The Mage-Fire War

by Modesitt. Jr. , L. E.

  “Everything worth anything is work, ser.”

  “That’s true, but…” Beltur let the silence draw out. “… once the Duchess’s troopers leave, I’ll be very surprised if we’ll have the time to work solidly on something like this.”

  “Thought it might be something like that.” Faastah grinned. “We’ll still be willing to work.”

  “I imagine there will be more work. I just don’t know what yet.” Beltur turned to Taelya. “We’d better get started.”

  Before that long, Taelya was inside the cistern, with the smaller container of glaze and the brush.

  Beltur had half hoped that the glazing process would go faster the second time around, but after little more than a glass it was clear that glazing would be just as tedious.

  Late in midmorning, when Beltur and Taelya were taking a break, Karch arrived.

  Beltur immediately left the house to meet him, knowing that the captain’s arrival meant worry or trouble of some sort. “What have your men seen?”

  Karch laughed. “You don’t think I ever have good news?”

  “After what you’ve told us about Haven?”

  “In a way, it’s likely good news … of a sort.” Karch paused to clear his throat, then continued. “We spotted a Hydlenese patrol. We made sure they saw us, and they turned back toward the border. It’s been five days since the last patrol, and the one before that was three days before that. I’d guess that means they won’t be nosing around for at least a few days, maybe as many as five.”

  “Do you think that they’ll actually come into town?”

  “They haven’t before, but the Duke of Hydlen hasn’t paid a white mage to take over a town before, either. They may be prowling around to see how he’s doing, or they may be ready to try to claim the town for the Duke on the pretext that it’s ungoverned.”

  “Even with you here?”

  Karch offered a wry expression and said, “Once we’re gone they might try. They might think that the white mage absconded with whatever the Duke gave him.”

  “Lord Korsaen was of the opinion that others might contest the Duke taking over Haven.”

  “Something may have happened to change the situation. Something he didn’t know about, possibly. Hydlenese troopers this close suggests something’s different.”

  Beltur couldn’t disagree with that. “Do you have any ideas about what may have changed?”

  “Just before we left Montgren, Commander Pastyn said that the Certans and the Gallosians were skirmishing across their borders near the trade roads. It might be that the Duke of Hydlen sees an opportunity to grab a chunk of Montgren while Certis and Gallos are otherwise occupied.”

  “They’ve been exchanging heated words for over a year, and the Prefect increased tariffs considerably. But would the Duke want to distract them?”

  “Do you think any of them care about a small town that doesn’t have much trade these days?” asked Karch dryly.

  Beltur smiled humorlessly. “Not unless it’s to their advantage.”

  “That’s the way I’d see it as well. You still want us to leave tomorrow?”

  “Want?” Beltur shook his head. “But you can’t stay as long as it would take to put Haven itself in a position to change things. One way or another, we’re going to have to deal with it.” And I’d rather deal with it having more golds rather than less. Especially since the more golds that went to people in Haven and not the Duchess’s troopers, the more likely they’d support the new council.

  “I thought you might see it that way.”

  “I’ll see you later,” said Beltur.

  Karch nodded.

  After the captain left, Beltur walked back to the house, thinking about what they could do if the Hydlenese tried to take over Haven.

  As soon as he entered the kitchen area, Taelya spoke. “What did the captain want, Uncle Beltur?”

  “He was telling me that there were armsmen to the west of town. He wasn’t certain what they were doing, but they left when they saw the troopers.”

  “Will you and Father have to fight them?”

  “It may not come to that. They may just be trying to find out what happened to the white mage who was here.” Beltur hoped that the Hydlenese were just scouting out the situation. “We need to get back to glazing.”

  XVIII

  Beltur was up early on eightday morning, not only from habit but because he also wanted to see Karch and the troopers off. While Jessyla was washing up, he made his way down to the stable area, where Karch stood watching as his men saddled their mounts and led them out.

  The captain turned. “All the weapons are in the room next to yours, and the tack is above the stalls of the mounts the mages had. The early patrols this morning didn’t see any sign of the Hydlenese.”

  “Thank you. We appreciate that. What you’ve done has allowed us to get more organized and to learn more about the people here.” Not as much as we need to know, but it’s a start.

  “It will be interesting to see what Haven looks like a year from now,” offered Karch.

  “It should look better.”

  “It already does. You’ve cleaned up the square, and Bythalt’s cleaned up the inn.”

  “That’s because he doesn’t have bravos destroying it, I suspect,” replied Beltur.

  “I do have to say that you made maintaining discipline here rather easy,” said Karch.

  “I can’t believe you’d have much trouble with your men,” replied Beltur.

  “Usually not, but there wasn’t even a hint of difficulty, especially after you took care of the bravo who tried to assault the local woman.”

  “I never mentioned it to your men.”

  “You didn’t have to. One of the captives in your work group told the others that, if they wanted to collect their pay and keep their lives, they wouldn’t try anything like that fellow did.”

  Beltur shook his head. “I couldn’t let him terrify people, especially since he wouldn’t ever change, but dead men don’t spread the word.”

  “That might pose a problem,” replied Karch. “From what I’ve heard, most of the men using Haven as a base weren’t any better.”

  “We might have to stop some of them before they can do anything, perhaps ride some patrols.”

  “Most times, riders will show up in the afternoon, usually late afternoon.”

  Beltur nodded, then said, “Captain, if I might, I’d like to ask a small favor of you.”

  Karch tried not to frown.

  Beltur handed him the two letters and a gold. “If you could talk to Factor Essek or someone who knows traders going to Axalt, we’d like to have this first letter delivered to a factor there. He and his parents took us in when we had nowhere to go in the midst of winter and made life much easier. The second is to Jessyla’s mother. The gold should cover the costs to get them where they need to go.”

  “More than cover, I’d say.” Karch looked down at the name on the front of the first letter.

  Factor Ryntaar

  Mountain Factorage

  Axalt

  “They wanted to know where we ended up and that we were safely here,” added Beltur. “The second letter is to Jessyla’s mother in Elparta. She’s a healer there.”

  “The talent must run in the family.”

  “It does. Her aunt is also a healer.”

  Beltur sensed a strong black presence—Jessyla—and turned.

  “I just wanted to thank you before you left, Captain,” said Jessyla warmly. “We couldn’t have done all we’ve done so far without you and your men.”

  “I’d thought we might need your healing touch, but you and your consort’s magery meant that only the white bravos benefitted from it. I hope they appreciate it.”

  “We’re hopeful those who are left will be appreciative enough to stay around and help.” Beltur shrugged. “We’ll just have to see.”

  “You do have a way of making your point,” said Karch, who then mounted. From the saddle, he added, “
We wish you all the best.”

  “Thank you.”

  Once the last of the troopers had ridden out of the stable yard, Beltur and Jessyla made their way to the public room, where they joined Lhadoraak, Tulya, and Taelya. In moments, Claerk had their beakers of ale on the table.

  “We’re on our own now,” said Lhadoraak.

  “We have been on our own most of the time since we left Elparta,” said Tulya.

  “Even before that,” murmured Jessyla.

  “I was talking to Karch before they left,” said Beltur. “It might be a good idea if we took turns riding some sort of patrols around the town, for a while. He pointed out that most travelers arrive in the mid- to late afternoon. Greeting them just might get a certain message across.”

  “It might not, either,” said Jessyla.

  “That’s true,” replied Beltur, “but at least I’d feel better if I have to do something drastic after they’ve been warned. Also, that would convey to the townspeople that we’re serious about protecting them and not just ourselves. I’ve also thought about wearing the uniform I got as an arms-mage.”

  “You brought that?” asked Tulya. “I thought Lhadoraak was the only one…” She shook her head.

  Lhadoraak just smiled.

  “I’ve never owned that many good garments,” explained Beltur. “And the uniform might send a message.”

  “You already did that once,” Tulya pointed out. “With that bravo.”

  “Often once is not enough,” replied Beltur, trying not to shake his head when he realized what he’d said.

  “I’ve heard that before,” said Jessyla oh-so-sweetly.

  Both Tulya and Lhadoraak tried—and failed—to stifle their laughter. Taelya merely looked puzzled.

  Finally, Lhadoraak said, “How do you want to split it up?”

  “I thought I’d ride out right after breakfast, just to get a better feel of the land immediately outside the town. I think we’ve got a good feel for the town itself, but we really left the scouting beyond the town to Karch and his men.”

  “Then I should take a patrol around midday,” suggested Lhadoraak.

  “That would be good. I thought I’d take another swing around late afternoon.”

  “What about me?” said Jessyla.

  “Do you want to accompany me or Lhadoraak?”

  “You after breakfast and Lhadoraak at noon.”

  A glass later, after Lhadoraak, Tulya, and Taelya left for the houses, Beltur and Jessyla were riding east from the inn, moving at a walk, and trying to take in everything. Beltur realized that he hadn’t been on the east end of the town in days, in fact, not since he’d followed Ermylt to Jaegyr and Julli’s small house. Before that long, they passed Julli’s place, but she wasn’t anywhere outside, although Beltur sensed someone inside, Julli most likely since Jaegyr was working with Lhadoraak.

  Then they rode past Yamella’s—or Zankar’s—well-kept brick house. Beltur could see that the grapevines on the trellises had fully leafed out.

  The gray-haired Yamella waved from her porch and called out, “It won’t be long before Zankar is back.”

  Beltur just made a noncommittal gesture in return.

  “Poor woman,” murmured Jessyla.

  “She’s found happiness in her own way,” said Beltur quietly.

  “But she’s living in a dream.”

  “Would living in Haven the way it is be any better for her? I’d like to make it a place where she doesn’t have to live in dreams, but we aren’t there. We won’t be for a time.” And it could be a very long time.

  The open space between Yamella’s house and the worn brick gateposts indicating the east end of Haven was a patchwork of low bushes and weeds. To the east of the town proper the road ran straight east for what looked to be a good kay, possibly almost two, before it angled south around a low rise topped with trees, below which grazed a small flock of sheep.

  As Beltur and Jessyla rode farther, Beltur tried to sense if there were people beyond the curve around the hill, but all he could sense were two figures near the sheep. They turned out to be a youth who could have been either a girl or a boy and a large woolly white and gray dog.

  “Do you sense anything besides the sheep, the shepherd, and the dog?” asked Beltur.

  “Not near the road. There might be more sheep near the top of the hill.”

  When they neared the sheep, the young woman with the flock guided them farther uphill and away from the road. At that point, Beltur said, “We’ve gone far enough.” He turned Slowpoke, and they headed back.

  Yamella was gone from her porch, but Julli waved from her garden.

  They didn’t see anyone else until they reached the square, where two older women were filling buckets from the fountain.

  When they neared the Brass Bowl, Beltur saw Phaelgren and another man unloading hay from the stable loft into a cart. Unloading? Hay not used by the troopers that he’s selling to someone else?

  Neither man glanced in the direction of the riders.

  “He’s trying to profit off what he charged Karch,” said Jessyla. “Even Bythalt’s not that brazen. Sneakier, maybe, but not brazen.”

  Beltur could agree with that.

  They did see several people of various ages out and about near houses in the west end of town, but all of them quickly looked away, suggesting to Beltur that most of the inhabitants were anything but sure that the new council was in Haven to stay. After the ride, Beltur groomed and watered Slowpoke, and then walked to the houses to offer what help that he could, while Jessyla spent more time working at getting the healing house in better shape.

  In late midafternoon, Beltur first rode out the west road, letting his senses reach as far as possible. Even when he reached the blank kaystone five kays west of town, he still couldn’t sense anyone except a single cart and horse headed up the lane to a small stead. He rode back through town and made the same sweep on the east road that eventually led to Lydiar.

  Then he turned Slowpoke back toward the East Inn, wondering how long before the traders began to return.

  XIX

  By oneday morning, the rain was coming down steadily once more, not quite in sheets, but enough that Beltur couldn’t easily sense that far and that he spent the morning working inside on his and Jessyla’s house. When the rain lightened in the early afternoon, he walked back to the healing house to see how Jessyla was doing.

  “You’re soaked.” Those were her first words. “You should have stayed at the house.”

  “I did all I could with the tools I’d borrowed from Gorlaak. I smoothed down all the rough spots on the windows and doors and inside woodwork. Faastah finished the plastering, and it’s drying … slowly. What are you working on?” He looked at the mortar and pestle on the table.

  “I’m crushing the gypsum into a powder.”

  “So you have it to make casts?” Beltur had only done a handful of casts during his time as a healer in Axalt. The idea was simple. Wet the cloth strips thoroughly, then coat them with the powder and wrap them around the part of the arm or leg that was broken—after the bone had been reset, of course. He’d learned that the “simple” idea was harder in practice.

  “I’d rather not have to make someone wait. Faastah brought me the gypsum.”

  Beltur was thinking about that when there was a hurried rap on the door of the healing house, and then a boy stepped inside.

  For a moment, Beltur wondered who the child was; then he recognized him as the young stableboy. He mentally groped for the name, then asked, “Aaskar, what are you doing here?”

  “Ser … the lady at the Council House said to come here. There’s a man at the inn. He’s got a big knife and a sword, and he’s threatening everyone.”

  Beltur stood up. “What sort of man?”

  “A big man with a sword.” Aaskar gestured almost helplessly.

  “Where? In the inn or the stable?”

  “The inn.”

  “Was he the only one?”


  “I didn’t see any others.”

  “You stay here.” Beltur didn’t sigh, but he definitely felt like it. Just one day after the troopers left and there was already a renegade armsman at the inn causing trouble—and in the rain, no less. “I’ll go take care of it.”

  Although Beltur hurried, his blacks were even wetter by the time he crossed the square and entered the inn. Claerk, standing well back from the foyer, just pointed.

  Beltur kept walking until he reached the foyer, where he stopped a few yards from the intruder. The man in a wet and dirty gray tunic was definitely bigger and broader than Beltur, if not enormously so—perhaps half a head taller with broader and heavily muscled arms, as well as a slight paunch. While he had a blade in a scabbard, he held a long dirk and stood a yard from Bythalt, who was clearly discomfited.

  Beltur wondered how he’d entered the town undetected, but that just might have been because of the rain. He cleared his throat. “You’re looking for a mage?”

  “I’m not looking for a black mage. I heard tell there was a white mage needed armsmen.”

  “Where did you hear this?”

  “In Hydolar. What does it matter to you?”

  “I just wondered. Are you interested in working for the new council?”

  The bravo laughed. “Hardly. Where’s the white mage?”

  “He left,” replied Beltur.

  “Where’d he go?”

  “There were two of them. They went to ashes.”

  “Don’t play games with me, Mage. You do, and people’ll get hurt.”

  “I don’t play games,” Beltur replied. “I told you the truth.” He placed a shield around Bythalt just in case the bravo might try to use the innkeeper to make a point.

  “You just did.” The armsman turned, then slashed at Bythalt. The impact of the dirk on the shield ripped the weapon from his hand. He started to draw the blade from the scabbard, then stopped. He smiled broadly and insincerely. “Well … Mage, you do seem to have some talents. So do I. Perhaps we could work something out.”

  “Bythalt,” said Beltur, “just how much did he threaten you? And please don’t lie to me. You really don’t want to do that.”