“I can’t read what he writes. You can. I would have asked you…”
“I’d be happy to do it, but I do like to be asked.”
“It might be nice,” added Talanyr, who had followed Rhiobyn. “Even if Rahl is a trained scrivener, it might help your skills if you took on the harder copying once in a while.”
“That just shows how backward Recluce is. Scriveners… what a waste. Why don’t they print books?”
“They do in Nylan,” replied Rahl, “and they have circular presses there.”
“How do you know that?”
“They had me learn about one there. I helped operate it for a little while.”
“A pressman… lowbred…” muttered Rhiobyn.
“Better lowbred and able than wellbred and condescending,” suggested Talanyr.
“You have a comment for everything, Talanyr, and someday you’ll choke on your words.”
“That’s possible,” admitted Talanyr, as he settled into his chair at the copying table, “but at least I’ll enjoy the taste of them.”
Rhiobyn’s only reply was a muffled snort.
Rahl returned his full attention to Shaelynt’s report on having to remove an overseer for cruelty to a slogger team. The more he thought about it, the more seeming contradictions there were in Hamor. Men were used as laborers, even beasts of burden, and yet the mage-guards protected them. Hamor reveled in its fleets and commerce, but prohibited mages from taking any part in commerce. Good mage-guards—like Taryl—were stationed in places like Luba, and evil ones, like the one who had attacked him in the merchanting building, were stationed in Swartheld.
Would he ever make sense of it? Could he accept all the contradictions?
LXXXIII
After three days of intermittent drizzle, and a downpour on eightday, when Rahl decided he did not want to go to Guasyra, the weather cleared briefly on oneday, only to have the drizzling light rain reappear on twoday.
In late midmorning Rahl looked up from his copying to see Taryl standing in the doorway. Rhiobyn was sparring, and Rahl didn’t know where Talanyr might be. ,
“Good morning, Rahl.”
“Good morning, ser.”
“What are the duties of the Mage-Guard Overcommander?”
“The overcommander is the direct supervisor of all mage-guard stations in Hamor, ser.”
“That’s a description, Rahl, but it doesn’t tell me what he does.”
Rahl tried to recall anything that might have been in the Manual or that Taryl or Khaill or any mage-guard had said. He didn’t recall anything at all. “Ser… I imagine that he has to review the reports from the stations and decide whether those stations are well run. He must .also have to report to the Triad, and make recommendations to them.” Rahl looked directly at Taryl. “Ser, I’ve read the Manual and the Codex from cover to cover, and I cannot recall anything .about the overcommander’s duties.”
Taryl laughed. “That’s because there isn’t anything . written about it. What about the duties of the mage-captain here at Luba?”
“They’re laid out in the duty book.”
“Have you read it?”
“Yes, ser.‘
“Is there anything in the Manual about the duties of a mage-captain?”
“I only recall that mage-captains are responsible for the effective and loyal operation of their stations in the best interests of the Emperor and in accord with the standards set forth in the Manual.”
“Why do you think that more specific requirements are not laid out in writing in the Manual or the Codex?”
Rahl had no idea. He couldn’t even guess. “I couldn’t say, ser. I don’t know.”
“Think about this. If a mage-captain is not honest and effective and loyal, of what use are detailed written procedures? Then think about this. Should Swartheld station be operated in exactly and precisely the same fashion as Luba station or Highpoint station or Cignoerne station or Atla Station? Could you write a meaningful set of procedures that would cover all of them?”
“No, ser.”
“That’s why all procedures are set forth in the local duty books, and why the training and standards for mage-guards are as they are. We don’t care so much from what background a mage-guard comes as we do about that guard’s effectiveness, honesty, and loyalty. That’s not to say we don’t have our bad pearapples. That can’t be avoided in any large group that has power, but we do our best to remove them when we find out.” Taryl gestured. “Leave the copying. We need to work on something else.”
“Yes, ser.” Rahl rose, picking up his cap and following the mage-guard.
Outside, the rain had diminished to a light drizzle that seeped out of the low-hanging gray clouds. To the north, over the ironworks, the clouds held a reddish orange hue. Taryl walked to the waiting wagon and, after pulling a cloth from under the second seat and wiping it off, climbed up and sat down. He handed the rag to Rahl, who wiped off the other side before seating himself.
“Blast furnace number one,” Taryl told the driver.
Blast furnace? Rahl didn’t ask aloud. Taryl would tell him in his own good time.
Taryl waited until the wagon was headed away from the station before continuing. “A mage-guard, particularly one who is a natural ordermage, can never afford to be surprised or startled. He or she has to have an internal confidence, an assurance based on both experience and feelings. Your problems, I suspect, occurred because your confidence was greater than your experience, and because Reduce fears giving those such as you the necessary exposure to events and situations that will widen your experience.”
Rahl hadn’t thought of it in quite that way, but what Taryl said made far more sense than anything he’d heard in either Land’s End or Nylan… with the exception of what little he had learned from Deybri, and he hadn’t known enough to build on what she had said. “Still… no matter what we do to prepare you, there will be the unexpected, but these and other exercises should give you an experience-based confidence that will allow you to face the unexpected. That is our hope, but you are the one who will have to make it work.”
That sounded a little too much like the magisters of Nylan for Rahl, but he knew Taryl didn’t mean it in the same way.
Before that long, the- small wagon came to a halt on the southwest side of the southernmost of the blast furnaces. A misty steam surrounded the upper levels of the structure. Rahl followed Taryl along a stone walk toward the furnace, but he glanced westward along the causeway with the grooved iron rails that led to the mills. Halfway between was one of the steam tugs, moving slowly away from Rahl and toward the southern mill.
The misty rain continued to seep out‘ of the clouds above, and heat and steam rose from the sand molds north-of the walk, giving the hot air a damp and metallic odor. Taryl moved briskly to a portal at the base of the outer wall, then through it, as did Rahl.
Once inside, a wave of heat, like a wall of invisible flame, slammed into Rahl, and he stopped well short of the circular brick wall that contained the crucible itself.
“See if you can raise a shield against the heat,” suggested Taryl, who had already done that.
Rahl let himself feel everything around him before thinking about shields and trying to let them flow into place before him. The worst of the heat subsided, but he became even more aware of the raw chaos that lay beyond the crucible that held molten metal.
“Closer…” ordered Taryl. “Feel the power, but use your shields to keep it from you.”
Rahl edged closer.
“Follow me.” Taryl gestured, then walked to his left, toward the plug gate being opened by a pair of ironworkers. ‘ Eventually, Rahl was standing almost directly beside the molten iron as it poured from the furnace along an inclined stone channel into the sand mold farther to the west. Even behind his shields, he was hot and sweating profusely.
Then, with a hiss and sputter, droplets of iron, like heavy chaos, splattered against his shields. For a moment, Rahl felt everything slipp
ing, and he concentrated on holding the feeling of the shields, watching as the droplets struck his shields, then slid off onto the layer of sand over the stone floor.
After a time, Taryl motioned, for him to step back.
Rahl did, following the mage-guard away from the lower levels of the furnace and then out through the narrow doorway. As he stepped out into the afternoon drizzle, mist and fog surrounded him.
“Your shields still absorb the heat-chaos,” Taryl pointed out. “Let them go slowly.”
The warm drizzle felt cool compared to the residual heat that had been held within his shields, and Rahl just let the pinpoints of rain bathe him for several moments.
“Each of those droplets of molten iron has as much force as a chaos-bolt,” Taryl said. “More than the chaos thrown by most renegade or foreign mages.”
“I didn’t expect that,” Rahl admitted.
“You weren’t supposed to.” Taryl offered a faint smile. “Now… tell me what you feel the difference is between the chaos in the furnace and the chaos when a mage throws a chaos-bolt.”
Rahl considered before speaking. “The chaos in the furnace is… more chaotic. There’s ho sense of order about it at all. It’s almost all power. But when a chaos-mage throws a bolt, it’s different.” ,
“How so?”
“It’s like it has some chaotic order… but the order’s not quite right.”
Taryl nodded. “The chaos of the molten iron is what one might call honest chaos. A chaos-bolt contains a corruption of both chaos and order. That’s one reason why
It’s so corrosive. It’s also why an ordermage of equivalent strength can never be defeated-by the power of a chaos-image alone.“
Rahl noted the careful phrasing Taryl used, but did not comment.
Taryl looked northward, where darker clouds were massing. “We need to get moving, unless you want to get soaked—or exhausted trying to hold an order shield against a downpour.” He walked toward the waiting wagon.
With a smile, Rahl joined him.
LXXXIV
All mage-guard actions must be in accord with the Codex of Hamor and taken on behalf of the Emperor’s best interests. Verbal or written ridicule or criticism of either a mage-guard or an administrator, or even of the Emperor, is not a violation of the Codex. Nor shall any book, pamphlet, or leaflet containing criticism be considered a violation of the Codex. Riot, civil disobedience, or physical violence in any form against the Emperor, his officers, any designated subordinate, or a mage-guard is a violation and should be halted instantly, by whatever means necessary. Likewise, incitement to civil disobedience, or physical violence in any form against the Emperor, his officers, any designated subordinate, or a mage-guard is a violation of the Codex and shall be punished as indicated…
In instances where compliance or violation of the Codex cannot be determined unequivocally, the possible malefactor shall be immediately taken into custody, and a superior mage-guard will review the situation and determine the outcome. In all cases, the outcome will be announced publicly. If a person is taken into custody in error, that person shall be released and given a writ that notes the custody was in error, and a public notice will be made. Likewise, if the person is guilty, the sentence will be pronounced and carried out publicly. No punishments or sentences will be administered privately or in secret, and the life of any mage-guard who does so will be forfeit, as will be the life of any superior who knowingly allows such to occur.
In instances of self-defense without witnesses, a full mage-guard inquiry will be undertaken. The results of the inquiry will be presented to the alleged attacker, or the attacker’s next of kin, and a summary of the evidence and the findings of the inquiry shall be made public…
Manual of the Mage-Guards
Cigoerne, Hamor
1551 A.F.
LXXXV
Rahl spent the next eightday having his shields tested in various places, from the mills to the coking furnaces, and while having to spar with Taryl at the same time. By the following threeday, he had the sense that he’d actually recovered his ability with the shields, and he had far more understanding and control than he’d had in Nylan. After all that effort, he’d been happy just to copy reports on twoday.
He’d finished two more reports on threeday morning and was picking up the third when Taryl stepped into the copying room.
Taryl surveyed .the three mage-clerks, then nodded at Rhiobyn. “If you’d accompany me, mage-clerk.”
“Yes, ser.” Rhiobyn rose with a bound, sounding far more cheerful than he had moments before.
Rahl paused in his copying, but waited until Taryl and Rhiobyn were well away from the copying room before he spoke. “What was that all about?”
“It’s time for seasonal evaluations,” Talanyr said slowly. “That’s the only time Taryl ever calls anyone ‘mage-clerk.’ Jyrolt must be here.”
“Rhiobyn seemed happy.”
“That’s because he’s got an exaggerated view of his own skills.”
“I wouldn’t know,” replied Rahl. “I’ve never seen him do anything.”
For a moment, Talanyr looked surprised. “I hadn’t realized it… I mean, I knew it, but it hadn’t really struck me. You’ve never sparred against either of us. What mage-guards has Taryl had you work against?”
“Mostly Taryl and Khaill,” Rahl admitted. “One or two others, sometimes.”
“You never did say how you got those bruises, not in any detail.”
“I was having trouble order-sensing things. So I had to go against Taryl with padded staffs in pitch-darkness until I could do it.”
Talanyr’s mouth opened. Then he shook his head. “You’ll pass any arms evaluation.”
“I thought… everyone…”
“No… you have to pass that level to get assigned to the city stations, but some mage-guards can never do that. That’s why Rhiobyn won’t make it. He gets confused in total darkness. He usually gets around it by using chaos to create light.”
“Isn’t that allowed?”
“Oh… it’s allowed, but it takes more strength, and it makes you more vulnerable.”
“As does talking when you should be copying,” observed Thelsyn from the doorway. “Since it is possible that one or more of you might-actually pass the evaluation, for the sake of either those who do not or the new mage-clerks who will be arriving in the next day or so, I would appreciate your making sure that there are no reports left uncopied.”
“Yes, ser.”
Rahl went back to work on the report before him, and Talanyr did the same.
Before all that long, Taryl returned and summoned Talanyr, leaving Rahl alone in the copying room. He forced himself to continue copying. He wasn’t even certain if Taryl would have him examined. If not, would he spend more time as a clerk, or would he be sent some place like Highpoint?
He finished another report before Taryl returned and stepped into the copying room with Rhiobyn.
Rhiobyn looked shaken, but said nothing.
“Mage-clerk Rahl, if you would accompany me?” asked Taryl politely.
“Yes, ser.” At least, he would be examined and evaluated, but what if he failed? He really had no idea what level of skill was expected, since he’d never seen what the other two could do—except for Talanyr’s expertise with the truncheon in Guasyra—and the normally cocky Rhiobyn looked like he’d been coldcocked with a staff, if not worse.
Taryl walked quickly, leading Rahl toward the weapons-training area and in through the open door.
The only other figure in the chamber was a stocky and muscular man, slightly shorter than Rahl with broader shoulders and short brown hair. Like all mage-guards, he wore the khakis and black-leather boots and belt, with the sunburst insignia on his shirt collar. His eyes were a brownish green, and an aura of. controlled chaos enshrouded him.
“Evaluator Jyrolt, this is mage-clerk Rahl,” said Taryl evenly.
“Ser.” Rahl inclined his head politely, and when he‘ str
aightened, Taryl was leaving the weapons exercise chamber.
“We’ll begin with a few questions about what is expected of a mage-guard.” Jyrolt’s tenor voice was higher than Rahl would have expected from such a muscular figure. Rahl waited.
Most of the questions were similar to those that Taryl had already asked Rahl, often several times in differing forms. A few were not.
“Mage-clerk, why are those mage-guards who embody order both uniquely qualified to serve the Emperor and fortunate to be able to do so?”
Rahl had to ponder for several moments before he had an answer, although he thought only half came from the Manual. “Because a peaceful land must be governed by order, and because it is difficult if not impossible for an ordermage to escape poverty and want without power, and it is difficult for an ordermage to obtain power without losing all or some of his skills.”
“What about a chaos-mage?” asked Jyrolt dryly. “They could certainly hold power without losing their skills. They have for centuries in Fairhaven.”
Rahl hadn’t seen an answer to that question, or if he had, he hadn’t remembered it. “A land must have order to remain peaceful. Too much chaos will not allow order. Does not Fairhaven spread its chaos-mages all across’ Candar?”
“Why does the Emperor allow his people to ridicule and criticize him, and why are mage-guards charged with enforcing that freedom?”
Rahl had read that section of the Manual and pondered it, but he’d never asked Taryl about it. He wished he had, because, again, he had to use his own interpretation… and hope. “Some people will always find fault. To punish them would only suggest that what they say is true, and more punishment would then be required, until all the mage-guards could do would be to punish those who spoke out, and before long there would be no order in Hamor.”
“But would not too much criticism lead to unrest, mage-clerk?”
“It might, but if the unrest results in physical acts, then the mage-guard must stop it. That provides a balance. People can say what they feel, but they cannot act against the Emperor.”
Natural Ordermage Page 47
