letter, how could they ever see each other before years passed? Was he still chasing an impossible image?
“You do make things hard for yourself, Majer.” Drakeyt shook his head.
“It’s a habit of mine, I’ve been told,” Rahl replied. “I’ll finish as quickly as I can. I’d like to have my reply ready to send off right after muster.”
“I’ll need a bit of time to tell Fysett and Fedeor and get the squads reorganized anyway. You won’t be delaying anything.”
“I’ll try to be quick.” Rahl walked back to the gelding, untied him, and mounted.
When he reached the chandlery, it was closed, but he pounded on the door until Khelra answered.
Rahl had taken over the makeshift desk in the chandlery the night before to write out his report to Taryl, detailing the situation in Lahenta and his decision not to administer any sort of punitive action to those remaining. He had just wished he was writing Deybri, but by the time he had finished, he was too tired and too discouraged to attempt adding to his intermittently written epistle to her.
“You’re back,” offered Khelra ambiguously. “Early.”
“Only for a littl
e while. I need a quiet place to write a response to my latest orders.”
“You weren’t that quiet, Majer.” She stepped back.
“I apologize. The overcommander wants an immediate reply, and there’s really nowhere to write in that barn.” Rahl refrained from pointing out that he could have taken over her quarters.
She did not reply that there were other places where he could write. After a pause, she inquired, “The Emperor in his great mercy has decided against burning Lahenta to the ground? Or does he just wish to spare the redberries and the distillery?”
“No one’s burning anything.” Rahl smiled wryly.
“And after you leave, Majer…then what?” Khelra was most unlike Deybri. The cooper was short, muscular, and broad-shouldered, with sandy hair chopped short enough that she could have passed for a youth at a distance…yet she and Deybri did share one quality that shone through both, and that was an honesty of spirit.
Rahl couldn’t help but feel sorry for Khelra, trapped as she had been by circumstances into consorting with a weak and ambitious man. Was he sympathetic because the same had almost happened to him? “The overcommander is arriving, and he’s even less likely to burn anything. He has to report directly to the Emperor.”
“You know where the lamp is.” Khelra turned and walked away, leaving the chandlery door ajar.
Rahl stepped inside, knowing the space was empty, yet still scanning it with his order-senses, even as he wondered what he should have said to Khelra. He could sense she was displeased, and it wasn’t because he was leaving or not leaving. Had his very presence promised something? He was thankful he didn’t have that much to add to what he had written the night before.
After he had finished his dispatch to Taryl—less than a page of additional comments—Rahl went back out to the gelding and extracted the small mirror, carrying it back into the main room of the chandlery/cooperage. Then he set it on the plank that served as the makeshift desk.
He seated himself on the stool and looked into the glass, his concentration focused on the metaled road that led from the outskirts of Lahenta to Thalye, as he tried to visualize a kaystone that gave the name of Thalye and the number 5. The glass first darkened, then began to fill with swirling mists. After a moment, they cleared to reveal an empty stretch of road, without riders, or wagons. There was no kaystone, but to one side was a low hillock, and at the top was a broken stub of stone. Rahl nodded to himself.
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