“There are two mages and a healer?”
“The younger mage is also a healer, and the healer is also a mage.”
Beltur could sense a helpless shrug on Bythalt’s part.
“You’ve seen this?”
“The younger mage and the healer destroyed the two whites and shielded the troopers while the troopers used arrows to kill or wound most of the whites’ armsmen.”
“What about the other mage?”
“He was also an arms-mage against the Gallosians. That is what I heard.”
Abruptly, Duurben stepped back. “Do what you must, Bythalt. But remember … I will be back.”
“You always come back, ser.”
“Keep that very much in mind.”
Beltur waited until Duurben left the inn before dropping the concealment. As he approached the innkeeper, he could see that Bythalt was agitated, but he simply said, “I take it that Trader Duurben made an appearance?”
Bythalt turned with a start. “You knew, and you did nothing?”
“He visited the Council building and then came in this direction. I didn’t have my horse, and I didn’t feel like running after him.” All that was perfectly true.
“You should have killed him as you did the evil white mages.”
“The white mages attacked us. Duurben has done nothing evil around us.”
“He pays but a copper a night, and nothing for his food. His men are worse.”
“Charge him what we pay.”
“He will do awful things then.”
Beltur offered a shrug he didn’t feel. “We’ll have to wait until he does.”
“Then someone will be hurt or killed. That man is bad.”
“We’ll see what we can do before it gets that far.” Beltur turned and headed toward the rear of the inn.
As soon as he was outside and heading to the stable he glanced across the square, but there was no sign of anyone near either the healing house or the Council building. He understood very well Bythalt’s concerns, but while Julli and Bythalt had both said that Duurben was evil, Duurben hadn’t offered any direct evidence to support that, even though Beltur hadn’t the slightest doubts about the trader’s past and likely present intentions.
Which means watching him closely until he does.
XII
A glass after sunset on oneday, heavy gray clouds marched through the sky over Haven, and rain began to fall, softly. Beltur checked with Karch, but from what the captain and his patrols knew, Trader Duurben had left Haven—at least for a time.
That same soft rain was still falling when Beltur and Jessyla went down to breakfast in the public room on twoday morning, and the clouds remained thick enough that the morning seemed more like twilight. Lhadoraak, Tulya, and Taelya joined them almost immediately, and Claerk had ale on the table quickly.
As they waited for breakfast, Lhadoraak said, “Faastah should be able to finish the cistern today and then move to the second house. He thinks that the mortar should dry for several days before you and Taelya try to glaze the cistern. That shouldn’t be a problem so long as you only glaze the inside.”
Beltur frowned. Why would they want to go to all the effort of glazing the outside as well?
“He said something about the mortar curing. He also said not to use the stove for two eightdays.”
“Everything takes longer,” said Beltur dryly. “Not that it matters because it’s going to take more than two eightdays before even the first house is livable, and that’s with us sleeping on the floor.”
“Maybe not,” said Jessyla. “I’ve been talking to Julli. Jaegyr has some pieces he never sold that they might be willing to part with. There are some tables and other odds and ends. They don’t match exactly, she said, but they’re solid.”
“Why don’t you look at them?” said Beltur.
“I thought we both should.”
“What about that brigand trader Duurben?” asked Tulya. “Do you know if the troopers have seen any more of him?”
“He rode in from the west, and went back that way,” replied Beltur. “Last night, Karch’s men didn’t see him again, but they did see another patrol wearing Hydlenese uniforms.”
“Everyone’s waiting for Karch and the troopers to leave,” said Lhadoraak.
“Not everyone,” countered Beltur, his voice light. “We haven’t seen Lydians, Certans, or Gallosians. And not any pirates from Worrak, either.”
“Just wait,” said Tulya sardonically. “How long will you two have the troopers stay?”
Beltur managed not to wince. He’d meant to talk to Lhadoraak about that. “The Duchess suggested two eightdays, but the captain said that he had some extra golds, enough for another three or four days.”
“We could use at least a few more days,” suggested Lhadoraak. “I’d really like to get the roof repaired on the second house … or close to it.”
“Three days would be eightday morning,” said Beltur. “I’d prefer not to run him out of provisions … or have to pay for the troopers out of what we have.”
“Eightday, then,” said Lhadoraak.
At that moment, Claerk carried out three platters, and set them in front of Jessyla, Tulya, and Taelya. “I’ll be back with the other platters and bread in a moment.”
“Claerk,” asked Beltur, “do you know where the trader Duurben hails from?”
“No, ser. He always approaches the inn from the west. He has coppers from Gallos, Certis, and Hydlen.”
“Not from Lydiar or Montgren?”
“I haven’t seen any of those. None of us get many. Bythalt might have.” Claerk hurried back to the kitchen, then returned almost immediately with two more platters and a basket of bread.
“Thank you,” said Beltur. “It sounds like Duurben never goes to Lydiar. Do most of the traders go in both directions?”
“Niklos and Whartaan do. The others, I couldn’t say, ser.”
“Are they from Hydlen?”
“Whartaan claims to be. Niklos talks like he’s from Lydiar. Is there anything else you need, ser?”
“Not right now.”
“Then I’ll be heading back to the kitchen.” Claerk hurried off.
Beltur immediately started eating the egg scramble, of which it seemed he’d already had too many.
Jessyla looked at her platter, hesitated, and then took a small bite, followed by an almost imperceptible sigh, and then another small bite.
When he neared eating the last scraps of the scramble, Beltur looked to Lhadoraak. “What are you going to do today?”
“The roof on the first house is solid. So Jaegyr and I can work on the interior walls. When the rain stops, Gorlaak will start on rebuilding the roof on the second house.” Lhadoraak turned to Jessyla. “Which house do you like best?”
“Which one do you like best?” countered Jessyla, looking to Tulya.
“Whichever one you don’t,” returned Tulya.
Beltur and Lhadoraak exchanged glances.
Then Lhadoraak said, “Both houses are about the same size. Gorlaak said that they were built by brothers. We need to decide now. That way, if either of you two wants specific things we can do them while we’re fixing them. That’s if it’s possible.”
“As long as I get a kitchen cistern and a stove, and a tight roof and windows…” Tulya shrugged.
“Both houses will have those,” Beltur said, “and we’re working to finish them both about the same time.”
“Then you and Jessyla should have the first one,” said Tulya, “because, as a healer, before long she won’t have that much time.”
“As the recorder and justicer of the Council,” replied Beltur, “you won’t either.”
“Me? As justicer?” Tulya looked appalled.
“You’re the one who’s read and knows all the laws,” Beltur pointed out. “I was very impressed with what you said to Duurben.”
“But I’m not a mage.”
“All the more reason you should be justicer,” said Jessyla. “You understa
nd better than anyone how someone with no magery feels.”
Tulya frowned. “I’m not certain that’s a good reason.”
“It’s a very good reason,” said Lhadoraak. “Considering who you’ll be dispensing justice to.”
There was a moment of silence.
“What are you going to do?” Jessyla asked Beltur.
“After we look at our walking wounded, I’m going to write a letter to Johlana and Jorhan. Then I’ll go help Lhadoraak.” He paused. “And you?”
“I’ll have to see.” She smiled enigmatically. “But I was thinking of visiting Julli again.”
After breakfast, Beltur and Jessyla made their way from the public room to the stable tack room, where another pair of Montgren troopers stood guard.
“They’re getting restless, Mages,” offered the older guard.
Beltur had barely gotten into the tack room behind Jessyla when the oldest armsman cleared his throat.
“Mage, Healer … you did say we weren’t prisoners…”
“Once you’re healed,” Beltur replied. “You’re all getting close. Let’s see how you’re doing first.”
Jessyla immediately moved to Therran, the youngest of the former bravos, the one who’d suffered a leg wound through a chaos burn.
Beltur followed, studying the leg with his senses. There wasn’t any of the nasty orangish red in the leg, but there was still a certain amount of dull redness, which he diluted with free order, not wanting to do too much, given the heat they’d created in using order to keep the young man alive earlier.
Jessyla looked at him.
Beltur murmured, “Another few days.”
Then they studied Gustaan, the older man who’d had the shoulder wound. There were lingering traces of wound chaos there, and Beltur smoothed away what was there, knowing that whatever remained in the healing wound likely would generate a little more. The other three showed no sign of wound chaos.
Beltur looked over the five, then gestured. “You three aren’t fully healed, but if you don’t hurt yourself again, you should be fine.” His eyes went to the youngest. “It’s going to take another eightday for you to get there, most likely, and that’s if we keep treating you.”
“They can go, and I can’t?”
“You can go,” said Jessyla coldly, “and you just might die.”
“Therran,” said Gustaan, almost wearily. “Without them, you’d be dead. Have some sense, man.”
The older armsman had almost said “boy,” Beltur felt. “Gustaan, you need a couple more days. There’s still a little old and deep wound chaos.” After a moment, Beltur went on. “I said you had two choices. Work for us, and you’ll be paid, or leave Haven. If you decide to work for us, you’ll have to promise that you won’t steal, fight, or cause trouble.” Beltur smiled. “If you don’t think you can abide by that, don’t promise you will. I’ll know you’re lying. So will Jessyla. We’ll ask you for your choice tomorrow morning.”
“Why not now?” asked Turlow, one of the three mostly-healed men.
“Because it’s been raining all night, and it’s still raining … and if you don’t want to work for us and stay … or if you lie, I don’t want you walking wherever you’re going in the rain.”
“What are we supposed to do, beg?” asked Ermylt.
“If you work for the Council, you’ll be fed and can sleep here for a time, maybe a bit longer. If you don’t, I’ll give you five coppers and a warning not to hang around Haven. Considering you were part of a force that tried to kill us, I’d say I’m being more than generous.”
Gustaan nodded.
“Why are you even bothering?” asked Dussef, a stocky red-bearded man.
“We need men to do things. You obviously need coins and a safe place.”
“But we’re armsmen, not crafters or growers.”
“Before long Haven will need town patrollers. If you work hard and well, and we find we can trust you, then you’ll have a permanent position. If it doesn’t suit you, you’ll be healthy and have a few coins in your wallet when you leave.”
“You don’t need to trust us,” pointed out Dussef. “You know.”
“That’s true,” replied Beltur. “But we need to know if the townspeople can trust you.”
Surprisingly, to Beltur, Turlow nodded.
“Now,” said Beltur dryly, “enjoy your quarters. We’ll see you in the morning.”
Once the two had left the tack room, Beltur turned to Jessyla. “What do you think?”
“Gustaan will likely stay. Maybe Dussef. Therran’s just angry. Ermylt will go, and he’ll likely try something as soon as he’s out of sight. Turlow … I don’t know.”
“That’s about what I think. Now … we need to get on with the day … and we’ll see in the morning.”
XIII
Threeday morning, Beltur hunted down Karch, finding him just outside the stable, looking at the thin gray clouds that appeared to be moving south.
“You look concerned,” offered Beltur. “The weather or something else?”
“There’s no point in fretting about the weather. It’s going to do what it’s going to do. I hope we don’t get caught in a downpour on the ride back. No, you have to worry about people. I don’t have a good feeling about that trader … or about the Hydlenese.”
“Neither do I, but you can’t stay forever. It’s not as though you’re leaving tomorrow. Your patrols seem to be discouraging the Hydlenese.”
“Only until we leave.”
That was likely true enough, but Beltur just nodded.
“I’d worried that the disagreements between the Prefect and the Viscount might make matters here worse, and from what we’ve seen it looks worse than I thought.” Karch paused. “What about your captives?”
“This morning we’ll give them the choice of working for us, or leaving Haven.”
“You think some will stay?”
“We’ll see.”
“Good luck with that.”
“I hope so, but you never know.” With a smile, Beltur turned and walked back to the public room, once again checking his belt wallet to make sure he had enough actual coppers.
Jessyla was waiting for him at the archway. “Another tasty breakfast awaits us.” She grimaced.
“At least someone else is cooking it.”
“I’d rather do it myself.” She shook her head. “I never thought I’d say that and mean it.”
Beltur gestured, then followed her into the public room.
Claerk had just brought their ales and headed back to the kitchen when Lhadoraak, Tulya, and Taelya joined them.
“I’m glad it’s not raining,” announced Taelya.
“Did your head hurt yesterday?” asked Jessyla.
“No. I just don’t like it when it’s gray and rainy.”
Beltur found it interesting, and possibly hopeful, that Taelya didn’t seem to get headaches when it rained, given that so many whites did. But maybe the headaches come when whites are older.
At that moment, Claerk returned with platters for Beltur and Jessyla, and ales for the other three. Beltur started to eat. After a moment, so did Jessyla.
As they finished breakfast, Jessyla turned to Beltur. “Are you really going to let the five of them go this morning?”
“I said we’ll make the offer, but we’ll need to saddle our mounts first.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“I don’t trust Ermylt, and I want to be able to follow him. You need to be ready to follow any of the others.” Beltur took a last swallow of the bitter ale, then stood, looking to Lhadoraak and Tulya. “We’re giving the captives the option of working for us or leaving Haven this morning.”
“Will any of them stay?” asked Tulya warily.
“Most will stay, at least for a time. They’ll get a bed and fed, plus a copper a day, and we can use the extra hands in getting the houses repaired and ready to live in.”
“We’ll be watching them closely,” added Jessyla.
&
nbsp; “Good!” replied Tulya.
“Maybe not for them,” said Lhadoraak.
Beltur and Jessyla hurried to the stable, where they groomed and saddled their mounts, after which they made their way to the tack room.
Once there, Beltur said to the guards, “We’re letting them go. Some may stay, but they won’t need guarding.”
“Yes, ser. The captain said that might be happening. Do you want us to stay until you tell them?”
“No. One way or another, your duty’s over.” Beltur watched the pair leave, then opened the tack room door.
“How much longer are you going to keep us?” demanded Ermylt, even before Beltur and Jessyla had a chance to look over the wounds of the five.
“Let us look at each of you first,” replied Beltur. “We can start with you.” He let his senses range over Ermylt, then looked to Jessyla.
She nodded.
Dussef and Turlow were next, and almost before they finished, Turlow said, “I told you I’d be fine.”
“You’ve told everyone more than they wanted to hear,” said Gustaan dryly.
“That’s because you never listen.”
Beltur refrained from suggesting that might be because everyone already knew what the mouthy former trooper was going to say. He moved to Therran. “There’s no wound chaos left, but you should be very careful with that leg.”
“Don’t know that I can do much else … ser.”
That left Gustaan. While Beltur couldn’t sense any wound chaos, there was still some dull redness of healing in the older man’s shoulder. Beltur added a touch of free order. “You still need to be careful with that shoulder.”
“It’s tender enough I don’t need much warning, ser.”
“Are you going to let us go, now?” asked Ermylt.
“In a moment. First, how many of you want to stay and work for the Council?”
“Doing what?” asked Turlow.
“Fixing up houses and buildings. Carrying things. As I said the other day, later, we’ll be looking for patrollers. In the meantime, if you work for the Council, you get fed, a place to sleep, and a copper a day.”
Gustaan nodded slowly. “I’ve had better offers. Not any time recently, though. I’ll stay.”
“For now,” said Turlow.
The Mage-Fire War Page 10
