Mage-Guard of Hamor (59 page)

Under the hazy midmorning sun of fiveday, Rahl stepped into the portmaster's building at the foot of pier two—the main fleet pier in Nubyat. Since his meetings with Taryl, all he had done was go from one minor task to another—from making sure that there would be cargo loaders back on the piers, to checking with merchants, to pressing pier guards into service to replace the mage-guards who were no longer in Nubyat, to checking warehouses and the supplies that they held. Then, almost belatedly, he'd realized that two of the piers were effectively blocked to ships.

The portmaster had clearly expected Rahl because he stood in the large open chamber outside his study looking toward the door. Several other men had frozen in place beside their table desks. The portmaster was a white-haired man with a dark face and a white mustache. His brown eyes were hard as he watched Rahl approach, then stop less than three cubits from the older man.

“Portmaster Hulym?” Rahl kept his voice pleasant, although he could sense the hostility. “I'd like to know why the chains blocking the first and third piers have not been removed.”

“They were placed there by the Regional Administrator.” Hulym shrugged. “Who am I to remove what he wished?”

Rahl smiled. “That Regional Administrator has been removed. The Mage-Guard Overcommander is the acting Regional Administrator, and he wishes them removed.”

“Alas…I have not—”

“I'm certain that you can take care of a little matter like that, can you not?” Rahl was having trouble remaining polite, given the hostility and oiliness he sensed in the portmaster.

“I am but a portmaster, not an engineer—”

“I understand that you were in charge of their placement.”

“I know nothing about that.” Hulym shrugged helplessly.

“Hulym, you don't quite understand.” Rahl's smile hardened. “I am not only a majer, but a senior mage-guard. Those piers and the channels
will
be clear by tomorrow morning.”

“I can do nothing—”

Rahl extended his shields with enough force to press the portmaster against the stone wall. “Let us try this one more time. We'll start at the beginning. Are you loyal to the Emperor Mythalt?”

“Any man would be loyal to his Emperor. How could he not be loyal?”

Rahl could sense the lie behind the evasion. Now what? He released the shields. “Who is your assistant portmaster?”

Hulym staggered erect. “It was Chaulym, but he fled when…the revolt…”

“Who has been acting as your assistant?”

Tharmyl.
The name might as well have been spoken. “I have none. I had to do everything myself.” Hulym squared his shoulders in an attempt to regain his dignity.

“Where is Tharmyl?”

Hulym's muscles tightened, and his eyes darted toward the door through which Rahl had entered.

“Ah…Majer, ser…I am here.” A younger man standing beside a battered table bowed, several times, nervously.

Rahl stepped back, his hand dropping to the long riding truncheon at his belt, so that he could watch both men at once. “Tharmyl, can you get those chains removed and the channels clear?”

“Yes, ser. We were the ones who put them there. It might take longer than tomorrow morning, but we could probably have one pier and channel clear by then. It might take a day more for piers three and four.” The assistant shrugged. “We had no choice. Prince Golyat's mages threatened our families.”

“It is true,” added Hulym. “We had no choice.”

That was also a lie.

Rahl drew the truncheon and struck—in one hard motion that caved in Hulym's temple. The body pitched forward onto the floor. “Neither did I.” He looked to Tharmyl. “Lying to a mage-guard is an offense against the Codex. Lying to avoid one's duty to the Emperor and covering up treachery is worse. Do you understand…acting portmaster?”

“Yes, ser.” There was a slight quiver in the new portmaster's voice, but he did not look away.

“The Emperor cannot change what has happened, nor can I. Nor can you. But we can all do our duties as we should from now on. I'm not interested in what happened then. I'm very interested in how loyal people are now and how well they do their duties.” Rahl sheathed the truncheon. “The Emperor will reward that loyalty and effectiveness.” Rahl didn't have to say that he would be the one punishing treachery. He looked to the new portmaster. “I'm sure that there are other tasks necessary to reopen the port to Imperial ships, and that you'll be taking care of them as well. I'll check back with you this afternoon.” He paused. “By the way, I once worked for a very large shipping and trading concern.” Then he smiled. “Good day.”

As Rahl left the portmaster's building, he could already sense Tharmyl's efforts to organize the reopening of the entire port.

Rahl still had to find, sooner or later, either former lower-level tariff enumerators or clerks who could handle that task, although he had a few days there, he thought, and needed to check the schedules and structures of the pier guards and the city patrollers. For the moment, he had Third Company patrolling the streets of Nubyat in groups of five, but that couldn't continue for too long.

He untied the gelding from the iron hitching ring outside the portmaster's building and mounted. He still needed to meet with more of the remaining traders and factors to assess their trustworthiness, as well as arranging for dispatching the steam tugs back to their owners up the Awhut River. Also, if he ever had time, he wanted to write a letter to Deybri, even if he didn't know how he would get it sent until ships resumed porting in Nubyat.

He frowned. She would not have been happy at his solution to the portmaster's obstructiveness, but…Rahl didn't have the time or inclination to persuade traitors, nor the men to keep watch over them to see that they did their jobs. Tharmyl would take care of the port—for many reasons beside loyalty, but that was true of most people.

The days rushed by, and Rahl found himself getting up earlier just so that he could eat breakfast without feeling like he had to gulp it down in a crowded officers' mess meant to feed perhaps thirty officers and strained to supply more than five times that number—even when the officers ate quickly and in shifts. On threeday, Rahl and Drakeyt slipped into the mess well before dawn. Even so, the air inside was smoky with the odor of cooking oil. The windows were hazed over as well with accumulated smoke, but both officers were served within moments of seating themselves at the end of one of the two long tables, already mostly full.

Rahl took a moment to sip hot watered cider before starting the egg toast and thin mutton strips.

“You're working harder now than when we were scouting, aren't you?” asked Drakeyt.

“It's not as dangerous, but there's always something else to do. The overcommander doesn't know which of the people in charge of running things to trust, and that means I have to check everything.” Rahl laughed. “We have gotten the port open, and yesterday I had to make sure that there were enough wagons and carts to shift cargoes from the river-barge piers to the deep-water piers. There were enough wagons, once I pried them away from the Residence quartermaster—”

“Why did he have them?”

“There weren't any ships porting here, not to speak of, and the rebel officers didn't know what to do with the wagons that had been carrying cargoes to the piers, so they put him in charge of storing and maintaining them until they won and opened the port.” Rahl shook his head. “I really didn't have to pry them away. He was very cooperative. Finding out where they were and who was in charge was the hard part. Then I just talked to him, and we worked out the arrangements. Dealing with the local factors' council was harder. All they wanted to know was when trading vessels would start porting and whether they'd get tariffing relief because of the revolt.” Rahl took a quick swallow of the watery cider. “Those aren't something that the overcommander can control. No ship's master wants to hazard a vessel, and most will wait until they know it's safe. After that, well, it's more than a few days under sail even from Cigoerne, let alone Nordla or Recluce. As for tariffs, that's up to the Emperor, but I can't imagine he'd reduce their tariffs, even for a short time. That wouldn't be fair to traders elsewhere.” Rahl grimaced slightly. “Besides, none of those still here took a stand against Golyat, and granting them tariff relief would amount to rewarding them for supporting, or not opposing, treason.”

“It sounds like you've gotten to know a great number of important people here,” ventured Drakeyt.

“I've had to. The overcommander hasn't had time, and it takes a mage who can tell who to trust and who's telling the truth and who isn't.”

“That isn't necessary in most cities.”

Rahl frowned, then took a quick mouthful of egg toast, followed by a mutton strip less dry than usual. Drakeyt was right about that. Then he nodded. “That's because people learn through actions over time. If a factor charges too much, he gets less trade, or loses everything. If a tariff enumerator overcharges or pockets coins, sooner or later it comes to light. We weren't here, and we don't have any of that knowledge, and we don't know whom of those who were we can trust. But I'm learning, and one thing leads to another. The new portmaster is trustworthy, and that means that he'll report problems on the piers, and because the pier guards are also generally honest, factors can't claim theft on the piers…you see?”

“I see that you're being wasted as a military mage-guard,” Drakeyt said. “What do you have to do today?”

“First, I have to check with the water-master about some sewer complaints, and then ride the streets to check on the patrols—not long, but enough to let them see that I am. After that, I'll have to meet one of the transports porting because we're getting replacement mage-guards and some special cargo for the overcommander. I'll have to talk to all of the mage-guards to see how they fit into the port station and the city station. Most of them are pretty junior, I've been told.” Rahl paused for a moment. How could he call anyone junior so cavalierly? He was doubtless the most junior senior mage-guard in Hamor.

Drakeyt grinned, as if he knew what Rahl had been thinking. “It happens, Rahl. You get in the habit of thinking you're junior, and, then, you realize you're not, that there are others coming along behind you.”

“You shouldn't be just a captain,” Rahl interjected, trying to change the subject away from himself.

“No…I'm one of the more senior captains, but not that many majers get killed, and you don't get promoted until there's a slot.”

Rahl could see that, but Drakeyt deserved a promotion more than many captains. Of that, Rahl was certain.

After leaving the mess, and well before morning muster, Rahl stopped by the quartermaster's study to confirm that there would be wagons at the pier for the mage-guards and the cargo that Taryl wanted transported directly to the Residence. Then he walked all the way to the small stable behind the overcommander's villa, where he saddled the gelding. When he rode out, he was joined by three troopers from Third Company's fifth squad. It helped to have them for more than a few reasons, one of which was simply that most people didn't consider a man riding alone of any great import. Besides, it also meant that he didn't have to worry about the gelding, and he could spend more time on dealing with the problem at hand and less with his mount.

For the past eightday, it had felt like whenever he thought he'd caught up on Taryl's seemingly endless projects, the overcommander came up with more. Yet he knew Taryl wasn't inventing things for him to do. All of them were necessary to put Nubyat firmly back under Imperial control, and by using a single mage-guard to do it, Taryl wasn't applying brute force to the city as a whole.

As he rode down from the Residence area, Rahl noted that all traces of the barricades had been removed—except for the areas of fire-blackened pavement; but a crew of rebel prisoners was working with pumice stones, and some of the darkness had been removed.

“Morning, Majer!” called the squad leader whose men were guarding the chained prisoners.

“Good morning! The road's looking better.”

“Yes, ser. And it'll be better by tonight.”

“The overcommander will be glad to hear it.” Rahl smiled and kept on riding.

His route took him through the south square, with the two inns, but he did not see any of the new patrollers there. He made a note to ride back and check the area after he talked to the water-master or later, if necessary. He crossed through the traders' quarter on Northend and could definitely smell a foul odor in the lower-lying sections of the avenue.

Then he turned onto the South River Road, passing the barge piers just northeast of the center of the traders' quarter. After riding another two kays, he had to take a narrow, but paved, and winding lane uphill to the waterworks building. From the building beside the reservoir dam, the water-master controlled the flow of water to the sewers and aqueducts serving Nubyat proper. The dam was filled by a stone canal fed by a diversion from the Awhut River some five kays farther upstream.

Outside the low stone structure set less than a hundred cubits from the west end of the dam, Rahl reined up and dismounted, handing the gelding's reins to Naimyl, the youngest of the troopers accompanying him. “I hope I won't be too long, but water the mounts, because we'll be riding back as soon as I finish.”

“Yes, ser.”

Rahl had not quite reached the doorway to the building when it opened, and a lanky young man in gray stepped out. “This is not a military post—”

“I know,” Rahl replied politely. “I'm Senior Mage-Guard Rahl, and the new administrator sent me to see the water-master.”

The other man looked at Rahl dubiously.

Rahl projected assurance, power, and cooperation, then smiled. “I won't take that long.”

“Ah…yes, ser. But…master Neshyl…he usually works through the administrator's staff.”

Rahl laughed. “Right now, that's me.” He looked past the younger man to a short, muscular graybeard. “Are you Water-Master Neshyl?”

“Unless someone has replaced me. In these times, that is entirely possible.”

“I'm certain I would have heard if Administrator Taryl had done so.”

“Taryl? There was a Triad—”

“It's the same Taryl. The Emperor recalled him, and he is the acting marshal of the Imperial forces who reclaimed Nubyat,” Rahl explained. “He is also the Mage-Guard Overcommander for Merowey, and the acting Regional Administrator until a permanent administrator is appointed by the Emperor.”

“That sounds like Taryl.” Neshyl shook his head. “Come on in and tell me what the administrator wants.”

While Rahl did not sense any treachery, he kept his shields strong as he followed the water-master back into the building. Inside was a small empty foyer.

“On the left is the model room. My study is here on the right.”

“Model room?” asked Rahl.

“We maintain a model of Nubyat that shows all the sewers and aqueducts, and the underground water channels. Whenever something is added, or changed, we change the model. That way, anyone can see where the system goes. Of course, the buildings are just shown as rough blocks, crude but enough like those in the city so that my men can recognize where to go if there's a problem.” Neshyl walked to the end of a short hallway, past two closed doors, and through an archway without a door. “Those are just storerooms for equipment.”

A large table desk dominated the small room, with a wooden armchair on one side, and two armless chairs on the other side. The two windows behind the armchair were little more than slits in the stone wall. Neshyl took one of the armless chairs and gestured to the other.

Rahl took the seat offered. “You seemed to indicate that you knew Overcommander Taryl.”

“Only in passing, Mage-Guard. Only in passing. Years ago, he was the one who stabilized the rock on one of the edges of the dam here. Saved us from having to drain it and rebuild a whole section. That was when Ashurmyn was the administrator.” Neshyl smiled. “You didn't ride out here to talk about your overcommander.”

“No, I didn't. The administrator has received a number of complaints about odors around Northend Avenue, near where it intersects the Harbor Road.”

Neshyl sighed, and Rahl could sense the honest exasperation and resignation, but he waited for the water-master to speak.

“That's the factors' quarter, mostly. The problem is that the sewers there have sunk in places, and the sewage backs up. They built that all of harbor fill years ago, and it sinks. We'd need to tear up the streets in three places. Every time I put forth a proposal to the previous administrator, asking for the golds to do it, I was turned down.”

“Do you know why?”

“The factors near the sewers where the work has to be done claimed that it was all a ruse to push trade to their competitors in the east quarter, or to those in Elmari or in Sastak…or who knows where. That was what the dispatches I got back from the administrator said, anyway.”

“You never talked to him?”

“Once in three years, and that was about increasing the flow in the south aqueduct that serves the Residence.”

“There were golds for that, I take it?” Rahl asked.

Neshyl nodded.

“Do you have a copy of the proposal you made for repairing the Northend sewers?”

“It's in the files. It might take a moment to find it.”

“I'll wait.” Rahl smiled politely.

Neshyl stood. “You think it will do any good?”

“I don't know. The administrator will decide that,” Rahl said deliberately, “but it seems that it might be best to repair them when the factors have less trade to worry about and can't complain so loudly.”

Neshyl laughed as he left the study.

Sitting there, Rahl had to wonder. Taryl had never mentioned that he'd been in Nubyat before, although he'd never denied it, either.

Seemingly in moments, Neshyl returned, holding a roll of papers tied with a dark cord. “Never been unwrapped. You can keep this one. I've got the original here.”

Rahl stood and took the rolled papers. “Thank you.”

“We'd be happy to reset those drains as soon as we could get the golds.”

“I'll let the administrator know that.”

“I'd be much obliged.” Neshyl smiled. “If you'd also tell Taryl that the rock is solid, I'd appreciate that, too.”

Rahl grinned. “I can do that.” After a nod, he turned and left.

Outside, after carefully easing the papers into his saddlebags and then mounting the gelding, he glanced to the west. From the hilly ridge that formed the western edge of the reservoir, he could see most of Nubyat as well as the Southern Ocean beyond the port. While there were a handful of puffy clouds on the horizon, the sky was clear elsewhere, and the breeze was light, suggesting that spring might not be all that far away. He thought he could make out a merchanter well to sea, but he wasn't certain, let alone whether it was inbound to Nubyat.

“Let's go. We'll take the river road back all the way to the Harbor Road.”

“Yes, ser.”

Sovarth eased his mount beside Rahl's, and the other two followed.

Rahl wasn't about to miss the anticipated porting of the merchanter that was due. Taryl had been most insistent that Rahl be there, telling him to do whatever else he could around the harbor, but not to miss being there on the pier when the ship tied up because of such cargo as battle dressings, ointments, and brinn, as well as the replacement mage-guards.

As Rahl turned the gelding onto the Harbor Road, he caught sight of one of the new patrollers stepping away from a peddler. It took a moment for him to recall the man's name. “Salamyn!” Rahl reined up and asked, “How is the patrolling going?”