The Mage-Fire War

by Modesitt. Jr. , L. E.

  “There’s someone inside, several people,” said Beltur as they approached the door. He knocked. No one responded. He knocked again.

  Finally, the peephole in the middle of the heavy wooden door opened. “Who are you? What do you want?” The voice was likely that of an older man.

  Beltur repeated what he’d said previously.

  “That’s all fine and good, but what do you want from us?”

  “Nothing, except your name, and to tell you that.”

  “Name’s Straetham. Good day.” The peephole closed.

  “Not exactly friendly,” said Beltur.

  “In this town, right now, would you be that friendly to strangers?” asked Jessyla.

  No one was in the third house they approached.

  The fourth house was little more than a cot, except it was built more like a fortress, with thick stone walls, small windows with heavy shutters, and a split slate roof. It also had a small outbuilding and was surrounded by gardens, all but one clearly devoted to vegetables. To Beltur’s surprise, a woman of indeterminate age was weeding one of the beds on the west side of the house. She straightened as the two approached.

  “You two must be part of the group that removed those nasty white mages. I’m Julli. Jullianya, really, but everyone calls me Julli.” Her eyes went to Jessyla.

  “I’m Jessyla, and this is Beltur. He’s a black mage and my consort.”

  “I’d say you’re both too young to do what everyone says, but Jaegyr saw it all, and he described you both pretty well, except he thought you were bigger than you are, Mage…”

  “Beltur. Might I ask who Jaegyr is?”

  “My consort. He’s a woodworker, and he was at the East Inn repairing barrels for Bythalt when everything happened. If anyone else had told me, I wouldn’t have believed it, but Jaegyr…” Julli shook her head.

  Beltur nodded to Jessyla to do the talking.

  “We’re here just to get to meet people and to let them know that the Duchess sent the four of us to be the new town council…” Jessyla went on to elaborate somewhat, then waited.

  “It’s past time that someone did something,” replied Julli, “but that’s just my opinion, and I have too many of those, Jaegyr says.”

  “Have you had any trouble with the traders?”

  “They’re not so bad if you stay away from them, well, except for a few of them like Duurben. They don’t bother us. It might be because there’s no one else who can fix barrels and other things besides Jaegyr. Also, both Bythalt and Phaelgren want what comes from my gardens and root cellars for their public rooms.”

  “You also have a rather stout house,” observed Beltur.

  “Jaegyr’s protective. There are inside iron shutters and the doors are iron-cored.”

  Beltur nodded. In Haven, that was sensible. Then he asked, “Is … Zankar … one of the decent traders?”

  “Oh … you must have been talking to Yamella. You know, she’s not quite right in the head.”

  “She seemed healthy enough.”

  “Healthy as a plow horse, but … she still thinks her son’s going to come back.”

  “She said he was a trader.”

  “He was … until one of the Hydlenese traders carved him up.”

  “When did that happen?”

  “A year ago. Might have been a little longer.”

  “Do you know which trader?”

  “Wurtaan … Whartaan … something like that. Most of what I know about the traders comes from Jaegyr. I stay away from the inns. That’s best unless you’ve got business there.”

  “How do most people even manage?” asked Jessyla.

  “You just keep your head and stay away from trouble. Everyone knows who grows or makes what. We just trade among ourselves, or if we don’t know, give it to Torkell. He makes sure you get a fair portion.”

  “What do you need from a council?” asked Beltur.

  “Order and low tariffs. The rest we can handle.”

  “You don’t have a healing house or healers,” ventured Jessyla.

  “We could use good healers, too, but good ones won’t stay without order.”

  After another half quint of conversation, Beltur and Jessyla walked back toward their mounts.

  “There are almost two towns here,” said Beltur as he untied Slowpoke, “the one you see and the one you don’t. I think it’s going to be a very long day.”

  “Optimist,” returned Jessyla. “It’s going to be a very long eightday. And a longer year.”

  VII

  By the time Beltur opened his eyes on threeday morning, he was more than ready to concede that Jessyla had been right. Over the previous five days, the five of them had covered the entire town. They had sheets of paper filled with names, and Tulya had drawn a copy of the map used by the whites. Then the four of them had painstakingly put names with houses and other structures—once Lhadoraak had pointed out that they had no records from which they could levy tariffs. They did have the instructions for how tariffs were levied, but before they could do that they’d have to create folders for each property indexed to the tariff ledgers they hadn’t created.

  They had located the old Council building, one of the narrow and empty structures on the nearly deserted square, and Jessyla had been pleased to learn that the adjoining structure had once been the healing house. Both needed a great deal of work, especially the former healing house, but that meant they wouldn’t have to build either from scratch. Beltur had located the break in the fired-clay pipes that led to the fountain in the square, but hadn’t had a chance to do more than that. Karch’s troopers continued to patrol the streets and the roads leading into the town, and Haven remained disturbingly quiet, a quiet that the new council knew couldn’t last. And, so far, the wounded bravos were all healing as well as could be expected, although Beltur had been required to remove more chaos than he’d anticipated from both the youngest and the oldest of the wounded.

  With all those thoughts in his mind, Beltur stretched, sat up in the lumpy inn bed, and looked at Jessyla. “What should we do today, now that we’ve done what we can in learning about the town?”

  “We need to find places to live, and we also need to find some carpenters, joiners, and masons, both for wherever we’re going to live and to fix the Council building and the healing house. We also need to decide how we’ll keep order when Karch and his company leave. Tomorrow will be the end of the first eightday.”

  “We’ll likely need a gaol, too, except I suppose we could put that in the back of the Council building.” Another thought struck Beltur. “We’ll also need to write a letter to Johlana and Jorhan, telling them where we are. Karch can carry it back to Vergren to Korsaen or Essek so they can find someone headed to Axalt.”

  “If we’re to do all that, you need to put on some clothes,” suggested Jessyla, drawing the sheet around herself.

  “And you don’t?”

  “You can wash up first.”

  Beltur tugged at the sheet and gave a mock-lecherous grin, although perhaps it wasn’t totally false.

  In return, Jessyla batted her eyes and glanced demurely down.

  They both laughed.

  Then Beltur hurriedly washed up and dressed, trying not to look too often in Jessyla’s direction.

  Lhadoraak, Tulya, and Taelya were already in the public room when Beltur and Jessyla arrived, but that was partly because Beltur and Jessyla had checked on the wounded men first. Even so, the three only had mugs of ale before them.

  “Taelya woke up early and hungry,” Lhadoraak explained. “I think she’s growing again.”

  “That’s good,” declared Beltur, adding quickly, “For her, but maybe not for your sleep.” He quickly let his senses run over Taelya, but was relieved that there were still no signs of the order binding that had almost killed her in Elparta. She was also keeping the free chaos around her separated by a thin line of order, the result being that she appeared far whiter to most mages than she actually was—and would live
much longer if she maintained that disciplined approach to magery.

  “Do you know what’s for breakfast?”

  “Egg toast, berry syrup, and mutton strips.”

  In moments, Claerk had appeared with two mugs of ale.

  Belatedly, Beltur realized that Taelya had two mugs and a pitcher of water. One of the mugs was less than a third full of ale. The water in the pitcher had been order/chaos cleaned. “Did you clean the water, Taelya?”

  “I did. Father watched, though.”

  “She did it perfectly.”

  Beltur took a sip of the ale, dark but not quite so bitter as the brew they’d had the first two days.

  “What have you two been thinking about?” asked Lhadoraak, smiling slyly as he added, “If you had time for thinking.”

  Jessyla blushed slightly.

  “We need to find a dwelling big enough for all of us … or two side by side,” said Beltur quickly.

  “I’ve marked the map,” said Tulya. “We can go over it after we eat, or later. The houses without names are ones where no one is living, and no one’s been for years, according to the neighbors. We could take any of them.”

  “Under the law?” asked Jessyla, her tone of voice dubious.

  “I’ve been reading the laws Korsaen sent with us. Houses vacant for more than five years, where no previous inhabitant has made a statement of intent to return, and where no tariff has been paid during those times, can be claimed upon payment of back tariffs, or where no tariff is due, by restoring the house to a condition where a tariff can be levied. Once an effort at restoration has begun, a previous owner may not make a claim, unless the restoration is halted and the dwelling remains uninhabitable.”

  “That actually makes sense,” said Beltur.

  “So, among other things, we need to look at abandoned and run-down dwellings?” said Lhadoraak dryly.

  “The sooner we find somewhere to live, the sooner we can stop paying Bythalt,” replied Beltur. “It’s likely going to take silvers and time to make any of those places livable.”

  “And some we’d have to practically rebuild,” Tulya pointed out.

  At that moment, Claerk reappeared carrying three platters and a basket of bread, setting them in front of the earlier arrivals. Then he looked to Beltur. “Just a few moments more.”

  “That will be fine. As I told you earlier, we’re going to need some carpentry done. We’ll pay. What about Gorlaak?”

  “He sets timbers, floors, that sort of heavy work.”

  Beltur frowned. “Who does things like cabinets and trim?”

  “Jaegyr’s the only one Bythalt’ll use.”

  “How good is he?”

  “Seems like what he fixes stays fixed. Other than that, I wouldn’t know.”

  “Does he do other woodwork?”

  “He built a chest for pans and skillets in the kitchen.”

  “I’d like to look at it after breakfast.”

  “Can’t do any harm, so long as you stay out of Ma’s way.” Claerk glanced toward the kitchen. “Best I see if yours is ready.”

  Before long, Beltur and Jessyla were served. As Beltur and Jessyla finished eating, Tulya left and returned shortly with the map, which she spread out on an adjoining table. Then the five moved to the table with the map.

  Tulya began to explain. “These houses here are the closest to the square, but they’re smaller. These will take more work…”

  “We all ought to look at them together,” suggested Lhadoraak.

  At that moment, Captain Karch entered the public room.

  “Good morning, Captain,” offered Beltur. “What news do you have?”

  “We haven’t seen a sign of anyone like traders or bravos,” replied Karch. “They’ll just wait until we’re gone.”

  Beltur understood the implied suggestion. “From what you said, we didn’t expect any different. That’s why we’re working as fast as we can to find out what we need to know while you and your men are here. That gives us the time to get organized. We’ve located the old Council building and the healing house, and we’re working on how to get started on housing, and building a small gaol in the back of the Council building … at least at some time.”

  “You’ve been busy on records…”

  “There aren’t any records of any sort. So we didn’t know who lives where and what trades are still here. We have to know that in order to set up a tariff system. Doing all that also tells people we’re here to stay.”

  “Talking with people also lets us know where there might be problems,” added Jessyla.

  “And what resources are here and what aren’t,” said Tulya.

  “Have you and your men discovered anything we should know?”

  “We’ve seen several mounted patrols from a distance. Their uniforms were bright green with yellow piping.”

  Beltur knew that brown uniforms with green trim were from Certis, and, of course, troopers from Gallos wore gray, except for the palace guards, who wore black. “I don’t know those colors. Hydlen or Lydiar?”

  “Green and yellow are Hydlen. Maroon is Lydiar.”

  Beltur should have guessed that the patrols had been from Hydlen, given the golds that the white mage had possessed. “Did they see your men?”

  “I made certain that they did. I thought it might create a little consternation back in Hydolar.”

  That was probably true, Beltur reflected, but it also might create more problems for the four of them later. “No sign of smugglers or traders?”

  “If they don’t want to be seen, they’re not, except by you mages.” Karch paused, then asked, “Do you have any needs from my men?”

  “Except for patrolling, not at the moment,” said Beltur. “That’s very necessary, because it allows us to work on getting ready without distraction. We appreciate it.” While Beltur was repeating what he’d said earlier, he had the feeling it was necessary.

  “Then we’ll be getting on with it.”

  After Karch left, Beltur turned to the others. “If you’d get ready to ride so that we can see those houses, I’ll meet you at the stable.” Then he made his way to the kitchen, where he found Claerk and an older woman, presumably the young man’s mother and the inn’s cook.

  “Thank you for breakfast,” Beltur offered.

  The woman inclined her head. “Ser mage.”

  “Which cabinet was the one Jaegyr made?” Beltur asked Claerk.

  The young man walked to an open-faced oak cabinet some two yards high. “This one.”

  Beltur moved closer and studied the workmanship. The cabinet looked strong and solid. Although Beltur was no expert in woodworking, he could see that the finish was smooth, the joins and the mitered corners even. He nodded, then turned to Claerk. “That speaks well of Jaegyr. Where would we find Gorlaak?”

  “His place is out the north lane off the square. Just keep going till you get to the stream. Then look right for the buildings beside it. That’s his place. He won’t be there today, though. He’s out back. He came early to replace some timbers in the stable … now that Bythalt’s got some coins to pay him.”

  “If you’d take me out and introduce me.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  Beltur followed Claerk out to the far end of the stables.

  The man who wrestled a post into place was only slightly taller than Beltur but had shoulders seemingly twice as broad and arms twice as big as Beltur did.

  Beltur just watched until he had the post in place, then stepped forward. “I’m Beltur, and Claerk here tells me that you do good work with floors and timbers.”

  “I might be the only one around here.”

  “We’ve got two buildings we need to put back in usable condition. Over on the square. I’d like you to take a look at them … if you’re interested.”

  Gorlaak grinned. “You have the coins, I’ll do the work. Likely be done in two glasses. Maybe a little sooner.”

  “We’ll come back, and we’ll go over to the square then.”
/>
  “I’ll be here.”

  Beltur nodded, then stepped away and headed to check the two mounts that the whites had used. They were in decent shape, and he’d groomed both the evening before. Then he saddled Slowpoke.

  A quint later the five were riding south past the square.

  “The first houses are a block past the Brass Bowl and two blocks south,” Tulya said.

  When Beltur reined up, he saw that there were actually three run-down houses in a row. All three had stone and brick walls and sagging rooftrees and shutters. The windows had either lost their glazing or had never been glazed. The space in front of the houses was partly bare ground and partly weeds, but the bare ground had more than a few shards of broken roof tiles scattered here and there. One of the houses had no door.

  “Even if we repaired them, each one is smaller than the cot we had in Axalt,” said Jessyla.

  Beltur didn’t dismount, but let his senses range over the small dwellings before nodding and saying, “I hope we can do better.”

  The next houses were a block farther south, across the narrow lane from each other, on opposing corners. They were each much larger than the first dwellings, but the roof at the end of one had caved in, and the other looked to have been gutted back to the brick walls, which appeared sturdy enough. The one that had been gutted also had a barn on the property, large enough, Beltur judged, to stable possibly as many as eight horses … and to store at least some hay in the loft.

  “The walls are sound,” said Lhadoraak. “The rest needs work. A little in some places, a lot in others.”

  The next three sets of dwellings were even worse than the ones they’d previously looked at, most likely because they were timber beam and post construction with plank walls.

  Then the five turned north and rode past the square once more and looked at the five abandoned houses east of the East Inn. None were close to each other, and that bothered Beltur. Two would have been easier to repair, but each was quite small.

  As they rode back toward the East Inn, Beltur cleared his throat. “The two brick-walled houses look to me like the best possibilities, but we ought to have Gorlaak look at them to see if they’re reclaimable.”