“Ah … ser…”
“I just want to get a keg for our house. I’m not in trade, but I don’t want to pay both Bythalt and the brewmaster.”
“Ah … yes, ser. Well … he’s never said…”
“Claerk,” said Beltur firmly.
“He gets the barrels at night.”
“He’s trying to keep it secret, you’re saying.”
“Yes, ser.”
“Why would I tell anyone? I just want something close to decent to drink.”
“There’s a barn on the south side of Widow Taarbusk’s stead…”
“Which is where?”
“On the other side of the creek from Gorlaak’s place. He gets it from there. I don’t know who brews it. Might be her hired man. Might be one of her sons. Might be someone I don’t know.”
“Thank you. Has anyone else been here who’s tried to threaten Bythalt?”
“Not that I know, ser.”
With that, Beltur left the inn and headed to the Council House, arriving there half a quint before seventh glass. Lhadoraak, Tulya, Taelya, and Jessyla were all there, but not any of the four troopers.
“My thought is that I should spend much of the day scouting the Hydlenese,” said Beltur. “What does each of you think?”
“What about protecting Haven?” asked Tulya.
“Today is market day,” replied Beltur. “This afternoon, anyway. Two of the troopers could patrol the streets this morning, and the other two could just watch the square this afternoon. If anything happens that they can’t handle, they can summon Lhadoraak and Jessyla.”
“Just me, at first, anyway,” suggested Lhadoraak. “Gorlaak and Dussef are doing most of the real building. Therran’s learning. Turlow’s good with what metalwork there is. Gustaan and I just supply muscle.”
“And a little woodworking and magery,” added Beltur.
“Some,” admitted Lhadoraak.
“How long will your scouting take?” asked Jessyla.
“I don’t know, but likely all day … or most of it, unless I discover that they’re riding toward Haven. Then my scouting will be rather quick.”
“Do you think they’ll attack today?” asked Tulya.
Beltur shrugged. “Who knows? I doubt that they have a large enough force close by, but that could change any time now. That’s why I want to see just how many troopers they have, and if they have any mages.”
“If they have mages…?” said Jessyla.
“I’ll be very careful. If there’s any hint of mages, I’ll use full shielding.”
“Good.”
“Here come the troopers,” said Lhadoraak. “They’re walking across the square.”
“I told them not to saddle any mounts until after they met with us,” replied Beltur. “I had the feeling that we’d only be using two at a time.”
“Feeling?” asked Tulya dryly.
“They rode all day yesterday. Their mounts shouldn’t be ridden heavily today. We might need to send two of them back to Weevett sooner than we’d like.” Beltur walked to the door and opened it, waiting for the troopers, and then ushering them into the large front chamber.
Once the four were inside, he gestured to the older mage. “This is Councilor Lhadoraak. He’s been in charge of rebuilding the Council House, the healing house, and now the quarters building for patrollers and others who might work for the Council in the future.”
“What are you in charge of, ser?” asked Waerdyn.
“He’s in charge of everything,” replied Lhadoraak, a touch of humor in his voice, “especially dealing with troublemakers.”
“Oh … then you’re the one who … took care of the white mages?”
Beltur nodded. “With Jessyla’s help, while Lhadoraak was handling the rear guard.”
Ruell looked at Taelya. “What do you do, little woman?”
Taelya looked to Beltur.
“You can put a shield around him, if you like, just for a moment.” Beltur doubted that Taelya could hold a shield around the trooper for long, but Ruell didn’t have to know that.
The trooper froze for several moments, a panicked expression on his face, before Taelya released the shield and said, “That’s what I can do, ser.”
Ruell swallowed.
Waerdyn offered a rueful smile. “You did ask.”
“She’s … a mage, too?”
“She’s a beginning white,” said Beltur. “She can shield herself and stop others”—if only for a few moments—“and do a few other things. Now, let’s talk about what you’ll be doing today. Two of you will just ride the streets of Haven, from now until noon, no farther than the eastern road posts or the western posts. Then you’ll be off duty, but I expect you to remain either in the East Inn or somewhere around the square. The other two will simply walk around the square, keeping order, from noon to fourth glass. That’s because those glasses are when market day is—and all day on threeday. If you run into difficulty, you can immediately find Lhadoraak in the quarters building. I’m having you do that so that I can go scout what the Hydlenese company is doing.”
“Ser…” offered Waerdyn, “I am a scout.”
Beltur drew a concealment around himself, then said, “So was I.” Then he dropped the concealment. “You likely know more about scouting than I do, but since I cannot be seen, the Hydlenese cannot complain about Montgren troopers crossing the border into Hydlen. There are also a few other talents that may prove useful.”
“But … why…?”
“Why do we need you?” replied Beltur. “Because there are only five of us. By patrolling the town, you allow us to do other things. We’d hoped to have time to build a small force of town patrollers and do more than we have, but the apparent war—or standoff—between Certis and Gallos has changed matters.”
Waerdyn nodded.
“Now … which two of you will be riding patrols this morning?”
“Ruell and I will do that. Chestyn and Taasn can act as town patrollers this afternoon.”
Less than a quint later Beltur mounted Slowpoke and rode away from the Council House. He had already decided not to ride out the main road west, but to take the back streets to the lane that led to the stone dwelling in the middle of the rocky grassland. Where he went from there would depend partly on what he sensed when he reached the edge of the heavy woods.
Even before he reached the edge of the forest, he could sense riders, if barely, near the steads of Vortaan and Samwyth and he urged Slowpoke into a fast walk.
Once he was past the eastern edge of the small but thickly grown forest, Beltur could definitely sense riders moving around Samwyth’s lands, especially near the corral that held a small flock of sheep. He didn’t sense any sign of a mage, but because he and Slowpoke could move more quickly when not under a concealment, he waited until he was almost to where he could be seen before he concealed himself and Slowpoke.
He was within fifty yards of the small cottage and the outbuildings behind it when he sensed a figure lying on the walk in front of the dwelling, a figure with so little natural order and chaos that death was imminent. Slowpoke hadn’t taken more than a dozen steps more before the black death mist drifted across Beltur.
Samwyth … or his consort? Since Beltur didn’t sense anyone else near or inside the cot, he eased Slowpoke past the cottage.
One rider, most likely a trooper in green, walked into the corral that held a small flock, then lifted a lamb, then carried it to the edge of the corral where another hoisted it so that the third rider had it in front of him. The two selected another lamb for the fourth rider.
“Get moving! Two’s enough,” said the man who’d carried the lambs. “You let that woman get away. She gets to town, and that mage’ll be out here before you know it.”
“You don’t know that, Vaertyr.”
“You want to be fried or strangled … be my guest. We’re getting out of here. Now that you’ve got the lambs, just open the corral. Let the frigging sheep wander where they will.
I’ll take Brembal and his mount.”
Beltur hadn’t noticed the fifth mount, but he could sense something laid over the saddle, something that looked like a dead trooper. How did Samwyth … or whoever … kill the man?
He reined up and waited.
The two troopers on foot untied their mounts from the corral posts and quickly mounted, and the four riders turned south along the narrow trail heading toward the rocky hills that marked roughly the border between Montgren and Hydlen.
Beltur could have killed all four of the troopers, but that wouldn’t have made much difference, and he could sense three others farther south. More important, he also wanted to follow the group to see where they went and just what he and the others faced, especially whether there happened to be more than a single company posted just beyond the border … or possibly even inside the border, although Beltur strongly doubted that.
As carefully as he could under a concealment, he followed the Hydlenese back along the lane that was little more than a dirt track until it joined the path that threaded its way between the steep and rocky hills and the thickly wooded and overgrown forest. None of the troopers seemed to look back, or if they did not a one noticed anything that alarmed them. Following wasn’t that hard, because two of the seven had lambs across the front of their saddles, and one was leading another mount with the body of the slain trooper.
A kay or so later the forest ended, and to Beltur’s right was the rocky grassland that presumably stretched north to the low stone house just south of Haven proper. On the south side of the path the hills continued. The seven troopers kept riding.
Beltur thought they had covered another two kays or so when the troopers reached a point where the hills seemed lower. Before long they turned onto a somewhat wider track that headed not quite due south through a low patch of ground between the hills and across an unrailed bridge over the small creek that Beltur thought marked the border between Montgren and Hydlen. Even though the concealment kept direct sunlight off Beltur, he was still sweating in the heavy muggy air, and he had to keep blotting his forehead and adjusting his visor cap in the darkness of the concealment.
Around a kay later, the riders neared what Beltur sensed was a modest stead. He also could sense more troopers, possibly a company’s worth, but certainly not a battalion, and likely not even two companies. The riders continued toward the stead house, as did Beltur, still under his concealment. The troopers reined up short of the narrow covered porch.
Beltur sensed two figures standing there and eased Slowpoke forward and to the side of the porch away from the riders before bringing the gelding to a halt.
“Captain, ser!” called out one of the troopers.
“Report!”
“Captain, Undercaptain … mission accomplished. We struck one stead, and scattered the sheep.”
At least, that was what Beltur thought the squad leader said, given the odd accent and cadence of the trooper’s speech. Odd at least from Beltur’s point of view.
“How did you let a man get killed?” The officer gestured toward the mount carrying the body.
Again, Beltur had to concentrate on the words.
“The local got him with a crossbow. We took him down before he could use it again. Nasty old bastard. Told us we’d pay.”
“You should have killed everyone on the stead for that.”
“There wasn’t anyone else there, ser.”
Beltur could sense the untruth.
The captain obviously didn’t, because he immediately replied, “Then you should have gone to the next stead and slaughtered everyone. They need to learn who’s in charge.”
“Yes, ser.”
“They’ll all learn. Sooner or later.” After a pause, the officer added, “At least, you brought fresh lamb back. Better than mutton. Take the lambs to the cooks.”
“Yes, ser.”
As the troopers rode toward one of the larger outbuildings, Beltur waited, listening.
“You shouldn’t have to tell them everything, ser,” said one, presumably an undercaptain by his address of the other.
“They’re too soft. The only way to deal with that arrogant mage is to show the locals that he can’t protect them. You weren’t there to hear how insufferable he was. As if he were the equal of the Duke.” After a pause, the captain said, “Skallyt? Do you hear a horse, somewhere near?”
Beltur didn’t wait any longer. He put containments around the necks of both officers, tightening them brutally and swiftly, crushing the men’s throats and windpipes. Before that long the captain and undercaptain pitched forward and off the low porch, followed by the rising of the cold black mists that drifted across Beltur.
Then he turned Slowpoke back toward the lane away from the stead house and in the direction of Haven. He was almost a hundred yards from the stead house before he heard the first shout, doubtless as someone found the two dead officers.
That might slow down the Hydlenese efforts against Haven. Then again, when those efforts were resumed, the Hydlenese might be even more vicious. He kept riding, but could sense no one following him. Slowpoke had doubtless left some tracks in the dust of the paths and trails, but with all the other riders who had traveled the same way, Beltur doubted that anyone would be able to tell much.
Once he was well away from the Hydlenese encampment, he dropped the concealment, which allowed Slowpoke to walk more swiftly, but for several moments, after glasses in darkness, Beltur was blinded by the light. He also felt even warmer with the late spring sunlight pouring down on him directly.
Despite Slowpoke’s faster pace without the hindrance of the concealment, it was more than a glass later, and well past midday, before he reached Samwyth’s stead. There, Lhadoraak and two of the Montgren troopers stood by the cottage porch. Beltur glanced around. From what he could tell, the sheep, or most of them, were back in the fenced area.
As Beltur reined up, Lhadoraak looked to him. “You followed them?”
“I did. There’s a company encampment a kay or two across the border, I’d guess some five kays to the southwest. I had to ride some of it under a concealment.”
A gray-haired woman appeared on the porch. She looked at Beltur. “You just followed them? Why didn’t you stop them before they killed Samwyth?”
“I didn’t get to your stead until after they killed him. They were picking out two lambs when I got there.”
“And you let them?” Her tone was accusing.
“I did. Then I followed them back to their encampment to learn what I could. The captain had ordered his men to raid your stead and Vortaan’s, but both Vortaan and Ennalee had both left for the square, it seemed.”
“All you did was follow the raiders?”
“I didn’t say that was all I did. I killed the captain and the undercaptain who’d ordered the troopers to raid your stead. Then I scouted around a little more and rode back here.”
“You a powerful mage, and that’s all you did?” The woman’s voice was bitter. “They’ll just come again, and they’ll do worse.”
“They’ll come anyway, but they might hesitate a day or two after losing both their officers, especially since there’s only one company near Haven at the moment.” Beltur was very much aware that that would change before long. Especially after what you did. Except, he knew, that some sort of attacks would have occurred regardless. “The troopers were doing what they were ordered to do. I killed the men who gave the orders. And I’ll try to keep doing that. We’ll see how long officers will give orders like that, if they risk their own death by attacking Haven and its people.” Beltur could see Lhadoraak wince.
But what other tactic do you have? You’re not strong enough to kill a hundred men at once or even in a short time. Not unless a white mage showed up and conveniently started throwing chaos … or a thunderstorm miraculously appeared.
“Why didn’t you just kill them all?”
“Black magery doesn’t work well that way,” Beltur said. “We’re doing the best we c
an.”
“You need to do better.” The woman looked away.
Beltur glanced to Lhadoraak. “Was there anything else?”
The older mage shook his head.
“Then I’m heading back to the Council House.”
“All of you … just go,” said the woman, not looking at either mage. “You’ve done enough.”
Beltur didn’t even try to reply. He just waited for Lhadoraak to mount, and then turned Slowpoke and urged him toward the road leading back to the square. Lhadoraak eased up beside Beltur, while the two troopers fell in behind.
After several long moments, Lhadoraak asked, “What do we do now?”
“We wait, and I keep scouting. The moment we discover a larger force headed for Haven, we send two of the troopers to Weevett to report that.”
“What about the Hydlenese still here?”
“If they do nothing and stay on their side of the border, we do nothing. If they try any more raids, then I’ll do what I can to discourage them.” Beltur turned slightly in the saddle to look at the older mage. “Unless you have a better suggestion.”
Lhadoraak shook his head, then offered a smile that was sad, rueful, and wry, all at once. “I don’t. Neither does Tulya or Jessyla. We talked for a moment after Frydika rode to the Council House for help.”
“Frydika? Samwyth’s consort?” Beltur realized that he’d never even known her name.
The older mage nodded. “It’s all going to depend on who’s stronger. Usually, that means who can destroy more of the other side. You’re better at that than any of us.”
That was the last thing Beltur wanted to hear, but he just nodded and kept riding. After a time, he asked, “How far can you sense?”
“Not nearly as far as you. Between half a kay and a kay, and that’s if it’s not raining or snowing.”
Even Jessyla can sense farther than that. And that meant that Beltur was the only one who could provide an early warning when the Hydlenese did finally attack … unless patrollers that Haven didn’t yet have were posted well away from the town—and mounted as well. Beltur managed not to sigh.
When he and Lhadoraak rode into the square, the two troopers separated and rode toward Waerdyn and Ruell, who stood close to the fountain, surveying the handful of vendors—more than Beltur had ever seen in the square—as well as the ten or so possible customers surveying produce and wares. Several stood by a wagon talking with Ennalee and a man, presumably her consort, Vortaan.
The Mage-Fire War (Saga of Recluce) Page 22
