Mage-Guard of Hamor (65 page)

Over the next three days, as Third Company scouted the road to Sastak, as well as the surrounding roads and lanes, neither Rahl nor any of the troopers and scouts found any recent signs of rebels. Every morning Rahl received instructions from Taryl, and every evening he reported on what he and Third Company had discovered and observed. The countryside and the steads were peaceful, with the buds beginning to open on the dwarf olives, foretelling the imminent arrival of spring. Rahl couldn't help but think that it would still be chill in Land's End, with frosts and even rimes of ice on the edges of the few streams.

On oneday evening, just after sunset, Rahl rode up to the White Stag—the larger of the two inns in the town of Cheystak and the one where Taryl had made his headquarters for that night. Even before he had tied the gelding to the hitching rail just below the inn's slightly raised and roofed front porch that overlooked the main square, he could sense the faint presence of both Triads.

Undercaptain Yadryn—whom Rahl had only met once or twice in passing—stood in the inn's foyer. “Majer, ser, the overcommander and the Triads are in the small dining area down the hall on the left. The overcommander said you were to report immediately.”

“Thank you, Yadryn.” Rahl offered a smile in passing, although he didn't relish the idea of reporting to the Triads as well as Taryl.

As he reached out to knock on the age-darkened oak of the door, Taryl said, “Come on in, Rahl.”

Rahl stepped inside the chamber, closed the door firmly behind himself, and turned to face the three men seated at one end of the oval table. He inclined his head to Fieryn, then to Dhoryk. “Honorable Triads.” He let concern seep from his shields, and a hint of apprehension, then choked it off.

“Proceed with your report to the overcommander, Senior Mage-Guard.” Fieryn's voice was firm, but Rahl sensed something between boredom and indifference.

Barely concealed skepticism seeped from around Dhoryk's shields.

Rahl looked to Taryl.

“Go ahead, Rahl.”

“Third Company has reconnoitered to a point fifteen kays south of here, some eleven kays short of Semistyd. The last rebel force passed through this part of Merowey more than an eightday ago, on the sixday preceding the last, and that was a loose grouping of riders in rebel uniforms riding toward Sastak. They took supplies from the local chandlery and left a form of script, but they did not physically injure anyone. There have been no wagons or shipments of goods headed south on the road for roughly two eightdays, and the last barrels of flour were sent to Sastak almost four eightdays ago.”

“
Roughly
and
almost
are rather general terms, Mage-Guard,” noted Dhoryk. “Is it possible to be more accurate in your reporting?”

Rahl paused for just a moment, keeping his astonishment at Dhoryk's arrogance and lack of understanding of the record-keeping, and lack of it, in small towns, well behind his shields. “I could only be more accurate, honored Triad, if those whom we questioned—and their ledgers—were more precise. When a ledger merely notes that a shipment of flour was included on a wagon sent from Sastak in the sixth eightday of winter, rather than on threeday or fiveday of that eightday, and when no one remembers exactly which day it was half a season past, the precision that we all seek is rather difficult to obtain. Only in one case was an actual date posted, and that was for a wheel of cheese. That was, I recall, on threeday of the seventh eightday of winter.” He inclined his head politely.

Dhoryk turned to Taryl. “You really should think about having the regional tariff enumerators crack down on such sloppy bookkeeping.”

“I appreciate your suggestion, Dhoryk,” Taryl replied pleasantly, “but you might note that those dates precede my taking over as acting Regional Administrator. Not even all the Triads acting together could change what has already been shipped or how it was entered in ledgers, but once this revolt is over, assuming that the Emperor desires that I remain as Regional Administrator, I will certainly instruct the tariff enumerators to request more accurate dating of all records applicable to tariff collection.” He looked at Rahl. “What else did Third Company discover?”

“None of the rebel forces have ever attempted to collect grain or other goods from steads, towns, or hamlets more than five to six kays from the main road. Nor are there any tracks or traces of rebel forces in those areas. This is likely to change, I would judge, once we reach Semistyd, because the east–west roads there are paved and well traveled….”

“You would judge?” Fieryn raised his eyebrows.

“I can only make a calculated judgment, honored Triad, until we reach those areas and can actually scout and determine what has in fact happened.”

“Then why guess? It is a guess, you understand?”

Rahl forced a smile. “I do so, ser, so that the overcommander can see what I plan and inform me if I am proceeding in a fashion contrary to his expectations.”

“Why would you even consider proceeding contrary to his expectations?”

“I would not, and do not, honored Triad.” Rahl inclined his head again. “But I have discovered that at times words and directions that seem perfectly clear have differing meanings to different people, even when both have the same goals and aspirations, and I would not wish to undertake any action where there might be a misunderstanding that could be avoided by my merely indicating the course of my actions under the overcommander's orders.”

“Such caution is commendable.” Fieryn's words were dry. “If not always possible. Initiative is sometimes preferable to caution.”

“Could we obtain supplies without leaving the locals short through the spring and early summer?” asked Taryl.

“Here in Cheystak there are enough stocks of flour and oils, but the flocks and herds seem thin. There are more herders farther south, and their herds appear fuller, with yearlings and calves.”

Taryl nodded. “I think that will do, Rahl. I will have further orders in the morning.”

Rahl inclined his head. “Ser.” He added, “Honored Triads.”

Neither spoke or acknowledged his words.

After leaving the dining chamber, Rahl walked out through the foyer, across the front porch, down the two steps, and stopped, looking through the gloom of twilight toward the statue of an ancient emperor on his pedestal in the square. After a meeting such as the one he had just endured, he could understand why the magisters of Recluce thought so poorly of Hamor.

He glanced back at the inn, wondering if he could locate Deybri. He shook his head, realizing that he had no real idea where she might be and that searching for her would subject him to possible further scrutiny by the two Triads. That was not something to risk, not at that moment. With a sigh, he turned toward the gelding. He needed to return to the stead outside Cheystak where Third Company had billeted itself. He was more than glad for the distance between the company and the Triads.

Early on twoday morning, while Third Company was gathering for muster, Rahl reined up in front of the White Stag. He had no more than dismounted and tied up the gelding when he sensed Deybri. He turned. She was standing on the porch in her healer greens.

He bounded up the two steps, but stopped short of embracing her when he sensed the worry and anger within her.

“Rahl…you know the Triads are here?”

“I had to give my report to Taryl last night with them present. It wasn't pleasant.”

“They're…” She paused, as if unable to come up with a word or phrase.

“They're like everything the magisters said about Hamor?”

Deybri nodded.

“Taryl told me something interesting when I first was introduced to them,” Rahl said quickly. “He said that they were the first chaos-mages to be Triads in ages. Most of the past Triads were order types, even though most mage-guards tend to be chaos-mages.”

“Why did that change? Do you know?”

Rahl shook his head. “I think it had something to do with why Taryl had to step down or was replaced as a Triad, but I don't know that for certain, and no one whom I've met who knows will speak of it. I've heard scores of rumors, but—”

“Scores?”

“Several,” he admitted, “and they're all different, and I've been told by those who should know that none of them are correct.”

“Be careful around the Triads, Fieryn especially.”

“Taryl's already suggested that. I think they're one of the reasons he was so particular about my working on my shields.”

“He may be more dangerous than the Triads.” Deybri had lowered her voice. “He sees more than they do, and I can't read him at all. He and you are the only ones whom I can't.”

Rahl nodded. “Yet he's the only one who has never steered me wrong.”

“He may be preparing you to use as the tool to regain his power as Triad.”

Rahl had thought of that. It was more than possible. “What other choices do I have? Do you want to return to Recluce?”

She shook her head. “I find I trust him…and you. That is the most frightening aspect of it all.”

“Trusting a disgraced Hamorian Triad and an exiled natural order-mage.” Rahl forced a grin. “Kadara and Leyla would say that you're not in your right mind.”

She reached out and took his hands, squeezing them warmly, but only for a moment before withdrawing them. “Please be careful.”

“I will.” He paused. “I need to report to Taryl.”

“You'd better do it now. The Triads left him a few moments ago. Their shields were tight, but neither looked pleased, and I could sense some buried anger.”

That alone reassured Rahl. He leaned forward and brushed Deybri's cheek with his lips. “Until later.”

“Much later, I fear.”

“Why?”

“There haven't been any battles, but there are so many troopers that someone is always getting injured, through accidents or quarrels or mishaps with mounts. And there are the cases of flux, and we don't want that spreading. The other healers are pressed. How could I not help them? It is either late before I'm done, or I've already fallen asleep.”

“I have to report to Taryl most mornings,” Rahl pointed out.

“I'll try to be around in the mornings…dearest.”

Rahl hung on to that last endearment as he entered the inn.

Taryl was alone in the small dining chamber, seated at the table and surrounded by maps.

“Good morning, ser,” offered Rahl as he closed the door behind himself.

“Good morning, Rahl. The Triads departed a short while ago. Fieryn in particular expressed that he was less than pleased with your report last night and your attitude toward the Triads.” Taryl's words were pleasant and without chill.

“I was most polite, ser.”

“Without speaking a word of description and without an unpleasant word or tone, you very politely and calmly conveyed that the most honorable Triad was the hindmost part of an unclean quadruped.”

“Ser…what was I supposed to do? His questions were designed in a fashion that any reply would either show total ignorance or total subservience.”

Taryl smiled. “Actually, you behaved perfectly for the situation. Fieryn now believes that you are a third-rate mage-guard with delusions of superiority, and he has decided that I was absolutely correct in returning you to duty as an arms-mage with Third Company.”

“I'm happy to follow your instructions, ser, but…do you think my future should lie as an arms-mage?”

“For now, that is where you will prove most useful, and out of the direct way of Fieryn and Dhoryk. As you should recall, I have noted that it is always useful to be underestimated by those in power who may not be either friends or allies.”

“You honestly believe they have underestimated me, ser?”

“I do, and we had both best hope that is the case. They could be as much a danger to you as could Golyat and his mages.”

“Because they seek greater power and because you stand in their way and I am your aide and ally?”

“There is great accuracy in that observation, but you need to observe even more.” Taryl cleared his throat. “Your healer is most accomplished, and I hope that she will choose to remain in Hamor.”

“She would like to do so, ser, but that will depend on what happens at Sastak.”

Taryl softly barked a laugh. “Much will depend on that, perhaps the future of all Hamor and the world.”

“The world?” asked Rahl.

“If the Emperor loses at Sastak, Hamor as it is will fall. That will strengthen Fairhaven. Recluce will rejoice to its eventual sorrow.”

“Why would the Emperor's defeat lead to sorrow for Recluce?”

Taryl offered a crooked smile. “I leave you to think about that one. We had best concentrate on how to best avoid that possibility.”

Rahl could tell that Taryl had said, as was often the case, what he would say. “What do you require of me and Third Company?”

“Continue the same duties as you have been doing. Unless you see signs that would indicate otherwise, you need not scout in depth up all the smaller side roads. It is becoming clearer and clearer that matters will be resolved in Sastak, and that it is unlikely that much of import will happen before.”

“The rebels have not really prevailed in any battle, ser.”

“That is true, but the winner is not the one who wins the battles, but the one who remains standing and in control when all the battles have been fought. Usually, that is the one who wins the battles, but not always.”

“I'm to report to you this evening.”

“As always.” Taryl stood.

“Until then, ser.” Rahl inclined his head, then turned and took his leave. He did not see or sense Deybri—or the two Triads—anywhere near.

As he rode back to Third Company, Rahl thought over Taryl's words, particularly his phrasing—“If the Emperor fails…” The more he thought, the less he liked the implications behind those words, and the more he understood what Taryl had meant beyond what he had said.