“Words can be empty, and uniforms can be bought or stolen.”
“That’s very true,” replied Beltur. “So I will provide some proof, but remember, you asked for such.” He slipped a shield around the captain, and slowly tightened it, watching as the captain began to turn red.
The ensign bearer looked at the captain in alarm.
“If I wanted to kill him, he’d be dead,” said Beltur as he released the containment.
“You—”
Before the captain could say more, Beltur applied a small shield across the man’s mouth. “I could easily kill you. Not a one of your men could touch me. I do not wish to kill anyone. We merely wish to be left alone. Traders who obey the laws are welcome. Those who do not are not.” He removed the small containment.
“That’s little more than a magely parlor trick,” said the captain.
“Are you asking to be killed?” replied Beltur. “I’d rather not, not because you’re worth saving, but because of all the others from Hydlen who will die if I do. So…” Beltur let his voice take on a tired tone … “I’d appreciate it if you’d just escort back to Hydlen this trader whose only real use to you is to try to create chaos so that you can justify trying to take over Haven.”
“You haven’t shown any skills that are truly arms skills.”
Beltur’s voice turned cold. “I’ve killed more men than are likely in your entire army, and I’ve felt the black mists of death of every one. Are you really asking me to kill you to prove that I can?” His eyes bored into the captain.
The captain looked away, if for a moment, then said, “This is only the beginning.”
Beltur could feel the almost palpable anger. “For your sake, Captain … I hope not. I truly do.”
Duurben glared at Beltur.
“Duurben … don’t tempt me,” Beltur said quietly. “You’re here on my sufferance.” Then he stood and watched as the captain gestured, and the Hydlenese—and Duurben and his wagon—turned.
He walked to the healing house, where he untied Slowpoke and mounted. Then he followed the riders and the wagon, some hundred yards back, until they were outside Haven. He reined up Slowpoke and continued to follow them with his senses until he lost them, somewhere close to the border.
It’s just the beginning … And it was definitely going to get ugly, because the captain had clearly been under orders to provoke Beltur … and, in the process of not killing the captain, Beltur had humiliated him in front of his men. But what else could you do?
If he’d let Duurben stay, he would have ended up imprisoning, if not killing, the trader, and once that became known, and it would have, then the Duke would have had a pretext to attack Haven. At present, that sort of reason didn’t exist, but one furious and vengeful captain did.
He’d also have to explain it all to Lhadoraak and Tulya at dinner and see what they thought.
XXVIII
When he woke on fiveday morning, Beltur was still worrying about how the Hydlenese captain might retaliate. While both Lhadoraak and Tulya had agreed with Beltur’s actions when they had discussed the problem at supper, the four adults hadn’t come to a consensus on what the Hydlenese might do next.
Beltur shook his head in the gray light of dawn, trying to sort out the possibilities. “The only way they can undermine the Council is to injure townspeople in order to prove that we can’t protect them. Then … if we stop that, they’ll insist we attacked their troopers who were only doing reconnaissance to make certain that we weren’t mistreating traders.”
“You think that will happen?” asked Jessyla from beside him on the mattress.
Beltur started. He hadn’t realized that he’d spoken aloud. “Uh … I don’t know. That was just one possibility.”
“Couldn’t they just attack and claim that you refused to treat their traders fairly? Or even killed someone?”
“That’s another possibility, but we’ve never seen that many troopers.” He paused, then added, “But he was a captain, and that suggests at least a company.”
“What’s to keep them from just riding in and taking over the town?”
“Besides the five of us, you mean?”
“How could we…?”
“Simply enough,” Beltur said with a sigh. “Let them ride in. Then we start killing them, beginning with the captain and the squad leaders. We could do it, but I don’t think that would be a good way to start. Some of them would escape, and those who did would likely take it out on the townspeople. If they do try to invade, I could put a shield across the road and conceal it, and then watch as the first few riders went down. Then I could reveal myself and suggest they go back to Hydlen.”
“I like that better.”
“They just might charge me, and I’d have to kill some of them … and then we’d be back to the others wanting revenge, even though they started it all.”
“At least, you’d be giving them a choice.”
Beltur shook his head, then sat up. “If the Duke has decided he wants Haven and this part of Montgren, those troopers will be sent against us until either we or they can’t fight. Warning them the next time might—just might—make what we do acceptable to the Duchess and justifiable to the Prefect and the Viscount. That is, if we prevail. If we don’t, it doesn’t matter.”
“I’d feel better if we gave them a chance.” Jessyla sat up quickly.
“They might not do that at all,” he replied. “The captain might have his men raid our growers for forage, possibly with several groups at once.”
“Whatever they do, we’d better get up. You don’t want to face troopers in your smallclothes.”
At that thought, Beltur quickly extended his senses to the main street and road, but could sense no groups or riders.
They dressed and ate quickly, then saddled Slowpoke and another of the mounts they had gained from Elshon, and rode to the square. As they reined up outside the healing house, Beltur said, “Either you or Lhadoraak may need a mount in a hurry, but, if I’m gone for long, please don’t forget to water him.”
After tying the second mount, Beltur rode Slowpoke over to the quarters building while letting his senses range across Haven, finding individuals, animals, occasionally couples, but nothing that felt like troopers or raiders.
Lhadoraak, again, was waiting for Beltur, who decided not to dismount.
“Have you heard or sensed anything?” asked Lhadoraak.
“Have you?”
The older mage shook his head. “You can sense farther than I can.”
“Have you any new thoughts about what the Hydlenese will do?”
“No. Not besides causing some sort of trouble that will try to destroy people’s belief in our ability to keep them safe.”
“That’s my thought as well. If they wanted to ride in and take over the town, I think they’d bring in more troopers and possibly some mages … if the Duke has any.”
“Doesn’t every ruler or council have a few? Even not counting us, the Duchess has a handful of mages.”
Beltur felt a little stupid at his thoughtless remark, but only said, “You’re right. Since the Hydlenese are somewhere to the southwest, I thought I’d ride out and see if I can see anything. Also, I brought one of the spare mounts. He’s tied up at the healing house, in case you need a horse in a hurry.”
“That was a good idea. I just hope I don’t need him.”
“If you don’t, Jessyla will watch him and water him. I thought you’d have your hands full here.”
“It’s looking that way.” Lhadoraak nodded, then said, “Don’t go too far west. They might stay well south of the main road and ride along the front edge of the hills south of town.”
“That looks like rough ground.”
“It does, but there might be a growers’ road there that we don’t know about, and it is close to five kays from the south edge of Haven to the hills.”
Beltur nodded at the gentle reminder that there was a certain distance between how far he could sense an
d where the really rugged slopes of the hills began—a distance that neither of them had explored but only observed from several kays away, and, incidentally, he recalled, where growers like Vortaan, Ennalee, and Samwyth had their lands. “That’s a good point. If they decide to forage-raid, the steads to the south and southwest would be the easiest for them to reach.”
“It’s also the quickest way into and out of Montgren.”
That might not save them if they do too much violence or damage. But that was a thought Beltur wasn’t about to voice. If it came to that, he’d just have to see how matters played out. As the gambler in Axalt had pointed out, life itself was a gamble, and you had to know when not taking a chance was the greatest gamble of all. “I’d better start riding now. They’ll either be on their way here … or it will be another day or so.”
“Let’s hope they take their time,” said the older mage.
So did Beltur, but he wasn’t about to count on it.
He didn’t ride through the back lanes and streets on his way to the west end of Haven. He could do that on his way back, assuming he didn’t run into troopers or other difficulties.
Even when he and Slowpoke neared the repaired brick pillars, Beltur didn’t see or sense any sign of troopers or other riders, not that he expected any so early in the day. And, early as it was, the air was warm and damp, and the sky a clear and brilliant green-blue, definite indications that summer was almost upon Haven.
Should you ride on a little farther? Not too much farther, he decided, but he continued for about another kay. He still couldn’t sense any troopers or groups of riders, even after reining up and concentrating.
After about a third of a quint he headed back into Haven, seeing more people outside and working than he thought he had before. One older woman he didn’t remember before actually waved. Beltur inclined his head in return.
As he neared the square, he recalled what Lhadoraak had said about the possibility of the Hydlenese troopers trying to circle around and attack from the south. So he turned Slowpoke onto the old south road mentioned by Ennalee. Perhaps a kay or so south of the last houses of Haven, he caught sight of three steads ahead, just about two kays from the town, which likely meant that two of those belonged Vortaan and Samwyth. The nearest holding looked almost abandoned, with a small cot, an unpainted and weathered barn, and a tiny shed or outhouse. New-growth weeds sprouted near the sagging poles of what had been a corral.
Farther south, the next two holdings, one on each side of the narrow and dusty road, looked far better kept, suggesting that they were the steads held by Vortaan and Samwyth, although Beltur didn’t see or sense anyone outside whose presence might confirm that. He sensed sheep, a horse or two, but no riders or troopers, even after reining up and waiting awhile. So he turned Slowpoke back toward the center of Haven, wondering when and what the next move by the Hydlenese captain might be.
A quint or so later, as he neared the healing house, he could sense a certain formless chaos, an unpleasant chaos. He immediately rode to the hitching rail, dismounted, tied Slowpoke, and hurried inside. There was no one in the front room, but he could sense Jessyla and two others in one of the rear chambers. Jessyla seemed fine, but one of the others … “Jessyla?”
“I’m in back. I could use your help. Wash up first. There’s clean water and spirits on the side table in the supply room.”
Beltur immediately followed her directions, then slipped into the rear chamber.
“This is Beltur,” Jessyla explained to the woman lying on the table, also nodding to the gray-haired woman standing in the corner. “He’s a mage who’s also a healer.”
Beltur took the moments while Jessyla explained to use his senses on the woman on the table, her large and extended, and very bruised, abdomen, suggesting that she was very much with child even before he sensed the problem … and the chaos surrounding that still figure within the mother. He managed to keep a pleasant expression on his face, but it was clear to him that the child she carried and was trying to deliver was already dead. He looked to Jessyla, who gave the slightest of nods.
“Have you felt any movement in the past days?” Jessyla asked the woman. “Except for the pain that comes with the contractions?”
Tears began to seep from the corners of the woman’s eyes. “No, Healer. Not after…” She winced. “That’s why my mother…”
“Why she had you come here?”
The woman nodded slowly.
“You’ve been injured more than you know,” said Jessyla gently. “We’ll do everything we can … both of us.”
The older woman, standing in the corner behind her daughter, mouthed, “Just save her.”
Jessyla offered a nod that was acknowledgment, but not necessarily assent, and turned to Beltur. “If you’d do what you can about the chaos…”
In turn, Beltur nodded. Much of the chaos around the dead unborn child would likely be expelled by her labor, but that which remained could easily kill her. He’d seen that once in Axalt and been lectured on it by Herrara during his time at the healing house in Axalt more than a few times.
“Oh…!”
Beltur sensed the pain of the contraction, and concentrated on working slowly on eliminating the chaos that most needed to be eliminated.
Two long glasses later, after Jessyla had removed the stillborn child, and the two had done what they could for the exhausted mother, who lay on the table, half-covered by an old but clean blanket, the older woman looked to Jessyla.
“Thank you, Healers. How…?”
“She should heal … if she is careful,” said Jessyla. “Beltur removed the worst of the wound chaos. She needs rest.”
“She will be with me. Now.”
“If she gets very hot, bring her here,” said Jessyla.
“I will, but I do not think that will be necessary.”
Nearly another glass passed before the two left.
When Beltur and Jessyla were alone, they were still finishing the cleaning up, which included bundling up the soiled clothes and blanket that needed to be washed—as did her greens.
“We need help so that women like her can stay longer,” said Jessyla.
“You mean that we need a full-time healing house like in Axalt? It’s going to be a while before we can do that.” Like all too many things that Haven—or the Fairhaven to come—needs.
“I know … but it’s hard.”
“It’s better than before you came,” he pointed out.
“It’s not as good as we could make it…”
“If we had more golds and healers to train? That’s going to take a while.” Before Jessyla could say more, Beltur quickly asked, “Was she the one who came to you the other day?”
“She was. I was worried, but she wasn’t bruised then.”
“Why…?”
“The man she lives with … he was angry that she came here.”
“But you’re a healer. Why wouldn’t she come?”
“He works for Phaelgren. Phaelgren told him to stay away from us or he’d lose his position.”
“Even for healing?”
Jessyla shrugged wearily.
Beltur picked up the bundle of things that needed washing and started toward the front door.
Neither mentioned that they were going to be late for dinner, but then, Beltur wasn’t sure he really wanted any more than a beaker of ale.
XXIX
By midmorning on sixday, Beltur was even more worried, since he’d neither sensed nor seen any sign of Hydlenese troopers, and he was beginning to wonder what their captain was planning or whether he was just waiting for massive reinforcements. Beltur strongly doubted that, after at least five eightdays of scouting Haven, the Hydlenese were simply going to ride away, especially after Beltur’s encounter with the captain on fourday.
But even after two patrols, Beltur could detect no sign of anything untoward until, in midafternoon, he sensed four riders nearing Haven from the west.
Again, he decided not to mee
t them, but to return to the Council House, where he could keep Slowpoke ready and continue sensing the riders as they proceeded. After going to the healing house and informing Jessyla, he returned to the Council House to wait.
“Just four riders?” asked Tulya. “That seems strange.”
“I’d guess that it’s another message. Possibly some sort of demand.” Beltur couldn’t imagine what else could be conveyed by four riders.
Not surprisingly, the four proceeded to the square, where they stopped for a short time before turning and heading for the Council House.
When Beltur stepped outside to wait for them, he was initially surprised to discover the four wore the pale blue uniforms of Montgren troopers, rather than the green of Hydlen.
“Ser…” The lead courier looked slightly puzzled as he studied Beltur.
“I’m Beltur, one of the councilors. I wear the blue uniform when I’m patrolling. It’s actually what I wore when I served as a Spidlarian arms-mage.”
“Ser … might I ask you who was second-in-command at the last post you visited?”
“Captain Raelf was in command.” Beltur had to struggle. “Captain Karch made introductions. As I recall, it was Undercaptain Chald … or maybe Cheld. Cheld.”
The trooper dismounted and stepped forward, handing Beltur a sealed envelope as well as a leather pouch, also sealed with a large amount of pale blue wax. “These are for you, ser, from Lord Korsaen. We’re here to be at the service of the Council of Haven. The dispatch will explain.”
Four troopers showing up and declaring they were sent to serve the Council? What could four troopers do? Beltur didn’t know, but there wasn’t the slightest hint of chaos or deception in any of the four.
“Would you like to come into the Council House? One councilor is already there. I’d like to get another from the healing house.” Beltur turned and opened the door. “Tulya, the riders are troopers from Lord Korsaen. They’ll be coming in. I’m going to get Jessyla.”
Jessyla and Beltur made it back to the Council House before the four had finished tying their mounts. Beltur noticed that each rider had a small duffel fastened behind the saddle of his mount.
The Mage-Fire War Page 20
