The Mage-Fire War

by Modesitt. Jr. , L. E.

  She looked at Beltur and smiled. “I’ll ride over to Tulya’s and tell her that you’ll be storing more weapons in her cellar.”

  “At least until we can build an armory … or rebuild something.”

  “That’s going to take a while.”

  Beltur was afraid she was right.

  Another glass and a half and a third wagonload later, Beltur and the troopers had stowed all the weapons so far collected and wiped off. While they certainly represented a great deal in silvers and golds, there was the question of who would ever buy them. Even if the Council could raise and pay a few squads of troopers, Haven would likely never need that many weapons.

  A good smith could use all that iron. But a good smith was something else that Haven didn’t have at the moment.

  When the third wagon left, Beltur washed his hands and face, again, saddled Slowpoke, and then rode to the East Inn. He finally found Raelf outside the far south end of the stable, watching a handful of troopers trying to replace an axle.

  The majer turned. “You got the weapons, I take it?”

  “Three wagons’ worth.”

  “There will be another in a day or so. We should have those uniforms by then.”

  “What did you report to the Duchess? Or Korsaen?” That was something that he should have asked earlier, but he hadn’t been thinking all that clearly.

  “They each got the same report. I reported what happened.”

  That could mean anything.

  Raelf smiled wryly, obviously in response to Beltur’s skeptical expression, then said, “I made it simple. We were outnumbered four to one. You three mages managed to destroy over half their force and cripple more than that. Together we killed or wounded, mostly killed, more than fifteen hundred Hydlenese, not counting the battalion you destroyed earlier. Lhadoraak was killed in destroying more than a company. The Lydians lost close to two-thirds of their men, one captain, and Majer Rojak. We lost more than half. We’re doing our best to clean up the bodies and other carnage.”

  “That’s all?”

  “I wrote it almost that bluntly. Except for suggesting a letter to the Duke praising Rojak for his heroic and gallant efforts.”

  “How long do you plan to stay in Haven?” asked Beltur.

  “I’d thought at least another eightday for the Weevett company. What’s left of Reynaard’s company will be leaving for Woolsey the day after tomorrow. Knutwyl has squads patrolling the border south and west of Haven. That’s to deal with any Hydlenese stragglers. It’s going to take another few days. The Lydian companies will be leaving on eightday. That’s to allow some of the riding wounded a little more time. Zekkarat’s senior. He isn’t looking forward to reporting to Duke Halacut. I wouldn’t be, either.”

  “Couldn’t he find a place in Montgren? He was very effective.”

  “I mentioned the possibility … if things go poorly for him. The Weevett company will need a new captain. I think Lord Korsaen would find him acceptable, but I can only recommend.”

  “He’d make a better majer than Rojak did.”

  “That’s why Duke Halacut won’t promote him.”

  “Is Halacut as incompetent as he seems?”

  “More. He’s also losing, disgracing, or driving away advisors who try to counsel him honestly and wisely.”

  “And the Duchess was willing to lose all those men to help him?”

  “Helping Montgren. Would you want to turn over Lydiar to Massyngal?”

  Beltur shook his head. Left unsaid was the fact that the Duchess didn’t have either the troopers or the desire to conquer and hold Lydiar. Especially now.

  “Why else would Korlyssa essentially turn over a part of Montgren to you?” asked Raelf.

  “Because all the alternatives were worse.” And because she wanted us to pay enough for it that we’d guard Montgren’s southern border, if only to save ourselves. “She and Korsaen planned it well.” He couldn’t quite keep all the bitterness out of his voice.

  “They planned it the only way they could. While your costs were high, it also wasn’t exactly without cost for Montgren, either. You saw that.” Raelf offered a sad smile. “Is there anything else you need at the moment?”

  Since Beltur didn’t, and since the question was almost a polite dismissal, Beltur returned the smile. “Not now. We appreciate all you’ve done, and we’ll look forward to receiving those uniforms whenever you have them.”

  “It shouldn’t be long. Now … if you’ll excuse me…”

  “Of course.” Beltur turned and walked back to where he’d tied Slowpoke, wondering slightly about the majer’s reserve. Because you didn’t acknowledge enough the costs to Montgren?

  After mounting, he rode out of the yard and turned Slowpoke west on the main street, toward the Brass Bowl. There was something about Raelf’s last words about costs … something …

  Beltur stiffened. Raelf had said that the battle and the defeat of the Hydlenese hadn’t been “exactly without cost for Montgren” … as if Haven were no longer part of Montgren, but something separate.

  Another message from the majer, and all of them saying the same thing—that Haven was and needed to be independent … and that Raelf wasn’t completely happy about it, as if it were a bitter necessity.

  But making that happen was going to be quite a challenge.

  LXIX

  On fiveday evening, Jessyla and Beltur fixed dinner. Beltur did wonder where Jessyla had found the duck that went into the cassoulet along with the white beans.

  As Tulya set down her spoon after finishing the last bean in her bowl, or perhaps the last scrap of duck, she looked to Jessyla. “This was good.”

  “It was excellent,” added Beltur. “I’ve never had anything like it before.”

  “How did you come up with it?” asked Tulya.

  “We stopped by Julli’s. She had a scrawny drake that was being difficult. She said she was ready to wring his neck, and that she’d rather sell him to me.” Jessyla looked a trace sheepish. “I had to ask her how best to cook the duck.”

  “I never would have known,” replied Tulya.

  “I had her wring his neck as well,” confessed Jessyla, adding before Tulya could say anything, “I couldn’t do it. After … everything … I couldn’t kill a duck for dinner. Somehow … that seems…” She shrugged helplessly. “Ridiculous … stupid … I don’t know what…”

  Beltur understood how she felt. He wasn’t sure that he could have killed the drake, either, not at the moment.

  “Maybe you just couldn’t kill anything else,” said Tulya.

  “It didn’t even look helpless. It looked as mean as Julli said it was. We needed something for dinner. Yet I just couldn’t. It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It makes sense,” declared Tulya. “I can’t tell you why, but it does.”

  “It tasted good,” said Taelya. “Aren’t ducks meant to eat?”

  “It tasted very good,” added Beltur, trying to suggest that enough had been said about the unfortunate but tasty drake.

  Jessyla refilled the beakers at the table with ale from the chipped pitcher, then said, “You might be interested in what Raelf told Beltur today.”

  “It’s more like he revealed it,” Beltur explained.

  “He doesn’t seem the type to disclose what he doesn’t wish to,” replied Tulya, not quite tartly. “So … what was it?”

  Beltur smiled crookedly. “That the Duchess is either accepting or resigned to the fact that we’ll become independent from Montgren.”

  “He actually said that?”

  “Of course not,” replied Beltur, “but every time I’ve talked to him since the battle, he’s made a comment that either hints at or suggests it. He can’t do more than that. Sooner or later, if we do become independent—”

  “No,” said Tulya coldly. “We pretend to be her councilors and press for every gold we can find while we do our best to make Haven as independent as possible. She owes us more than we’ll ever get. But we should
take everything we can.”

  Beltur definitely understood Tulya’s feelings.

  “In time,” added Jessyla, “we should change the town’s name.”

  “To what?” asked Tulya.

  “To Fairhaven. We’ll offer a fair haven to anyone who comes here and obeys the laws and pays the tariffs.”

  “We’ll get riffraff and worse,” said Tulya.

  “Not if we make them promise to behave and throw them out or execute them if they go back on their word. And we won’t accept them if they lie to us in the beginning.”

  “We’ll need our own code of laws,” said Beltur.

  “Who’s going to write them?” asked Tulya.

  “Well…” began Beltur with a smile, “we do have a justicer who’s studied the Montgren laws more than anyone else…”

  “You think I should…” She stopped. Then she nodded. “You’re right. We’ve seen enough bad laws.”

  “We’re going to need them fairly soon,” added Beltur. “Gustaan is talking to some of the Hydlenese wounded and prisoners.”

  “You and Jessyla will talk to those he thinks are suitable, I assume.” Tulya’s words were anything but a question.

  “We will, but I think you and Taelya should be there as well.”

  “Taelya?”

  “She has a good sense for feelings,” Beltur said.

  “I need to think about that.”

  “That’s fine. We won’t be doing that for a day or two.” Beltur paused, then ventured something he worried about, but felt was necessary. “We also need to get back to teaching Taelya more about handling order and chaos.”

  “Can we? Tonight?” asked Taelya.

  “Yes, you can.” Tulya smiled.

  While the smile was real, Beltur also sensed something beneath, a certain … something.

  Not anger, not sadness … determination.

  “Father said that I needed to work very hard at being a strong mage.”

  “When did he say that?” asked Tulya, clear curiosity in her words.

  “Before the big battle … before he left.”

  Beltur saw Tulya look away, unable to look at her daughter.

  “He was right,” Jessyla said quickly. “He worked hard at being a good mage.”

  “Will I be as good?”

  Beltur managed not to swallow, then said carefully, “You’ll have to work very hard to be as good a person as your father. You’re a different kind of mage. So there’s no way to compare what you might be to him, but you could be a very, very strong mage if you work at it.”

  While Taelya was looking at Beltur, Tulya quickly blotted her eyes with her sleeve, then said, “It’s getting late. If you want a lesson from Uncle Beltur, you two need to go into the front room and work there while Aunt Jessyla and I clean up dinner.”

  “Are you sure, Mother? I could help first.”

  “No. You need your lesson, and we’ll be fine in the kitchen.”

  Beltur stood. “You’ve been keeping your order and chaos where they should be very well, and that means you just might be able to try a stronger kind of shield.” He gestured toward the front room.

  Taelya slipped out of her chair and hurried from the kitchen.

  Turning back to Tulya, Beltur asked, “How long before you’d like to go?”

  “Not until Taelya’s done as much as she can for the evening.”

  Although Tulya’s words were even, Beltur sensed the cold iron beneath them. He felt like shivering, despite the warmth of the summer evening. Then he nodded and followed Taelya into the front room.

  LXX

  On sixday morning, Beltur and Jessyla slept late, or late for Beltur, since he didn’t get out of bed until after seventh glass. He still felt tired, even though Jessyla assured him that his order/chaos levels were much better, and in the late morning they made the rounds of the wounded of both sides. The rest of sixday was relatively quiet, and Tulya and Taelya joined them to finish off the duck cassoulet, along with some bread Beltur had baked.

  Sevenday morning, both Beltur and Jessyla were up earlier, not early enough to see Reynaard’s company riding out, but early enough that they finished their rounds of checking the wounded before ninth glass. As they were about to leave the East Inn, Bythalt edged toward them.

  “Mages…”

  “Yes?” Beltur managed to keep his voice level, despite the feeling he had that Bythalt was about to complain about something.

  “I would not wish to seem ungrateful…”

  “Then you shouldn’t,” replied Jessyla even before Beltur could say a word. “What problem do you have now?”

  “The Lydian majer … he paid for the fare of the Lydian troopers…”

  “And no one is paying you now?” asked Beltur.

  “No, ser.”

  “Did you talk to Majer Raelf about it?”

  “He is from Montgren.”

  “Talk to him. He’s in command of the entire force.” What’s left of it.

  “I had hoped…”

  “That we’d do the dirty work for you?” interjected Jessyla.

  Before Jessyla could say more, Beltur immediately said, “Talk to the majer. If you still have problems, then let us know.”

  “Yes, ser,” replied the innkeeper, dejectedly.

  “You come to the Council as the last resort, Bythalt,” added Beltur, “not as the first step.”

  “Yes, ser,” replied Bythalt, no less dejectedly than before.

  Beltur just nodded, then turned away.

  “How has he even survived as an innkeeper?” asked Jessyla once they had left the innkeeper and were walking out of the inn.

  “That’s how. By being subservient and apologetic to anyone with power … and pleading with them to solve any problems he has. Once we get Haven back together, he’ll have to change his approach. It took me a while to realize that.” Beltur laughed ruefully. “It’s taken me a while to realize a lot of things.”

  “Later’s better than never.” She smiled and added, “And it’s not that much later. We’re still young.”

  “At the moment, I don’t feel that young, and I don’t feel that much wiser, either. I wish I did.”

  “Auntie once said that anyone who had any brains never felt wise. The more they knew, the more they understood how much they didn’t know.”

  “Your aunt said that?”

  “Beltur … she may be sharp-tongued, but she’s seen a lot.”

  After a moment, Beltur nodded. “That’s fair.”

  “You’re headed to the stables. I thought you said we had to see Gustaan.”

  “I thought we’d ride over. It’s market day, and you told me that the larder was bare, or almost so. I assume that the baskets you put in your saddlebags were for a purpose. So … if we ride over, we wouldn’t have to lug everything back to the horses.”

  “Do you think there will even be anything for sale? Anything we can use, I mean.”

  “There will be. The Hydlenese didn’t have a chance to raid the steads this time. Also, there will be some troopers with coins that they got from the dead greencoats. Those with anything to sell will know that.”

  As soon as the two stepped out of the inn, Beltur looked west. While the square wasn’t exactly thronged, especially not in comparison even to Axalt, there were more carts and wagons than he’d ever seen in Haven, and several score troopers walking between them.

  “I hadn’t thought about the looted coins,” said Jessyla. “Or wanted to forget.”

  “They haven’t,” said Beltur, untying Slowpoke.

  “Did you ever … back in Spidlar?”

  Beltur laughed. “You might recall how I ended up after almost every skirmish or fight. I never even had the chance to be tempted. The one time I did have a share of spoils was from arms captured from Analerian brigands, and we never even had a chance to collect the coins from their sale because the next day Uncle was dead and I was hiding in your house.”

  “I wouldn’t say you were hiding.
”

  “Looking for refuge, then.”

  “It’s a good thing you were. I don’t think either Mother or Athaal realized how dangerous Gallos was getting for blacks.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

  Jessyla smiled. “I didn’t either. Not until later.”

  They mounted and then, because the square was relatively crowded, they rode around the south side, past the charred ruins of the Council House and the healing house and then up the west side to the quarters building. Even so, several of the troopers in the square gestured toward them, and one young trooper hurried away, although he wasn’t close to being in their way. Beltur saw that Gustaan had three men posted around the square—Dussef, Turlow, and Graalur.

  As they approached the quarters building, Beltur saw Zekkarat standing there talking to Gustaan.

  As they reined up and dismounted, the Lydian captain turned. “Mage-Captains … I didn’t want to intrude on your healing, but I’d thought you might come here or to the square after you finished.”

  Beltur and Jessyla tied their mounts and joined the Lydian officer on the narrow porch.

  Gustaan eased away, walking to the end of the porch, suggesting that he realized Beltur and Jessyla needed to talk to him, but clearly understanding that Zekkarat wanted a few moments with the two.

  “You’re heading back to Lydiar tomorrow, I heard,” said Beltur.

  “I am. Not without … certain concerns.”

  “Such as Duke Halacut not understanding how successful you were against terrible odds? Or how you likely saved Lydiar from being invaded?”

  “The Duke only understands losses,” said Zekkarat. “Not the cost of avoiding far greater losses.”

  “That’s unfortunately true of other rulers as well,” replied Beltur. “Without you and what you did to support Majer Raelf, we all would have lost far more.”

  “What my men did was only possible because of what you mages did. Without you, we’d have been slaughtered to the last man. I know that. The Duke will likely not accept that in his heart, no matter what his words say.”

  “If matters go badly … I suspect Lord Korsaen might look upon you with great favor,” Beltur said quietly.