Mage-Guard of Hamor

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

“That’s a long story,” Rahl temporized, wondering just how much he should say. “There’s no point in giving all the details. What happened was that I don’t have the kind of order-skills that the magisters in Recluce know what to do with. So they spent some time teaching me Hamorian and a few other things and sent me off.”

  “No one would ever think you were from Recluce the way you speak,” Serita said.

  “From Atla or parts of Merowey, but not Recluce,” Klassyn added.

  “Where are you two from?” asked Rahl.

  The rest of the conversation proceeded along relatively innocuous lines until the girl who had guided Rahl to Serita and Klassyn reappeared.

  Rahl stood and smiled. “It appears as though I’ve been summoned. I thank you both very much for your patience, courtesy, and hospitality.”

  “Your presence and your knowledge have been most instructive,” replied Serita.

  Klassyn merely nodded as Rahl took his leave.

  Taryl was waiting by himself in the functionary’s foyer.

  “Thank you,” Rahl told the guide, before turning to Taryl. “I came as soon as you sent word.”

  “I’ve only been here a few moments. Shall we go?” Taryl raised his eyebrows.

  They walked out through the archway and down to the duty coach, which had been driven to the forward mounting blocks.

  Once they had settled themselves, and the coach was on its way through the outer gardens toward the gates in the white-stone wall, Taryl turned to Rahl.

  “What happened? I can sense you’re concerned.”

  “I hope Klassyn and Serita couldn’t…or not why. They offered me a drink, and both my lager and Serita’s were dosed with nemysa. At least, it felt that way.”

  “You didn’t tell them that, I presume?” Taryl’s voice was mild, but Rahl could sense his worry.

  “No. I had a terrible attack of sneezing and inadvertently knocked over both beakers. After that and many apologies, I decided that perhaps I’d better not tax their hospitality further and drink anything at all. We talked about personal history and Creslin.”

  “Excellent, but I will warn Jubyl about Klassyn.”

  “What about Serita?”

  “Oh, she won’t be in danger immediately. Klassyn would have claimed that you’d attempted to dose all three drinks and failed. They were all identical, were they not?”

  “They were all pale lager.”

  “He needed someone else to blame. Or it could be that you were intended to discover that the drinks were dosed, and that they were tainted, but not with nemysa, or without enough to have an effect, and they hoped you would make a scene or act inappropriately.”

  Was anything simple? “You don’t seem that worried about Serita.”

  “I’m not. She’s loyal to Dhoryk, not to Jubyl or the Emperor.”

  “And Triad Jubyl hasn’t replaced her?”

  “He’s aware of her loyalties, or lack thereof, but at the moment, he needs to play a deeper game. I’d rather not say more right now, except that I must admit I didn’t expect such an obvious move against you and me quite so quickly. That suggests that Cyphryt is most worried, and that means we need to move on to the High Command post. If Jubyl and the Emperor act as they have indicated, we may be able to leave tomorrow, but hopefully no later than fourday. The quarters won’t be as comfortable, but that will reduce the frequency of such attempts on us. Dhoryk would not wish anything to occur under his hospitality.”

  Taryl had used the word us, as if the attempted poisoning had been against Taryl as well. As he thought about it, Rahl wanted to shake his head. Of course, Rahl would have been accused of acting under Taryl’s orders…or…He frowned.

  “Yes?” asked Taryl. “You have a question?”

  “Was it just to try to discredit you, or was it also to create problems with Recluce?”

  “Both, I’d suspect.”

  “But why? Does Cyphryt want the rebellion to succeed?”

  “Of course not. He just wants to show that Triad Fieryn’s judgment, as indicated by his trust in me, as well as in other matters, such as the explosion of the Nylan Merchant Association buildings, proves he is not a worthy Triad.”

  “But…we stopped total destruction of the entire trade quarter in Swartheld,” Rahl protested.

  “You did, but that won’t stop Cyphryt from intimating that what did happen was a result of Fieryn’s decision to make Gheryk the mage-captain in Swartheld.”

  “But…. Craelyt did it all, and he killed Gheryk.”

  “Who can prove that?” asked Taryl. “When you’re in command, no one cares when something bad happens even if you managed to keep far worse from occurring. In everyone’s mind, it’s still your fault that anything at all happened.”

  Rahl fell silent.

  “It is most unlikely that Golyat will succeed in making Merowey independent of Hamor, but almost everyone in high circles of power—except Jubyl, the Emperor, and possibly Sea Marshal Chastyr—has an interest in fanning or prolonging the conflict.” Taryl lifted and opened the satchel. “The darts that held chaos charges are exhausted, and I don’t have the requisite abilities to recharge them. So you’ll only have to decide which ones have quills and which needles. Block the needles.”

  “Ser…”

  “You need practice, Rahl. Much more practice.”

  “Yes, ser.” Rahl took a deep breath.

  XII

  Fourday morning found Rahl once more walking into the arms practice area, as ordered by Taryl—after Taryl had upbraided him for not attempting to work on learning to read the weather, even though he had practiced with the iron blocks. Rahl was beginning to feel as though he couldn’t do everything that Taryl required…and that he never would be able to meet those standards. He had remembered to wear an exercise jersey, though.

  With Khedren was another mage-guard, one that Rahl had not met or seen before.

  “Rahl, this is Elatyr. I’ve asked him to put you through a full workout. You’ll begin with truncheon and staff, and then you’ll don the plated jersey and do your best with a real, if blunted, falchiona.”

  Rahl inclined his head to Elatyr. “Ser.”

  “Let’s see what you can do.” Elatyr extended a practice truncheon to Rahl, then turned and walked toward the center of the chamber.

  Rahl followed.

  As soon as he took his position, the older mage-guard attacked, with moves nearly as fast as those employed by Khedren. Rahl was slower than he would have liked with the first parry-slide, but he immediately recovered.

  After a time, Elatyr seemed to slip and falter, but Rahl sensed the ploy and feinted, as if to take the bait, then used an uppercutting back slash to disarm the other. He stepped back.

  Elatyr nodded, but Rahl could sense a certain annoyance. “Let’s try again.”

  The older mage was more cautious on the second round, but Rahl exploited an opening when Elatyr extended himself just a touch too much and managed to beat down the other’s truncheon and pin it with his boot.

  “Why don’t you try the staff?” suggested Khedren from the side.

  “We might as well,” said Elatyr dryly.

  Rahl stepped back and blotted his forehead. He’d had to work hard. Elatyr was almost as good as Khedren and somewhat sneakier.

  Khedren appeared with a set of practice staffs and took the two truncheons.

  Effectively, Rahl and Elatyr were evenly matched with the staffs, and neither managed a touch on the other. Both were sweating heavily when Khedren called a halt. Again, Rahl could sense a certain irritation behind the politeness of the older mage.

  “Sit down and cool off while I get the plated jerseys,” Khedren said.

  Rahl walked back to the nearest bench and blotted his forehead, then leaned back and let the back of his head rest against the cooler stone of the wall.

  Elatyr took the other bench but did not look in Rahl’s direction.

  Shortly, Khedren returned with two of the plated practice jerse
ys over one arm and two practice falchionas held together by a leather strap in the other hand. “Here you go.” He laid one blade and one jersey on the bench beside Rahl, then carried the other to Elatyr.

  Rahl straightened, then eased himself into the heavy plated practice jersey. He wasn’t looking forward to what came next, not at all. Still, it would be interesting to see how effective the techniques Khedren had shown him might be. He just hoped that finding out wouldn’t be too painful.

  Slowly, he picked up the practice falchiona. Unlike the weighted blank with which he had practiced, the weapon felt ugly and reddish white to his order-senses. He glanced toward Elatyr, who stood waiting in the middle of the chamber. From just the way in which Elatyr handled the practice falchiona, Rahl could sense that he was very much at ease with the blade. Rahl just hoped that the plates in the jersey would prove adequate to keep him from getting too badly bruised.

  He walked out to meet the other mage-guard.

  “No leg cuts, now,” Khedren reminded the two. “Just upper body.”

  Rahl nodded, then lifted the blade into guard position. Even before Elatyr moved his blade, Rahl began one of the patterns Khedren had shown him. For a moment, he sensed momentary surprise in Elatyr, but that didn’t stop the other mage-guard from a feint that led to a sliding tip backcut.

  Rahl’s footwork kept him from having even to cross blades with Elatyr for several moments more, but before long he was having to slide and parry, in addition to circling to the side.

  After that, each time their blades crossed, white lances of pain shot up his arm. He managed to avoid any direct hits, but one of Elatyr’s cutting slashes angled off one of the jersey’s hip plates, and Rahl staggered, then scrambled aside. He barely managed to block the next cut and beat aside the thrust that followed.

  From that point on, through a haze of chaos-pain, and physical strain, Rahl had to rely on instinct and training.

  “That’s enough,” Khedren called out loudly.

  Rahl stepped back and lowered the falchiona, which he could barely even hold. He was just glad he’d survived without taking a major blow. At least, he didn’t think he had.

  He walked slowly toward the bench, where he set down the practice blade, glad to have it out of his hand, and slowly struggled out of the practice jersey, soaked with sweat, as was his own jersey under it. Rahl just sat on the bench. Bright flashes of light, like pointed darts, flared before his eyes, and his entire body ached.

  Off to one side, a good twenty cubits away, he could see Elatyr gesturing. Despite the pain and effort it required, Rahl forced himself to extend his order-senses.

  “…know he’s an ordermage…can feel it…but no ordermage…do that…”

  “…not gray…not a hint of white there…”

  “…how could he…”

  “…remember…loader in Luba…suspect he can handle more pain…look over there. He’s not feeling all that good.”

  “…ought to be stretched out on the stone…”

  “…could be, but that isn’t what we were asked…”

  “…approve his skills…no question there…awfully young, though…”

  “…headed to Merowey…”

  “That makes more sense…”

  Whatever it was didn’t make any more sense to Rahl, except that someone wanted someone else besides Khedren to assess his arms abilities. He just sat on the bench, trying to recover some strength. He wasn’t certain how long he sat there, but he was aware that Elatyr had left and that Khedren was carrying a mug of something toward him.

  “You look like you could use this.” Khedren extended the mug.

  Rahl sipped the heavy ale.

  The armsmaster sat on the bench beside him. “You did well. Elatyr is the southeast regional armsmaster—that’s in Sylpa.”

  “Even with everything you taught me,” Rahl said slowly, “I couldn’t keep him from getting through.” Even after a few sips, he could tell that the ale helped, because the worst of the light flashes subsided.

  “Only a few times,” Khedren pointed out. “Most chaos types wouldn’t have done that much better.”

  “They would have lasted longer,” Rahl pointed out.

  “Not much,” replied Khedren. “You can’t last longer if you’ve been knocked cold or you’ve been disarmed. Anyway, you’ve learned enough to stay alive for a while against a good blade. You could kill an average armsman with a falchiona if you had to.”

  Somehow, that assessment didn’t cheer Rahl much. It suggested that a good armsman could kill him, and that angered him, because he knew he could have done much better if he could just have held on to the blade without feeling chaos-pain all the time. He took a larger swallow of the ale. “I think I’d better stick to the truncheon.”

  “That you should, when you can. But even being able to hold a falchiona can hold some folks at bay.”

  Rahl knew that was doubtless true, but he didn’t have to like it.

  “If you’re around in the morning, I could use some help with the staff and the mage-clerks.”

  “If Taryl doesn’t have something else planned, I’ll be here.”

  “Good. I need to see to some papers with Elatyr. Leave the mug here when you go.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  Rahl watched the armsmaster hurry off, then slowly finished the ale. He could almost see normally by the time he stood and started back toward the main building.

  Rahl didn’t see Taryl as he walked through the quarters entry and headed to clean up, but he did see Edelya, and there was no polite way to avoid her as she smiled and walked toward him.

  “You look like you’ve had a workout, Rahl.”

  Rahl managed a laugh. “I did.”

  “Helping Khedren with the mage-clerks again?”

  “No. He had me sparring with another armsmaster. Elatyr. The truncheon and the staff weren’t bad.”

  “He didn’t bang you up too badly, then?”

  Rahl couldn’t help but be irritated by the condescension behind the inquiry. “Not with those. I disarmed him twice with the truncheon. The staff was a draw. No hits by either of us.”

  Rahl ignored the order-sensing. He was telling the truth.

  “Not with those, you said,” prompted Edelya.

  “I had to use a falchiona after that. I’ve been working on techniques for defense in case I didn’t have anything else with me. He did hit me a few times, but only glancing blows. Well, except once.”

  Edelya looked hard at him. “You’re an ordermage. You went a full sparring round with a falchiona against Elatyr?”

  “Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

  Abruptly, she smiled, as if she had discovered something. “Oh, nothing. Most mage-guards don’t. Even chaos types.”

  “If you’ll excuse me…I really do need a shower.”

  The calculating smile changed to one that was more like a grin. “Yes, you do. I’ll see you later.”

  As he walked back toward the washrooms, Rahl couldn’t help but wonder what she had learned, or what he had revealed. Khedren hadn’t hidden the fact that Elatyr was an armsmaster, and it was clear he wanted Rahl to spar against someone else of ability besides himself. That certainly made sense.

  XIII

  After showering and donning a clean uniform, Rahl returned to the lower level, then to the library. He walked some of the other corridors, and checked Taryl’s quarters, but he did not see Taryl anywhere. So he returned to the library and settled into reading more of the mage-guard history. What was more intriguing were the observations on why things had happened. One short section, in particular, caught his attention:

  As a result of the loss of the expeditionary fleet to Recluce and the previously unobserved powers of its weather mages, Emperor Cyth’alt resolved to change the very structure of Hamor. So many of what historians view as changes in lands or societies are nothing of the sort, but merely the replacement of one set of rulers for another with exactly the same beliefs and systems of ruling. Cy
th’alt was wise enough to understand this. He was wiser than that, in that the reforms he put in place were designed not to change the appearance of existing institutions but to change their very functions without changing their outward appearance. By geographically separating two-thirds of the Triad from the Imperial Palace, and by creating an independent High Command, he not only limited the very powers of the emperor, but strengthened Hamor by attempting to assure that all decisions would require action by three separate power centers…Yet by reifying these essentially new sources of power in existing institutions, he also created the illusion that nothing had changed…

  Some skeptics suggest that his decisions were based on the fact that, since he had no sons, he wished to place checks on his brother’s offspring…Whatever the reason, the very structure of today’s Hamor dates from those decisions…

  Despite such occasionally and too infrequently interesting passages, Rahl found himself nodding off, doubtless because of his efforts against Elatyr, and he finally left the book open on his lap and let himself doze. When he woke, he shelved the volume and decided to make his way to the mess, although he knew he would be early for dinner.

  In the foyer outside the mess, he saw Taryl in the middle of a group of mage-guards, mostly older men, although there were several women mage-guards as well. Rahl did not recognize any of them by name, although he had seen several at the seniors’ table at previous meals.

  Rahl started to ease away when Taryl caught his eye.

  “If you would excuse me for a moment,” Taryl said, stepping away from the group and toward Rahl.

  Rahl realized that Taryl was not wearing the standard mage-guard starburst, but another insignia—one in which the starburst was set above a crossed staff and lightning bolt.

  “New insignia, ser,” Rahl offered.

  “I’ve been appointed Mage-Guard Overcommander of Merowey. We’ll need to meet after dinner. I don’t know how long things will take. If I’m not here when you finish, do some reading, and I’ll get you from the library.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  With a pleasant smile, Taryl nodded and returned to the others. “You’ll pardon me, but this was such an unexpected promotion that neither I nor my assistant had any knowledge of the Emperor’s and the Triad’s decision, and this is the first time I have seen Rahl.”