“That is one reason. Another is as I wrote you. Also, you must already have noted that Hamor has far fewer skilled healers than does Recluce. There are other reasons as well, which I will not reveal, but which are honorable, and for which you must take my word for now.”
She nodded. “What plans do you have for Rahl if you are successful in quashing the revolt?”
It surprised Rahl that Deybri did not press Taryl on his other reasons, but he said nothing.
“I would like to see him advance as far as he possibly can in the mage-guards.”
“Enough to assure that?”
“I will not press others to promote him beyond his abilities or what he has earned, but I will support him fully for what he has earned.”
“And for me?”
“The very same, Healer.”
At that moment, the orderly removed the soup and replaced each dish with a plate on which were thin slices of beef laid between thinner slices of pastry and covered with a dark mushroom sauce.
“Beef Fyrad,” Taryl said. “It’s not all that popular these days, but I enjoy it.”
So did Rahl, perhaps because he’d been so involved in thinking about Deybri and watching her that he’d forgotten how hungry he was.
“You did read the Mage-Guard Manual?” Taryl asked after several mouthfuls.
“Yes, ser,” Deybri replied. “Some of it was…difficult.”
Taryl nodded. “It is for most healers. You would not be healers were you not inclined to believe that there is at least a chance to heal most wounds. The Manual as much as states that some individuals can never be redeemed and that they must either be executed or work their lives away in the ironworks, the quarries, or the road crews.”
“I can see that. Most in Recluce avoid thinking about that because we exile many and leave their fate to others. We do execute some few, but their offenses are usually great.”
Rahl still had his doubts about that latter statement, especially given his experiences with Puvort and the magisters in Land’s End, but he saw no point in contradicting Deybri.
“Rahl might disagree,” Deybri added, “but I have to believe that his experiences are colored by his own uniqueness.”
“Because he is a natural ordermage of the kind Recluce is unable or unwilling to train?” asked Taryl.
“And because he is potentially far more powerful than any of them—or any mage-guards here, possibly with the exception of the Triads. You know that. Wasn’t that one reason why you saved him?”
“No,” replied Taryl. “When I made him a mage-clerk, he only had a fraction of his true abilities. Later, it became very clear.”
Deybri looked at Rahl.
“It’s true. I could barely order-sense more than a few cubits away, and I could do nothing else.”
“To be honest, however,” Taryl added, with a wry smile, “I suspected more because usually only strong mages survive the amount of nemysa that he had to have been given. But I didn’t know that.”
From that point on, through the dessert of pearapple tarts in flaky crusts, Taryl was careful to keep the talk casual.
After the dessert, Taryl stood. “I must say that I’ve enjoyed this, and now I must pay for that by getting back to what remains on my desk.”
Rahl and Deybri rose.
“Thank you, ser,” offered Deybri.
“Thank you,” added Rahl.
“It was my pleasure.” Taryl smiled, warmly, and anything but mechanically.
Rahl offered Deybri his arm, and they left the small dining chamber and walked slowly down the long corridor toward the staff section and her quarters.
“He was very formal with you,” Rahl said.
“It’s both a message and a habit, I would say. He didn’t strain to remind himself to use my title,” mused Deybri.
The Empress?
“You have that look, Rahl. Your face reveals what your shields conceal.”
“I don’t know, but I think he was once in love with a woman who was consorted to someone else very powerful. I don’t think he’s ever forgotten her.”
“You’re being mysterious. Please don’t be.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just…I owe Taryl everything…Everything but you, and now, in a way, I owe him for you. For your being here. I wouldn’t want to say anything when I’m only guessing…but you should know. You probably could guess…You know, he was once a Triad. I think I wrote you that. Well, when we were in Cigoerne, I saw him once with the Empress…”
“The Empress of all Hamor? You met the Emperor and Empress?”
“It was at a reception. Each of them spoke to me for just a moment. The Emperor thanked me for helping with the mission to Nylan.”
“What was she like?” Deybri’s voice was soft.
“She’s a healer, but she doesn’t look at all like you.”
“A healer…of course. The poor man. The one woman even a former Triad could never have. Not one as honest as Taryl.”
“No one has ever said anything,” Rahl said quietly, “but I wonder if he gave her up so that the Emperor would be a more able ruler.”
“That’s…horrible…as if she were…”
“There’s more to it than that, but I don’t know what. Maybe she loved them both. I can’t believe Taryl would trade anyone.”
“Maybe she gave up Taryl,” suggested Deybri.
“I don’t know. He’s never said a word. It’s only what I saw and felt.”
“That’s enough, most times.” Deybri stopped outside her door and turned to him.
He leaned toward her and kissed her tenderly. She returned the kiss, warmly, lovingly, but also gently, then eased back from him. He could feel her entire body trembling.
Looking at him, she smiled sadly. “Rahl…I would like that more than anything…but we can’t. Not now.”
He could sense both the longing within her, the sadness, and see the brightness in her eyes. “Could you tell me why?”
“You’ve become so much more powerful. None of the magisters in Nylan could stand against you now, and you desire me so much…” Her words broke off.
“A child? Is that it?” He’d almost forgotten what she had told him so long ago about how almost any love-making would immediately lead to a child…the same mistake that had begun his exile and the long way he had come.
She nodded, her eyes dropping from his for a moment. “I’m almost sure that we should be together, that it’s right. But…with you…almost isn’t enough…and it would never be fair to the child. Please…”
He stepped forward and put his arms around her. Demons, it felt so good even to hold her. He still couldn’t quite believe she was with him—in Hamor, where she had said she would never return.
Their faces were damp with tears when he stepped away and opened the door for her. He did not leave until it clicked shut.
LXXXIV
For the next three days, Rahl did not see all that much of Deybri—except at dinner, twice in the staff quarters at the Residence and once more with Taryl in the private dining room. All three times, she was close to exhausted from her efforts with the remaining wounded—those who would likely not survive without the ministrations of a healer. While he enjoyed being close to her, and she was warm and looked at him with affection, that affection was restrained—and those restraints chafed at Rahl, no matter how much he told himself that he could appreciate Deybri’s exhaustion and caution.
Sevenday was not that much different from any of his recent days. He’d begun by meeting with Taryl and briefing the administrator on the shortages of goods identified by the factors’ council, primarily foodstuffs, as a result of the need to feed First and Second Army, as well as the difficulties caused by low water in the Awhut River, which limited the amount of cargo that could be carried downstream to Nubyat, and the timetable for repairing the sewer drains. After leaving Taryl, he’d ridden out to Water-Master Neshyl and conveyed Taryl’s approval of the sewer project.
Then he’d ret
urned to Nubyat and spent more time with the portmaster, arranging to have the channel dredged near the end of pier two, where one of the merchanters had almost grounded leaving port. That meant that none of the warships would be able to dock without risking getting hung up.
Following that, Rahl had made a riding tour of Nubyat, accompanied as he had been all day by three troopers from Third Company, checking on the patrollers and stopping to talk to crafters and shop proprietors, all as part of his efforts to get a better feel of the city as well as to reassure them that there would be no retributions against those who had not raised arms—or coins—in support of the revolt.
Although he did not spend that much time with any one crafter, the sun was barely above the masts of the trading schooner tied up near the foot of pier three when Rahl reined up outside the harbor mage-guard station.
Chewyrt was actually waiting when Rahl stepped into the front foyer where one of the younger patrollers was handling the duty watch.
“Ser.” Chewyrt inclined his head.
“Undercaptain, a few words.”
“In the study?” asked Chewyrt.
Rahl nodded. “It won’t take long.”
“Yes, ser.”
Rahl followed the undercaptain to the small study, where he closed the door behind himself. As he glanced around, he could see that Chewyrt had rearranged the room, and that everything was spotless. There were neat stacks of paper on the table desk, and the draft of a duty schedule that the undercaptain had obviously been puzzling over. Rahl took the armless chair by the corner of the table desk and waited for Chewyrt to seat himself before he began.
“The administrator has indicated that you will get two more mage-guards sometime before the turn of spring.”
“That will help, but we will still have to rely heavily on the patrollers and pier guards.” Chewyrt gestured to the half-completed schedule. “It’s hard to come up with a duty roster that doesn’t exhaust everyone.”
“You could reduce the number of pier guards on eightday, at least for a while,” Rahl suggested. “If you haven’t already.”
“I’d thought about it…”
“See how it works out and let me know.” Rahl cleared his throat. He still felt awkward, at times, although those moments were fewer, acting as if he were the regional mage-guard commander, but there wasn’t anyone else. “From now on, you will also be responsible for discovering beginning mages here in Nubyat. Because your mages don’t have that much experience, they’re just to refer any incidents of magery to you for action.”
Chewyrt nodded. “That makes sense.”
“If you have questions, or would like someone else to observe such youngsters, just let me know.”
“I can do that.”
“You assigned Dhemyn, Perguyn, and Saol to the city station,” Rahl went on. “How is that working out?”
Chewyrt frowned, then pursed his lips. “I worry about Dhemyn. I’ve watched all three, and Perguyn and Saol are good at projecting authority so that they don’t have to use chaos much at all. Dhemyn…he wants to be liked, and there’s a difference between being polite and likable and needing to be liked.”
Rahl understood that. “What do you think might help?”
“I’d thought about switching him back here and sending Vhoral to the city station. It wouldn’t matter as much on the piers because here, things are more…definite, and he’d have a chance to see more about how people use both the implication of chaos and charm. I’d also be able occasionally to point things out to him.”
Rahl nodded. “Go ahead and shift him. What will you tell him?”
“That I had to decide who went where in a hurry, but now that I’ve had a chance to get a better look at matters and schedules, I think he’ll be more valuable here at the harbor station.”
“That’s a good approach….” From there Rahl went over the ledgers with Chewyrt, both the supply ledger and the payroll ledger, and it was close to dinner by the time he finished and rode back to the small stable beyond the overcommander’s villa.
When Rahl finally dismounted and led the gelding inside for grooming, he was thinking about how he was looking forward to having dinner with Deybri. Over the past few days, he’d managed to spend as much time as he could with her, but that depended on her free time—which was at dinner and little enough—given that she was often exhausted from dealing with the scores of injured who might not recover at all from their wounds without a healer.
Drakeyt was already grooming his mount outside the third stall, and he turned to Rahl. “Majer, I finally saw your healer.” The captain shook his head and laughed. “Now I can see why you wrote so many letters to her….”
“Was it that obvious?” Rahl was a little chagrined.
“Perhaps not that obvious, but I noticed. That’s because I don’t have anyone worth writing, and even if I could, I doubt that I’d be able to put it on paper well enough for anyone to want to read.”
“I’m sure you could.”
“Not like you.”
Rahl only laughed, then turned his attention to the gelding. He forced himself not to shortchange the grooming, but after he finished, he hurried to wash up and get to the staff dining chamber so that Deybri wouldn’t feel that he’d forgotten her.
When he hurried into the dining chamber, she was sitting alone at a corner table in the chamber that held ten tables, although there were only ten or eleven others in the room. She set down the beaker of golden ale she had been sipping, and a slow smile crossed her face as he neared. “You don’t have to hurry. I would have waited.”
Like Taryl, she had deep circles under her eyes, but Rahl only smiled in return. “When I can help it, I never want to keep you waiting.”
“You’re kind.”
“No, you’re the one who’s kind. You’re probably starving.” He slipped into the chair across the battered wooden tabletop from her, belatedly noticing the beaker of lager awaiting him. “Thank you.”
Almost immediately, the assistant to the cook set two platters on the table, along with a basket of bread. Each platter held four biastras—the Hamorian pepper-beef tubes that were floured and fried. “These are lamb, Healer…ser.”
Rahl had the definite impression that she still did not know how to address him, but he wasn’t certain what title fit him. “Majer or ser will do,” he said after a moment, making sure his words were warm and kind.
“Yes, ser.”
Rahl could sense her relief. He could also sense more than a few pairs of eyes directed at the two of them.
“We’re confusing them,” Deybri murmured. “We should either be eating here all the time, or with the administrator all the time.”
“We wouldn’t eat half the time,” Rahl replied in a low voice. “He takes most of his meals in his study—or with the commanders at their mess.”
“He drives himself so hard, and he expects much,” murmured Deybri. “Those around him either wish to leave or to be as good as he is.”
“That can be rather difficult,” Rahl replied dryly.
“Would you have it any other way?”
Rahl flushed, but did not reply. Neither spoke more for several moments as they ate, hungry as they both were. Not until Rahl had finished the second biastra did he ask, “What did you do today? More healing?”
She nodded. “I can only offer healing to so many each day. There are some who died before I could get to them. There have been every day.”
“I’m sorry. That sounds like a long day. You must be tired.”
“I am tired,” she admitted. “There are still so many wounded. So many.” She straightened. “One of them knew about you. Not by name. He kept talking about a battle near someplace called Thalye, and about an officer with a long black truncheon who broke an entire battalion and killed scores single-handedly.”
Rahl winced. “That…there was at least a battalion coming down the road through the swamp, and if they’d gotten through, they could have turned our flank. Third C
ompany had to stop them. I just did what I could.” Her question brought back images of the swamp, the ooze-traps he’d created, and the scores who had died, either at his hand or through his magery. He managed not to shudder.
“Rahl…”
He could sense the warmth behind that single syllable, but he still had to explain, even if the explanation wasn’t enough. “It’s just…I feel like you’re trying to undo the damage that what I’ve been doing has caused. I know it’s not true. I mean…I didn’t cause the rebellion, and I’m not the one who wounded or killed our troopers, yet…” He shrugged, almost in frustration. “I’m supposed to be keeping and restoring order, and it seems as though what I’m best at is using it for killing and destruction.”
“What were you doing today?”
“I briefed Taryl, then rode out to the water-master to complete getting the sewer repairs started, made sure that the portmaster started on dredging out that sandbar near the end of pier two, checked on the mage-guards, talked to several crafters and shopkeepers, looked over what the new undercaptain was doing…”
“All that builds order.” She reached out and laid her hand on his.
The warmth of her touch gave him the courage to ask something that he had pondered more than once. “You’ve been most cautious with me, and I’m trying to understand and be patient, but at times…I feel as though…” How could he express what he felt? He swallowed and forced himself to go on. “I sometimes feel that it’s not even between you and me, that there’s something else, almost…someone else…”
Deybri nodded slowly, her eyes meeting his. “There was. Not anymore, not for years. The reason I went to Atla, one reason, was for Bhulyr. He was exiled, except he wasn’t a mage. He wasn’t much of anything, now that I look back. He was a junior trader, and he was assigned to the Merchant Association in Atla, and I thought I was in love with him. I begged, and I pleaded, and Uncle Thorl finally worked out something, and when I got there, Bhulyr had already taken up with the daughter of a local factor—and I had to stay for almost five eightdays. It was half a season that lasted a year.”
“You’d only told me that you were a healer for a trading company,” Rahl said evenly.
Mage-Guard of Hamor Page 61
