Mage-Guard of Hamor (6 page)

If anything, Captain Jaracyn pushed the
Ascadya
even more on the return voyage to Swartheld. The seas were rougher, and Rahl was a touch queasy, for the first time.

Late on threeday, the northwestern cliffs of Hamor came into view, and before long Rahl could see the late-afternoon sun reflecting off the great northwest lighthouse, a spire above the white cliffs. The swells were high enough that a wide line of white foam marked Heartbreak Reef.

“I'm glad we're almost back,” Taryl said from where he stood on the wing of the bridge beside Rahl.

As he took in the lighthouse, Rahl recalled what Captain Liedra had told him on his first trip to Hamor. “The merchant captains think that Hamor's never recovered from what Creslin did after he founded Recluce. Is that true?”

Taryl laughed. “It is, but not in the way they would think. Hamor's never forgotten the lesson he taught us.”

Lesson?

“Good tactics, magery, and new ways of doing things will usually defeat someone who merely relies on what has worked in the past. Why do you think we keep improving our ships? Or trying to use every mage we have, rather than just exiling or executing the ones who are difficult to train or don't fit into predetermined roles and patterns?”

“I don't think they see it that way.”

“All the better for us. They think we avoid conflict with them because we fear their black ships, but that's not the real reason. Oh, the black ships could cause considerable damage, but we could build a score of these frigates in the time it would take them to build one black ship, and a half score of our new fast frigates could probably take out two of their ships.”

“Then…” Rahl wasn't sure he wanted to ask the question.

“Why don't we attack Recluce and remove a problem? Because we'd gain nothing and lose a great deal. They provide goods we want. They send us black and white mages, and while they complain a lot, they don't attack our shipping, and they buy our goods. A war would cost us golds, ships, and trained men, and in the end, we'd either have to rebuild Recluce the way it was or lose more coins.” Taryl shook his head. “Our navy's best use is to keep trade free and open, and to track down pirates and raiders. Or to keep people from attacking us or meddling.”

“Like in the rebellion?”

Taryl snorted. “It's not true all the time, but most of the time, lands have far more problems within their borders than without. Often, even when they are attacked, such attacks come because of the problems they have within and have failed to address.”

“Might I ask what problem caused the rebellion?”

“The failure of the previous emperor and of the present emperor to recognize that Golyat was not qualified to be emperor and too self-centered and ambitious to serve his brother for longer than it would take him to raise an army and golds enough for him to attempt to seize the throne.”

“What would you have done?” asked Rahl.

“Had him perish as a young man while hunting some dangerous beast, then inform the Emperor of the unfortunate accident. Golyat is the kind who would only chafe in exile until he could find someone to back an invasion.”

Rahl swallowed at the matter-of-fact tone—and the conviction within the older mage.

“You think I am cruel? That I have deceived you about who and what I am?” Taryl shook his head. “Hundreds have already died, and thousands will yet die. Crops and grasslands will be devastated. Hundreds, if not thousands, of women will become widows, and children will become orphans. Golds that could be spent on roads and reservoirs and other good works will be spent on weapons and supplies that would not be needed otherwise. The prices of food will rise, and the poor will become poorer. All this because a father and a son would not face the fact that a son and a brother cared for nothing but his own power and pleasure.”

“But…to order the death of his own son?” Rahl protested.

“A ruler has a responsibility to those he rules, and one of those responsibilities is to assure that those who follow him provide good and just governance. Rebellions and civil wars do not do so, particularly when they are caused by an emperor's offspring.”

Rahl just looked at Taryl.

The older mage sighed, then took a deep breath. “You killed Undercaptain Craelyt and at least a score of Jeranyi. Why?”

“Because the Jeranyi would have killed hundreds more.”

“And the undercaptain?”

“Because he had killed the captain and…it wasn't right. You know that, ser.”

“I do, indeed,” replied Taryl, “and so does the Triad. Your actions prevented far greater harm. Now…is the Emperor more or less responsible for Hamor than are you?”

“More…” Rahl grudged.

“Then he has an even greater responsibility than you do. If he is unwilling to do, or have done, what is best as a ruler, what right does he have to request that others behave honorably?”

“But…murder…fratricide? How is that just?”

“It is not just. That, I admit, and that is why the Emperor could not and should not do such,” Taryl said. “If emperors are allowed such latitude, all too soon they will see anyone who opposes them in anything as a threat to be removed, and they will become corrupt.”

Rahl realized, then, exactly what Taryl had said and meant. “The Triad and the High Command? They should have acted? Was that why…?”

“The Triad and the High Command are supposed to act as a check upon the Emperor.”

“You were involved, weren't you?”

“Let us just say that is why one member of the Triad died and one stepped down after recovering from his injuries. All Hamor will now suffer from that lack of resolution.” Taryl looked directly at Rahl. “A good mage-guard always does his best. Sometimes, it is not enough. That does not mean the effort was wasted, for it must always be made. Bitter as it can be, those who risk all and fail, or only partly succeed, have held true to themselves. Those who weigh the odds and never try unless they have absolute certainty…they never know their true worth.” The older mage-guard offered an ironic smile. “That's enough philosophy for now. Just remember that all loyalties have their prices, and make sure you understand what those prices are before you act.”

Taryl gestured toward the southeast. “We'll be porting shortly, and I need to finish writing my report to the Emperor.” He turned and headed down the ladder.

After Taryl had left, Rahl looked toward the stone lighthouse and the white cliffs beneath it.

Fourday morning found Rahl following Taryl onto the
Khamyl
—a river steamship headed for Cigoerne. The two had spent the night before at the naval mage-guard quarters in Swartheld, a space largely deserted, since there was only one other warship ported at the naval piers—an older coastal patroller—and two broad-beamed iron-hulled cargo transports.

“The transports will be dispatched once we have word that we have control of a deep-water port in Merowey,” Taryl had said. “Golyat's forces control Sastak and Nubyat.”

Rahl had merely nodded, knowing only that the two cities were ports in the southwestern part of the continent that was Hamor. Still, the fact that the rebel chief held two major ports suggested that the Emperor faced something more like a civil war than a mere rebellion.

The
Khamyl
was smaller than the
Ascadya,
and Rahl and Taryl shared a small room with two bunks. Taryl suggested that the upper was more appropriate for Rahl, and the younger mage-guard had to agree. Small as their room was, it was on the upper deck, the one reserved for those passengers who were either wealthy or on official business of some sort.

Rahl and Taryl had taken a position on the starboard railing of the upper deck, from where Rahl was observing the various commercial buildings on the south side of Swartheld and trying to see if he could pick out where the Nylan Merchant Association had stood.

“Rahl,” Taryl said quietly, “in a moment, I'll be introducing you to someone.”

As the older mage-guard spoke, Taryl tightened his order shields to the point that Rahl could not determine in the slightest what Taryl was feeling. Even before Rahl turned, he followed Taryl's example, although he doubted his shields were as effective.

A slender but muscular mage-guard walked along the deck toward them. Those near him, the men in their ornately embroidered fharongs and the women in silks and with head scarves of even more sheer shimmersilk, eased away with a swiftness that they had not evidenced when Rahl and Taryl had taken their place at the railing. From more than twenty cubits away Rahl could sense the tightness of the newcomer's shields, as well as note the quality of the cloth of his uniform. He did not seem to notice Taryl or Rahl until Taryl cleared his throat.

“Cyphryt,” said Taryl pleasantly, “what a pleasant surprise. It's rather distant from Cigoerne, and I would not have expected to see you here.”

“Nor I you,” replied the round-faced and cheery-looking mage-guard, who carried a strong aura of white chaos. “But one must occasionally review rather unpleasant situations. As I am sure you know.”

Taryl smiled and gestured. “Oh…this is Rahl. He's been transferred from Swartheld to be my assistant.”

Cyphryt gave a nod slightly more than perfunctory. “You will learn much from Taryl, in more ways than most would believe.”

“And in more ways than I would have as well, ser,” replied Rahl.

Cyphryt tilted his head slightly. “For an Atlan, you're remarkably well spoken.”

“As you suggested, ser, I've already learned a great deal from Senior Mage-Guard Taryl.” Rahl sensed that Cyphryt harbored the same kind of arrogance as Puvort did…and roused the same kind of anger within Rahl. Rahl nodded politely.

“That's always for the best.” Cyphryt continued to smile cheerfully. “I wish you both well. I understand that, after the untimely and unfortunate death of Marshal Charynat, the Emperor and the High Command have settled on Marshal Bryna to command the campaign. I would have expected you to continue doing penance in Luba, Taryl, but the vast expanses of Merowey will do as well, I assume, after you do what you must in Cigoerne.”

“We've been requested to report on our last commission.”

“Ah, yes. Placating the black barbarians. So troublesome, but necessary. You do deal with unpleasantness so well and so patiently.”

“As do you,” replied Taryl.

“I can see that your…sabbatical…has done you well, Taryl, and that is for the best.” Cyphryt nodded pleasantly. “I am certain I will see you in Cigoerne.” With a continuing smile, he walked toward the rear of the upper deck, where he joined two younger mage-guards—both chaos-mages—at a table under the awning overlooking the lower rear deck. One was a striking red-haired woman.

Even Cyphryt's bearing and walk reminded Rahl of Puvort, although the two looked not in the slightest alike.

“I take it that Cyphryt is to be treated with the same care as…I did with Undercaptain Craelyt?”

“I would suggest even greater care. For all his outward cheerfulness, Cyphryt can muster more chaos with one finger in an instant than the late undercaptain could have with his entire being in an eightday.”

“He is highly placed, also?”

“He is the administrative director of the Triad. Officially, he's not in the chain of command. That suits him and his approach, but in practice he has close to the same authority as the Mage-Guard Overcommander—without the accountability.”

Rahl didn't know quite what else to say. It was clear that Taryl and Cyphryt disliked each other intensely.

“You will have to watch for him, now,” Taryl went on. “He takes any remark that offers the slightest disagreement with him as a personal affront. He won't deign to deal with you personally, but it's more than likely that one of those who wishes to please him will attempt to make your life less pleasant. It will mostly probably be a woman, one such as Saulya—she's the redhead there.”

Rahl kept his head lowered, as if he continued to study the shore, behind the
Khamyl,
but let his eyes and order-senses focus on Saulya. Like all the others at the table, she held firm shields, and there was a sense of coolness behind those shields. “She's cold.”

“Others have not found her so,” Taryl said dryly, “not until they tried to do her a favor of some sort, generally against the rules, and ended up in places where they did not wish to be.”

“But…that sort of enticement…?”

“As a mage-guard, Rahl, there is only one reason to break the rules or the Codex, and that is to prevent a greater harm. Anything else is just an excuse, and excuses are not acceptable.” Taryl's voice softened as he went on. “You've already broken more than a few provisions of the Codex, if with reason and provocation, but it would be best if you avoided any minor infractions for some time to come.” He laughed gently, but ironically. “Often the minor infractions cost more than the great ones.”

Rahl had already come to understand that. He looked at Taryl. “Was Cyphryt correct about where you'll be assigned?”

“I'm certain he is. He prides himself on that.” Taryl grinned, almost mischievously, and yet sadly. “That was one reason why I spoke to him. I'd only been told that we would be assigned to the land campaign under Marshal Charynat, and that the details would be forthcoming when we reached Cigoerne.”

“You don't think Charynat's death was coincidental or accidental, do you?”

“I'd be very surprised if it happened to be,” Taryl admitted. “He was an honest and capable commander. Such are always regarded with suspicion by rulers and would-be rulers, and by those who would manipulate both.”

Such as Cyphryt, surmised Rahl.

“We will do what we can, as we can.”

Rahl nodded slowly. Taryl had told him that he would not have learned more in remaining at Swartheld, but the older mage-guard had not pointed out that gaining greater knowledge and experience was going to be far more dangerous. But then, Rahl realized, he should have known that.