Mage-Guard of Hamor (19 page)

Rahl had also drunk a second lager, more than he usually did.

As he rose to leave the mess, he turned to Sevala. “Thank you.”

The lanky captain flushed slightly. “Thank you. Bertayk is always pushing to find out anything he can about seniors.” Her voice was pleasant, but slightly husky.

“You work with him?”

“I've had to.” She smiled. “I did enjoy the description. I don't think anything I've read conveys the sense of the black city the way you did, but…I do have some reports to write.”

“My condolences.”

“It's part of the duty. Good evening, Rahl.”

“Good evening.”

Rahl made his way to the library, but only read three pages of the tactics manual before Taryl appeared. He closed the book and carried it with him to follow the overcommander down to a musty chamber on the lower level. Unlike the one where Taryl had offered instruction, this chamber was dank with a clay floor.

Taryl lit the lamp, and Rahl closed the door.

“There are few places with privacy in Cigoerne, especially in Mage-Guard Headquarters,” Taryl began. “The Triad Fieryn has indicated that he would like to meet with you tomorrow. We'll go from breakfast to his study. When we return, you will spend the remainder of the day with Majer Xerya. When she dismisses you, you are to continue reading the tactics manual. I'd also like you to continue your efforts to sense and forecast the weather. It is possible that we may embark and depart on twoday. I still have much to do, and you will see little of me until we are on board the river steamer. It appears likely that you will be assigned as the mage-captain of a mounted heavy infantry company used for in-force reconnaissance. That is not certain yet, and I would caution you not to mention it until I can confirm it.”

The tactics manual made more sense, not that Rahl doubted Taryl did anything without a solid reason—even if Rahl had no idea what that reason might be.

“Can you tell me more about this morning's…examination?” Rahl finally asked.

“Your performance was satisfactory. There was some discussion about whether your last effort was defensive, but since it was addressed at the means of attack and not the attackers, it was considered defensive, if somewhat unique. It was also suggested that I instruct you on a less explosive means of dealing with order strangulation.”

“Order strangulation—is that what it's called when they use order to pull all the heat away from everything?”

“It's more complex than that, but that is often the effect.” Taryl turned back toward the door. “If you'd put out the lamp.”

“Is that all?” asked Rahl.

“For now. You look like you could use a good night's sleep, after you read a bit more, and I have another large stack of reports to read. Among other things.”

Rahl didn't quite know what to say. Taryl hadn't really answered his question about the meaning of the examination in the bunker and clearly wasn't going to say more. All manner of intrigue was taking place, from what Rahl could surmise, and yet he couldn't figure out who wanted what from whom or why, and Taryl wasn't saying, and Rahl didn't know enough to figure it out, especially since those involved kept tight personal shields.

So Rahl used a touch of order to put out the lamp and followed Taryl back up the narrow stone stairway to the main level, where each went his own way.

Rahl's back and shoulders were stiff and more than a little sore when he woke on oneday. He hadn't slept all that well, either, because his thoughts had kept circling around the questions of what actually was happening that was so preoccupying Taryl.

The Emperor supported Taryl, and so did Jubyl. Because the Emperor did, so did Fieryn, but Rahl had the feeling that neither Dhoryk nor Fieryn was all that supportive of Taryl, particularly with the selection of Byrna to succeed Charynat. But why would Dhoryk and the Overmarshal want a less effective commander? Or was it that they feared an effective commander's future ambitions? In his brief meeting with Land Marshal Valatyr, Rahl had been less than impressed, although Valatyr had certainly been pleasant. While Rahl could not support his feelings with any real proof, he had the definite feeling that much of the Emperor's decisiveness rested with Jubyl and the Empress and that their influence was no secret. That would also explain why Serita was a tool of Dhoryk and Klassyn of Fieryn and why the allegiances of the assistants were no secret. That way, Jubyl and the Emperor could claim that they were keeping no secrets from the other Triads.

Against that background, Taryl's appointment as Mage-Guard Overcommander of Merowey was a necessity for the Triad, if a grudging one. Taryl's preoccupation and general attitude since they had arrived in Cigoerne suggested that not everyone in positions of power beneath and beyond the Triad accepted that necessity.

Rahl finished dressing and took a deep breath. Just thinking about the intrigue tired him. He could only hope that matters would be less involuted once they reached Merowey and embarked on the campaign against the rebels.

At breakfast, he sat with Alfhyr, Sernyt, and Bleun, all of whom were speculating on which of their companies would be picked for what specific duties once they reached Kysha. Rahl could offer little information on such and mainly listened and ate.

After breakfast, he had to wait some time outside, standing in a brisk breeze under high, scudding clouds, before Taryl appeared in another timeworn tan duty coach. Taryl did not leave the coach but just motioned for Rahl to climb in.

The overcommander had a large stack of papers in his lap, and Rahl had to ease past him carefully in getting into the coach and the seat on the far side from the door.

“You see that smaller stack of dispatches there?” asked Taryl.

“Yes, ser.”

“Start reading them. You don't have to do anything with them. Just read them. Notice how they're written. It's possible you may have to write some.”

Rahl began to read. Even though the road was paved, he found concentrating on the dispatches difficult, both because of the style of writing and the swaying of the coach. Although the windows were only cracked, he also had to make sure that nothing blew away.

Reading the dispatches raised more questions than answers, although some of those questions were more irritating than substantial. Why had a Majer Dheryan asked for “additional equine replenishment prior to river-ine transport and deployment” when it would have been so much simpler to just say that he needed more mounts before his companies were shipped to Kysha and the campaign got under way?

Rahl only managed about a third of the dispatches before the coach pulled up before the Triad's wing of Mage-Guard Headquarters, and his head was aching.

“How many have you read, ser?”

“That stack I handed you amounts to two days' worth. I've had to catch up on almost a year's worth. You have to read what's not written as well as what is.” Taryl climbed out of the coach, leaving the dispatches on the coach seat.

Rahl followed him, but he did not see a single mage-guard or clerk in the corridors through which Taryl led him, not until they reached a foyer off the main corridor, where an older mage-guard sat behind a table desk.

The mage-guard stood upon catching sight of Taryl. “Overcommander, I'll tell the Triad you're here.” Even before he could move, the door behind him opened.

“Mage-Guards…come in.” Fieryn was a slender and wiry man, almost a head shorter than Rahl, with blond hair that clung to his scalp in tight ringlets. His eyes were a watery pale blue that seemed more intense, perhaps because his pale eyebrows were almost invisible. He had an easy smile as he stepped forward. “Taryl, I've been most interested in meeting your assistant. It's good of you to bring him here.” His eyes lighted on Rahl.

In reply, Rahl inclined his head. “Triad.”

“Do come in,” repeated Fieryn, stepping back and gesturing for them to follow him into the study beyond.

Rahl walked behind the two senior mage-guards and was about to shut the door behind him when Fieryn's assistant did just that.

The study was scarcely overlarge, an oblong chamber fifteen cubits by ten, with a single bookcase of golden wood set against the west wall and filled with leather-bound volumes with spines chased in gilt and arranged in order. Rahl suspected none had been read recently. In front of the east wall was a table desk with several documents laid carelessly across it and a wooden armchair behind it. Set before the window in the south wall that overlooked the interior courtyard garden was a circular table with four chairs around it.

Fieryn took the chair on the west side of the table. “We might as well sit down. Everyone will have a long day.”

Taryl settled into the chair on the east. Rahl took the chair that faced the window. As he seated himself, he could sense the faint but thorough probes at his personal shields.

“Good shields, but I wouldn't have expected less…if you're working for Taryl.”

Rahl wondered at the slight hesitation, but he replied, “I've tried to follow his example.”

Fieryn laughed. “I'm glad you used the word
tried.
Few have been able to actually follow that example.” His eyes focused directly on Rahl. “So you're the mage-guard who managed to disrupt the Jeranyi scheme in Swartheld?”

“I did what I could, ser,” replied Rahl deferentially.

“You're an ordermage, and stronger than the average for a mage-guard, but there's no hint of chaos about you. How did you manage to get the ship to explode?”

“I managed to use a sight shield to get to the ammunition magazines, and I set fuses to the powder, sir. I did fashion a little order around the fuses so that they'd burn steady. Then I hurried as fast as I could to get away. I almost didn't make it, and I had to jump into the harbor and stay underwater.”

Fieryn laughed once more. “It's good to hear when a mage-guard has to use something besides his order-or chaos-abilities.” The laugh and smile vanished. “I'm curious. How did Recluce let an ordermage as accomplished as you are depart?”

Rahl offered a rueful smile. “It's a long story, ser, but the short version is that they declared that I was a natural ordermage, and could not learn anything, and that I was a danger to Recluce and Nylan. The magisters were relieved to see me depart.”

“Yet you worked as a clerk for a time?”

“They did not think I was teachable or knew that much. I didn't know better. I didn't even think I knew enough to be considered any sort of mage until one of the harbor mage-guards stopped me while I was delivering papers and suggested that I register as an outland mage.”

“Did you?”

“Yes, ser. Almost immediately.”

“Almost?” Fieryn raised his near-transparent eyebrows.

“I finished delivering the papers to the tariff enumerators and went straight to the mage-guard station.”

Fieryn looked to Taryl.

“He did, and there's a record of his registry.”

Fieryn shook his head. “Sometimes, I have to wonder how Recluce survives. They throw out mages like you, and they threw out the greatest engineer in recent history, and he had to defeat an entire fleet with one ship for them to allow him back—and only if he built a separate city.” His eyes flicked back to Rahl. “Are you loyal to the mage-guards or to Taryl?”

“From what I know and have seen, ser, there is no difference.” As soon as he spoke, Rahl wished he'd phrased his reply differently.

Fieryn paused, just fractionally, before asking, “Did anyone tell you to say that?”

“No, ser. It's just that everything I've seen tells me that. I doubt the overcommander would have wanted me to say that. It's probably not a good answer for someone who is ambitious or knows Cigoerne well.” That was an even worse answer. Why couldn't he just murmur something polite?

“Why do you say that?”

That he could answer honestly without getting in trouble. “Because I don't know Cigoerne, ser, and because I'm most grateful to be a mage-guard after all I've seen.”

Fieryn nodded slowly. “I can sense you mean that deeply, and few do, or not for long. I would caution you that innocence will not protect you from evil or corruption. Nor will good will and faith. The only true protection is an understanding that there is no such thing as a little corruption and that all power and fame are fleeting. I doubt that there is a mage-guard anywhere under thirty years who can name the Triad before my predecessor, and less than a handful of Hamorians recall the name of the Emperor before Hamylt. Cyad once ruled the world, and no one is certain where most of her great cities even were.”

Rahl sensed that the Triad meant every word, and yet…He just nodded. “Yes, ser.”

Fieryn stood abruptly. “It has been good to see you again, Taryl, and to meet you, Rahl. I look forward to hearing good things from both of you.”

Rahl rose from the conference table with Taryl. He realized that he had not sensed the Triad's intention until Fieryn had stood. That alone told him he still had much to learn.

He also had to wonder why Fieryn had requested such a long coach ride for both Taryl and Rahl for such a short meeting that seemed almost perfunctory, yet he had the strong feeling that asking about it would be most unwise.

Taryl did not speak until they had left the Triad's wing and were back in the coach.

“When we get back to the High Command post, I'd like you to impose on Majer Xerya to show you anything she thinks might someday be within your capability, even if you cannot do it now or in the near future.”

“Ser?”

“Rahl…think.”

Rahl almost stopped dead in his boots. Why was…He shook his head. “Is that because I have to know it can be done by having seen it?”

“After the past year, you have to ask?” Taryl's tone was between exasperated and chiding.

What could Rahl say to that? Although Taryl's words had irritated him, the overcommander was right. It was just that he was trying to learn so much.

“Rahl…you have this tendency to feel sorry for yourself when you are overwhelmed with what you need to do and learn. I'm going to say something that I will not say again, but I expect you to remember it.”

“Yes, ser.”

“First, anyone who has ever done anything of true worth has been overwhelmed. Only the lazy, the incompetent, and the ignorant have not experienced that feeling when working hard at something. Second, no one cares if you feel overwhelmed. They only want the task at hand accomplished. Feeling sorry for yourself just distracts you and wastes time and effort.” Taryl pointed to the smaller stack of dispatches. “You have more than a little reading to do.”

“Yes, ser.”

There were definitely aspects to being a mage-guard that Rahl had never considered. He picked up the dispatches and began to read once more.