Mage-Guard of Hamor (26 page)

“Good. Make sure all the men understand that before we head back.” Rahl turned and smiled politely at the senior squad leader. “I understand that sometimes prisoners are killed trying to escape. That shouldn't happen here, but…” He paused. “I'll look into it, and I can tell who's lying and who's not.”

“Yes, ser.”

“Now…let's get ready to ride back.” Rahl mounted the gelding and rode perhaps fifty cubits eastward. He just wanted a few moments by himself. He did not look back, but extended his hearing with the help of his order-skills.

“You heard the captain.”

“…tracked second one down like he could see through the trees…”

“…disarmed one of 'em…”

“…may not be a chaos type…but…don't want to cross him…”

Rahl had very mixed feelings about what he heard, but he couldn't have troopers and squad leaders doubting his word.

On the return, Rahl and his patrol discovered no more signs of rebels or outlaws or much of anything except isolated and wary steadholders and foresters. By the time they returned to Troinsta in the fading light of threeday, and Rahl had officially returned the squads to Quelsyn's direction, his inner thighs were sore and raw once more.

Drakeyt appeared in the stable as Rahl was grooming the gelding.

“Quelsyn said you found three rebels.” The captain's voice was calm.

Underneath the pleasant tones, Rahl could sense a great deal of concern. “We did. They killed one, and I captured two. They were part of the force sent with the cannon to attack the supply convoys. I don't think they understood that they weren't expected to return. It's clear that the idea was to slow things down and make the marshal cautious. That would allow them more time before our forces attack.”

“Quelsyn said that you disarmed one man with your truncheon and broke the other's shoulder.”

“He wouldn't surrender and was trying to hamstring the mounts.”

“He also said you could sense where they were from almost a kay away.”

Rahl shook his head. “I could sense that someone was there from that distance. It was less than half a kay before I was absolutely certain.”

“He also said that you just looked hard at them, and they began to talk.”

Rahl shrugged tiredly. “I let them know that I could tell when they were lying. Most ordermages can.”

“Are you trying to get a field command?”

For a moment, Rahl just looked blankly at Drakeyt. Then he laughed. “Captain…I'm a mage-guard. I was sent here because no one in Mage-Guard Headquarters knows what to do with me. I have no desire at all to command men in the field. I was told that, in case of injury to you, I might have to take command until another captain could be dispatched, and that I'd better learn everything I could. My thighs are so sore I can barely walk, and I had to chase that rebel at a fast walk because I was afraid I'd fall off the horse if I went faster in the woods.”

Drakeyt shook his head. “Quelsyn said you acted like you'd commanded before.”

“The only people I've ever commanded were lawbreakers.”

For several moments, Drakeyt said nothing. Then he nodded.

Rahl could sense the other's puzzlement, but decided that anything he said, or could say, about his background would do little to reassure the captain. “What did you find out?” he finally asked.

“No one has seen anything, and no one is missing anything.”

“What do you plan for tomorrow?”

“We still haven't scouted the areas west of the town.”

“Can we do that while we head southwest, or do we stay here?”

“Why don't we talk it over at the Painted Pony?”

“I won't be long.”

“You may be there before me. I promised the administrator I'd tell him what we found.”

“He might know,” Rahl said. “I put the two prisoners in the town gaol. I thought they could stay there until the overcommander or someone else could question them.”

Drakeyt started to open his mouth, then stopped.

Rahl waited.

“Do you think that was necessary? They're traitors.”

“It has nothing to do with them,” Rahl replied. “Have you met the marshal, personally? Or the submarshal?”

“No. Captains usually don't, except on rare occasions.” Drakeyt paused. “I assume you have, from the way you asked that. Might I ask what that has to do with the rebels you captured?”

Rahl offered a wry smile. “Were you aware that Marshal Byrna was not the initial choice for the position?”

“I'd heard rumors…”

“Marshal Charynat was appointed, then died in…unusual circumstances.” That was all Rahl could say, because that was all Taryl had told him.

“You believe that?”

“Yes. Remember, I do have the ability to tell when I'm being lied to. Now…Marshal Byrna is not exactly…a commander who is swift to act, and Submarshal Dettyr doesn't care much for mage-guards.” Rahl paused. “Just how likely is either to fully believe a report by a mage-guard attached to the company of a captain?”

Drakeyt actually smiled. “So you've been planted on me to make sure that good information gets back to the campaign command.”

“No one told me that…but that's the way the overcommander operates.”

“We need to talk more. I'll see you at the inn. I'll still need to stop by and see the administrator because I said I would. It also won't hurt to suggest his prisoners need to stay healthy until someone from the campaign arrives to interrogate them. We certainly can't spare the bodies or the time to escort them back. It's bad enough to use troopers as messengers.” Drakeyt nodded, then turned and left the stable.

Rahl finished grooming the gelding, then made sure the horse had feed. After that, he walked slowly toward the Painted Pony.

Just beyond the stable, he slowed. He could sense someone ahead, lurking around the corner of the narrow building beside the stable. He extended his order-senses, but realized that the figure was too small to be an adult, and sat huddled against the wall. Rahl stepped forward and peered around the corner of a narrow building beside the stable.

A small girl huddled against the wall. She looked up in surprise. Her cheeks were damp, and her eyes darted past Rahl, then down the alleyway.

Rahl didn't know quite what to say for a moment. He moved so that she could see him, but no farther. “I'm Rahl. I'm a mage-guard. You seem unhappy.”

The girl looked at him, but did not move. Rahl could sense fear, resignation, and deep sadness.

“Do you want to tell me why you're sad?” Rahl kept his voice soft.

She gave the smallest of headshakes, then lowered her eyes so that she no longer looked at him.

“Do you live here?”

There was no reply, but Rahl sensed that she did.

Suddenly, a thin woman burst out of the side door ten cubits from Rahl. “Shereena! You worthless girl! Where are you?” She turned and took three hurried steps toward Rahl. “Who are you? Stay away from my daughter…” Her words died away as she saw the uniform. “Oh…I'm so sorry, ser. I…”

Rahl could sense the anger within the mother dying away, overtaken by fear.

“She was crying,” Rahl said. “I stopped to ask her why. Perhaps you know?”

“She was upset. It hasn't been a good day, ser.”

Rahl nodded politely. “Sometimes, days are like that. I hope you'll be gentle with her. She was very upset.”

The woman's fear was partly replaced by irritation. “She wasn't all that good, ser.”

“That may be,” Rahl replied, trying to think of what to say that wouldn't cause the mother to take her anger out on the child once he left. “I don't suppose any of us were as good as we should have been as children.” He stepped back, but did not leave.

“Shereena…it's time to come inside.”

The girl rose, timidly. The mother extended her hand and took her daughter's hand firmly, but not roughly. Rahl watched as the two reentered the building. Neither looked back.

Finally, Rahl turned and continued toward the Painted Pony.

What else could he have done? He had the feeling that the child had been hurt, but no chaos had been involved, and he hadn't sensed any overt physical injury. The mother hadn't broken the Codex, not that he knew. Also, he wasn't a mage-guard assigned to Troinsta. Yet…he still worried about the girl.

As he neared the inn, his eyes took in the signboard—a flat piece of wood some two cubits by three on which was painted, almost crudely, a pony standing on its hind hoofs with a beaker set on a front hoof. The pony's coat was depicted in irregular splotches of faded color—maroon, black, white, yellow, and blue. Looking closely, Rahl could see that someone had tried to paint over an original signboard, using the old work as a base, but the more recent painting had been far less skillful.

The same small girl who had served breakfast led him to the corner of the public room.

“Here you are, ser.”

“Thank you. The other captain will be joining me shortly.”

“Yes, ser. Would you like two ales? They come with dinner.”

“Yes, we would.”

“I'll bring them.” She turned and hurried toward the kitchen.

Rahl repressed a smile at her seriousness, even as he mentally compared her to the child he had encountered outside the stable. The inn girl might have to work, but she had a confidence that bespoke a far more settled life.

He glanced around the public room. Unlike at breakfast, there was a scattering of others in the room. He did note that neither of the adjoining tables held patrons, and he doubted that was by coincidence. Nor was the fact that the girl served them. The child could not reveal to a mage-guard what she did not know.

Rahl wondered what, if anything, the innkeeper was hiding, or if he was operating out of caution. Rahl suspected caution, but one never knew. He also realized that there was a great danger in sensing too much. All too many folks had secrets they did not wish disclosed. That had to be one reason why the mage-guards were tasked with maintaining order and minimizing chaos under a simple Codex. More than that would have been impossible for the limited number of mage-guards.

Rahl was still waiting for the ales when Drakeyt eased into the old straight-backed chair on the other side of the square table. “We have ales coming. I don't know what the fare is yet.”

“Whatever it is will be better than field rations.”

“How was your visit with the administrator?” asked Rahl.

“He didn't like the idea of feeding prisoners, maybe for eightdays. I asked him if he wanted to upset the Mage-Guard Overcommander of Merowey. He decided that feeding them wasn't so bad after all.” Drakeyt laughed.

Before either man could say more, the inn girl returned with two of the earthenware mugs filled with ale. “Here you are, sers. Tonight the fare is mutton pie, and it's three coppers for you, and that includes one mug of ale.”

Both men nodded. Rahl put three coppers on the table. So did Drakeyt.

“It won't be long, sers.” She left the coppers and turned back toward the kitchen.

An older woman emerged from the kitchen archway carrying two platters. She set them on the other corner table, before two white-haired and heavyset men who could have been brothers from their appearance.

“I was thinking,” offered Drakeyt. “If we check out the steads to the west tomorrow and leave first thing on fiveday, we can send back a messenger then, and he can get back to us quicker. Also, the field rations will go farther. There's no place to quarter, not really, until we get to Istvyla, and that's a good three days' ride, even without scouting.”

“Just little hamlets?”

“If that. The northeast of Merowey has the fewest people. There aren't that many large towns until you get near the coast….”

Rahl mostly listened as Drakeyt talked, and the two ate. He still thought about the girl by the stable.

Third Company's patrols on fourday discovered no recent signs of rebels, nor did they on fiveday, sixday, or sevenday. On fourday, and on the following days during the ride southwest, Drakeyt had the company patrol separately by squads. Rahl led first squad along the narrower and more ancient old road. In more than a few places there were still remnants of deep wagon tracks, although the continuing light drizzle on fiveday and early sixday blurred those even more. After questioning more than a score of steadholders near the back road, Rahl found some who had noted the tracks but none who had actually been aware of the rebels' passing. With the heavily forested areas bordering the old road in most places, Rahl could understand how some of the holders might not have seen the wagons. But none of them hearing the wagons?

Was it just that most folk were so wrapped up in their own lives that little else penetrated unless it affected them? But then, he recalled wryly, he certainly hadn't paid that much attention to his parents' warnings about Jienela.

By late on sixday, the soreness in Rahl's legs and thighs had abated, and he could actually ride at more than a walk without feeling that he'd be pitched out of the saddle. At the same time, he was all too conscious that he was a long way from being a good rider, but he was able to get a better sense of what the gelding would do and how he responded to Rahl. Order-senses did help there.

Slightly after midafternoon on sevenday, the patrols re-formed into the full company on the main road northeast of Istvyla and then rode into the town. Rahl counted dwellings on the way, and came up with only two score or so along the road on the north side of the hamlet before they reached the square. Of those locals near the road, none fled, but all moved back and watched the mounted infantry warily.

After riding into the center of Istvyla, the company drew up in formation in the square—little more than an expanse of packed reddish brown earth somewhat more than a hundred cubits on a side. Rahl surveyed the buildings—a small two-story inn that had doubtless seen better days even a century before, a chandlery with a wide and shallow porch supported by a mixture of crude stone and brick pillars, a shuttered smithy, a small brick structure that probably held the town administration and gaol, another building that looked to have a potter's kiln in the rear, and several others whose function he could not discern because they lacked signboards or because the lettering and images on the existing signboards had faded so much.

A square-bearded and graying figure walked deliberately from the town building toward the front of the formation. He stopped and looked at Drakeyt.

“What can we do for you, Captain?”

“We're the advance party for the Emperor's forces. Are you the town administrator?”

The man shook his head. “We don't have an administrator. I'm Hyalf. I get three silvers a season to act as town clerk. Course…haven't gotten the silvers for summer yet. You couldn't do anything about that, could you, Captain?”

“We can send word to the Emperor, Hyalf.”

“If you would, Captain, I'd be much obliged.”

“Have you seen any rebels around?”

“I can't say as I have. Can't say as I've heard of anyone else who has, either.”

“Has anyone had any large amounts of anything stolen, or any horses?” pressed Drakeyt.

“If they have, they've not told me, and I'd likely have heard. I haven't.”

Rahl could sense that Hyalf was telling the truth, at least as he saw it. So, as Drakeyt continued to talk to the town clerk, Rahl continued to take in his surroundings.

A small group of men gathered on the front porch of the chandlery, less than fifty cubits from where Rahl had reined up slightly back of Drakeyt. Rahl studied them quickly, with both eyes and order-senses. One of the men near the back of the group glanced at Rahl, then froze for a moment.

Rahl could sense both the man's recognition of his mage-guard uniform, even under the cold-weather riding jacket, and the immediate fear that followed that recognition. The man eased toward the back of the group, then stepped off the side of the unrailed porch and vanished into the shadows between the chandlery and the neat-but-weathered stable of the inn.

Rahl wondered exactly what the man had done that he so feared the appearance of a mage-guard. Most probably someone who had committed an offense in one of the larger towns and fled before being caught. Still…that much fear suggested more than a minor offense. Since the man had been accepted by the others and since he was attired neither shabbily nor extravagantly, Rahl suspected that he'd been living in Istvyla for at least a while.

“…we'll need quarters of some sort,” Drakeyt added, “and food and fodder. We can pay.”

“In the Emperor's script, no doubt.”

“Captains do not carry golds,” replied Drakeyt, “and the Emperor's script is always good.”

“But not immediately,” Hyalf pointed out. “One must often wait for a season until a disburser arrives.”

“You can trade it among yourselves,” Drakeyt responded.

“There's some that won't take it, beggin' your pardon, ser Captain.”

“That may well be, but that's their problem, and it's far better than in Candar, where there's no payment for quarters or food and fodder.”

Hyalf nodded slowly, and Rahl could sense his doubt—and Drakeyt's concealed irritation.

“As you say, ser Captain, late payment is far better than no payment, but unless you wish to take dwellings, the inn and its stable and holders' barns are the only shelter available.”

“We'll put up as many as we can at the inn and its stables. Then we'll use the largest and driest barns. You must know the largest barns, and you will disburse the script, except to the inn, but we will let the holders know that and how much they will receive. You will receive a small stipend for your trouble as well.”

Hyalf was clearly not pleased with the arrangements laid out by Drakeyt.

After loosening his riding jacket enough to show his mage-guard uniform, Rahl adjusted his visor cap with the sunburst and eased his mount forward beside the captain. “I understand you have done a good job as clerk for Istvyla.” Rahl smiled. “It would be a shame if the Mage-Guard Overcommander had to break in a new clerk.”

Hyalf turned toward Rahl, his annoyance increasing—until he saw the uniform. “Ah…I'm certain that won't be necessary, ser. No, ser.”

Rahl said nothing for a moment and just continued to smile pleasantly.

A thin sheen of perspiration appeared on the clerk's forehead, despite the cool breeze.

“I'm glad it won't be, and I'm sure you'll do your best to work matters out so that everyone is accommodated without upsetting the people here.”

“Yes, ser.”

“We'll see what's available at the inn, first for supplies,” Drakeyt said. “You should come with us. That way, you'll have a better idea of what else we'll need.”

“Yes, ser.”

Drakeyt turned in the saddle. “Quelsyn, first, third, and fourth squads remain here until we see what arrangements we have. Second squad comes with Captain Rahl and me.”

The senior squad leader nodded.

The captain turned back to the town clerk. “Over to the inn.”

“Yes, ser.” Hyalf began to walk quickly toward the inn, giving the company formation a wide berth.

Drakeyt eased his mount over beside Rahl's so that they were almost stirrup to stirrup. “I knew that little bastard wanted to pocket script and coins, and he knew I knew,” murmured Drakeyt. “But he was still going to try to do it. That doesn't make sense. I could have cut him down where he stood.”

“You could have,” Rahl agreed, “but it was easier this way.”

Drakeyt nodded slowly. “They've never seen a war.”

“But they know a mage-guard can mete out justice on the spot,” Rahl replied.

“You're not a chaos type, though.”

Rahl smiled. “The riding truncheon is the same length as a mage-guard falchiona. How would he know the difference?” He didn't mention that the truncheon backed with order could be as deadly as chaos-flame. He just had to get closer.

Drakeyt laughed.