The older mage was coming down the narrow stairs. “I thought I sensed you heading this way, but it’s getting hard to tell you and Jessyla apart from a distance. You’re stronger up close, but she’s getting stronger.”
“So is Taelya,” replied Beltur as he turned back toward the open front door. “When I worked with her last night, she could change her shield some. Not enough for a concealment, but she’ll get it before long.”
The two walked out of the building before Lhadoraak replied. “Taelya appears stronger than she is.”
“No … she’s that strong,” said Beltur. “Jessyla is working with her, during the day.”
“Won’t that confuse Taelya?”
Beltur shook his head. “Remember, Jessyla’s the one who got me on the right path. She can sense order and chaos far better than many blacks. It’s the handling of it that she had to learn in a different way.”
“It doesn’t seem that much different from what I can sense.”
“It’s not, but we had to work more through feelings than just thought. That helps with Taelya.”
Lhadoraak pursed his lips. “Do you think more healers could be mages if they approached it that way?”
“Some might, but I think she was always a mage. Because she could sense order and chaos, Margrena likely just thought of her as a healer, since healing runs in the family.”
“It’s something to keep in mind.”
“It is. I’ll let you know when I’m back. I’ll head west first to see if those Hydlenese patrols are still close to the border.”
“They’ll be close. Just how close is the question.”
As he rode past the Brass Bowl, Beltur looked and sensed carefully. He didn’t see any signs of recent arrivals, but it was early in the day for travelers to appear.
Just after he passed the repaired brick posts flanking the road at the west end of town, Beltur sensed people or figures on the road several kays ahead, but as he rode closer, he realized that he’d sensed two shepherdesses moving a flock of sheep across the road to the north side. To him, the grazing looked better on the south side. So he rode closer to the shepherdesses, neither of whom was likely even a young woman yet. Each did have a massive white and gray dog, and both dogs positioned themselves between the girls and Slowpoke when he reined up.
“Shepherdesses, I’m one of the new town patrollers. I noticed you moving the sheep from the grass on the other side of the road. Yet it looks better to the south. Are there raiders or rustlers over there?”
“There were armsmen in green uniforms there early this morning,” said the taller girl, dark-haired and blue-eyed. “Last eightday we lost two ewes. Mother said to move them when we saw anyone. There was just one, and he was riding west.”
“You decided it would be safer on this side, then?”
“They haven’t crossed the road so far,” said the shorter girl.
“Thank you very much. I wish you a good day.” He started to turn Slowpoke, then said, “In case you didn’t know, there is now a healer at the old healing house on the square in town.”
“She’s not old and gray, is she?” asked the shorter girl.
“She’s about my age and red-haired. She’s very pleasant.” With a smile, Beltur finished turning Slowpoke and made his way back to the road and continued westward. He didn’t know quite what to make of the fact that the Hydlenese hadn’t crossed the road, unless the Duke had decided the road would be the “new” border between Montgren and Hydlen.
Even when he neared the defaced kaystone, he could sense no mounted men likely to be troopers. There were others out and about, but all close to fields and steads. When he had reined up beside the kaystone, he blotted his forehead again. The stillness of the air made the day feel warmer than it was, and with summer less than two eightdays away, the air was more than pleasantly warm. He eased Slowpoke into the shade of a tree and blotted his brow again.
Then he concentrated on trying to sense possible troopers, but could discern nothing. After taking a long swallow from his water bottle, he turned Slowpoke back toward Haven.
The ride back to the square was uneventful. Once there, he watered Slowpoke, let him rest in the shade of the Council building for a quint, then mounted and rode out the east road. He saw and sensed only scattered locals, and he had the feeling that nothing untoward was likely to happen for the remainder of threeday.
And that worried him as well.
XXVII
Fourday morning dawned hot and hazy, and when he went out to the barn to feed and water the horses, and, also, to clean the stalls, Beltur couldn’t help but wonder if summer would be even hotter and damper. The house was definitely cooler than the air outside, possibly because of the heavy brick walls and the fired-clay roof tiles. Slowpoke seemed happier in the barn than he had been in the inn stable, but that might have been Beltur hoping it was so, perhaps because the big gelding seemed pleased to see him every morning.
After dealing with the horses, eating, and washing up, Beltur donned the blue patrol uniform, and, as before, he saddled Slowpoke and then led him to the square, walking beside Jessyla. When they reached the square, it was definitely empty, except for Gorlaak and his wagon in front of the quarters building. Most likely Maunsel had left early on his way to Hydolar.
Since no one was in the square, Beltur left Jessyla at the healing house, mounted Slowpoke, and then rode west on the main street. When he reached the kaystone west of Haven, there was no doubt that he was being watched. He could sense a half squad of troopers to the southwest, and other riders farther away, but none of them were moving. Still, after watching and sensing for more than a quint, with nothing happening, Beltur decided not to immediately ride to the east side of town, but to ride back and wait at the square, since he could sense more riders even farther west, but not clearly enough to discern how many there were or whether they were approaching or moving away from Haven.
Once he returned to the square, he tied Slowpoke outside the healing house and stepped inside.
“What is it?” asked Jessyla.
“There’s a half squad of Hydlenese troopers southwest of here. They’re waiting for something.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Wait and see. They’re on their side of the border, or close enough, but I am going to tell Lhadoraak. Then I’ll be back.” Beltur turned and left the healing house, heading across the square.
Lhadoraak must have sensed Beltur coming, because he stepped out of the building onto the narrow covered porch. “You have that determined walk.”
“There’s a half squad of Hydlenese troopers southwest of here. I’m waiting to see what they do. If it’s only half a squad, we can handle them.”
“What if they’re just the van for a larger force?”
“Then we might have to disappear and rethink matters, but I don’t think they’ll just attack or ride in and try to take over the town.”
“Earlier you suggested that they might,” Lhadoraak pointed out.
“They need a reason. They also need to be sure that the Certans won’t send forces against them.”
“Aren’t we supplying a reason?”
Beltur offered a short and harsh laugh. “You have a point there, and before it’s all over we’ll probably give them even more reason.”
“Are you going to go out and meet them if they ride this way?”
“No. I’d rather let them find out what we can do later. Much later. Also, going out to meet them lets them know how well we can watch them. I’d rather be able to claim that they acted without provocation and without any good reason.”
“That won’t help as far as fighting or a battle goes.”
“No … but it will later.” Beltur grinned ruefully. “I’m still an optimist at heart.”
“Someone has to be,” replied Lhadoraak. “I’d say it’s easier when you’re younger, except your life’s been anything but easy. Let me know if you need me to do anything.”
“I can d
o that.”
Beltur walked back to the healing house, where Jessyla stood in the front room, clearly impatient.
“Well…?”
“The Hydlenese haven’t moved. Yet.”
“What should we do if they ride into Haven? What can we do?”
“If they don’t attack anyone or anything, we ask why they’re here.”
“What if they say that they’re claiming Haven?”
“We ask on what grounds.”
“And if they persist?”
“That depends on the situation.”
“Does that mean you don’t know what you’ll do?” Jessyla pressed.
Beltur offered a lopsided grin. “That’s exactly what it means. I really don’t want to reveal what we can do if we don’t have to.”
Jessyla nodded. “I can see that. Surprise and magery are all we have.”
“We also need time.”
Jessyla frowned. “How much time can we afford? With each eightday we have fewer golds, and we aren’t creating armsmen or gathering that much support.”
Beltur shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. What I do know is that one of the weaknesses Haven had was that it had no Council. If we can improve Haven and continue as a council, that makes it harder to claim.”
“I don’t think that will matter much to Hydlenese officers or to their Duke.”
“Not now, but the longer we can put off acting while governing Haven, the more we can tilt things in our favor.”
“Optimist.” Jessyla shook her head.
“Lhadoraak said the same thing.”
“I’d have to agree.”
“Also,” added Beltur, the silence dragging out after the single word.
“Also … what?”
“I can’t think of anything else,” he finally admitted, “but I thought I could.”
Jessyla smiled, then said, “My questions really don’t matter. We can’t let Haven become part of Hydlen, or of Certis, if it comes to that. We’ll have to think of something.”
Beltur nodded, although he wasn’t so sure that he could think of anything more. It was one thing to be a black protecting armsmen who were doing most of the violence. It was another matter to try to find a way to stop an army with just a few mages—even a small army or a few companies. He could only hope that the Hydlenese didn’t ride into Haven with several companies.
Almost a glass passed before Beltur sensed any measurable movement, and what he sensed felt like roughly a half squad of riders was escorting a wagon drawn by two horses and followed by two other riders.
“They’re coming,” he told Jessyla, “about a half squad and a wagon.”
“That doesn’t sound like an invasion.”
“It might be an announcement that Haven now belongs to Hydlen.”
“What good would that do?”
“If no one protests, the Duke has an easy conquest, and he can build a fort here and install a garrison. If we do protest and resist, he could claim that Haven was disruptive and needed order to be imposed—by sending an army.”
“It’s likely to be more gradual,” suggested Jessyla.
“We’ll see very soon. I need to tell Lhadoraak, and then we might as well go next door and wait at the Council House.”
Jessyla nodded. “I’ll wait outside.”
Beltur hurried across the square.
As was often the case, Lhadoraak must have sensed him coming and stepped outside onto the porch just before Beltur reached the quarters building. “Now what?”
“Before long, you’ll be sensing Hydlenese troopers—half a squad. They’re headed into town, escorting a wagon.”
“You didn’t go out to meet them? Or you’d rather not let them know from how far you can sense them?”
Beltur nodded. “The less they know about what we can do, at least right now, the better. That might give us more time to get Haven working the way a town should. I hope so, anyway.”
“It also might make them even angrier when they find out.”
“If they want to take over Haven, we’ll end up making them angry sooner or later.” If we’re successful, and if we’re not, it won’t matter.
“Do you want me with you at the Council House?”
“I’d rather you just kept an eye—and senses—out.”
“I can do that.”
“How is work on the quarters coming?”
“We ran into a problem. We’re replacing a whole section of the upper wall on the north side. Between carpenter ants and rot…” Lhadoraak shook his head. “We’re fortunate the rot didn’t get any farther. I’ll need more silvers for timber.”
“Let me know how much you need, and I’ll give it to you at dinner. Jessyla and I are cooking tonight.”
“Assuming you don’t have a long session with the Hydlenese.”
“I doubt it will be too long … but I could be wrong. I need to go. They’re only a few blocks away.”
“More than that. I can just barely sense them. I’ll watch what happens from here, discreetly.”
Beltur turned and hurried back across the square to where Jessyla waited.
“He’s not joining us?”
Beltur shook his head. “He’ll watch, but I think it’s better that all of us don’t meet them. That’s as much a feeling as anything.”
When they stepped inside the Council House, Tulya looked up. “I got a small ledger from Torkell. Do you want to keep the account of the Duchess’s golds … or have me do it?”
“I’d prefer you do it. I’ll give you a list of what I’ve spent so far tomorrow … or as soon as I can. There’s a half squad of Hydlenese troopers riding into Haven from the west right now. We think they’ll come here. I’ve already told Lhadoraak. He’ll keep an eye out from where he is.”
“Hydlenese armsmen? Lhadoraak thought they might show up before long. What do you want me to do?”
“Just stay here, with Jessyla. I think they only deserve to talk to a single councilor.” Beltur paused, then said, “Unless you think one of you should be with me.”
The two women exchanged glances.
Then Jessyla said, “Not this time.”
Tulya nodded.
Beltur understood exactly what they meant. He managed to keep from smiling ruefully as he stepped outside to wait for the troopers.
Less than a third of a quint later, the half squad of Hydlenese troopers reined up in front of the Council House, where Beltur stood waiting on the narrow plank stoop outside the door. The leading trooper held the pole bearing a square flag split diagonally into two triangles—one white, the other black, a design that suggested a parley ensign, given that Hydlen’s colors were green and yellow. Reined up beside the ensign bearer was a captain, and behind the squad a wagon was drawn up. As Beltur watched, another rider moved forward and reined up beside the officer.
That rider was Duurben, and he was smiling at Beltur, but he did not speak.
The captain said nothing.
“Might I ask what brings Hydlenese troopers into Montgren?” asked Beltur evenly and politely.
“Who are you even to ask?” countered the captain, arrogance in every word.
“I’m one of the new councilors of Haven appointed by Duchess Korlyssa. My name is Beltur. Now … why are you here?”
“Councilor, I am here only to assure that traders, especially traders from Hydlen, are being received fairly. Trader Duurben believes that you intend him harm. The Duke would be most displeased if Hydlenese traders were ill-treated. I’m certain you understand that could create ill will … and certain … difficulties…” Behind the polite phrases lay impatience.
“I can certainly understand that, Captain, but you have escorted Trader Duurben back under a misapprehension. While I am most certain that you have responsibilities, those responsibilities are limited to what happens in Hydlen, unless we are at war, which I don’t believe we are. Surely you must also understand that traders, from wherever they hail, must obey the laws of Montgren. Trader
Duurben threatened an innkeeper twice with physical violence and set fire to the stable of that innkeeper. When I finished dealing with that fire, he had fled Haven.”
“Those are all lies. Lies,” replied Duurben smoothly.
Beltur looked coldly at the trader. “Black mages don’t lie. These were not the first times you’ve abused people here.” Then he turned to the captain. “I realize that the trader’s falsehoods and your responsibilities leave you in a difficult position, but Duurben is not welcome here. Given his history of violence and abuse, the Council of Haven cannot be responsible for his life or safety. Other traders, however, are welcome so long as they do not abuse citizens and so long as they obey the laws.”
“The Duke must insist—” The captain’s voice rose, but remained cold.
“Haven is in Montgren. The Duchess rules here, not the Duke.”
“The Duke will not be pleased, and you may regret this.”
“Captain, Duurben harmed and threatened our people. That doesn’t count the evils he did before we arrived.” Despite the other’s obvious anger, Beltur smiled pleasantly. “For your sake, Captain, it might be best if you didn’t press the case of an evil man.”
“He is a citizen of Hydlen, and the Duke stands behind him.”
“The Duke may stand behind him in Hydlen. That is his prerogative. But a trader who has repeatedly broken the laws and assaulted people is not welcome here. How the Duke treats such a trader in Hydlen is up to the Duke. How the trader is treated in Montgren is up to those carrying out the wishes of the Duchess.”
“I do not see any armsmen here,” observed the captain, almost ironically.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d avoid threats, veiled or otherwise.”
“It’s said you’re a black mage. Blacks are not known for their warlike skills.”
“I’m glad you phrased it that way. We aren’t, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have such skills. You might ask what remains of the army that the Prefect of Gallos sent against Spidlar. And yes, I am wearing the uniform of an arms-mage of Spidlar.” Beltur smiled, despite his own growing anger with the arrogance of the captain.
The Mage-Fire War Page 19
