The Mage-Fire War
Page 15
“That also might help keep track of traders who should be paying tariffs and aren’t.” Tulya smiled sardonically. “But I’d wager more of those will stay at the Brass Bowl.”
Beltur suspected that as well.
After leaving the Council House, he stopped at the healing house and told Jessyla about Aaskar, then returned to the East Inn, where he groomed and saddled Slowpoke. After that, he rode out to the east, and then to the west.
When he neared the defaced kaystone, he sensed some ten riders farther to the southwest, likely on the road to Hydolar, but they were already moving away from Haven. Ten riders … half a squad … more than a recon.
Beltur waited for a time, but the riders kept moving until he could no longer sense them, and since he could also sense no mages, he turned Slowpoke back toward the town, making his way along the side streets until he came to the houses. There, he reined up, studying them for several long moments before proceeding.
The rest of the day, including the patrols, was uneventful, and when he finished the last ride out to the west and rode into the stable, he barely had dismounted when Aaskar appeared.
“Ser! Trader Duurben rode up to the front door. He is arguing with Master Bythalt.”
Beltur frowned. He’d seen no sign of anyone on the west road. “Do you know where he came from?”
“He came from the east.”
Had the trader been watching from a distance and waiting until Beltur headed to the west side of town and out to the kaystone? And then used back lanes to come in from the east? It really didn’t matter in one sense, but it did point out the shortcomings of just one patroller.
Beltur immediately stalled Slowpoke, leaving the unsaddling and grooming for later, which he hated to do, but he needed to deal with Duurben. “You stay here, Aaskar.”
“Yes, ser.”
Then Beltur hurried from the stable into the inn, wrapping a concealment around himself as he did, making his way to the front foyer. As he neared it, he could not only sense the trader, but a wagon drawn by two horses outside the front of the inn, with a driver as well.
Duurben stood in the doorway to Bythalt’s small study.
Beltur eased closer as quietly as he could, trying to hear what was being said.
“… you say I must pay three coppers a night and pay for my horses and wagon as well. That’s not very hospitable, Bythalt, not very hospitable at all.”
“Honored trader … I cannot be hospitable when I lose coins.”
“That’s your problem, not mine. You must be paying your help too much … or perhaps yourself.”
“They cannot work for less.”
“Then find cheaper help. It’s not as though there are many places they can find work in Haven.”
“I cannot…”
“Cannot … or will not?”
“I … cannot…”
“Then I’ll have to change your mind, Bythalt. That would be very unpleasant for you … and for others…”
Shaking his head, Beltur dropped the concealment and stepped forward. “Not nearly so unpleasant for him as it would be for you, Duurben.”
The trader turned, his mouth momentarily open. After a silence, he finally said, “So is this new council setting the prices for inns and everything else?”
“No. We’re letting the inns charge what they think is fair.”
“What recourse do I have if I think the charges are unfair, as is the case of this hovel of an inn?”
“You can go to another inn, or you can choose not to stay here. You can even ask the innkeeper to lower the charge. You can’t threaten him with physical harm. You can’t threaten anyone else with harm, either.”
“That’s not how business works. I’m the one paying for the room. I should be able to bargain for the best price.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t bargain. I said you couldn’t threaten with harm. You can certainly threaten that you won’t stay here if Bythalt charges what you think is too much.”
“That’s not business.”
“No, Trader. Using force to get your way is not a fair way to do business. If you want to stay here, you pay what you can bargain for without using force or the threat of force. And if you threaten the innkeeper, you’ll end up confined and paying a penalty.”
“You can’t do that.”
“If you can threaten an innkeeper, and you believe that’s the way business works, then the Council has the right to work in the same fashion. If you prefer not to pay the East Inn, then you might try the Brass Bowl.”
Duurben scowled. “I’ll bring the matter before the Duchess.”
“Be our guest.”
“I’ll also bring it before the Duke of Hydolar.”
“You’re certainly welcome to do that as well,” replied Beltur.
“You don’t seem willing to make Haven hospitable.” Duurben sneered.
“If being hospitable means allowing people to be threatened and beggared, then we’d prefer not to offer that particular kind of hospitality.”
“You’ll ruin this town.”
“It seems to me that you’ve already done your best to do that.”
“This place was ruined long before I came here,” replied Duurben with another sneer.
From the documents Beltur had read, he had to admit that the trader was likely correct. “That may be, but have you done anything to make it better?”
“That’s not business, and especially not my business.”
“Then it appears it’s the Council’s business, and since what you’ve been doing isn’t making things better, it’s time for a change.” Beltur managed to keep his voice even, difficult as it was.
“You can’t change things just by insisting on unrealistic prices.”
“Most inns across Candar charge three coppers a night, some even more.”
“And you’d know, Mage?” Duurben’s tone was scornful.
“I’ve stayed in inns in Gallos, Spidlar, Certis, and Montgren.”
“Not as bad as this one.”
“My inn is better than many!” insisted Bythalt.
“Worse than any,” snapped Duurben.
“Are you going to pay what the innkeeper asked? Or are you just going to keep insulting people?” asked Beltur.
“You’ll see where this high-handedness gets you. Both of you.” Duurben turned and stalked out.
Beltur let the trader take several paces before he drew a concealment around himself and followed the trader.
Once outside, Duurben walked to the teamster, still in the wagon seat, and said, “We’ll drive on, Baarys. A pox on this place.”
“There’s nowhere else to stay, ser. Except … that … other place.”
“I didn’t say how far we’re going.”
Beltur stopped and watched until Duurben mounted his horse and the teamster urged the two-horse team forward. Then he hurried back to the stable, where he immediately took Slowpoke from the stall and rode out to the main street. He could still sense the trader and the wagon, seemingly pulling up in front of the Brass Bowl. Still under a concealment, he guided the gelding past the square and to the Brass Bowl, where he reined up in the street, but close enough that he’d be able to hear anything the two said when Duurben returned from the inn, presumably after meeting with Phaelgren.
Duurben came out shortly. “He’s not much better, but we’ll stay here tonight.”
Beltur followed the two and waited in the stable yard, still under a concealment, until he was certain that they were settling in for the night. Then he eased Slowpoke away from the inn and rode back to the East Inn, shedding the concealment when he neared the square and he didn’t think anyone was watching.
He didn’t trust Duurben in the slightest, but he didn’t see the point in watching the Brass Bowl all night.
He was also hungry and tired.
XXII
“Fire!”
Beltur bolted awake, yanking on his trousers and boots and throwing open the shutters. He co
uldn’t see any fire, but he could sense chaos—fire chaos—coming from the stable. He didn’t wait to see what Jessyla was doing, except to see she was also throwing on clothes, before he sprinted down the stairs and to the back of the inn, where he saw flames rising from the corner of the stable, the corner nearest where Slowpoke was stalled. The fire only looked to be a few yards wide.
Maybe you can stop it from growing …
He kept running until he was within yards of the flames before, almost without thinking, he threw a containment around the flames, immediately trying to squeeze it tight … and realizing that the fire was larger than he’d thought. Immediately, he could feel heat welling up around him, even as he kept tightening the containment. His forehead felt as though it was on fire, and his trousers and smallclothes began to smolder.
More order … and make the containment smaller.
Good as that idea seemed, Beltur could barely hold the containment, let alone squeeze it, but after what seemed a glass, but could only have been a fraction of a quint, if that, the fire began to die down. For a moment Beltur wondered why, but then he realized that, just like a forge fire dying down when he stopped pumping the bellows, the stable fire was dying down. While the effort to hold the containment was less, he could tell that if he released the containment immediately, the fire would rekindle itself with the inflow of air.
“Can you keep holding that?” asked Jessyla from beside him.
So concerned with the fire had Beltur been that he’d scarcely been aware of her presence. “It’s getting easier, but there’s a lot of heat behind the containment shields.”
“What if we cooled your shields with water?” she asked.
“Try it with just a little. I worry about the cold order against the hot order of the containment.”
“I can help with that,” added Lhadoraak as he hurried up beside Beltur, and added shields at the edge of Beltur’s.
“Is Taelya all right?” asked Beltur.
“She’s fine. I told her to protect her mother.” Lhadoraak paused, then said, “I just hope she doesn’t have to.”
“That makes two of us,” replied Beltur, turning his full attention back to continuing to contain the fire.
Shortly, Jessyla reappeared with a bucket of water, then threw perhaps a third of a bucketful at the shield holding the fire.
Beltur winced as the first bucket of water spayed across the containment and a cloud of steam formed, but said, “You can throw more water than that.”
Each bucket hurt, but less so with each one. After a time, Beltur could compress the containment. More than a glass passed before he released the containment, while Claerk and others soaked the charred wooden wall of the stable. Beltur could feel that his legs were a little shaky, but as soon as the fire was clearly dowsed and out, he made his way into the stable.
Slowpoke was agitated, but not uncontrollable, possibly because he’d been through battles with chaos-fire, and he began to settle down as soon as Beltur began to talk to him. “Quite a fire there, big fellow. Looks like you’re all right. This wasn’t near as bad as that last battle in Elparta…” He patted the big gelding and kept talking for a time before he walked from Slowpoke’s stall to the others, which he checked one at a time, also talking quietly to the other mounts.
Jessyla was waiting. “Your face is red, and you’re going to have a blister or two.”
“I couldn’t think of anything else that would have worked fast enough.”
“You need some ale and more.” She looked to Lhadoraak. “You, too.” Then she guided Beltur toward the inn door, where Bythalt stood.
“You saved the inn … I can’t tell you…”
“They need ale,” declared Jessyla.
“It had to be Duurben,” insisted Bythalt, seemingly ignoring what Jessyla had told him. “I said you should have killed him. He is evil.”
Beltur knew the innkeeper was right—logically. But it hadn’t felt right at the time. Now …
“What did you do to stop the fire?” asked Bythalt.
“Used order to contain the chaos of the fire.” Nothing compared to what I’m going to do to someone. “Now … I need to deal with—”
“Not yet,” said Jessyla firmly. “You’re in no shape to go anywhere. Neither are you, Lhadoraak.” She glared at the innkeeper. “Get them both large ales, Bythalt. Right now. The good ale. We’ll meet you in the public room.”
“Yes, lady mage. Right away.”
Beltur’s legs felt a little less shaky as he walked into the inn and made his way to the dark public room, where the three sat down at a side table.
Bythalt appeared with three large ales almost immediately. “I thought you might need one as well, lady mage.”
“Thank you,” replied Jessyla.
Beltur took a long and slow swallow of the ale. How good the brew tasted told him how much he needed it, since he usually found it barely passable.
After about a quint, he looked to Lhadoraak. “We need to visit the Brass Bowl. Now.”
“Duurben might not be there.”
“He may not, but if he is, we can do something about him.”
Jessyla looked sharply at Beltur.
He smiled. “You aren’t coming. That’s because someone who’s a mage needs to watch the inn, just in case. We will try not to be seen, but I’d rather not spend strength on a concealment.”
She frowned, then nodded. “You’re right, but I don’t have to like it.”
“I don’t like it, either.” Most likely for a very different reason. Beltur stood. “If Duurben or any other would-be malefactor shows up, keep your distance and don’t be gentle.”
“After this? I’m not feeling charitable or gentle.”
“Good.” Beltur turned to Lhadoraak. “We should walk. It’s not that far.”
The older mage nodded.
Once the two were outside and walking west through the misty air past the square, Lhadoraak said, “What do you think this will accomplish? Duurben isn’t foolish enough to stay around after setting a fire … or if he didn’t do it, after someone else did.”
“It will give us a much better feel of the situation.” So I won’t feel quite so guilty when the inevitable happens.
The street was quiet and empty, except for the muted sounds of insects Beltur didn’t recognize, and the air was still and heavy.
Beltur wasn’t surprised in the least when they arrived at the Brass Bowl to find a wall lamp lit in the front foyer and Phaelgren waiting.
“Where’s Duurben?” asked Beltur, his voice cold.
Phaelgren looked from Beltur to Lhadoraak and back to Beltur, then smiled. “I’m afraid you … councilors … missed him. He and his man and their wagon left the inn more than a quint ago.”
Beltur could sense that the innkeeper was telling the truth … and was also pleased. “Did he say where he was headed?”
“He did not. In fact, I didn’t speak to him at all. The sound of the horses and the wagon woke me. They did turn west on the main street.”
“Did you put him up to it … or suggest it?”
Beltur could sense a certain amount of chaos swirling around Phaelgren immediately following his question.
“Put him up to what? I have no idea what you mean.”
That was definitely a lie, but Beltur just said, “Thank you, innkeeper. That’s all I needed to know.”
“Good evening, then,” replied Phaelgren.
Beltur nodded and turned to Lhadoraak. “We’ll leave the innkeeper to his business.”
When they were well away from the Brass Bowl, walking back to the East Inn, Lhadoraak said, “He had something to do with the fire.”
“He likely suggested it. If we couldn’t control it, Phaelgren would have the only inn in Haven.”
“Too bad we couldn’t do away with Phaelgren.”
“With no proof and with what I’ve already done?” replied Beltur. “To make matters worse, even now, Duurben’s delivered a message.”
“Whatever’s necessary to protect them.” Beltur laughed raggedly. “But don’t ask me what that will be.”
“You’re not going after Duurben then?”
“In the middle of the night, the way we feel?” Beltur gave a shrug he didn’t really feel. “He’ll be back. One way or another.”
The two kept walking.
Beltur just hoped he could get some sleep … and wondered how many uneasy nights lay ahead.
XXIII
Despite Beltur’s worries, fiveday and sixday passed without significant incidents, except for several women who brought children to the healing house. Sevenday and eightday were equally uneventful, and that worried Beltur, because he knew Duurben would be back sooner or later, in some fashion, and he might not be alone. The trader would likely try to work through threats to townspeople, and Beltur worried that some of them wouldn’t come to the Council.
He was also concerned about the patrols from Hydlen that always turned away and rode back across the border if they caught sight of him on his own patrols. None of the Hydlenese troopers had stayed long in Montgren territory, but that they seemed to know what he was bothered him.
Even so, by late on eightday, both houses were at least livable, and Julli had promised to deliver three mattresses by oneday afternoon. Jaegyr had said that the first bedstead would be ready in less than an eightday. Beltur had paid for wood for the stoves, as well as feed and hay for the horses, both already delivered. Jessyla had arranged for cookware for both houses from Torkell. Each house had some tables and chairs, and Beltur had commissioned Jaegyr to provide more furniture as he could after the bedsteads.
As the five sat at the round table in the public room in the East Inn, Beltur said, “This is likely the last breakfast we’ll be eating here.”
“Not the last meal?” asked Tulya.
“That all depends on your cooking,” said Lhadoraak.