The Mage-Fire War (Saga of Recluce)

by Modesitt. Jr. , L. E.

  Jessyla and Beltur made it back to the Council House before the four had finished tying their mounts. Beltur noticed that each rider had a small duffel fastened behind the saddle of his mount.

  Once everyone was in the Council House, Beltur said, “The healer is Councilor Jessyla, and she and I are also consorted. She’s also a mage. Tulya is another councilor and our acting justicer. Lhadoraak is a black mage and the fourth councilor, but he’s in charge of rebuilding the quarters for future patrollers.” He looked to the blocky and square-faced trooper who had handed him the envelope and pouch. “If you’d introduce yourselves?”

  “Waerdyn. I’m the lead scout.”

  The sole redhead announced himself as Ruell, while the lean angular trooper was Chestyn, and the swarthy one was Taasn. Waerdyn looked pointedly at Beltur, who smiled and broke the seal on the envelope, extracting the single sheet, which he read immediately.

  This dispatch is to inform the councilors of Haven about certain developments in the increasingly bitter situation developing between Certis and Gallos. These may affect both the Council and people of Haven and possibly all of Montgren. Both Gallos and Certis are massing forces, and the Viscount has moved a large army through the Easthorns to a point within ten kays of Passera. The Prefect has invested Passera with a large force. Reliable estimates of the size of the two armies are not available, but it is unlikely that either force consists of less than three thousand troopers.

  Some Certan forces have been removed from the southern border of Certis, but where they have been sent is not known. This removal may well encourage the Duke of Hydlen to become more adventurous, since he earlier had proposed the consorting of his son with the daughter of the Duke of Lydiar, who has no sons and is known to be ailing …

  That would have been nice to know, thought Beltur, except it really wouldn’t have made that much difference.

  We would request that you immediately inform Captain Raelf in Weevett if you see solid indications of a large Hydlenese force nearing Haven or any part of the land of Montgren. To this end, I have dispatched four couriers to remain in Haven to allow rapid communication with Weevett. The sealed pouch should contain ten golds, enough to pay for their lodging at the East Inn for almost a season. The couriers are troopers as well and are under the Council’s command while they are in Haven.

  The signature and seal were those of Korsaen.

  Without a word, Beltur handed the document to Tulya, who read it, and then passed it to Jessyla.

  While they were reading, Beltur broke the seal on the pouch and inspected the contents—ten golds. Then he retied the pouch, slipped it inside his tunic, and said, “The golds mentioned in the dispatch were there. You don’t have to worry about them now. When we’re finished here, I’ll go with you to the inn and explain to the innkeeper. According to the dispatch, you’re under the orders of the Council and may be assigned duties suitable for troopers. Is that also your understanding?”

  “Yes, ser,” replied Waerdyn.

  “You’ve had a long ride today, and you made good time. That means your mounts need rest, feed, and water. You’ll meet all the councilors, including Mage-Councilor Lhadoraak, here tomorrow morning at seventh glass, and we’ll discuss how you can be helpful in line with your capabilities as troopers. Don’t saddle your mounts in the morning until after we meet.” Beltur turned to Jessyla and Tulya. “Would either of you like to add anything?”

  “Not at the moment,” said Tulya.

  Jessyla merely nodded and said, “Tomorrow.”

  “Then we’ll head to the inn.” Beltur gestured toward the door, then followed the four out into the very warm, but not-quite-hot afternoon sunlight.

  “Did you say that the healer was a mage, ser?” asked Waerdyn, once the door to the Council House was shut.

  “I did. She is. For what it’s worth, I’m also a healer.”

  “That’s sort of rare, isn’t it?”

  “There have been a handful of black mages who have also been healers. I’m not aware of a healer ever also becoming a black mage.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking, ser, have there been troopers from Hydlen around?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. On fourday, a Hydlenese captain rode into town under a parley flag escorting one of their traders. He told me that the Duke didn’t want us mistreating traders…” Beltur quickly told the rest of the story.

  “That doesn’t sound good,” offered the lead scout worriedly.

  “It isn’t. We’ve been watching to see what they’ll do next.”

  “You were expecting us, weren’t you?”

  “I knew riders had entered the town. I didn’t know who you were, though.” Beltur mounted Slowpoke and waited for Waerdyn to do the same. Then he eased Slowpoke forward.

  While Waerdyn moved his mount up beside Slowpoke, the other three followed.

  Beltur thought he heard a few murmured words from the rider behind him along the lines of a “mage riding a warhorse,” but he didn’t reply to them.

  When they reached the inn, Beltur tied Slowpoke outside, then led Waerdyn inside to Bythalt’s small study, where the innkeeper looked up in surprise … and with a wary expression.

  Before Bythalt could jump to the wrong conclusion, Beltur immediately announced, “I have some good news for you. Waerdyn here is the lead scout of four Montgren troopers who will be your paying guests in rooms for several eightdays. You’ll charge them the same as you charged us, and I’ll be the one handing you the coins. Lord Korsaen—or the Duchess—is supplying those coins.”

  “That is welcome news,” admitted the innkeeper, “but—”

  “No more comments about how matters could be better,” interjected Beltur. “They always could be better, and they often could be worse. I told you matters would eventually get better … and they will … if you don’t get too impatient.” He managed a warm smile. “I need to get back to patrolling, but either I or Councilor Tulya will pay you, the same way as before.”

  Bythalt rose. “Unlike some, your word has always been good.” He nodded to Waerdyn. “Welcome to the East Inn.”

  After making sure that the four troopers were taken care of, Beltur rode back to the quarters building to find Lhadoraak. The older mage was working with the others on the upper level, but walked down the staircase to meet Beltur.

  “I saw you and the four troopers.”

  “They’re here for courier duty and our use.” Beltur went on to explain.

  Even before Beltur had finished Lhadoraak was frowning, but he didn’t speak until the younger mage finished. “The tinker was right, then. We’re likely to face some sort of attack, sooner or later.”

  “But we can count on some support from Raelf, it sounds like.”

  “That’s only one company.”

  “According to Korsaen, every Montgren company is very, very good. So far, everything he’s said has been accurate.”

  “That’s true,” mused Lhadoraak, “but that company is a day away.”

  “I think that means I need to do some scouting. On the other side of the border.” Once more, Beltur wished he’d asked Raelf about Hydlen. “That might give us more time. We could have the troopers ride the streets, in pairs, alternating, when I’m scouting. They could report to you if there’s a problem.”

  “They’re scouts…”

  “They can’t do concealments,” Beltur pointed out. “And I did spend most of my time against the Gallosians with a recon company.”

  Lhadoraak nodded. “I’d forgotten that.”

  “How are you coming with the rooms upstairs?”

  “We’ve finished with the repairs to the roof, and we’re framing the inside walls. Less than two eightdays, I’d say. That’s if we don’t end up in a war before then.”

  “Have you heard anything about whether any of them want to stay?”

  The older mage smiled wryly. “No one’s talking about leaving. Therran did say something about how it would be nice to have even a small room to h
imself.”

  “Encouraging, but not exactly any sort of commitment. What about Gustaan?”

  “He’d be better as a patroller than a woodworker. He’s good at organizing the men, though.”

  After leaving the quarters building, Beltur stopped by the healing house to see Jessyla, and the Council House to tell Tulya that he was headed out on another patrol round and to arrange for her to pay Bythalt regularly. That was something that she should do anyway, since she was keeping the records.

  This time he started out taking the old south road out as far as Vortaan’s stead and then took a side lane that was little more than a track heading west. After little more than half a kay, the track ended near the ruins of a tumbledown cot, beyond which was a forest with a thick undergrowth, thick enough that a mounted force would have found it impassable. He took the track back several hundred yards to another path, not even a trail, heading north and bordering the woods, which eventually led him back to Haven several blocks south and slightly west of his and Jessyla’s house. From there, he followed the northern edge of the thick forest almost a kay westward before it gave way to rough, rocky, and uneven pastureland. Roughly a half kay to the southwest, a modest stone dwelling squatted on a low rise. From the dwelling, a narrow lane ran northeast, presumably to join one of the streets of Haven.

  Beltur decided he could check that later. Instead, he studied the western edge of the thick forest that seemed to run almost due south farther than he could see or sense. He still couldn’t tell if it ran into the hills farther to the south. He thought it might, but there could be space for a road between the southern edge of the forest and the rocky hills.

  He took a deep breath and turned Slowpoke south, guiding the gelding along the rocky pasture less than a few yards from where the forest ended and where a line of jumbled rocks that once might have been a wall marked the separation between pasture and woods. Although the grass had recently been grazed, Beltur neither saw nor sensed sheep or even cattle. Nor did he sense any large forms of life within the forest.

  He rode for what he judged to be a good three kays and then came over a low rise from the top of which he could clearly see the rocky hills rising out of the rocky grasslands about another two kays to the south. He looked to the southeast and nodded as he saw that there was a narrow gap between the forest and the hills, and the hint of what might have been an old road running through that gap. Although there were no signs of troopers anywhere near, it was clear that the Hydlenese had two possible ways to approach Haven, three, in fact, if they wanted to ride over the uneven ground that Beltur had just traversed.

  Feeling that he might have spent too much time away from the town, especially since he hadn’t told anyone what he’d done, he turned Slowpoke and headed back toward Haven.

  Rather than retrace his outbound route, once he reached the spot where he’d turned south along the wall, he angled northwest and rode to the lane that apparently extended from the stone dwelling to Haven. He followed the lane, only to discover that it joined one of the back streets on the southwest corner of Haven just slightly east of the brick road posts marking the west end of the town. From what he could see of the few tracks in the road and what he could sense, no large group of riders had entered Haven while he had been scouting.

  When he reached the square and the healing house, Jessyla practically bolted outside.

  “I was worried. You’ve never taken that long to do a patrol. Did you run into trouble?”

  “Not exactly. I did discover another way that the Hydlenese could attack Haven. Has there been any trouble here?”

  “Not that I know of. I did have a woman come to the healing house. She had a terrible boil. I cleaned it out and added a little free order. There wasn’t any wound chaos away from the boil, but I told her to come back in a few days just to make sure.”

  “She might not if it seems to be healing.”

  “That’s fine, too. I’m headed home. It’s dinner at our house tonight.”

  “I’ll be there in a bit. I want to stop by the inn.”

  “Don’t be too long.”

  “I won’t.”

  Despite Beltur’s concerns, there were no problems at the inn … and also no new arrivals, and for that reason, after talking briefly with Claerk, Beltur left and rode home. Once there, he quickly unsaddled, groomed, fed, and watered Slowpoke, and then made his way to the house, where he smelled what seemed to be mutton.

  “Is that a stew?” he asked as he stepped into the kitchen through the back door.

  “It’s a mutton ragout, thank you. Would you check the bread? I used the dough you set out. I hope it will be all right.”

  “So do I. I’ve been trying to develop a decent yeast.” Beltur looked into the small bread oven, sniffing as he did; the loaf was a light brown and at least smelled like bread, but it was clear that the dough hadn’t risen as much as it should have. He just hoped it tasted as good as it smelled.

  In less than a quint Lhadoraak and his family arrived.

  “That smells wonderful,” were Lhadoraak’s first words.

  “It smells like mutton,” said Taelya, almost under her breath.

  Beltur couldn’t help smiling at her words.

  “The bread smells good,” added Tulya.

  “We’ll see,” replied Beltur. “I’m still working on yeasts.”

  “Everyone sit down,” declared Jessyla, her words almost but not quite an order.

  In a fraction of a quint, everyone was seated, with the stew-like dish that Jessyla called a ragout in a large and stout but chipped clay pot in the middle of the table and a basket of the bread Beltur felt was too heavy beside it. The only beverage remained water, if water that was cool and order-treated. Beltur really would have preferred ale, and he kept forgetting to ask Bythalt about obtaining a keg of the somewhat better brew. Even that would be preferable to plain water.

  “Did you see any sign of the Hydlenese when you were patrolling?” asked Lhadoraak after everyone was served and had started eating, all but Taelya, who looked sourly at her platter and held her spoon more like a standard of rebellion.

  “Not a sign, but I also discovered that you were right. There is an old road at the base of the hills to the south of Haven, some four or five kays south. There’s also a forest that would block mounted troopers…” Beltur went on to describe what he had discovered.

  “In a way,” mused Lhadoraak after Beltur finished, “it doesn’t make that much difference. It would if we had an army, but it would be easier for them just to take the main road into Haven. We certainly couldn’t stop an entire army. So why would they circle around?”

  “They might if the Duchess sent forces,” suggested Tulya, who then turned to her daughter and said, “That’s all there is, and no more bread until you eat some of the mutton and vegetables.”

  “Mother…”

  “You can go hungry, then.”

  Beltur watched as Taelya took a tiny spoonful of the mutton and vegetables, more like a chunk of carrot covered in sauce, and grimacing, put it in her mouth.

  “That’s only a start,” said Tulya.

  Beltur glanced at Tulya’s platter. “Are you all right? You’ve hardly eaten anything.”

  “I’m fine. I just don’t feel like eating,” Tulya said.

  “You’re sure?” pressed Beltur.

  Jessyla’s boot connected firmly but quietly with Beltur’s calf, even as she said, “Every woman has times when she doesn’t feel like eating.”

  Beltur managed not to wince, but managed to say, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  Tulya smiled wanly. “I understand. You two haven’t been consorted that long.”

  As he continued to eat, Beltur let his senses range over Tulya. He managed not to look at either Jessyla or Tulya for several moments, but reached for another chunk of bread.

  “The bread’s tasty, Beltur,” said Lhadoraak, “but…”

  “It’s a little heavy,” replied the younger mage. “
I’m still working on finding a better yeast. I learned some things from Meldryn, but not nearly enough, it’s clear.”

  “It’s fresh, and it tastes good,” said Tulya.

  Beltur realized as she spoke that the bread was about all that Tulya had eaten, unlike Lhadoraak, who’d had two helpings of the ragout.

  Taelya took another small mouthful, and a sip of water, then gave her father a questioning look.

  “Your mother doesn’t feel well,” Lhadoraak said to Taelya. “You feel fine. Keep eating.”

  Taelya took another mouthful, not looking at either parent, or even at Beltur.

  Before that long, Lhadoraak, Tulya, and Taelya left.

  Then Jessyla looked hard at Beltur.

  “I’m sorry. I just saw that Tulya wasn’t eating.”

  “You made it harder for them with Taelya.”

  Beltur understood that, but didn’t want to dwell on it. “It isn’t really her time to be out of sorts, is it?”

  “Why do you say that? Besides trying to change the subject?”

  “She’s with child, I think. There’s a tiny knot of order—”

  “Beltur … how could you?”

  “How could I what? I only used my senses. After you kicked me, I was worried that she was really ill … especially after what happened yesterday.”

  Jessyla sighed. Loudly. “There’s a difference.”

  Beltur waited.

  “You aren’t to tell Lhadoraak. Is that clear?”

  “What if he asks me?”

  “Tell him that you’re not trained in women’s problems and that he should ask me.”

  “I can do that.”

  “You can also clean up the kitchen. I’ll check the barn.”

  Beltur managed not to shake his head until Jessyla had shut the door behind her as she left the house.

  XXX

  After he left the house on sevenday morning, well before seventh glass, Beltur’s first stop was at the East Inn. After tying Slowpoke outside, he entered, looking for Claerk, whom he found in the kitchen. He drew the young man aside.

  “Where does Bythalt get the better ale?”