Mage-Guard of Hamor

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Thank you.”

  When Rahl finished, he turned to the trooper. “If you’d check for me, I’d appreciate it.”

  The trooper went over everything, and Rahl could sense his increasing puzzlement.

  Finally, he stepped back and turned to Rahl. “Looks good, ser.”

  “You’re wondering why I asked you?” Rahl smiled. “This is only the second time I’ve saddled a horse. I can tell a bit by how the horse feels, but that might not be a good guide, and I don’t have enough experience to know yet.”

  “Looks like you learn fast, ser. Big thing is to make sure he doesn’t puff up his belly when you’re tightening the cinches. He does that, and then they’re loose, and you end up on the ground when you try to mount.”

  “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.” Rahl fastened his bedroll and gear behind the saddle and led the gelding out of the stable. He wasn’t looking forward to mounting.

  Mounting wasn’t painful; it just reminded him of how stiff he was in certain areas of his body. He turned the gelding northward.

  Early as it was, many of the shops and dwellings were still shuttered, and whitish gray smoke rose from the chimneys into the clear green-blue sky. When Rahl rode through places where there were shadows, he could see his breath, although he didn’t think it had actually gotten cold enough for anything to freeze. “Not yet,” he murmured.

  The chandler was just unshuttering his place when Rahl reined up and dismounted.

  “You’re out early, ser. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m looking for travel food and information.” Rahl tied his mount to the short iron railing set between two posts.

  “We’ve got some of the first, not much of the second—except gossip, and I don’t imagine that’s what you’re looking for.” The chandler took the two steps up from the ancient stone sidewalk onto the narrow stoop with a single bound, then held the door for Rahl. “Might as well pick what you need.”

  The chandlery wasn’t all that large, nor was it well lit. Even so, it only took a quick survey for Rahl to find what he thought would be most useful—and within his still-limited means. He brought a package of heavy biscuits, some strips of dried beef, and a wedge of hard white cheese up to the narrow counter at the side where the chandler waited.

  “That’ll be eight coppers, ser. We don’t see many mage-guards here, ser, not even passing through.”

  Rahl nodded. “I imagine that’s so. For the size of Hamor, there aren’t that many mage-guards, and the Triad doesn’t send us where we’re not needed. I might be wrong, but I’m guessing that you don’t have much of the kind of trouble that needs a mage-guard.”

  “You’d not be far wrong on that. Folks here know each other, and they know who to trust and who has to pay hard coin first.”

  “What about travelers? They have to pay hard coin, but have you seen any that you’d not trust if they lived here?”

  “I can’t say as I have, but then since the troubles on the coast began we’ve not seen all that many travelers, and most of them have come from the east out of Kysha.” The chandler paused. “Some of those I’d not let out of my sight until they paid and left the shop.”

  “Did any of those come through here recently?”

  “The last one was close to three eightdays past, ser.”

  “Is there anything else I should know?” Rahl grinned as he spoke.

  “Not that I’d be thinking, except we’d be pleased if you could settle things down quick-like. Folks around here like the Emperor just fine.”

  “I thank you.” Rahl nodded, then turned and made his way out of the chandlery. He glanced up and down the street. It was almost deserted, with two empty wagons headed south and a woman walking from the public fountain with two jugs.

  After another study of the street, he mounted the gelding and rode back toward the stables south of the Painted Pony. Third Company was just forming up as he reined in beside Drakeyt.

  “You were quick. What did you find out?”

  “Not much that we wouldn’t expect. Nothing strange. Travel has dropped off. There were some dubious travelers maybe three eightdays ago, but since then no one to speak of has been in the chandlery. The chandler did talk about the rebellion as ‘those troubles on the coast.’ I thought that was interesting, especially since he meant it.”

  “We’ll see how far we go before that changes,” observed Drakeyt dryly. “I’d like to finish up here today and head farther west tomorrow.”

  Rahl nodded.

  “Third Company mounted, all accounted for, ser!” came the report from Quelsyn.

  “Very well, senior squad leader. Break into patrols, squads one and two with you and Captain Rahl, squads three and four with me.”

  “Break into patrol groups!”

  Within moments, Rahl was riding north through Troinsta beside Quelsyn. They did not stop or question anyone until they were well out of the town.

  The first few steadholders knew nothing and had seen nothing.

  Not until early midmorning, when they rode into the stead of a dairy farmer, just short of where the forest resumed, did they learn anything. The bearded and burly dairyman looked up at Rahl and Quelsyn with a resigned look that was mirrored in his feelings. “How might I help you, Mage-Guard?”

  “We’d heard that there might have been some strange travelers out this way,” Rahl said politely. “I wondered if you’d seen anything like that.”

  The man shook his head. “Can’t say as I have, ser. Bercast was talking about some tracks, but I never saw anything.”

  “What does Bercast do, and where could we find him?”

  “He’s got a leasehold on the bottomland hardwoods. He’s got a mill on the side creek that joins the Fleuver, close on to three kays out. You take this road for like on two kays, maybe more, maybe less, but when you come to the pillar that rises out of a pile of stones, you take that lane to your left, sort of west, and up the hill, and then over the rise…”

  Rahl had the man repeat the directions twice before he thanked him, and they rode back to the patrol.

  Quelsyn did not give any orders, but looked at the road ahead, dirt-packed and with the undergrowth cut back less than fifty cubits from the shoulder. “Time to send out outriders and scouts, ser.”

  “Send them.” Rahl smiled. “Don’t hesitate to make suggestions.”

  “Yes, ser.” Quelsyn turned in the saddle. “Outriders and scouts forward!”

  Six troopers rode forward.

  “Scouts a kay ahead, outriders half that, but don’t lose sight of each other.”

  Rahl and the patrol reached the turning point for the mill without seeing anyone.

  Less than half a kay along the narrower lane, one of the scouts called back from the rise ahead of the main body of the patrol. “Heavy wagon coming! Driver and a guard!”

  “Form up on the right!” ordered Quelsyn. “Arms ready!”

  Rahl eased the gelding onto the narrow strip of brushy ground and extended his order-senses. There was a driver with a guard beside him. The guard had some sort of weapon—a crossbow, Rahl felt—but it was lowered.

  “Guard has a crossbow,” Rahl stated, “but he’s keeping it down.”

  Quelsyn nodded, if skeptically.

  The first pair of the heavy dray horses appeared on the rise of the lane, followed by the rest of the six-dray team…and the wagon. Both the driver and the guard held their hands high enough for the troopers to see them. Although the guard still held the crossbow, he held it with one hand, pointed down. Rahl noted that it was only at half tension, certainly enough to be effective at short range, but not so tight that it would put undue stress on the weapon over a lengthy drive. The wagon creaked as it passed, with wide and thick planks comprising the cargo, fastened down with wide straps of canvas.

  Quelsyn looked at the crossbow as well, then at Rahl, but said nothing until the wagon was past. “On the road! Same formation! Forward!”

  The patrol continued up t
he lane, over the rise and down, and then around a wide turn to the north and up over another rise and down, and up over yet another, before descending into a swale that had been cleared. There a squat brick-walled mill stood midway down a millrace from a large pond that had been created by a stone-and-earth dam holding a creek. South and slightly downhill of the mill were two roofed and partly walled drying barns. North and west on a slope above the mill pond was a long tile-roofed dwelling of one story, and a brick walkway led from the dwelling to a narrow bridge over the millrace.

  Rahl rode down the lane, the patrol following, and the scouts and outriders continuing over the stone bridge that crossed the stone-walled creek a good hundred cubits east of the mill. Rahl and the patrol reined up in the open space east of the drying barns. The outriders continued north until they reached the top of the rise on the far side of the vale.

  A wiry dark-haired man walked from one of the drying barns toward Rahl with a carriage that suggested he was more than just a worker. He stopped well short of the patrol. “Ser? Might we be of some help?”

  Despite the man’s polite speech, Rahl could sense the combination of fear and irritation, and he offered a pleasant smile. “You’re the mill-master and forester? You don’t have any lorken in those woods, do you?” As he finished his questions, Rahl could sense the surprise from both the mill-master and Quelsyn.

  “I’m Bercast, and the mill’s mine. We lease the lands to the north and west from the Emperor. Our leasehold payments are made, Mage-Guard. If they haven’t gotten to the Emperor, that’s because of the trouble on the coast, not because we didn’t pay.”

  “We’re not here for that.” Rahl could sense the honesty of the miller’s reply—and the worry. “About the lorken?”

  “I wish we could grow lorken here,” replied Bercast, still puzzled. “Would that we could, but the best we can do is black oak and walnut, and dark rosewood…and, of course, goldenwood.”

  “What was on the wagon?”

  “Those were all goldenwood planks.”

  “We’re looking for some rebels who might have taken some of the back roads around here recently. I heard that you’d come across some tracks…” Rahl raised his eyebrows.

  “No secret about that, ser. I even told Patrol Chief Dykstat.”

  “He said someone had seen them.”

  Bercast shook his head. “No, ser. Never saw a one. We ran across some tracks, and deep they were. That was what called my eye to them. As deep as my wagons, and my first thought was that someone was timber-poaching the backwoods, but we never found any sign of that.”

  “Where are these tracks?”

  “I can tell you where they were. Tracks aren’t so clear now—we’ve had some rain…but they were deep enough that they’ll still stand out, I’d think. Couldn’t figure what they were hauling that was so heavy if it wasn’t timber. We use that lane off and on, and never saw ’em. I’d wager that they came through in the dark….”

  Rahl could sense the truth of the forester’s words.

  “How do we get to this road?” asked Quelsyn.

  “It’s a good two kays from here, sers.” Bercast pointed along the lane heading north. “You go maybe a kay, maybe less, until you get to the fork, where the big black stump is on the left side—that’s the west side—and you take that fork over two rises and before long you’ll get to the back road. Now it runs almost north and south on that stretch, and that’s where the tracks I saw were, but you go a kay in either direction, and it goes back to east and west. Folks say that was once the main way, but that was a long, long time back. There are some old kaystones there. Never could figure out what they meant.”

  “Thank you.” Rahl inclined his head.

  “Glad to be of help, ser.” The mill-master bowed his head.

  Rahl could sense the man’s relief as Quelsyn ordered, “Patrol! Forward!”

  Rahl had the feeling it was more than two kays before they reached the black stump, and another kay and a half before they were on the back road—or the old road. Even the trees flanking the road were ancient, and while the road seemed to be clay, Rahl could sense that it was indeed old. He held up his hand.

  “Patrol halt!” ordered the senior squad leader.

  “You have someone good with tracks?” asked Rahl.

  Quelsyn offered an embarrassed smile. “Ah…I was a scout, first, ser.”

  Rahl gestured for him to go ahead.

  The squad leader rode less than a hundred cubits before reining up.

  Rahl eased his mount along the shoulder of the road until he joined Quelsyn.

  “Couldn’t hardly miss them.” Quelsyn pointed toward the middle of the road, where two deep traces remained, sometimes diverging as if two sets of heavy-laden wagons had passed. The wheel ruts had erased several hoofprints. “See the angle there. They were heading east…well, north here. More than an eightday ago…could be two.” The senior squad leader looked to Rahl. “Heavy wagon, all right.”

  “We’ll need to patrol back along the track. There might be supply caches or other rebels,” said Rahl.

  “Ser?”

  “The tracks are from the wagons that carried small cannon to the river. The ones that fired on our river steamers,” Rahl replied. “The shore force killed or captured all but a handful. Some of them might try to get back to the rebels.”

  “You think they’ve already passed here?” asked the squad leader.

  “Close to five days…probably not more than fifteen or twenty kays from where they were.” That was a guess on Rahl’s part, but he felt that the surviving raiders were already to the west. He didn’t want to say that, though.

  “A long ways on foot back to where they came from.”

  “Unless they can steal mounts.”

  “The patrol chief honestly didn’t know of any,” Rahl pointed out. “If any horses are missing, it’s from outlying steads.”

  “Where the holders can’t report it, or are dead,” Quelsyn concluded.

  Rahl extended his order-senses. He didn’t feel anyone nearby—except for the troopers of the patrol. But…there was something.

  “We’ll follow this road west for a while, squad leader, and we’ll look for signs. If they’re trying to get back, they’ll stay close to the road.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  Rahl ignored the doubt behind Quelsyn’s acknowledgment.

  XXVIII

  The patrol had ridden at least two kays, a kay due south before the old road turned westward once more, and another kay or more after that. Although Rahl could sense something ahead, the feeling came and went, and he said nothing. Quelsyn, riding beside Rahl, was silent, but Rahl had no trouble feeling the disapproval from the senior squad leader.

  The wind had strengthened and shifted, coming more out of the north-northwest, and turning the sunny early-winter day from almost pleasant to chill. Rahl kept studying the clouds gathering to the far northwest, but he had the feeling that they would not reach Troinsta before evening, if then, and that if there were to be any rain, it would not be soon.

  In places, there were recent tracks in the road, but they could have been anyone or anything. Then, one of the scouts raised his hand, gesturing, before turning his mount and riding back along the old road. As he neared Rahl and Quelsyn, he turned his mount to ride alongside the two.

  “What is it?” asked the senior squad leader.

  “Sers…there’s some boot prints, and they’re heading west. There’s what looks to be a piece of bloody cloth—could be a wound dressing—in the brush.”

  “We’ll take a look,” replied Quelsyn.

  The three continued riding westward, with the patrol behind them. Rahl continued to use his order-senses, and he began to get a stronger sense of someone—or large animals—farther away.

  “Just ahead there, short of where that branch sticks out.” The scout pointed.

  After another fifty cubits, Quelsyn reined up on the road and dismounted. He studied the brush and the ground
beyond the edge of the road and then the scrap of grayish cloth. Finally, he straightened and took several steps along the road, leading his mount. His eyes were on the patches of dirt between the low weeds on the shoulder.

  Rahl eased the gelding forward, following the senior squad leader.

  After walking several cubits more, Quelsyn stopped and looked up toward Rahl. “There are more tracks here. Two sets of boots, maybe three, and they’re all headed west.”

  “How old are the tracks?”

  “Yesterday…could even be today.”

  Rahl frowned. He tried to extend his order-senses out beyond the outriders, and the something he had felt earlier seemed faintly stronger, but not directly ahead. Then he shook his head. Of course not. If the rebels heard or saw riders, they’d hide. “They’re up ahead in the woods, I think, on the left. More than a kay out, though,” Rahl said. “They’re hiding.”

  “Hoping we’ll ride by.”

  “I’d think so.”

  “What do you suggest, Captain?”

  “My thought would be to ride on until we’re within a quarter kay or so, then have one patrol pull up and wait while the other rides past. Once we’re past, I’ll take the lead patrol at them and see what we can do.”

  “They might be waiting for that.”

  “They’ll have trouble shooting through the underbrush if they have bows or crossbows. I should be able to tell if they do before I get close enough for them to shoot.”

  Again, Rahl could sense the senior squad leader’s doubt.

  “You’re in charge, Captain.”

  Rahl smiled. “You’ve done this more than I have, Quelsyn. What am I overlooking?”

  The senior squad leader pursed his lips. “I can’t say, but I don’t see how they’ll let you ride up to them.”

  “I’d wager you’re right. Once it’s clear that we’re onto them, they’ll scatter, but I think a good horseman can ride them down so long as I can sense them. We’ll have to see, though.”

  “You sure about that, ser?”

  “No.” Rahl laughed. “Not absolutely, but it’s worth a try. Our task is to find out what the rebels are doing, and we might find out something this way.”