After leaving Julli, Beltur turned south on a side street, past the burned-out ruins of both houses owned by the late trader Zankar, then past a smaller house that appeared undamaged before coming to another property where a larger barn, a shed, and the main house had all been burned. There was no sign that anyone had been near the charred heaps.
From there, Beltur turned toward the house where he’d been too late to save the consort of the woman who’d been raped by the troopers. The house was there, and the door had been repaired. Beltur saw no one. He did not slow or stop.
The two followed back streets on the south side of town, where they passed only three more burned-out dwellings, before they reached the lane that led south to Vortaan and Ennalee’s holding. Beltur expected the worst there, but neither holding appeared to have suffered damage.
Based on what Lhadoraak and Gustaan had reported, Beltur and Jessyla had missed seeing several other burned-out houses, but he felt he had a better understanding of what had been damaged and what had not.
When they neared their own house, Gustaan hurried toward them.
“Sers! Ruell, Therran, and Taasn just returned with a dispatch from Captain Raelf.”
“We’ll be right there after we stable the horses,” replied Beltur. A fraction of a quint—or even a full quint—wasn’t going to make much difference, and Beltur saw no point in leaving Slowpoke out in the summer sun.
Still, he hurried through unsaddling Slowpoke and made sure the gelding had water before he left the barn and walked with Jessyla back across to the other house.
Inside were Lhadoraak, Tulya, Waerdyn, and Gustaan, as well as Taelya and the three recent arrivals. Once Beltur closed the door, he took off the visor cap, but no one looked terribly surprised.
Lhadoraak stepped forward and handed the single sheet to Beltur. “I took the liberty of opening it, since we didn’t know when you two would be back.”
“Thank you. That’s what you should have done.” Beltur quickly read the words.
Your reports regarding the unprovoked attacks on Haven and your response have been forwarded to the Duchess and Lord Korsaen. Your ability to defend and repulse such attacks speaks highly of your resourcefulness.
We have requested additional troopers to help repulse Hydlenese assaults. We anticipate a rapid response from Vergren, but cannot say exactly what that will be or when you can expect to know. Some reinforcements from Weevett should arrive within the next few days.
Beltur handed the dispatch to Jessyla, who read it and handed it back.
“That doesn’t offer much support,” said Tulya, her tone of voice verging on outrage.
“What he’s saying is that he’s sending what he can as soon as he can,” replied Lhadoraak, “but to stop the Hydlenese will take more men than he has.”
“That’s pretty much what the captain told us when we left,” said Taasn.
Both Ruell and Therran nodded.
Almost absently, Beltur noted that Therran wore Montgren blues, if without any insignia or emblems.
“How many companies are at Weevett?” asked Beltur. “Just one?”
“Yes, ser,” replied Ruell.
“Does anyone know what the message we didn’t get might have said?” Beltur looked to Taasn, then Ruell.
“It was to warn you that the Hydlenese might attack wearing Lydian or Certan uniforms. According to the captain, Lord Korsaen found out something about that.”
“That would have helped,” said Tulya reproachfully.
“The messenger was captured and killed only a day before the attack,” said Beltur. “I’m not sure that would have changed matters much. Speaking of uniforms … did we scavenge any Hydlenese uniforms? Besides Graalur’s?”
“Maybe three or four,” offered Gustaan. “Most of the rest of them … either … well…”
“Those killed early were stripped by townspeople, and the uniforms of those killed later were … rather mangled?” suggested Beltur.
“Something like that.”
“The fighting between us and Hydlen could go on for a time. We might find a use for captured uniforms. If you’d keep an eye out…”
“Yes, ser,” Gustaan and Waerdyn replied almost together.
“What about Graalur?” asked Beltur.
“His arm is better,” replied Gustaan. “He’s asked to stay here.” The former squad leader’s tone turned sardonic. “It occurred to him that he might not be exactly welcome in Hydlen.”
Beltur nodded. If anyone could convey that to Graalur, it would be Gustaan.
“We were talking about setting up a more formal civic patrol,” said Tulya.
Beltur could see and sense that Tulya’s words surprised Lhadoraak, but he said, “We’d talked about that earlier. Are there enough men to make it workable?”
“You shouldn’t be riding patrols that others could do,” said Lhadoraak. “We’d talked about Gustaan acting as head patroller.”
“Is that agreeable to you?” Beltur asked the former squad leader.
“Yes, ser. Dussef, Therran, and Turlow all would like to be patrollers … and even Graalur. With all the captured mounts and weapons, we’d have enough equipment. Except for uniforms.”
“Gustaan and I have been working on that,” said Jessyla. “Julli says she can do something with the captured uniforms, dyeing and bleaching them into a blue close to the Spidlarian uniforms you and Lhadoraak wear.”
“You do know that there’s still a chance that you’ll be patrollers for a very short time?” Beltur said.
“If we’re being honest, ser,” Gustaan continued, “we stand a better chance of surviving as Haven patrollers no matter what happens. And a better chance if people see us as patrollers soon.”
Beltur laughed softly. “You’re likely right.”
“But, ser,” Gustaan went on, “after what we’ve seen, we think that it’s more likely we’ll prevail against Hydlen than not.”
From what Beltur could tell, Gustaan actually believed what he said. While Beltur appreciated Gustaan’s faith in him, what could he say when dealing with just a single battalion had almost killed him? “We might have an easier time if the Duchess sends some troopers.”
“If I know Captain Raelf, he’ll send everything he can,” declared Waerdyn.
Which won’t likely be enough, and Raelf’s smart enough to know it. Beltur just said, “The captain’s a good man, and I’ve heard he’s an excellent commander. It’s a good thing we’ve got a little time before the Duke can muster another assault.”
“What about the real Lydians?” asked Jessyla.
“They’ve got every reason to support us,” said Waerdyn, “but I’ve heard that they take a long time before they make the wrong decision.”
Tulya winced.
Gustaan smiled sardonically.
“Let’s hope they make the right decision quickly this time,” said Lhadoraak cheerfully. “Now … how soon will we have uniforms?”
“I’ve already got Julli working on redoing the uniforms,” said Jessyla. “They ought to be ready by oneday, if it doesn’t rain.”
“I can have a patrol schedule and procedures written up by then,” said Gustaan, “if you can help me, Councilor Tulya.”
“I can do that.”
Lhadoraak cleared his throat and looked to Beltur. “We will need some coins.”
“Let me know how many.” Beltur paused. “Do we still have records and ledgers?”
Tulya nodded. “I thought it likely they might fire the Council House. So I brought all the ledgers and records—those we have—here for safekeeping.”
Almost a glass passed before Jessyla said, “If that’s all, as chief healer, I need to see that Beltur gets some rest.”
“Would you like me to bring over some burhka later?” asked Tulya.
“That would be wonderful. I did bake some bread this morning. Would you like a loaf?”
“Please.”
As Beltur got up to leave, Taelya hurried into the p
arlor from the small bedroom, hers, in fact. “Uncle Beltur! Are you feeling better?”
“Much better than a few days ago.”
“That black bruise on your forehead isn’t going away, is it?”
“It doesn’t look that way, Taelya.”
“Then everyone will know you’re a black mage.”
Beltur smiled. “That’s certainly one way of looking at it. Thank you.”
By the time Beltur got back to their house, his legs were unsteady, and he immediately sat down on the padded bench in the front room. Then he decided that he’d turn sideways and put up his legs, and just close his eyes for a moment.
It was past midafternoon when he woke, and Jessyla immediately appeared with a beaker of ale. “I’m glad you took a nap.”
Beltur sat up and stretched. “I’m a little sore. That pad isn’t as soft as the bed.”
“I was going to suggest the bed, but you were already asleep.”
Beltur took a swallow of the ale. “This tastes good.”
“It’s the same as always.” Jessyla sat down beside him. “Your natural order/chaos level is better.”
“The way you put that makes me worry.”
“It’s not where it should be, but there’s a great improvement over yesterday.”
“But?”
“I worry that the Hydlenese will show up before you’re recovered.”
“I’ve thought about that, but there’s not a lot we can do about it.”
“Don’t try anything stupid if they come soon.”
“Like using shields as blades?”
“Anything.”
“At the moment, I don’t feel up to anything that strenuous.”
“Good.” She handed him a black leather-bound book. “Why don’t you read this for a little bit? I’d like to go over and help Tulya. She’s feeding everyone.”
Beltur took the volume—the copy of The Wisdom of Relyn that Naerkaal had given him just before they had left Axalt, a time that seemed far longer than just a season ago. “You think this will help?”
“Didn’t Naerkaal tell you that you were a lot like Relyn?”
“Besides,” replied Beltur, “reading will keep me quiet.”
“There is that,” she replied with a smile.
“I promise. I’ll just read … and perhaps get myself another ale.”
“Good.” She rose from the bench.
Beltur took another slow swallow from the beaker, then set it down and began to read, skimming through the first part to refresh his memory, then settling into the next section, the one he hadn’t really read thoroughly, he realized, but must have just leafed through, because he kept coming across passages he didn’t remember reading.
One such passage struck him immediately.
There are those who say that no good can come from killing and that all killing is evil. From what I have seen, there is both a grain of truth in that saying and often a great many grains of untruth. Whether men will admit it or not, weapons and the killing they enable are tools, and how those tools are used determines how evil the death they cause might be … or if that death or those deaths are evil at all. Is the death of an evil man evil? While it is regrettable that an evil man must be killed, at times there is no other way to put an end to his evil. The danger lies not in the killing of those evil, but whether someone who is different is called evil in order to justify his killing. Many of the lords of Lornth called the angels evil, because they were different, possibly also because women held power among them. The angels were not evil, only different, and they did not attempt to take lands of the lords but to live in the cold heights. Yet when they killed those who tried to kill them, all Lornth was told they were evil.
In turn, when the Emperor of Light, who had also decreed that women must be chained, heard that Lornth had been weakened by the angels, he determined to conquer Lornth, as his forebears once had, although they had since lost those lands. The angels not only destroyed his armies, but caused a great cataclysm that leveled all the cities of Cyador and unleashed the Great Forest. Was it evil for the angels to slaughter an army and level a land? Or was the greater evil the attempt to seize lands that did not wish to be part of Cyador?
I must confess that I was not without evil, for as I have written, I also attempted to gain lands through conquest and killing …
Beltur lowered the book, thinking.
XLII
By the time he finished breakfast on sevenday, Beltur was feeling stronger, and he could sense farther, more than a kay, which reassured him somewhat.
“You’re looking very serious,” said Jessyla as she sat across the kitchen table from him.
“I’m doing better, but I worry whether I’m getting better fast enough.”
Jessyla took a deep breath and shook her head, then said, “It takes a good two days to get from Vergren to Haven. Hydolar is something like three times as far away. That means that most likely the Duke hasn’t even heard about what happened here on oneday, and there are more hills between here and Hydolar than here and Vergren. Very few of the Hydlen troopers survived. Even fewer would want to report such a disaster. Even if they did, the Duke couldn’t put together an army overnight. He has to gather men, mounts, and supplies. It’s likely to be at least another eightday before we see any more Hydlen troopers. It might be two eightdays, or even longer.”
“I know … but I still worry.”
“Just what are you worrying about? That you can’t save Haven single-handedly again? If the Duchess doesn’t send a lot of troopers, you’re not going to lose your life over Haven. Is that clear?”
“After all we’ve done…” Beltur shook his head.
“I don’t like walking away, either. But we’re young. We can find some place … somewhere…”
“Maybe we were too impatient,” said Beltur. “Maybe we should have stayed in Axalt.”
“We didn’t. None of us felt all that comfortable there.” Jessyla stood. “You and I need to take a ride. Except for yesterday, Slowpoke hasn’t been out for days. Besides, everyone needs to see that you’re out and about.”
Beltur looked at his consort and shook his head. “Besides, as you aren’t saying, you don’t want me moping around and feeling sorry for myself.”
“Besides, as you say I’m not saying,” replied Jessyla, “if we stay here complaining, I might get even more worried, and that won’t help anything.”
Beltur got up from the table. “You’re right about that.”
Two quints later, after dealing with all the horses, and then saddling up their mounts, Beltur and Jessyla rode toward the square under clear green-blue skies and a white sun whose heat announced that it was definitely summer. Rather than take the main street, they rode along the back streets south of the main road.
“They didn’t fire any houses here,” he said.
“We chased them away from this part of town, remember?”
Beltur was about to say something to the effect that they might not be able to do that a second time when a woman called out “Thank you!” from where she was beating a carpet hung on a rope between two sturdy posts.
Beltur tipped his visor cap in return.
Jessyla waved, then said to Beltur in a low voice, “More of them than you’d think want us to stay. They’re just afraid we won’t, and they’ll be abandoned again.”
“What you’re saying is totally the opposite of what you said a glass ago, you know,” replied Beltur in an amused tone.
“I’m a woman. I reserve the right to have two views on the same matter.” After a brief pause, she asked, “Don’t you? Or won’t men admit it?”
Beltur laughed softly and ruefully. “You know that I do.” The problem was that Haven had been neglected and ignored, but the cost of saving was already high and getting higher, and there was no certainty that they could in fact save Haven, especially without essentially destroying it. “We’ll just have to see.”
When the two rode into the square, Beltur was
more than surprised—in fact he was shocked—to see Worrfan and his wagon set up near the fountain. So he rode closer, then waited until the tinker finished using his pedal grindstone to finish sharpening several knives for a dark-haired older woman that Beltur had seen from a distance several times, but whom he had actually never met. Once she left, he moved Slowpoke closer and reined up.
“Greetings, Mage.”
“The same to you, Worrfan. I didn’t realize you’d stayed here in Haven.”
“I didn’t. I repaired to a safe distance, offered my prayers to Kaorda, and was pleased to see that they were granted, or that you and the other mages were empowered to grant them, and then I returned.”
Kaorda? The goddess/god of order and chaos? Beltur had heard of Kaordists, but he hadn’t realized that there were any believers anywhere in Candar. “I think you’re the first Kaordist I’ve met … well, that I knew was a Kaordist.”
Worrfan laughed. “Whether you know it or not, all you mages are practicing Kaordists. You apply both order and chaos. You believe it works, and the goddess/god makes sure that it does.”
“I can’t say that I ever thought of it that way,” replied Beltur as tactfully as he could, not wanting to offend the tinker.
“It doesn’t matter whether you think of it that way or not. Chaos and order are. They are opposites that can never be completely separated in life, only in death.”
“That’s indisputable,” agreed Beltur cheerfully. “Are there many Kaordists in Worrak?”
“More than a few. Most are pirates. The ones who don’t acknowledge their beliefs are the wealthy whose ancestors were pirates.”
“So everyone is a Kaordist? It’s just that some just don’t know it or acknowledge it?”
“Exactly.”
“How long do you plan to remain in Haven this time?” asked Jessyla.
“As long as I can.” Worrfan shrugged. “Who knows? It may be a few days … or the rest of my life. But then, life is uncertain, and a few days could be the rest of my life.”
“You’re rather cheerful about it,” said Beltur.
“There’s no point in weeping, except in brief grief. Prolonging sadness is just self-punishment.”
The Mage-Fire War Page 33
