Mage-Guard of Hamor (5 page)

“That's true.” She paused, as if uncertain what to say next.

Rahl could see Kysant preparing a pitcher and two tall goblets. “Kysant will be back with our drinks before long. Why don't you order for us both?”

“You trust me with that?” The words were accompanied with a smile.

“I'd trust you with far more than that, and you know it.”

“You do make things difficult, you know?”

Rahl wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. So he just shrugged…helplessly.

Kysant returned with a tray that held the glass pitcher of leshak and two crystal goblets, then set a goblet before each and half-filled both goblets.

“Kysant,” said Rahl with a smile, “you can tell people that your place is so good that a Hamorian mage-guard traveled all the way here to eat.”

“Ah…yes, ser. Have you decided…a light lunch…or more?”

Rahl nodded to Deybri.

“The pashtaki and kasnya for appetizers, and the cumin fowl with sweet rice, with a side of biastras…”

Rahl watched and listened. Once Kysant had left, he lifted his goblet. “To the loveliest healer in Recluce.”

Deybri actually blushed. Then she shook her head. “You're impossible.”

“You already knew that.”

She sipped the leshak, and so did Rahl. It was better than he recalled, smooth and cool, bearing hints of pearapple, greenberries, honey, and an even tinier trace of pine.

“How did you know that I was an envoy?” he asked after several moments. “I hadn't gotten around to telling you.”

She smiled. “You've changed. Once that would have been one of the first things you said.”

“It didn't seem so important. Not now.” Rahl waited for her to go on.

“Tamryn told everyone that the Emperor had sent two envoys to Nylan, and that they were both black mage-guards. Everyone was cautioned to be most courteous.” Deybri laughed. “I had no idea you were one of them.”

“They sent me because I'm the only one who knew about the smuggling and the theft in the Nylan Merchant Association in Swartheld. That was how I ended up in the ironworks at Luba. Director Shyret dosed me with nemysa because he didn't know I was a sort of mage…” Rahl went on to outline quickly his progression from loader to clerk to mage-clerk and finally to mage-guard. “…couldn't have done it if Taryl had not found ways to help me regain some of my abilities, and to train some of the others.”

At that point, he stopped because Kysant arrived with a large circular platter bearing the deep-fried pashtakis and what looked to be small pastry crescents.

“Uncle Thorl doesn't like kasnya.” Deybri picked up one of the crescents. “He thinks they're bland, but their taste is just more subtle.”

Rahl took one and nibbled it. After a moment, he nodded. The taste was a combination of almond and other spices that he could not identify, but he enjoyed the flavor. “It's good. I like it.”

“You're not just saying that?”

“No. Especially with you, I wouldn't do that.”

Rahl enjoyed the appetizers, but not so much as just looking at Deybri.

At that moment, Kysant escorted three men into the room, seating them at a round table in the corner farthest from Rahl and Deybri. One was clearly a trader, and he kept looking at Rahl, finally murmuring something to the others.

“You'll have everyone in Nylan talking for eightdays after you've left,” said Deybri in a low voice.

“It might help Kysant.” Rahl didn't really want to think about leaving.

Before he could say more, Kysant arrived with the main course—the cumin fowl and the biastras.

The fowl breasts had been cut into thin strips, then braised and laid on a bed of sticky rice. Deybri served them each several strips and rice.

Rahl found the meat tender, moist, and piquant—as well as slightly smoky and pearapple sweet. The rice carried the same flavors, with a hint of crunchiness. “I like this.”

“I'm glad.”

While Rahl was careful to wrap the spicy biastra in the thin flat bread, after a mouthful he realized that it was nowhere near as hot and spicy as he had recalled. Then he glanced across at Deybri, who had taken a cloth and was blotting her forehead.

“These are spicier,” she said, “and you're not even noticing.” She laughed softly. “That's another way you've changed. I still remember the expression on your face when you took the first bite of a biastra.”

“I've had to eat hot food for more than a year. Some of it wouldn't have been edible if I'd been able to taste it.”

“Luba? That must have been awful.”

“I wouldn't recommend it to anyone,” Rahl said slowly, “but it wasn't as bad as people say. The guards and overseers were more patient than you'd think. I once watched a mage-guard tell an overseer that if he didn't take better care of his men, he'd be one of them.”

“I wouldn't be surprised if it was every bit as bad as they say,” Deybri replied. “You just learned how to handle it.”

“I suppose I did, but I only saw one or two cases where the overseers were cruel, and I wasn't the only loader who got promoted to checker.”

“Checker?”

“A low-level clerk who keeps track of the iron shipments. That was how Taryl found me.” Rahl went on to explain, concluding, “…and I was reading about Recluce and the magisters when the rest of my memories came back, and I sent word to Taryl, and I became a clerk at the mage-guard station. As soon as I had enough coins, I wrote you.”

Deybri just nodded.

After several long moments of silence, Rahl said, “Thank you again for letting my parents know.” He managed a smile.

“You could have sent a letter to them…rather than me.”

“I could have, but I could only afford one letter,” Rahl said slowly, looking across the table into her gold-flecked brown eyes. “You told me that the past had no hold on me. That might have been true once. It's not any longer. It hasn't been for a long time, now.”

Deybri met his eyes without looking away. “I know.”

“And?”

“Rahl…you have come back to Nylan, and you may again…but already, you are not truly of Recluce…or even of Nylan.”

“You might be right, but why do you say that?”

“You're different. Stronger within. I don't mean in order, although that is also true, and it may come that you will become even more powerful in time.” She paused as Kysant arrived to take the empty plates and platters.

Rahl realized that the light had dimmed in the room because it was twilight outside. He hadn't really paid any attention.

“Any sweets?” asked the proprietor.

“The orange cake, if you have it. Two slices,” replied Deybri.

“An excellent choice, lady.” Kysant bowed, but his eyes avoided Rahl.

Once Kysant had left, Deybri added, “I like it because it's sweet, but not cloying.”

“And there's no aftertaste of the rest of the meal?”

She nodded.

“I'm different now,” Rahl prompted her. “That's what you were saying.”

“You think you love me. That's obvious, and I can't tell you how flattering it is to have someone as talented and handsome as you are in love with me. But…it won't work out.”

Rahl could sense the turmoil within her. What could he say? “I'm not asking that. I'm only telling you what I feel.”

“Rahl…I told you I had to spend time as a healer in Hamor. I was in Atla. I can't tell you how unhappy I was. I kept counting the eightdays, and I almost ran to the ship that took me back to Nylan. You…you're strong. I'm not. I know I'm not. I'm not worthy of you.” Her eyes were bright in the dimming light of the dining chamber.

“You're more than worthy of anyone. Not feeling comfortable in a strange land when you're young isn't exactly weakness. I didn't feel at all comfortable in Swartheld for the whole time I was first there.” He offered a smile. “Besides, you feel something for me.”

“I always have.” She looked down for a moment. “That doesn't change anything. You won't come back to Nylan, and I can't live in Hamor.”

“Healers are always welcome there,” he said mildly.

“I don't feel welcome there.” Her smile was strained. “Can we leave it at that?”

“Until after the orange cake.” Rahl forced a smile.

“You don't deceive any better than I do.” An unsteady laugh followed her words.

“I'm not trying to deceive anyone. I couldn't come here and not tell you how I feel. The letter…I didn't want to say too much, or not enough…” He shook his head.

“You said enough.”

“Too much?”

Deybri was the one to shake her head. “If you were an engineer here, even a stevedore on the docks, I wouldn't hesitate a moment to consort you.”

Rahl could sense the cost of the admission. “But I'm not, and you're not someone who can do things halfway or partway or with an ocean between us.”

“No. I can't. I just can't…and I hate myself for that weakness…but I can't.”

Rahl considered her words. Her ability to recognize where she was weak was another strength, and held an honesty he had not considered.

Kysant reappeared with two small plates. “Would you like a brandy or something hot, as well?”

Rahl looked to Deybri, catching the slightest shake of her head before replying. “No, thank you.”

Neither Rahl nor Deybri said anything as they slowly ate.

“The cake is better than the khouros, I think,” Rahl said after finishing the last moist crumbs on his plate.

Deybri smiled. “I think so, too, but Uncle Thorl doesn't. But he's never liked oranges. That might be because his father had an orchard, and Thorl's job was to take care of the spoiled and rotten ones.”

“I can see that might give him less liking for oranges,” replied Rahl with a laugh.

“That's just the excuse he gives.” She paused just slightly. “He does ask if I hear from you. He said you were one of his best students, that you had the gift for languages.”

“He has the gift of teaching them.”

“He's never asked about anyone else.”

“That's because he's never had another student in love with his niece,” Rahl answered lightly.

“Please…Rahl. No more. Not now.”

“For now. How is Aleasha?”

“She's close to becoming an arms magistra, I think. Before she does, though, she'll have to learn more about order and how it affects weapons.”

“Has she started building that house yet?”

“Not so far…”

In the end, the dinner cost three silvers, with a tip, and Rahl felt strange keeping the seven, but he'd return them to Taryl the next day.

He did offer Deybri his arm once they left the restaurant, and she took it, gently. They walked through the early evening, uphill toward her small dwelling. Rahl tried to keep his words away from what he really felt.

“…never realized how small Recluce is…almost as far from just Swartheld to Cigoerne as it is from Land's End to Feyn…”

Deybri fell silent, and Rahl quickly went on. “I saw my first Kaordist Temple in Swartheld…all the words about twinners suddenly made sense. You know that they have twin spires, one that's twisted and strange…and that's the female one…”

“Why doesn't that surprise me?” She shook her head.

“Men think of women as chaotic everywhere, you think?”

“In most places, from what I've heard and seen.”

“I don't.”

“You're one of the few,” she said dryly.

All too soon, they reached the low stoop before her front door.

Deybri let go of Rahl's arm and stepped back. “I know I must be a disappointment to you. You've crossed an ocean and laid your heart at my feet. But…”

Rahl could sense the unshed tears as he looked at her standing before the doorway…so strong, and yet, in ways, so fragile. “Thank you for this afternoon and tonight.” What else could he say? That there would be no one else? That sounded stupid. That without her, life seemed empty. True as it felt, that was almost as bad. He swallowed, then took her hands in his hoping, that she would not mind. “You know how I feel…”

“Rahl…I can't…I can't do this.” Tears streamed down her face. “When will I see you again? A year from now? Five? Ten?”

He had no answer to that. Mage-guards, even senior ones, had neither the time nor the coins to make personal voyages across the Eastern Ocean. And—after having seen Tamryn's reaction to his presence—he doubted that he would ever meet the magisters' criteria for returning permanently to Recluce. Yet…how could he leave Deybri?

He wanted to shake his head. He knew she had some feeling for him, more than just some feeling, or she would not be crying, but…

She raised her hand, and her fingers touched the side of his face and then his cheek. “I told you before…”

“You did.” His voice was ragged. “But…it didn't help much. Not to forget you. When I was in Luba, even before I remembered who I was, I had dreams of you.” He forced a laugh, but the sound was shaky. “I kept hearing and seeing you say that the past had no hold on me, and it was so strange because you were all I could remember of the past.”

Abruptly, her arms were around him. “Hold me. Just hold me.”

He did.

In the end, that night, it was all he did, except mingle tears with her, before he finally left and walked the long and lonely way back to the
Ascadya.

Although Rahl took a long time to fall asleep in the small ship's cabin he had to himself, he did not sleep well and was up close to dawn. He washed up, dressed in his everyday uniform, and made his way to the bridge, to watch as Captain Jaracyn readied the frigate for departure from Nylan. A faint mist lay on the harbor's surface, but it ended only a cubit or so above the water, and there was no sign of fog or mist out in the Gulf of Candar west of the harbor.

As the gangway was hoisted aboard and smoke began to issue from the funnels, Rahl lifted his eyes from the ship and the piers to the black city, lit by the orangish first rays of the sun. The expanses of green between the black-stone roads and buildings seemed more vivid in the early light, and the shadows somehow both darker and more indistinct. From where he stood, he could not see Deybri's small cottage, a dwelling he had never even entered.

He could understand how she felt. His first eightdays in Swartheld had been difficult, and they hadn't gotten any easier for almost a year, no thanks to the magisters in both Land's End and Nylan. In one respect, both sets of Recluce magisters were alike—they didn't want anyone different around, and they didn't want to change their ways.

He pursed his lips, thinking. He hadn't seen that people were that much different in Hamor. So why were the mage-guards more tolerant? Was it because Hamor was so much larger that there were places for different people? Or was it because all mages were closely supervised? Or because there were fewer mages for the number of people, and they were seen as more necessary? Or were they really more tolerant? Was he just seeing what he wanted to see?

“You're deep in thought,” observed Taryl, joining him on the open wing of the bridge. “Did you have a good dinner?”

“Dinner was good. So was the company.” Rahl fumbled with his wallet. “I owe you some silvers. It didn't take nearly so much as you gave me.”

Taryl held up his hand. “Keep it. We were each given a gold for incidentals. Usually, what we get for these sorts of expenses is never enough. Just be thankful that it was.”

Rahl sensed the truth of the angular mage's words, but keeping the silvers bothered him.

“Believe me, Rahl, you'll spend more out of your own wallet for the mage-guards than you'll ever get back.” Taryl smiled. “You weren't out that late.”

“No. There wasn't much point in it. She wasn't terribly impressed with Hamor when she was there, and Recluce isn't exactly impressed with me.”

“If you keep working on your order-skills, you'll gain enough control to meet even their standards. You can already meet many of them, in areas such as shielding yourself from sight and making your way in total darkness.”

What Taryl wasn't saying, but what Rahl understood, was that the magisters would probably find another reason to keep him from returning to Nylan.

“Do you think you'd be happy and useful in Nylan,” asked Taryl, “especially when the magisters in the north might not allow you to return there?”

“I thought so.”

“And now?”

“Probably not. If it weren't for Deybri, I wouldn't be considering it.”

“Do you know how she feels?”

“She's torn between me and not wanting to leave Recluce.”

Taryl nodded. “That could be a hard decision, especially for a healer.”

Rahl almost said that she shouldn't have had to make such a decision, and wouldn't have if the magisters had been fair, but he curbed the words, only saying, “I don't think she'll leave Nylan.”

“If you love her, don't give up on her,” Taryl said.

Rahl had the feeling that far more emotion lay behind the older mage's words, but he wasn't about to ask.

“Lines in!” came the order from the ship's duty officer.

Slowly, the
Ascadya
eased away from the pier, stern first, until she was out into the main channel.

“Forward a quarter…”

For several moments, the ship seemed not to move. Then she gained headway, straightening on a westward course that took her out the center of the channel, past the black-stone pillars that marked the ends of both the north and the south breakwaters. Rahl wanted to look back, but did not.

Standing well to the west of the harbor was one of the black ships, its lines low and menacing. From what Rahl judged, it was slightly longer than the
Ascadya,
but nowhere as large as the Hamorian cruiser he had seen at the naval piers in Swartheld.

“Do they have larger black ships?” he asked Taryl.

“Not that we know of. Some of the newer ones are slightly larger in length and beam than that one, but they're all effectively about the same size. That makes it easier to maintain and supply them. The shells and rockets are the same for all vessels.”

“Rockets?”

“They use incendiary rockets when necessary. That's probably one reason why the Jeranyi pirates have gone to iron-hulled vessels.” Taryl smiled wryly. “There's word now that the black ships are using black-iron-penetrating tips on some rockets.”

“They're working on a new kind of engine, too,” Rahl said. “I don't understand it, but one of the engineers said it would be lighter and stronger and allow a ship to move faster.”

Taryl frowned. “Are they actually building it?”

“No, ser. They weren't when I left. It was something one of the junior engineers had thought up.”

Taryl laughed, ironically. “It will be years before we see it, if then.”

“Why?”

“Even if it's a good idea, turning it into hard metal takes years, and that's if there aren't any problems with it…and if the junior engineer doesn't have to argue with those who know better.”

“Like the senior engineers?”

Taryl shook his head. “Most of the time, those who get to be senior engineers are willing to look at a new idea. They'll be skeptical, but they'll look. It's the ones in the middle. They'll either try to stop it or steal it. The same thing is often true with armsmen and other military officers.” He paused. “Not exactly. Very junior undercaptains usually don't know what they're doing, not unless they're former rankers, but older and senior majers from distinguished families with Imperial connections are to be avoided as much as possible. So are older senior mage-guards. They have a great similarity to the magisters of Land's End.”

Even in Hamor?

“Now…I have another exercise for you.” Taryl smiled. “We're headed aft to the fantail, and you're going to attempt to ‘tag' some pieces of wood and follow them with your order-senses when I drop them off the stern.” At that, the senior mage-guard turned and headed for the ladder down to the main deck.

Rahl saw that Taryl was carrying the satchel that usually meant some other exercise. After a moment, the younger mage followed. Why did Taryl keep pushing him?