The Mongrel Mage

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Me?” She smiled. “You take care.”

  He stepped outside, looking back, and watching as she closed the door.

  As he walked back along Bakers Lane, Beltur couldn’t help smiling, for more than a few reasons. He decided not to think about tomorrow … for the moment.

  L

  On the last oneday of harvest, under a hazy sky, Athaal and Beltur walked to the Council building together. Beltur did not wear his new tunic and trousers.

  “We need to go in the main door,” said Athaal.

  “I want to see Raymandyl first. Maybe he can tell me something.”

  “You’ve got time,” replied Athaal with a smile.

  Almost as soon as Beltur entered through the north door, the clerk was on his feet pointing toward the south. “All the mages are being assembled in the audience hall. You get there through the main door, not through here.”

  “Thank you. Ah…” Beltur didn’t really want to ask whether the clerk had passed on the information that Beltur had given him.

  “Oh … it’s you, Beltur.” Raymandyl paused, then said, “I did tell Jhaldrak’s assistant what you told me about forging the blades. He didn’t look happy. I don’t know whether that’s good or bad.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that. I really do.” Beltur paused, then took the medallion from around his neck. “Since I won’t be working for the City Patrol…”

  “Thank you. I’m glad you remembered.”

  “I almost didn’t, but I’m sure you could have found me.”

  “Best of fortune.” Raymandyl paused. “You should do fine.”

  As Beltur left the north side of the building, he thought over what the clerk had said, and the implication that some mages might not. Why not? He had no idea, but didn’t doubt Raymandyl’s judgment. He hurried toward the main entrance, still hoping that Veroyt—if indeed the assistant to whom Raymandyl had spoken was Veroyt—might have been able to do something. Even before he neared the main door on the west side of the building, he saw a number of men in blue uniforms also heading there and entering. He had the feeling the uniformed men were officers, but they ranged from some who could only be his own age, if that, to men who could easily be Meldryn’s age. He saw only one mage amid those men in front of him, not surprisingly, someone he did not know.

  As he reached the entrance, a young officer held the door for him and said, “Go ahead, Mage.”

  “Thank you.”

  Inside, Beltur found himself in a large foyer, with the uniformed officers heading off to the right.

  “All mages assemble in the conference room. All unassigned officers in the audience hall,” called out an older man in blue. “Mages in the conference room, officers in the audience hall…”

  Beltur had no idea where either chamber might be, and he approached the man giving directions. “Which way to the conference room?”

  “To the right. Over there, under the plaque with the grain sheaves and the ship.”

  “Thank you.”

  As soon as Beltur stepped into the conference room, a modest chamber with an oblong table set in the center and chairs around it, Athaal gestured and pointed to the empty chair beside him, one of only a few remaining.

  Beltur immediately joined the older mage and slipped into the empty chair. “Has anything happened yet?”

  “No. I think Veroyt’s going to be the one talking to us. That means it won’t be good. Officers don’t want to announce something unpleasant to a group of mages.”

  Beltur looked around the table. He didn’t see either Waensyn or Cohndar. “I don’t know anyone here, except you.”

  “That tells you some of those who aren’t here.”

  Beltur sat and waited. Two more mages of an indiscriminate age—older than Beltur and not yet graying—entered and sat at the conference table. No one talked. Beltur counted those around the table and came up with fourteen, only two of whom seemed to be close to his age. He didn’t sense anyone he couldn’t see, but then, among a group of mages there wasn’t much point in using a concealment.

  When the city chimes began to strike the glass, Veroyt walked through the door, closed it behind himself, and made his way to the end of the table without a chair. He stopped and looked over the group, fourteen men in black close-seated around the oblong conference table designed for perhaps ten men at most, then began to speak.

  “For those few of you I have not met, I’m Veroyt, and I’m the assistant to Councilor Jhaldrak. I’m also the one the Council has chosen to work with Marshal Helthaer’s staff to assign mages to duties in support of the defense of Spidlar. It’s likely that all of you know much of what I’m about to tell you. I’m going to say it anyway, because not all of you know all of it, and you all should.” Veroyt paused. “Early in harvest, the Prefect of Gallos demanded that Gallosian traders be granted free passage along the entire River Gallos, and that Spidlar immediately remove all tariffs on all goods previously tariffed and that there be no tariffs on any goods entering or transiting Spidlar. He refused to grant our traders the same privileges in entering and transiting Gallos. The Council refused his demands, but offered to lower tariffs if the Prefect did the same. The Prefect rejected the Council offer. The Prefect then declared that he would force the issue.

  “The Gallosians have amassed a force of over five thousand men. It could be even larger. Over two thousand have created a fortified post some five kays south of the border on the west side of the river. There have been no boats coming down the river for the past six days. Our scouts have reported twenty flatboats tied up just upstream of the Junction Rapids. Many are loaded with what appear to be siege engines of various types, including two large trebuchets. More troopers, both foot and mounted, are on the road to the Gallosian post. We anticipate that the flatboats will begin to travel the rapids in the next day or so, if they have not already started.

  “Each of you has been assigned to a duty based on your capabilities, as assessed by Osarus, the Patrol Mage, and by the respected Mage Cohndar. Once I finish this introduction, I will meet with each of you, in turn, in the adjoining study, to discuss those duties. Each of you will also be issued an officer’s uniform—except that the tunic will have wide black sleeve cuffs. The reason for this is so that you can’t be distinguished from other officers and men from a distance. I understand that most of you can protect yourselves from many weapons, but we don’t want the Gallosians knowing where you are, because that will allow them either to attack you individually in force with their mages or to avoid you and attack those of our forces without mages.” Veroyt stopped, then asked, “Are there are any questions?”

  “How long are we expected to serve?”

  “Until the Gallosians are defeated and destroyed or until they retreat and are no longer a danger. You will be paid for that time.”

  “How much?” asked one of the younger blacks.

  “Your pay scale is the same as that of officers. More junior mages are paid at the rank of captains, senior mages at the rank of majers.”

  “How many mages do the Gallosians have?”

  “We don’t know. We do know that there are at least five very powerful white mages and a number of others.”

  Beltur wondered if that number had come from him, through Athaal.

  When there were no questions, Veroyt walked to the door that apparently led to the study, then turned. “Mage Caradyn?”

  A short man with silver-streaked black hair stood and walked to the study door.

  “Do you know him?” asked Beltur.

  “Only by name. I’ve seen him once or twice.”

  Athaal was the sixth mage called. That suggested to Beltur that Athaal was a far more senior mage than he let on.

  When Athaal left the study, he walked back to Beltur. “I’m where I thought I’d be, doing what shielding I can. I have to report. I’ll likely see you later.” Then he was gone before Beltur could say anything in reply.

  Beltur couldn’t help but worry as others were cal
led, went to the study, spent some time there, and then left the conference room.

  Finally, when there were only three mages left in the conference room—the two who looked younger than Beltur and Beltur—Veroyt announced “Mage Beltur.”

  Once he was in the small study, where Veroyt seated himself behind a small table desk, the councilor’s assistant looked at Beltur and said, with a smile, “I understand from Clerk Raymandyl that you can’t be in two places at once.”

  “I thought that might be a problem, ser. I’m willing to do what the Council wants, but the Council wants me to shield an infantry battalion, and the Council wants Jorhan to provide cupridium blades, and he can’t forge them without a mage.”

  Veroyt nodded, then said, “Apparently, according to Meldryn and Athaal, and even Cohndar, you’re presently the only mage in Elparta who can do that.”

  “I wouldn’t know that. I do know that we spoiled an awful lot of bronze working out how to make cupridium.”

  “Jorhan told me that yesterday. It was a long day. He even showed me some lumps of cupridium so hard they can’t be worked or even scratched.”

  Yesterday? The councilor’s assistant worked all day on eightday?

  “He also said that he could keep making the swords the Council needs so long as you’re available to work four to five days out of every eight.”

  “That’s the way we’ve been working ever since I was called to City Patrol duty.”

  “So I understand. I brought this up to the councilor. We’ve come up with a slightly different approach to your duty. You were assigned to the Third Infantry Battalion, but you’ve been reassigned to the Second Reconnaissance Company to provide shields for them. You can ride, can’t you?”

  “I’m not the greatest rider, ser, but I did spend half a season riding with my uncle in Gallos this last summer.”

  “Good. Second Recon is from Kleth. Commanding is Captain Laugreth. They’re occupying the warehouse at the east end of the second pier south of the south city gate.”

  “Those are the first piers upstream of the walls?”

  “That’s right. You’ll report to Captain Laugreth this morning, and he’ll brief you. He understands that you’ll only be available twice an eightday until the Gallosians arrive, on threeday and sevenday. Once the Gallosians do, you’ll sleep with the company, but if the company doesn’t have maneuvers, you’re to work with the smith. I’ve told Jorhan to expect you tomorrow. When the Gallosians actually cross our border or begin to attack, you’ll be with Recon Two all the time, but by then it will be too late for any more blades to make a difference.”

  Beltur could definitely see that.

  “Captain Laugreth will tell you what he expects. In return, you will tell him whether you can do what he wishes and to what degree and under what circumstances. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, ser.”

  “Before you go there, go to see Androsyt. He’s the tailor charged with providing uniforms for the mages. His place is on Tailors Way. You can’t miss it. Double doors, brass-bound, and a big ‘A’ above the doors.”

  After leaving the Council building, Beltur headed south to Tailors Way and then walked east. Despite Veroyt’s directions, he did in fact miss Androsyt’s establishment, largely because he’d thought it was on the north side of the street, but when he looked back and saw a man in black step out of a door, he retraced his steps.

  No sooner had he stepped inside than a young man stepped forward. “Another mage for a uniform tunic? And your name, ser?”

  “Beltur.”

  “Your assignment?”

  “The Second Reconnaissance Company. From Kleth.”

  The young tailor picked up a sheaf of papers and leafed through it, quickly stopping. “Yes, I have it here. Please stand against the wall outline.”

  Beltur moved over to where the rough outline of a figure was painted against the plaster. At one edge was a vertical line of measures in cubits and digits.

  The tailor studied Beltur. “You will not be difficult. Shoulders broad, but not too broad. Chest not sunken.” In moments the tailor had his cloth tape out and had jotted measurements on the sheet that held Beltur’s name. Then he stepped back. “Captain Beltur, your tunic will be ready on threeday afternoon after fourth glass. We close at sixth glass.”

  Beltur felt slightly dazed at the speed of the measurements. “That soon?”

  “We have five seamstresses and a complete workroom for dealing with uniforms.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Good day, ser.”

  It seemed as though Beltur had hardly been in the tailor’s before he was leaving. He also had the feeling that the tunic Celinya had made was likely to be better fitted. But then, you could be wrong.

  He headed toward the south city gate and hoped he could find the right warehouse that held Second Recon Company.

  Finding the warehouse itself wasn’t difficult, since there was only one warehouse at the end of the second pier, but it was close to three hundred yards long, with doors every thirty yards or so.

  Beltur asked of the trooper posted outside the first door, “Second Recon Company?”

  “Not here, ser. They’re farther down. I don’t know where, ser.”

  Beltur tried four more doors and got essentially the same response. Finally, the trooper guarding the fifth door replied, “Second Recon, ser. Two doors that way.”

  “Thank you.”

  When he reached the second door, a set of double doors already swung wide open, the trooper posted there stiffened as he approached. “Are you Undercaptain Beltur, ser?”

  Beltur managed not to frown. He’d thought Veroyt had said he was a captain. “I’m Beltur.”

  “The captain said you’d be reporting, ser.” The trooper turned. “Chaertal! Escort for the undercaptain.” Then he turned back. “We’re still getting settled here. The mounts will be to the left, what passes for quarters to the right. The captain’s watching over setting up the stabling. Chaertal will take you there.”

  Chaertal hurried up, a fresh-faced ranker likely several years younger than Beltur. “Ser, this way.”

  Beltur followed the young man into the warehouse, toward the left where a welter of activity was taking place, with men and planks and timbers creating what had to be stalls. In moments, Beltur was standing before the captain, and Chaertal had slipped away.

  Laugreth was perhaps ten years older than Beltur and several digits shorter with a well-trimmed short beard somewhat more reddish than his reddish-brown hair. His pale gray eyes assessed Beltur. “You’re the mage who helps forge cupridium?”

  “Yes, ser.”

  “Can you ride?”

  “Yes, ser. At least I can stay on a horse at a gallop.”

  Laugreth barked a laugh. “Fair enough. Can you use a sabre?”

  “No, ser.”

  “Can you keep from being struck by one?”

  “Yes, ser.”

  The captain walked over to the edge of the makeshift stall and picked up a short length of wood. “I’m asking again. Can you stop me if I try to hit you with this?”

  “Yes, ser.”

  “Do so.” Almost instantly, the captain struck.

  The wood cracked against Beltur’s shield … and then broke in half, the loose section bouncing off the shield.

  The captain dropped the remaining length and rubbed the hand he had used with the other. “What if I’d struck you without warning?”

  “The same thing. I carry shields whenever I’m outside and awake.”

  “How many others can you shield?”

  “Two others, easily. A third for a very short time.”

  “They actually assigned someone useful.” Laugreth shook his head, as if in disbelief. “What else can you do?”

  “I can conceal a small group for a while. That will have limited use, though. They won’t be able to see while they’re concealed. I can sense figures beyond the concealment, but not details.”

  “What else?”r />
  “I know the basics of grooming and feeding and watering a mount.”

  “Have you ever been in a fight or a battle?”

  “I’ve been with armsmen who were attacked by raiders. My job was to shield them.” His task had been more than that, but Laugreth wasn’t a mage, and Beltur didn’t want to reveal his past use of chaos.

  Laugreth frowned again. “So you can shield a group, then? Were you mounted?”

  “Yes. A small group, perhaps a score, if they’re close together.”

  “On horseback, though?”

  Beltur nodded.

  “I think we just might get along, Beltur. You’re being paid as a captain, but your field rank is that of an undercaptain, and that’s how you’ll be addressed. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, ser.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “I don’t know, but I’d guess that’s so I don’t outrank you or any other officers.”

  “That’s right.” Laugreth gestured to an older ranker. “Keep them at it. I’m taking Undercaptain Beltur to meet Undercaptain Zandyr and Undercaptain Gaermyn.”

  “Yes, ser,” replied the ranker

  Laugreth gestured for Beltur to walk beside him and began to speak. “They wanted us to bivouac outside. That wouldn’t work. Not with fall and the rains coming. Whatever happens isn’t going to be over quickly. And I’m not going to have men and mounts getting sick.” He paused. “Do you know Undercaptain Zandyr?”

  “No, ser.”

  “He’s from here. He just arrived this morning. The Council insisted that I have an Elpartan undercaptain. His father is a trader here.”

  Beltur debated a simple answer and decided against it. Not letting the captain know his past could come back to bite him. “I’m fairly new to Elparta, ser. I left Gallos after the Prefect had my uncle killed. Arms-Mage Wyath tried to have me killed as well.”

  “That would be a good reason for leaving. Do you have any family left there?”

  “No, ser. My parents died when I was young. My uncle was my only living relation.”

  “What did your uncle do to merit such a fate?”

  “He was skeptical of Wyath. No more than that.”

  “I take it you’re not exactly fond of either the Prefect or his arms-mage?”