Mage-Guard of Hamor

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Drakeyt stood. “You think this Suvorn was sent here just to help the rebels?”

  “It’s possible,” Rahl hedged. “That’s what I want to find out.”

  “You take second squad,” said the captain. “Quelsyn and I will scout around the rest of the hamlet while you’re gone. Send a messenger if you’ll be longer than noon.”

  “I can do that,” replied Rahl, heading to gather his gear.

  Even though second squad had eaten first, it took a while to muster the squad, but before long, Rahl and Khasmyr, the second squad leader, were riding along the lane headed north out of Istvyla. Edelana was riding double behind one of the troopers. The clouds to the north had thickened again, and Rahl had the feeling that they would be in for more rain before the day was over.

  Rahl had ridden no more than a few hundred cubits past the last scattered dwellings when he found that the road narrowed to a lane barely wide enough for two riders abreast—or one wagon, provided it was not a large one. Over the next kay, the squad rode past three small holdings carved out of the woods.

  “There’s our place!” Edelana called out.

  Eskar’s cot was more like a hut, with log walls chinked with mud and moss, and crude plank shutters, although the pair of windows flanking the door were glassed. One pane was cracked. The roof looked to be made of planks covered with shake shingles green with moss.

  Rahl turned in the saddle. “Khasmyr, while I’m looking here, have your scouts study the lane north for either hoofprints or boot prints, but don’t have them travel out of sight of the cot.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  For several moments, Rahl studied the ground outside the hut, but the welter of old and new hoofprints only suggested that Suvorn—or some riders—had visited often. Rahl dismounted and tied the gelding to a single post. Then he turned to Edelana, who had been set on her feet by the trooper. “Who else rode to visit Eskar?”

  “Lots of folk. Anyone who needed a strong back.”

  Rahl turned and walked to the cot door, still ajar, and looked inside. Eskar was lying on a soiled braided rag rug just inside the plank door. The front of his tunic was stiff with blood.

  After several glances around the two-room cot, Rahl doubted that he’d discover anything he needed to know. He turned to Edelana. Her eyes were bright, and tears oozed from the corners of her eyes.

  “Eskar was the only one who was good to me…now…” She shook for a moment.

  “I’m sorry,” Rahl offered.

  The woman seemed not to hear him.

  “How far is it to the back road?” Rahl waited.

  “It’s not more than a kay out the lane, but you’ll have to ford the creek. The bridge wore out and washed out. The old road is just beyond that.”

  “Is Suvorn’s place that way?”

  “I wouldn’t know, ser.”

  “Did he always ride here coming from the north?”

  “Most times, unless he was coming from town.” Her words were distant.

  “Do you have anyone else you can stay with?”

  “No, ser.”

  Rahl had no idea what to do next. He didn’t want to leave the woman with a dead man, and he had few enough coins of his own left with hundreds of kays to ride on a campaign ahead of him.

  “Do you have a spade or a mattock?”

  “Oh, no, ser. Eskar wouldn’t want that. Said he’d need to be buried by his sister. In the family place.”

  “I’m sorry. I was just thinking…”

  Edelana looked at Rahl. “You asked. Most wouldn’t. I’ll do it.”

  Rahl wasn’t certain about that. “Are you sure?”

  “Hyalf said he’d send Aliva over in a bit. We’ll do.”

  Rahl inclined his head, then stepped back to the post, where he untied the gelding, then mounted. He rode out to the lane to meet Khasmyr.

  “There’s one set of fresh prints,” the squad leader reported, “coming down the lane and heading back out.”

  “Those would be Suvorn’s. We might as well follow them and see where they take us.”

  “You think he’s one of the rebels?”

  “I don’t know, but we’ll want to check the old road for those heavy wagon tracks anyway.”

  “Second squad! Form up!” Khasmyr barely waited before ordering, “Forward!”

  Fording the creek wasn’t difficult, not with the water level as low as it was, and the hoofprints continued on the far side. Where the old lane, even more overgrown, ended at the old road, the tracks turned westward, running between two far older and deeper traces of heavy-laden wagons.

  As far as Rahl could judge, they rode another half kay before the hoofprints turned up a weedy trail. He reined up and studied the road. From what he could tell, the rider had gone up the trail, then come back before riding west.

  “Ser!” called Khasmyr. “Over here.”

  Rahl eased the gelding over to join the squad leader.

  “Someone replaced the axle tree on a heavy wagon, and tossed the broken stuff into the brush. Looks like you were right, ser.”

  “I don’t think Suvorn’s anywhere near here, but I’d like to take a look at his place up that trail.”

  “You want the whole squad, ser?”

  “Just two or three men.”

  “First two ranks, follow the captain.”

  The four troopers rode in single file behind Rahl along the narrow trail for less than two hundred cubits before they emerged in an overgrown clearing.

  From the outside, the hut looked more like a hovel, and one that had not been occupied for years, if not longer. Rahl’s order-senses told him that no one was inside or nearby, but he had the feeling that the place had been lived in far more recently than appearances would have indicated. The nearly fresh hoofprints leading practically to and from the door reinforced that feeling.

  Rahl gestured to the nearest trooper. “Look around behind here, follow the prints, and see if there’s a shed or a barn concealed behind some of that underbrush.”

  “Ah…yes, ser.”

  Rahl reined up short of the doorway, dismounted, and handed the gelding’s reins to the next trooper who had been riding behind him. “I doubt I’ll be long.”

  The plank door was crude, but had been recently crafted, and the single room behind the door was neat and swept. The pallet bed was also new, and the interior walls had been hurriedly patched and repaired. A worn workman’s tunic had been thrown across one end of the pallet, as had a pair of patched trousers, and a set of nearly worn-out work boots remained by the door. The ashes in the small hearth were warm, but no other garments or personal items remained.

  Suvorn had definitely departed, and in haste.

  Rahl stepped back out into the cool and raw morning air. All four troopers and their mounts were drawn up outside the hut, waiting.

  “Sir, there’s a shed out back, just big enough for a single mount. It’s been used recent-like.”

  “Thank you.” Rahl swung up into the saddle, not quite so awkwardly as he first had, but still with a lack of grace. “We’ll head back and join the rest of the squad. Then we’ll be riding back to town.”

  There wasn’t much point in chasing Suvorn, but he would need to write a more detailed report for the messenger to take to Taryl. He could only hope that the rest of the campaign forces would start to follow them. Otherwise, Third Company would have to stop sending messengers before long because they’d have more troopers carrying messages than scouting.

  He didn’t like the way matters were going. Not at all. He and Third Company were something like eighty kays from Kysha, with almost three hundred to go left on the way to Dawhut, and he was already discovering more planning by the rebels and less knowledge by the locals of what was happening around them.

  XXXII

  Eightday morning found Rahl and Drakeyt riding southwest once more, through a mist that had not yet developed into rain, and might not, Rahl realized. Ever since they had left Kysha, and especially over the las
t few days, he’d been using his order-abilities to track the water in the air to the north, but a southerly wind he had never even sensed coming had sprung up and had met the cooler clouds from the north and, instead of rain, they had mist.

  As he brushed water droplets off the oiled leather of his tan riding jacket, he wondered how any mage ever became much good at forecasting the weather. There were so many things to consider.

  The night before, he’d written a few paragraphs in his narrative letter to Deybri, trying to explain to her his feelings about being unable to do much for Edelana and how the effects of one prince’s greed or wish for greater power ended up in the death of a man whose only connection was that he’d accepted a silver to help fix a broken axle. What he hadn’t written was his fear that incidents such as those in Istvyla would be trivial once actual battles were joined.

  He also wished that he could just talk to Deybri. Would that ever happen again?

  “You’re quiet this morning,” offered Drakeyt.

  “There’s not much to say,” replied Rahl, “except that it’s wet, and there’s a long ways to go before we reach Dawhut.”

  “That’s war for you, a lot of travel and discomfort until you fight, and then there’s no travel and even more discomfort.”

  “That sounds like experience speaking.” Rahl didn’t know how the captain would have gotten much experience.

  “Only a little. I was with the force that the High Command sent to Worrak to rout out the pirate crew there. They said we’d be done in eightdays. It took two seasons, and we lost three men in ten.”

  “I never heard about that.”

  “Almost no one did. The High Command is always sending companies here and there, usually in Candar. My cousin Hautyl was part of the campaign against the Southern Quarter in Nordla, but that was almost ten years back. We lost half the force, and he was lucky to come back losing only one arm and getting a stipend.”

  “Nordla? What did they do?”

  “Oh, the local Lord of the Quadrant impounded some of our ships and claimed that our traders were cheating his traders. The Emperor thought letting him get away with it was a bad idea. So we assaulted Surien. I suppose it did the job. Between the fleet and the infantry, we destroyed most of the merchanters and their warehouses and made the harbor so impassable it was a year before they could use it.” Drakeyt snorted. “Golyat was in charge of the campaign. That was before he became administrator of Merowey. It only cost us a thousand troopers, but no one in Nordla messed with our traders. Not for another generation, anyway.”

  “He was in charge of the campaign? Was he that good?”

  “I heard that the High Command complained to the Emperor, but the Triad reviewed everything, and Golyat submitted a report on Surien’s defenses.”

  “Oh…”

  Drakeyt looked sideways through the mist at Rahl.

  “I wonder…” After a moment, Rahl went on. “We’re going to ride some seven hundred kays, when the fleet could be outside Nubyat in an eightday or two. I couldn’t figure that out. Someone had mentioned harbor defenses in one briefing, but…”

  “You’re thinking that Golyat studied how the Nordlans did it and has been fortifying Nubyat and Sastak?”

  Rahl shrugged. “It’s a thought, but no one told me anything.”

  “As much as anything in war makes sense, that does.”

  “Is that why Fairhaven might be supporting Prince Golyat? Because they want the revolt to go on and on?”

  “Who knows—except that anything that ties up our fleet and raises our tariffs benefits their traders.”

  “And the Jeranyi,” Rahl added.

  “The Jeranyi just like trouble.” Drakeyt paused, then asked, “How did you figure out what happened in Istvyla so quickly?”

  Rahl shrugged. “I suppose it was because I’d seen it before. When we rode into the square, and everyone gathered, one fellow—the one we didn’t catch—was at the edge of the crowd. He looked at you, then at me, and he left, even before we said anything.”

  “You thought…from that?”

  “It wasn’t his leaving, but the way he left,” Rahl replied. “You can’t be a harbor or city mage-guard for long without seeing it. Most people can’t hide the guilt at having done something. Istvyla’s just a hamlet, too. Why would he leave in a guilty fashion just on seeing us?”

  “You were city mage-guard?”

  “A harbor mage-guard in Swartheld. Not for that long.”

  “What did you do before that?”

  “I was a mage-clerk in Luba.” Rahl didn’t want to say that much more. “What bothers me about this is the planning.”

  “You mean that someone sent this Suvorn out here more than a season ago, with enough coin, just to be able to help the rebels with the cannon? It wouldn’t take that much coin,” replied Drakeyt.

  “It’s not the coin; it’s that they found the one man whom everyone would accept without suspicion, or too much suspicion.” Rahl also suspected that the episode with the cannon had been designed to play on the marshal’s caution, and he wondered how many other incidents there might be that were designed to slow the campaign without much cost in men and matériel to the rebels. “There have to have been some High Command officers backing Prince Golyat.”

  “You think anyone’s going to admit that or tell us?”

  Drakeyt had a good point there. “It’s not likely.”

  “We’ll find that out the hard way.” The captain frowned. “And we’ll find more surprises. That’s what we’re here for—so that the main force doesn’t find them.” He shook his head. “They will anyway, but the fewer they encounter, the better.”

  Rahl agreed with that, but someone had planned the revolt for a long time, and they also had the help of mage-guards and some senior High Command officers.

  XXXIII

  Over the next eightday, little changed. Third Company followed the road as it wound through the endless high forests of Merowey, past and through small hamlet after small hamlet. Rahl saw little on the road itself except timber wagons, and few enough of those. The farther they rode from Kysha, the fewer the wagons, and the more often they held the rarer woods, such as black oak or cinnamon goldenwood. He did not see any lorken.

  The locals accepted, if grudgingly, the script proffered by Drakeyt in return for supplies. They might have to wait for actual coins, but the alternatives were far worse. Actual progress was comparatively slow, because of the need to scout and to question locals, and because for two of the days, Third Company had taken refuge in scattered barns around the hamlet of Azakleth, rather than attempt to ride through rain that varied between coming down in sheets and coming down mixed occasionally with hail.

  “Welcome to winter in high Merowey,” had been Drakeyt’s comment.

  The hills became more rugged, but not that much higher, as they neared Koldyrk, and in more than a few places Rahl could make out bogs and marshy ground that might once have been lakes or actual swamps. The rocky height of some of the hills revealed patches of dark gray and light gray rock where little grew. Rahl could tell that the darker gray rock was softer because it had crumbled away from cliffs and spires in many places while the light gray stone had not. The vales and valleys were narrower and twisted more.

  They had just passed one of the infrequent kaystones that bore the weathered inscription Koldyrk—10 k when one of the rear guards trotted forward and eased his mount alongside Drakeyt.

  “Captains! There’s a squad of heavies following us, and their scout rode up. They’re reinforcements, and they’ve got a couple of pack animals and some spare mounts—and some dispatches for you.”

  “Just a squad?” asked Drakeyt dubiously.

  “Yes, ser, and the squad leader’s Fysett. Went through the Worrak thing with him.”

  “Might as well let them catch up with us.” Drakeyt raised an arm. “Company! Halt! To the rear, turn! Weapons ready!” He looked toward Rahl. “Might as well get them used to it. Let’s go meet
them.”

  Rahl rode alongside the captain as they moved onto the shoulder of the road and headed back toward what had been the rear of Third Company. After they reached fourth squad, they could see that the squad of troopers approaching was less than half a kay away.

  As they drew nearer, Rahl could also sense that the mounts were tired. He cleared his throat and looked to Drakeyt. “They’ve been pushing their mounts hard. They’ll need some rest in Koldyrk.”

  “That may be.”

  The squad halted less than twenty cubits from Rahl, and the squad leader rode forward, reining up before the two officers. “Captains! Squad leader Fysett reporting as the fifth squad to Third Company.”

  “Welcome, squad leader,” replied Drakeyt.

  “I have dispatches. There’s one for each of you, and we have some extra field rations and a half score spare mounts.” Fysett fumbled in the small leather dispatch case and extracted two envelopes. He eased his mount ahead and leaned forward to extend one envelope to Drakeyt. The second one went to Rahl.

  “Thank you,” said Drakeyt. “We thought we’d try for Koldyrk today. Are your mounts up to another eight or nine kays?”

  “At a walk, ser. We’ve been pushing hard to catch you. The Mage-Guard Overcommander said it was important.”

  “Good,” Drakeyt said. “You’re now fifth squad. We’re close enough to make it before sundown.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  Rahl did not open the envelope until he and Drakeyt had ridden back to the head of the company and were preparing to resume the ride toward Koldyrk.

  Mage-Guard Rahl—

  The squad of troopers bearing this dispatch is to fulfill a twofold purpose. First, they are to reinforce Third Company. Second, they are to allow Captain Drakeyt and you the flexibility to send more frequent dispatches.

  The first companies of the main advance body have left Kysha under the command of Submarshal Dettyr and have arrived in Troinsta. We will be leaving Troinsta early tomorrow—the second fiveday of winter—and look to be able to close the gap with Third Company over the next eightday. Marshal Byrna will likely be departing Kysha and following us before long.