Mage-Guard of Hamor (23 page)

“Aren't you his superior, in a way?” murmured Rahl, as they stood at one side of the outer study.

“His superior in rank, but I'm not in direct command,” Taryl replied in a low voice. “He can't order either of us to do anything, but I can't order him, either.”

After a time, the study door opened, and Submarshal Dettyr stood there. He was a shade taller than Rahl and broader in both the shoulders and the midsection, considerable broader in the middle, reflected Rahl. Although his expression was noncommittal, his entire being radiated displeasure and outrage, from the top of his thinning brown hair down to the toes of his shimmering black boots. “Mage-Guards…” He gestured for them to enter, then turned and walked into his study.

Once inside, Rahl closed the door.

“Overcommander.” Dettyr did not incline his head.

“Submarshal.”

Taryl's glance would have frozen boiling water, Rahl thought.

“I've just heard what happened in the courtyard, Overcommander, and I cannot say that I am pleased. In fact, that would be an understatement. I would call it an outrage. I understand your duties and brief, Overcommander, but I must protest. You have just arrived, and not even reported, when you and…your assistant—”

“Mage-Guard and Captain Rahl,” Taryl replied coolly. “Mage-Guard Rahl was protecting my back, Submarshal. It is indeed an outrage. When an overcommander of the mage-guards is attacked by your troops, and when a mage-guard who is protecting the overcommander is belittled and attacked by your officers—that is the outrage. Were the Emperor to hear of this, I have my doubts that you would long remain as the marshal's second-in-command, regardless of any other factors.”

Rahl sensed the absolute conviction and power of command projected by Taryl.

After a moment, so did Dettyr. “Ah…I can see your concerns, Overcommander. Perhaps I was a bit hasty, but…I trust you understand…and, as was reported to me, much of this could be laid at the feet of a certain mage-guard. Are not those mage-guards your responsibility.”

“They are, and that is why I was appointed. I also might note that Mage-Guard Rahl only initially used disabling force against my attacker and the rebel mage-guard. Your officers had only to step away. They did not.”

“But were they not under the control of the rebel mage-guard?”

“Your officers could not have been under his control without their consent at some level. A mage-guard of his comparatively limited power could not compel individuals against their will. The fact that Rahl was able to overcome him so easily attests to his limits—and to the complicity of your officers.” Taryl smiled politely. “Now…I am most certain we could trade blame and counterblame for some time. For various reasons, I would rather not. Nor should you wish to. It would be far more productive for us to work together.” Taryl turned to Rahl. “If you would excuse us.”

“Yes, ser.” Rahl inclined his head politely, then stepped back and eased out of the study.

The orderly looked at Rahl, then to the trooper still laid out on the ancient wooden floor. “Ah…ser?”

“Have someone put him in confinement until he wakes up. He could be charged with assaulting an officer. Whether he is remains up to the overcommander and the submarshal. Oh…his right lower arm is broken.”

“Yes, ser.”

Rahl sat down on a bench against the wall. He was tired, not quite light-headed, but he'd definitely had an order workout. His hand touched the hilt of his truncheon. He smiled ruefully. He didn't even remember replacing it in his belt half sheath.

While Rahl waited for Taryl, the orderly kept looking at Rahl. When a messenger arrived, the orderly murmured to him, and the messenger scurried off. Within moments, two burly troopers appeared and carried off the limp form of the trooper who had attempted to attack Taryl.

Shortly after that, Taryl emerged from the study and nodded to Rahl.

As they walked out of headquarters, Taryl asked, “What did you say about the injured trooper?”

“I told them he needed to be confined for now, that he'd attacked you, and that you and the submarshal would decide upon further action.”

“Good.”

Taryl walked down to the wagon and the squad leader who was the driver.

“Where to, ser?” The squad leader wouldn't look at Rahl.

“The senior quarters in back.” Taryl climbed back onto the wagon, and Rahl followed.

“Yes, ser.”

“I hope you won't mind,” Taryl said, “but you'll have to sleep on the couch in my quarters for now. There aren't any beds for captains and below. Most of them are in the field bivouacs with their men.”

“Whatever you think best, ser.”

Rahl had certainly considered treachery from within the mage-guards, but he hadn't thought that he'd see it so blatantly within the troopers.

Taryl said little until he and Rahl and their gear were in a modest room that held a single bed, a wardrobe, a writing deck and chair, and a couch. “Not exactly lavish, but far better than most will have.” He paused. “You have a question?”

“Why would those three try to have you attacked? And why that way?”

“That way? Because crossbows are quick, and it's hard for most mage-guards to stop an iron quarrel even if they know it's coming. Also because most mage-guards never look at troops. They usually check the officers and other mage guards.”

“But why?”

“The possibilities are many,” replied Taryl tiredly. “The mage-guard and the overcaptain may honestly have believed that Emperor Mythalt is governing poorly. Or they may have been promised greater rewards by Golyat, then conditioned without their knowing it. Or something else.” After a moment, he added, “Few people ever know themselves or truly why they do what they do. They act, or decide to act, and then they justify what they have done. That's why there are so few druids.”

What did druids have to do with Hamor? So far as Rahl knew, there weren't any outside of the Great Forest in Candar. “Ah…ser, I…”

“You don't understand? To become a full druid, you have to be a black or at least a gray mage, and you have to undergo a trial. The trial supposedly requires facing the worst of yourself armed with all of the order and chaos-powers you possess. To survive it, you must know yourself, or learn to know yourself during the trial.”

Rahl frowned. That didn't sound so bad.

“Would you want to face an ordermage who knew every little thing you did wrong—from what you thought when you seduced that girl in Land's End to what you thought when you first saw Saulya?” asked Taryl softly. “Or every rebellious or disloyal thought you had toward your parents?”

“Oh…” Rahl paused, then asked quickly, “Where did you find that out? I've never read anything like that.”

“So far as I know, it's not written anywhere. I once met a druid in Diehl, when I was not much older than you are now. He showed me just the tiniest part of what their trial was like. He also showed it to a senior mage-guard. The other mage-guard died horribly right there. Several others did during that expedition as well. That's one reason why the High Command has little interest in Naclos.”

“One?”

“That, and the battle cruiser that fell apart at the docks there, and the two hundred sailors and officers who died.”

Sensing the absolute directness behind Taryl's words, Rahl was silent.

Taryl forced a smile. “As for why the officers did it? Such a simple question, but like so many simple questions, we'll never know the answer. Someone will provide a simple answer, because that's what everyone wants. It will be wrong, but most will choose to believe it, because that's so much easier. Based on that incorrect simple answer, people will act, and what they will do will most likely make matters worse than if they'd admitted they didn't have an answer.”

Rahl wasn't certain about that. “How can people act correctly when they don't know why something happened?”

“Think of it this way. If you admit you don't know, but you know you have to act, then you can base your acts on looking at what faces you and asking yourself what is the best thing to do. If you react to a simple and incorrect answer to your question, you risk compounding the error.” He took a deep breath. “We need to get you moved to Third Company tomorrow, and we need to get them on their way.”

“How will you do that? The submarshal doesn't seem like he wants to do anything.”

“But…” replied Taryl with a smile, “he doesn't want any trouble here, and he wants to create the impression that he is doing things effectively. So I've already suggested that by immediately transferring you, he can accomplish both. After all, if you stayed here, you might find more traitors, and he doesn't want that, and by sending you and Third Company out to scout, he can claim he's preparing the way for the main body of forces. He can also blame all the trouble on you. That won't work for long. If there's more trouble, or if someone in Cigoerne High Command gets worried, Byrna won't make them happy by trying to replace you. He'll need someone higher, and the submarshal will fill the bill—and Byrna can then claim that he's doing his best to work with the mage-guards.”

“I see.” Rahl was getting the feeling that he might actually be far happier away from Kysha, even as miserable as he was likely to be riding a horse—if only Captain Drakeyt weren't like Helyrt.

Even after resting and eating, Rahl found that he was still exhausted, and he made his way back to Taryl's quarters. Taryl wasn't around, and Rahl just sat down on the couch. He wasn't sleepy, just tired. Was that because he'd used more order than he thought in dealing with the whole situation around the traitorous mage-guard? Was that another danger of being a natural ordermage?

He could feel the smoldering anger as he thought about what had happened in Recluce, and how even the magisters in Nylan had just decided that because he was a “natural” mage, they couldn't risk having him around. They hadn't even wanted to try doing things in a different way. By comparison, Taryl certainly didn't have that much more experience in training natural ordermages, but he had discovered ways to help Rahl.

Stewing about the past wouldn't help Rahl. He rose and walked to the writing desk, then went back to his bag and eased out paper and pen and the traveling inkwell. After a moment, he settled himself at the desk and began to write.

There wasn't much more that he could say, and he was getting sleepy.

After cleaning the pen, putting away the inkwell, and folding the letter in half and tucking it into a protected spot in his kit bag, he pulled off his uniform and took the light blanket folded on one end of the couch, then stretched out and closed his eyes. Sometime after full darkness, he heard Taryl return, but he was too sleepy to say anything.

When he woke the next morning, Taryl was already dressed.

“Ser…don't you sleep?”

“I don't need as much as you do. I arranged for your formal orders yesterday—and for Third Company's departure. After we eat, we'll go find Captain Drakeyt and Third Company.”

“I could find him.”

“I'm sure you could,” Taryl replied amiably, “but it's necessary that I be there.”

Rahl didn't question that. If Taryl said it was necessary, it was. But it bothered him that, again, someone had to intercede for him…or smooth the way.

Breakfast was served in a small room meant for less than a half score of officers. Rahl counted twice that crammed into two long narrow tables, all eating overcooked egg toast, greasy pork strips, and ale with too much sediment. About all Rahl could say for the food was that there was enough of it, and that it was passable, and better than what he'd gotten as a loader in the ironworks. He also suspected it would be far better than whatever there was to eat once Third Company left Kysha.

Everyone was crowded and hurried, and little was said, although Rahl did notice more than a few sidelong glances, and he did catch one fragment of conversation.

“…mage-guard there…”

“…order type…could use more chaos-throwers…”

“…don't know…he might be the one who laid out a chaos type, two officers, and a trooper faster than you could say what happened…did it all with a truncheon…”

“…that what happened to Sholyt?”

“…threw his weight around once too many times…could have told him that mage-guards don't take shit from anyone…but he never was one to listen…”

Another captain sat down with the two, and the conversation shifted.

Rahl couldn't help asking himself again what had happened the previous day. If officers knew mage-guards didn't put up with nonsense and arrogance, why had the captain and overcaptain acted as they had? Just because that overcaptain didn't listen? Or had the dead mage-guard picked just that kind of officer? All that just reinforced the idea that the confrontation had been planned. Or had the confrontation been the backup plan in case Taryl hadn't been killed? While Rahl hadn't exactly had much choice in dealing with the overcaptain and mage-guard, why had Taryl killed the captain? Because he didn't want any word of a plot and who might be involved circulating? Or because he'd known something would happen and knew already who was involved?

Rahl finished his breakfast quickly and headed out of the crowded mess, only to find Taryl outside waiting for him.

“I've arranged for a wagon to take us to the bivouac area, since neither of us has a mount yet. You need to get your gear. Just take one spare field uniform and leave the rest. I'll have them packed and saved for you. Or sent to your next posting, if it comes to that.”

“Next posting?”

“You never know.” Taryl shrugged.

“Are you sure, ser?”

“After you covered my back, I can certainly take care of a few uniforms.” Taryl turned and began to walk swiftly toward the quarters building.

Rahl had to hurry to catch up with the overcommander, and he did not voice his concerns until he was back in Taryl's quarters and closing his gear bag. He had folded what he was leaving behind and placed it on the couch. “Ser…I've been thinking.”

“That's always dangerous,” replied Taryl with a chuckle. “What did you want to know?”

“Why you killed the captain.”

“Anyone, officer or not, who attacks a mage-guard forfeits his life.”

“Yes, ser. But…could we have learned something before he died? Or was there a reason why he shouldn't have been allowed to talk to anyone?”

Taryl nodded. “You're asking the right questions. Yes, there is. What do you think it might be?”

“You either already knew who was involved, or that was less important than not having lots of talk about an attempted killing of a mage-guard overcommander.”

“You're right on the second part, but I don't know who was involved, except in general terms that it had to be Golyat and his mages, or those working for them. There's also another reason. Because a mage-guard was involved, we wouldn't have learned anything from the captain, and that would have been worse because we would have been shown as ineffective. Why can't we find out who was behind it? Was it because we set it up to discredit the marshal and submarshal? Those kinds of questions would be everywhere.”

Was anything as simple as it seemed? Or had Rahl only thought things were simple because he'd never known what lay behind people's acts?

“If you're ready, we should be going,” Taryl said gently.

Rahl donned the cold-weather jacket, but did not fasten it closed, picked up his gear, and followed the overcommander down the steps and out to the waiting wagon. There, Rahl lifted his gear into the back and vaulted up onto the second seat beside Taryl.

“To the bivouac area, Third Company, if you know where it is,” Taryl said.

“Is that Mounted Heavy Infantry, ser?” replied the driver.

“Yes.”

“All of them are in the north area, but I don't know where exactly.”

“That will be fine, and better than we could do ourselves.”

“Yes, ser.”

The drive through Kysha did not take all that long. From the sense of age, and the grooves worn in the stone pavement, Rahl could see and feel that the town was old—perhaps even older than Nylan, or even Land's End. The women on the streets all wore heavier scarves than those he had seen in Swartheld or Cigoerne, so much heavier that they might as well have worn hoods, and all of them seemed either to be in pairs or with children. The men he did see were all older, graying or white-haired.

The main street turned into a highway at the southwest end of the town, just after it crossed a small stone-walled canal. Beyond the canal were fields set out in neat squares and oblongs, but the pattern only lasted for a half kay before they reached what amounted to a town's worth of tents, tie-lines, and temporary corrals—all set on winter-fallow fields.

The driver pulled off the stone-paved highway onto an area of packed reddish dirt on the right side. “This is about as close as I can get, sers.”

“That's fine. If you'd wait,” Taryl told the driver, “I shouldn't be that long.”

“Yes, ser.”

Rahl kept a faint smile to himself as he lifted his much lighter gear bag from the wagon. The driver was not about to go off and abandon the ranking mage-guard, indeed the ranking officer in Kysha, but by making his requirement a gentle statement, Taryl was avoiding arrogance.

Rahl moved forward until he caught the eye of a trooper who was grooming his mount. “Trooper…if you could point the way to Third Company…”

“Oh…yes, sers!” The trooper stiffened to attention as his eyes caught sight of the overcommander's insignia on Taryl's collar. “Third Company—they're two over, that way.”

“Thank you.”

“Yes, ser.”

Rahl could sense the man's consternation. While captains might trudge through a bivouac area, overcommanders clearly did not. That observation bothered Rahl, although he wasn't about to say anything with as little as he knew about military operations.

Captain Drakeyt wasn't hard to find because he was walking away from the tie-lines where mounts were held. He was half a head shorter than Rahl, with gray eyes, wavy light brown hair that was showing streaks of silver, although Rahl doubted that the captain was even ten years older than Rahl himself. Drakeyt was thin and muscular, but not wiry, and his smile was warm, as were the feelings behind the expression as he stepped forward. “Overcommander, Captain, welcome to Third Company, such as we are.”

“Thank you.” Rahl and Taryl spoke almost simultaneously.

“As a courtesy,” Taryl began, “I've brought your orders to you. Captain Rahl has been assigned to you as well.” He extended the envelope.

“Thank you, ser. We'd wondered when we'd be issued orders.”

Despite Drakeyt's smile and politeness, Rahl could sense the captain's puzzlement as he took the orders from Taryl. The puzzlement increased as Drakeyt slowly read the orders before him. Then he studied the authorization. Finally, he looked up. “We're to leave immediately and begin scouting the main route to Dawhut. Ser, can you tell me what prompted this? Last eightday, Majer Felenyr was saying it would be another eightday before anyone was sent out.”

“I can only surmise that the submarshal has been convinced that matters are more pressing than he originally perceived, Captain. But since Rahl has been my assistant, I wanted to see him off, and thought I could expedite matters by bringing your orders with me.”

“Yes, ser.” Drakeyt's eyes went from the overcommander to Rahl and back to Taryl.

“Now that I have,” Taryl continued, “I will leave you, Captains, to your preparations.” He nodded to Drakeyt, then Rahl, before heading back toward the wagon.

Drakeyt turned to face Rahl directly. “Welcome to Third Company.” His smile was crooked. “We'd better get things moving. The men will be glad to get out of here, but the quartermaster will complain.” He paused, then added mildly, “I didn't know we were getting a mage-guard overcommander.”

“The Emperor appointed him. He used to be a Triad.”

Drakeyt laughed softly. “I think we'll all be happy to get on the road.” He eyed the long truncheon at Rahl's belt. “That's…”

“I guess you could call it a riding truncheon. A regular truncheon's too short for horseback.”

“It's better than nothing, I suppose,” Drakeyt acknowledged.

Rahl had to force himself not to say what came to mind—that he'd killed men with a truncheon. Instead, he nodded. “I think it will prove useful.”

“How are your riding skills? Pardon my asking, but most mage-guards aren't trained to ride.”

“Slight, but I do have some little ability to deal with mounts. I can probably keep one in line.” That wouldn't be the hard part, Rahl knew.

“We can probably find a mount that's not too spirited.” Drakeyt frowned. “Are you a healer, too?”

Rahl shook his head. “I have been given some instruction there, and I can do a few things, like keep chaos out of a wound if the wound isn't too severe. I can tell when a bone is set right and when it's not, but I've only set one or two, and that was with a trained healer looking over my shoulder.”

“That's more than most field healers.”

“I can also sense people in hiding, if they're not too far away, and I have a little ability to tell what the coming weather might be like.”

The captain's puzzlement continued, and he frowned. “Can I be a bit more direct?”

Rahl had an idea of what was coming. “Go ahead.”

“Most battalion commanders would kill to get a mage-guard with your abilities. Do you have any idea why you're being sent out with a recon company?”

“I don't know, but I have some thoughts.” Rahl paused, then went on as Drakeyt nodded. “The overcommander wants good reconnaissance reports. He also feels that I need to learn more.”

“There must be more,” suggested Drakeyt.

“It's better if I don't stay in Kysha at the moment,” Rahl admitted.

Drakeyt frowned, then slowly nodded, as if he had realized something. “It's not my business, but one of the messengers said that there was trouble at headquarters, and that someone took a crossbow to a mage-guard and three officers were dead, and no one was saying anything.”

How much should Rahl say? After a moment, he replied, “I'd prefer not to go into details. A trooper did take a shot at the overcommander, and when I deflected it and restrained the trooper, his captain and the captain's overcaptain objected. So did a traitorous mage-guard—a chaos-mage. Let's just say that none of them will be causing more trouble, and that the submarshal is more than happy to send out a reconnaissance company.”