The Mongrel Mage

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “We’ll ride to meet him.”

  When the squad neared the slope that Beltur had described, Laugreth called out, “Squad! Halt!” He turned in the saddle. “We’ll wait here.”

  Within moments, a man scrambled down the last yards of the slope on foot toward the road. “Captain, ser! Salaatyr here.”

  Laugreth rode over toward him, and Beltur followed, wanting to hear what Salaatyr might have to say.

  “They’ve got close to a company on this side, ser. It looks to us like they’re building a rough ramp out of stones and sand and dirt and deepening a spot at the edge of the river.”

  “How wide a ramp?”

  “Could be maybe four, five yards wide. They haven’t filled in a lot of the middle part yet. Must have twenty, thirty men lugging buckets of gravel and small rocks.”

  “Could we see it from the hilltop there?”

  “Yes, ser.”

  Laugreth looked to Beltur. “Come with me.” Then he dismounted and handed his mount’s reins to a ranker.

  Beltur did the same, and the two of them followed the scout up the slope. Beltur almost slipped several times in sandy graveled patches between the grass and scraggly bushes.

  At the top of the rise, two other scouts waited. Beltur caught sight of their mounts farther down the slope, but out of sight of the Gallosians.

  “You see, ser?” said Salaatyr.

  The captain nodded and turned to Beltur. “Can you tell me anything more about it?”

  Beltur concentrated. After a short time he said, “It feels solid around the edges and next to the water. That side near the water is straight up and down. I can’t really tell much more than that.”

  “How deep is the water there?”

  “I can’t tell you. Water blocks what I can sense.”

  “Do they have a mage or wizard down there?”

  “No, ser. Not that I can sense.”

  Laugreth studied the riverbank for a time, then turned to the scouts. “If they start ferrying troopers, especially mounted troopers, one of you is to let me know immediately.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  “Or if they start bringing siege engines or anything like that.”

  Salaatyr nodded.

  “We’re heading back to let Majer Jenklaar know.” Laugreth turned and started down the back side of the hill.

  Beltur once more followed, trying to be careful as to where he put his boots.

  Once they returned to the narrow road, Laugreth mounted and turned to Chaeryn. “We’re heading back. We can’t do anything more here at the moment, and the majer needs to hear about this.”

  Beltur mounted and then followed the captain as he rode to what had been the rear of the squad. Behind Beltur was the squad leader.

  “You don’t sense any more troopers or mounts anywhere, do you?” asked Laugreth as the squad began the ride back to Elparta.

  “No, ser.”

  “For now, that’s good. It won’t last. They’re going to be bringing mounted foot or lancers or some kind of mounted armsmen. That ramp is so that they can get the horses off easily. They’ll have a ramp mounted inside the flatboats as well. It will take them at least the rest of the day to finish that. It might take longer, but they’re not doing all that work as a diversion.”

  Beltur wondered about that. Building a ramp took work, but it didn’t cost lives. It also might make a diversion more effective, and from what Laugreth had pointed out, it would certainly make ferrying troopers and mounts faster. At the same time, he wondered why he hadn’t sensed any white mages. He knew that some of them could certainly do what he’d done without any real risk.

  LVI

  When Beltur went to bed on eightday night in the cramped quarters, the other undercaptain was nowhere to be seen. When Beltur woke early on oneday, Zandyr was sound asleep in the other narrow pallet bed, and Beltur had a vague recollection of Zandyr returning sometime in the darkness.

  Washing up and shaving was more than a little inconvenient, given that the area set aside for that for officers was essentially at the back of the warehouse with water barrels and taps, and a long communal trough with a drainage pipe, not to mention its proximity to the officers’ jakes.

  Better than sleeping on the ground and washing in a stream, but definitely not as pleasant or convenient as my quarters with Athaal and Meldryn.

  Eating wasn’t much better. All the officers quartered in the huge warehouse had a single mess, if it could have been called that, in a corner of the west end of the building. The cheesed eggs were barely warm and tough, and Beltur absently wondered how anyone could make eggs that chewy. The toast was cold and just short of being burned. The ale was at least passable, and Beltur saved some in the chipped mug for the last, in order to rinse away the off taste of the food.

  As he stood to leave, he caught sight of Athaal at another table, with two other mage officers, neither of whom Beltur recognized. He would have liked to have gone over and said a few words to Athaal, but the three looked very intent … and Beltur worried about being late to muster.

  After muster, Beltur and Zandyr walked back toward the captain’s study together.

  “You were out late last night,” Beltur said.

  “Not that late. Besides, I knew nothing was going to happen today.”

  “You don’t think so?”

  “You said yesterday that the Gallosians hadn’t finished building that docking ramp. They won’t attack until they can cross the river easily on their side of the border. That means tomorrow at the earliest, possibly threeday, and more likely fourday.”

  “Unless they try something else,” Beltur pointed out.

  “They won’t. There’s no other easy crossing point in Gallos.”

  While Beltur had heard that before, it seemed to him that relying on an enemy to always do the expected could be dangerous if it became a habit. “You think they’re that predictable?”

  “It’s not being predictable when there aren’t any other practical options.” Zandyr smiled knowingly.

  Which suggests that a way to surprise people is to come up with practical options when people think there aren’t any. Unfortunately, Beltur couldn’t think of any at the moment. Nor had he thought of any by the time the four officers sat in the small study and the captain began the morning briefing.

  “First off, we’re going to be more shorthanded here than the marshal planned on. The Council decided to hold two battalions in reserve in Kleth. If the Council had a reason for such a decision, Commander Vaernaak didn’t share it with Majer Jenklaar. The majer was quite clear about that. The Gallosians are still working on that flatboat ramp. They’re making it wider and likely won’t finish until late today.”

  Zandyr nodded as if he had expected that.

  “That may be, Zandyr, but you’ll accompany me and Fourth Squad on another recon of the east river road. I don’t expect much difference, but you need to see the Gallosian positions and the possibilities for where they’ll go when they do attack.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  “Beltur, today you’ll do some maneuvers and practice with Gaermyn and Third Squad. I want you to familiarize them more with concealments. Gaermyn will also familiarize you with how various maneuvers can be used. That’s in the unlikely event you find yourself in command of a squad. It can’t hurt.”

  What bothered Beltur about Laugreth’s matter-of-fact words was the implication that, while Beltur’s being in command was unlikely, it was a definite possibility. His second thought was that was exactly the point the captain had wanted to make.

  “All of this could change within glasses.” Laugreth looked directly at Zandyr and added, “So … it might be for the best if none of you were out late at night from now on. We might have to head out before dawn.”

  “Yes, ser.” Beltur joined Zandyr in acknowledging the de facto command, although he had no intention of being out anywhere.

  “That’s all. Go mount up.” Laugreth stood, followed by the three underca
ptains.

  Beltur and Zandyr walked toward the stables together.

  Once they were well away from the study, Zandyr did speak, if in a low but intense tone. “What difference does it make if I’m out a little late? I can still do what the captain wants.” He glared, not quite looking at Beltur.

  “We can’t do what he wants if we’re not here.”

  “He’s not going to send squads up the northeast road in pitch darkness.” Zandyr shook his head.

  Beltur decided against pointing out that such a maneuver was possible if a mage were helping guide such a squad. “Not if he can help it, but he might not have that choice.”

  “The Gallosians aren’t going to attack over hilly narrow roads in pitch darkness. That wouldn’t make sense.”

  How often does war make sense to anyone fighting it? Beltur still couldn’t see why the Prefect wanted a war over tariffs. Even if he conquered Spidlaria, how could he ever recover the golds spent if he wanted to lower river tariffs in Spidlar? Or was that just a pretext? How many of the reasons people give for their actions are just pretexts?

  Beltur mulled over those thoughts after he left Zandyr and as he saddled Slowpoke and then rode out to join Gaermyn and Third Squad.

  Two glasses later, Beltur at least knew the different commands that he’d be expected to use if he ever found himself in command of a squad, although he couldn’t conceive of a time when he’d ever have to wheel a column, except on a parade ground, and that was highly unlikely, given that he was essentially only a temporary officer, and that probably only until the fighting ended, however it did. He didn’t want to think of the rather unpleasant possibilities for himself if matters ended catastrophically for Spidlar.

  On the other hand, all of Third Squad had experienced the complete darkness of a concealment as well as seeing part of their squad appear to vanish, yet still be able to hear commands or other sounds.

  Gaermyn then suggested practicing riding under a concealment. That took more than a glass to work out how to keep riders and mounts in a straight line, a maneuver that required, paradoxically, staggering riders so that each pair was close enough to the pair in front to be able to follow their lead.

  As he and Gaermyn rode back toward the temporary barracks and stables, the older undercaptain cleared his throat.

  “Yes, ser?”

  “Have you talked much to Undercaptain Zandyr?”

  “Some. He doesn’t think the Gallosians will attack before tomorrow, perhaps not even until fourday.”

  “That could be. It also could be that’s what they want us to believe. Has he said anything else … of interest?”

  “No, ser. He did tell me his brother just left to serve in some capacity on one of his father’s ships, and he said that the temporary barracks were better than sleeping in the rain. We really haven’t talked that much. Oh, and he asked about cupridium blades. He was very interested in how much they cost.”

  “He sounds very much like a trader’s son.”

  “I wouldn’t know, ser. He’s the first one I’ve met.”

  “You’re not missing much.” Gaermyn shook his head. “If the Gallosians don’t attack tomorrow, I’ll have you work with another squad, most likely Fifth.” He paused. “One other bit of advice. Sleep when you can. Once the fighting starts you never know when you’ll next get the chance.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “I need to check on something. I’ll see you later.” Gaermyn turned his mount.

  Beltur kept riding toward the stables.

  LVII

  Immediately after muster on twoday morning, Beltur and the two other undercaptains sat around the small table in the captain’s makeshift study, listening as Laugreth briefed them.

  “The scouts have reported two heavy infantry companies beginning to cross the river from the main Gallosian position to the east side. We’ve been ordered to watch them closely and to engage them, if necessary, to keep them from flanking the south piers. Third Recon will be joining us within a glass of the time we’re in position.” Laugreth delivered the words evenly.

  Beltur had the definite feeling that the captain wasn’t particularly pleased. Then part of that might have been because Zandyr had once again been rather later in getting to bed—at least late enough that Beltur had had no idea exactly when it had been. To Beltur’s right, Zandyr shifted his weight on the stool where he sat, and then shifted it again.

  Gaermyn raised his eyebrows.

  “You have a question, Undercaptain?”

  “We’re a recon company, ser.”

  “You’d like to know why we’re being dispatched?” The captain smiled. “No one’s explained that to me. In fact, I was told not to ask for an explanation. It might be that our men have bows as well as blades. Or that moving any of the forces the marshal has mustered on the west side of the river to the eastern bank would take time and boats. We’re outnumbered as it is. What if the two Gallosian companies are a feint? What happens once the marshal removes a company or more from the main force on the western side of the river?”

  Beltur understood what Laugreth wasn’t saying—that if the Gallosians established a position close to the piers they could shift all their forces to the east side of the river and then move on the city. If the Prefect’s forces took the piers they could use their siege engines at very close range.

  Gaermyn nodded, slowly, with a sour expression. “So we have to act like mounted infantry and archers all in one.”

  “Who else?” asked the captain sardonically. “Gaermyn, you’ll have rearguard with Fifth Squad. Zandyr, you’ll ride at the head of Third Squad. Beltur, you’ll be with me and First Squad. That may change.” Laugreth offered a tight smile. “Any other questions?”

  “No, ser.” All three undercaptains uttered the same acknowledgment close to simultaneously.

  Once they had left the captain’s study, Zandyr eased up beside Beltur as the two walked toward the stables. “We’re a recon company. We’re not lancers, and the men don’t carry the shields of the heavy foot.” After an instant, he added, “Not that some of them might not be better suited to just hauling shields.”

  Beltur didn’t want to even acknowledge Zandyr’s last comment. Instead, he replied evenly, “I imagine Majer Jenklaar, Commander Vaernaak, and Marshal Helthaer all know what the company can do.”

  “It doesn’t make sense,” said the younger undercaptain in a voice barely above a murmur. “Why would they order that?”

  “It could be because they think the alternatives are worse. We’re not getting the naval marines, and we haven’t gotten all the troopers the marshal counted on. The captain mentioned that yesterday. I think it’s worse than that.” The last was just a guess, but one Beltur had suspected for some time.

  “Why do you think that? Magery?” Zandyr’s last word was clearly deprecating.

  “Have you seen any more armsmen recently? Have there been any boats ferrying troopers from Elparta across the river to join the marshal’s forces on the west bank?”

  “But the Council said that all available forces…”

  “I believe the Council once said something about naval marines, didn’t it?”

  “That was different.”

  “Was it?” Beltur asked, rather than more bluntly pointing out what he thought—that some traders didn’t want to commit troopers to defend Elparta, either because they didn’t want to weaken Kleth or Spidlaria, or because they didn’t want to spend the golds, or possibly even because they wanted to do nothing to draw the Prefect’s wrath in the event that Gallos prevailed.

  “It was. There must be some mistake.” Shaking his head, Zandyr strode away.

  Beltur knew there was a great deal he didn’t know and likely never would, but after seeing Zandyr’s reaction, he had to question the younger undercaptain’s powers of observation. Or maybe he just believes everything his father told him about how wonderful all traders are.

  Beltur straightened as he sensed someone approachin
g behind him, then turned and waited as Gaermyn neared.

  “Young Zandyr didn’t look too happy.”

  “He had some concerns about why we’re being sent against heavy infantry. I suggested that the marshal didn’t have as many armsmen as he thought necessary to stop the Gallosians. He didn’t like the possibility that the Council’s orders for additional forces might not have been heeded.”

  “They never are,” replied Gaermyn. “That was one reason why the trouble with Suthya lasted so long. Wasn’t that the Suthyans were that tough. It was that we never had enough armsmen to finish them off. We only got more troopers when foreign traders refused to port at Diev because the fighting was so near to the harbor.”

  That scarcely surprised Beltur, although it wasn’t something he’d heard before. “How good are our rankers as archers?”

  “Good enough. That’s not the problem. We don’t carry enough shafts for long encounters. Ten for each man. If they’ve got mages, they could stop a lot of those shafts … and more. Giving us more shafts would short another company.”

  Beltur understood that as well.

  At the entrance to the stable, the two separated, and Beltur made his way to the stall, where he saddled the big brown gelding, then led him outside. He looked the gelding in the eye. “This is going to be a long day, big fellow.” Then he patted Slowpoke on the shoulder, mounted, and rode eastward toward the area that served as the marshaling ground. When he reined up beside Vaertaag at the head of First Squad, surprisingly, Zandyr had not even reached Third Squad.

  “Good morning, ser.”

  “Good morning, Vaertaag. Do you think this morning will be the morning that the Gallosians attack?”

  “You’d have to ask them, ser.” Vaertaag grinned. “But I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  Both turned in the saddle and watched as the captain rode up.

  “Company ready, ser,” declared Vaertaag.

  “Company! Forward!” ordered the captain.

  Once they were on the road south, with scouts out ahead, Laugreth turned to Beltur. “Gaermyn tells me that Undercaptain Zandyr wasn’t pleased to learn the normal condition of Spidlarian armed forces.”