Mage-Guard of Hamor (55 page)

“Ser.” Rahl managed to extend a slight bit of order, the little he could afford.

Taryl straightened. “Riding over that was a bit much.”

“It was the quickest way, and I could feel your shields collapsing.”

“You could?”

For the first time in seasons, Rahl actually felt the unshielded surprise of the older mage-guard. “Yes, ser. That's why I came the quickest way.”

“I suppose I'm fortunate to have an assistant so diligent.”

“You need to eat something.” Rahl twisted in the saddle and fumbled some travel biscuits from his saddlebags. “Here.”

Taryl took them, saying nothing until he had eaten both biscuits and swallowed some water. “Follow your own advice.”

Belatedly, Rahl did, realizing that he was not in much better shape than Taryl.

Neither spoke for a time.

“You made that circle rather large,” Taryl finally said.

“I'm not as skilled as you are. I couldn't figure out how to hold a sight shield and create the order circle at the same time. I rode as close as I could, but the rebel officers were about to charge if I'd gotten much nearer. Their wizards and chaos-mages were throwing firebolts the whole time.”

“I thought that might have been the case.” Taryl smiled. “It was good practice for you. You'll need to learn to handle more than two mage-tasks at once, anyway. Now…we need to tell the marshal what happened…rather why it happened. He won't be pleased.”

Why wouldn't the marshal be pleased? Taryl's and Rahl's effort had eliminated some of the top rebel officers and cost the rebels several thousand troopers without the loss of any more Imperial forces. Rahl could still feel that massive cold void of thousands of deaths, a chill that the riding jacket did nothing to dispel, but he knew the marshal was incapable of feeling that directness of death.

As the two rode down the slope, followed by the two escort squads, an aisle opened in the Imperial troopers, an aisle a good fifty cubits wide, as if none of the troopers or their officers wanted to get all that close. Rahl could sense a combination of fear, anger, and sadness—but mostly fear, leavened by sadness, with only a few hints of anger.

“How do you feel, Rahl?”

“Cold…cold all over…angry…I guess, too. So many dead, but if we hadn't done it, then…there would be almost as many dead, and a lot would have been ours.”

“That's the tragedy of war. No matter who wins, thousands die. The only question is whose thousands.”

“Better theirs than ours,” Rahl suggested.

“All victors say that, and the cause of the victor is always just.”

The iron-cold bitterness of Taryl's soft words cut through Rahl. He had no answer.

“We won't be doing much for a while,” Taryl said quietly. “We won't have to for a few days, I hope.”

Farther down the slope, Rahl could see Marshal Byrna standing on a platform some six cubits high, set in the middle of the flat area below the slope. He stood in the long shadow cast by the setting sun's drop behind the more western hill ridge. The timbers of the structure were mixed, a mark that it had been constructed hastily to offer the marshal a position from which he could watch the battle.

The two mage-guards rode directly to the raised and railed platform. After tying his mount to the railing next to the wooden ladder, Taryl climbed up first. Rahl followed.

Bryna was alone on the platform, and anger radiated from him. Taryl had barely gotten within several cubits before the marshal began. “Overcommander, could you enlighten me as to why you and your…assistant did not offer the rebels the chance to surrender?”

Taryl stopped and waited, saying nothing.

“Did you have a reason, Overcommander?”

“Yes.” Taryl's voice was even. “First, they would not have surrendered. Second, the Emperor should not be faced with the decision of what to do with those traitors, even had they done so.”

There was another unspoken reason, too, Rahl knew. He and Taryl could not have gotten close enough to create an order circle just around the fort itself, not without losing hundreds of Imperial troopers.

“…They were all officers who had a choice, unlike junior officers and troopers. If he orders their deaths, he's heartless. If he spares them, he's an idiot. He can't afford to be either. I can afford to be merciless. He can't.”

For a moment, Rahl just stood there, sensing the marshal's still-growing outrage.

“You'd take that upon yourself. You're not even in charge—”

“That's right, Marshal. That way you can tell everyone that the Mage-Guard Overcommander acted before you could countermand him.” Taryl's voice was simultaneously tired and cold. “That also saves you.”

Byrna flushed, and tension radiated from his entire body.

Rahl could sense that the rage seething in the marshal was well beyond mere anger.

Byrna's voice was hard, but edged with that barely controlled fury, as he replied. “Some of those men were good officers who did what they thought best.”

“Exactly,” replied Taryl. “They
were
good officers. They ceased to be good officers when they violated the Emperor's trust, and any officer who would excuse or condone such behavior also risks violating the Emperor's trust. The one thing that the mage-guards can never allow, either among our own or among the High Command, is violation of that trust. Or an acceptance of those who violate that trust. Do I make myself clear, Marshal?”

“Perfectly clear, Overcommander.”

Taryl looked to Rahl. “You may go, Majer.”

“Yes, ser. If you need me…”

“I know where to find you. Thank you.” Taryl's voice lost a hint of the black iron behind it on his last two words.

After he climbed down from the platform and remounted the gelding, Rahl slowly rode through the growing twilight that he had barely noticed, back in the direction of the boardinghouse, where he assumed that Third Company would be standing down. Thoughts swirled through his mind.

How could the marshal be so stupid? This was far from the first time that Rahl had doubted the intelligence of High Command senior officers. Was it that stupid officers were needed? Had Byrna been picked by Triad Dhoryk to fail? Or to allow the rebellion to drag out, as Taryl had intimated might well be part of a plan to weaken the Emperor? But whom would they select to replace the Emperor? Rahl couldn't help but wonder if Fieryn and Dhoryk were planning some kind of coup. That would certainly explain Taryl's need to rely on solid older commanders such as Muyr and Shuchyl—and his forcing Rahl to develop skills not needed that much in normal mage-guard duties. It also would account for his insistence on Rahl's maintaining his shields.

What would the conflict between Taryl and Byrna mean for the rest of the campaign?

Would there be a campaign after Selyma?

Rahl kept riding.

Rahl and Drakeyt sat at a small table along the wall in the public room of the Tankard, one of the less prepossessing of the handful of inns in Selyma. Even though the night was barely chill, the acrid odor of smoke straying from the smoldering hearth added to the already pronounced perfume of cooking fat and overbaked bread.

Rahl took a small swallow of a bitter brew that passed for lager.

“What do you think the subcommander will do next?” asked Drakeyt.

“The marshal's the one in command,” Rahl pointed out.

“The word is that the overcommander's the one making the decisions.” Drakeyt sipped from his beaker.

Rahl shrugged. “I don't know what either plans, and the overcommander hasn't told me. He did say that nothing would happen for a day or two.”

“Good. Our troopers need rest. Some of the troopers in the other companies are in worse shape.” Drakeyt shook his head. “Ours had seen magery before. Most of them haven't.”

“It's likely to get worse,” Rahl said slowly.

“Did the overcommander tell you that?”

“No. Not in so many words. He's been warning me for eightdays about how I'll need to hold stronger shields once we get close to Nubyat and Sastak.” That wasn't quite what Taryl had said, but Rahl thought it meant close to the same thing. Why else would Taryl have been pressing him on the personal shields so much?

“It's fiveday night. You think we'll be moving out by sevenday?”

“I don't know. I'd judge sevenday or eightday, but that's just a guess. It all might change, too, depending on what Golyat does.”

“If I were the prince, I'd find a ship and go somewhere else.”

“He can't,” Rahl replied. “He's not worth the trouble to any land powerful enough to stand up to Hamor and too dangerous for those less powerful.”

Drakeyt took another swallow from his beaker. “Means we'll lose more troopers for no good reason. Suppose that's always been the case when there's a war.”

“Besides,” Rahl went on, “I get the feeling that he really believes he should be emperor. People who feel like that don't usually just turn away.” Not to mention the fact that Golyat was probably surrounded by people who wanted him to be emperor so that they could also have more power.

“You think you'll be a mage-guard commander or overcommander some day?”

Rahl almost choked on the bitter lager. He managed to swallow, then cleared his throat. “Me? I'm lucky to be a senior mage-guard. I think I'd be fortunate to be a city captain or something like that.” Rahl would have liked to think he could be more, but his experiences to date suggested that he was exceedingly fortunate to have gotten as far as he had, and that had only happened because of Taryl.

Drakeyt shook his head. “You get out of this mess alive, and the overcommander has something in mind for you.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He's given you and Third Company too many sowshit missions, and he keeps reinforcing the company.”

Why did reinforcing Third Company mean Taryl had something planned for Rahl? Usually Taryl wanted Rahl to learn or see something. But what would reinforcing a company rather than transferring Rahl to another company show? What fighting did to the troopers? Or to Drakeyt? Or how many died? Rahl was well aware of that—more than half the original company had perished.

Finally, Rahl replied. “He never does anything without a purpose, but I can't figure out what he has in mind, except to give me experience, because I didn't have all that much.”

“You had a lot more than most mage-guards your age, didn't you?” asked Drakeyt.

Rahl shrugged. “That's probably true. I also made a lot more mistakes than most did.”

Drakeyt laughed, darkly, then swallowed the last of the brew in his beaker. “That'd be true, too. I'm heading back.” He stood.

So did Rahl. He was in need of some sleep. He just hoped he could and that he didn't spend all night worrying about what Taryl had in mind for him…or about all those who had died—on both sides—because of what he had done.

On eightday, Third Company left Selyma, heading south toward Nubyat, with the task of scouting everything within ten kays of the main highway. First and Second Army were scheduled to begin the advance on Nubyat on oneday. As before, Rahl was under orders from Taryl to maintain full shields and not to use any order-skills unless Third Company was attacked by vastly superior forces.

By midmorning, the day was like most winter days in Merowey—cool, but not cold; dampish, but not raining; and with a haze over the green-blue sky that was less than cloudy but enough to keep the sun from providing much warmth. Less than two kays south of that part of Selyma on the south side of the Awhut River, the road from Dawhut merged with the road coming from Sastak. The smooth stone surface was nearly fifteen cubits wide, with broad shoulders on each side, and it led due southwest toward Nubyat.

Everywhere were groves of olive trees, but of a type Rahl had not seen before, seldom reaching more than fifteen cubits in height. Between the tree-lined rows in the orchards was low grass with winter-browned tips. The orchards were empty, and the barns and stead houses were shuttered and barred. Many were empty, but not all, by any means. That, Rahl could sense. The road itself was empty of all riders or wagons—except for Third Company.

The company had also gotten another half score of replacements, and when they had arrived, Drakeyt had just looked at Rahl, not even raising his eyebrows. Rahl had to admit that Drakeyt had as much as predicted those reinforcement troopers. Was it just to make Third Company a stalking horse to allow Taryl to act and react in a more effective fashion? It certainly couldn't be just to give Rahl more experience. As thoughtful as Taryl could be, when the Emperor and Hamor's very unity were at stake, the overcommander wasn't about to give Rahl any experience that could threaten either. But that left the question of why Taryl continued to push Rahl to learn more at a time when the overcommander had far larger concerns than one very junior senior mage-guard.

“You think we'll ever see a clear sun, ser?” asked Shanyr.

“Not until it's hot enough that we won't want to.”

The outrider laughed.

Rahl couldn't imagine the revolt lasting into summer. But then, he reminded himself, he hadn't believed Puvort had been capable of such treachery, or that Rahl himself could possibly have become a mage-guard, or—and he smiled at the thought—that Deybri would ever have admitted that he had brought a different light into her life. Still, that light might flicker out, and how and when would he ever be able to return to Recluce to see her, much less be with her for any length of time?

He pushed those thoughts away and concentrated on trying to receive order-impressions of everything around him…but nothing changed.

As Rahl rode past another shuttered stead dwelling several hundred cubits to the north of the road, just the faintest hint of a chill passed across him—the chill of a screeing glass. Now, even with full shields, Rahl was coming to sense when a glass was being used to view the area around him. Since the feeling did not linger, it was likely that his shields had been effective enough that the mage using the glass had not noticed him in passing. Rahl hoped so.

After riding another kay, Rahl began to feel something, but, still following Taryl's orders, he did nothing in the way of extending an order-probe to discover what it might be.

Before long, ahead on a low rise in the road almost a kay away, three riders in maroon jackets reined up and watched Rahl and the scouts ride toward them.

“Ser…” murmured Shanyr from where he rode beside Rahl.

“I see them.” Following Taryl's orders, Rahl did not attempt to reach out to them with his order-senses, although he could still feel that the three were not close to any rebel force. “They're alone. Scouts, probably.”

One of the scouts riding a half kay ahead of Rahl turned in the saddle.

Rahl waved for him to keep riding.

After Rahl and the scouts and outriders covered another several hundred cubits, the three rebel scouts turned their mounts and galloped over the low rise and out of sight. Rahl almost shrugged. It couldn't be exactly a secret that the Imperial forces were riding toward Nubyat, not after the battle at Selyma.