Mage-Guard of Hamor

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “You honestly believe they have underestimated me, ser?”

  “I do, and we had both best hope that is the case. They could be as much a danger to you as could Golyat and his mages.”

  “Because they seek greater power and because you stand in their way and I am your aide and ally?”

  “There is great accuracy in that observation, but you need to observe even more.” Taryl cleared his throat. “Your healer is most accomplished, and I hope that she will choose to remain in Hamor.”

  “She would like to do so, ser, but that will depend on what happens at Sastak.”

  Taryl softly barked a laugh. “Much will depend on that, perhaps the future of all Hamor and the world.”

  “The world?” asked Rahl.

  “If the Emperor loses at Sastak, Hamor as it is will fall. That will strengthen Fairhaven. Recluce will rejoice to its eventual sorrow.”

  “Why would the Emperor’s defeat lead to sorrow for Recluce?”

  Taryl offered a crooked smile. “I leave you to think about that one. We had best concentrate on how to best avoid that possibility.”

  Rahl could tell that Taryl had said, as was often the case, what he would say. “What do you require of me and Third Company?”

  “Continue the same duties as you have been doing. Unless you see signs that would indicate otherwise, you need not scout in depth up all the smaller side roads. It is becoming clearer and clearer that matters will be resolved in Sastak, and that it is unlikely that much of import will happen before.”

  “The rebels have not really prevailed in any battle, ser.”

  “That is true, but the winner is not the one who wins the battles, but the one who remains standing and in control when all the battles have been fought. Usually, that is the one who wins the battles, but not always.”

  “I’m to report to you this evening.”

  “As always.” Taryl stood.

  “Until then, ser.” Rahl inclined his head, then turned and took his leave. He did not see or sense Deybri—or the two Triads—anywhere near.

  As he rode back to Third Company, Rahl thought over Taryl’s words, particularly his phrasing—“If the Emperor fails…” The more he thought, the less he liked the implications behind those words, and the more he understood what Taryl had meant beyond what he had said.

  XCI

  The next five days varied little. Third Company scouted, and First and Second Army followed after the scouting. There were no signs of rebels or mages or mage-guards, but there were fewer and fewer foodstuffs available from the local steads and growers. Because he was assigned to Third Company, Rahl was nowhere close to Deybri—or Fieryn and Dhoryk—during the course of the day. He usually managed a few words with Deybri in the morning, but only once in the early evening. As she had predicted, because there were too few healers for First and Second Army, she seldom returned to wherever Taryl had set up his headquarters for the night before Rahl had already reported and departed. Rahl had tried twice to wait for her, both times unsuccessfully, and resigned himself to their brief morning meetings.

  Eightday morning, Rahl entered the less-than-impressive Growers’ Inn on the main square in Gherama—a town known for onions so powerful that there was a regional description about them: “so hard-hearted a Gherama onion wouldn’t bring tears to his eyes.” While the inn seemed clean enough, the oak of the plank floors had been scrubbed and cleaned and washed—and then oiled—so much that the golden grain was lost behind years of labor and oil that left the floor a nondescript and shimmering brown. The glass of the windows was so old that looking through the panes, clean as they were, left Rahl with the impression of seeing the stable yard as through a fog—despite the fact that the morning sun was pouring light down through a clean blue-green sky.

  Taryl had commandeered a corner of the public room and was talking to Commander Muyr. He looked up as Rahl entered. “Rahl…if you’d wait outside, the commander will let you know when we’re done.”

  “Yes, ser.” Rahl stepped back and glanced around the foyer outside the public room. There was not even a bench to sit upon, and the space felt uncomfortably warm, perhaps because he was wearing his riding jacket. Besides, waiting there might give the impression he was eavesdropping.

  After a moment, he crossed the foyer and pushed open the door to the side porch. Once outside, he took the bench on the right end, the one farthest from the street and closest to the spice garden—as well as across the yard from the inn stable. As he sat there, letting his order-senses gather in impressions, he gained an increasing sense of the two Triads approaching. Could he observe them without being seen or detected…or at least without their realizing what he was attempting?

  He tightened his shields and let a certain concern about scouting and what might lie ahead in Sastak swirl about above them. He added a worry about having to wait to meet with Taryl. Before long, Dhoryk and Fieryn strolled beyond the board fence on the back side of the spice garden, heading toward the stable.

  Both held firm shields, but Rahl gained impressions of amusement, supreme self-confidence, and concern. He felt that the concern was focused on Taryl, but he had no way of actually determining that, and that feeling might well have been what he thought the concern might be, rather than what it was.

  As the two reached the end of the board fence and began to cross the stable yard, Dhoryk’s eyes flicked back to Rahl and the porch, but Rahl ignored the glance, as if his thoughts were elsewhere. Then the faintest of order-chaos probes touched him, and he ignored it, letting Dhoryk take in his worries about scouting and about why Taryl was making him wait. After several moments, the probe vanished.

  Rahl let his order-abilities extend the sharpness of his hearing.

  “He’s more worried about Taryl than anything. Not all that many other thoughts in that head…”

  “More than you might think, Dhoryk. Taryl has little patience for ignorance or incompetence.”

  “He’s a more-than-competent scout and city mage-guard, and that makes him better than most mage-guards in this force—except for our assistants, of course.”

  “How could it be otherwise?”

  “It could have been,” Dhoryk replied, “if Taryl had cared more about himself.”

  “We’re fortunate he didn’t, but there’s little point in speculating on what might have been….”

  At that point, the two Triads had walked beyond Rahl’s order-ability to catch their words.

  If Taryl had cared more about himself? More about himself than what? The Emperor? The Empress? Hamor?

  Behind and to Rahl’s left, the door to the inn opened, and Commander Muyr leaned out. “The overcommander is ready to see you, Majer.”

  “Thank you, Commander.” Rahl stood and headed for the inn doorway and the day’s scouting assignment, not that it would vary much until they were closer to Sastak—and that was still at least three days away, according to his calculations.

  XCII

  Scouts! Halt!” Just before midmorning on twoday, Rahl’s order boomed out from the low crest of the main road that led to the port city of Sastak. He had just reined up, taking in the long ridge ahead and to the left of the road.

  He and Third Company had left the marshy lands surrounding the town of Taskyl immediately after morning muster, heading south. They didn’t have that far to go, given that Taskyl lay less than ten kays due north of the outskirts of Sastak, and that he’d just passed the kaystone that indicated the edge of the city was but five kays farther to the south. Until just a few moments before, Rahl had not seen or sensed any rebels, although he and the scouts had discovered that, until two days before, the rebels had been commandeering rice from the warehouses in Taskyl as well as other provisions from the holders within fifteen kays of Sastak.

  A kay or so to the south, the long ridge ran from the northeast to the southwest, its flattened top a good sixty cubits above the drained rice paddies that stretched along the eastern side of the road for almost two kays and end
ed directly below the ridge. A grassy slope less than two hundred cubits wide ran from the far side of the drainage ditch bordering the road up to the top of the ridge, a distance of perhaps four hundred cubits. Rahl estimated that the ridge extended a good kay from the top of the grassy approach to a similar slope on the southeastern end. A third of a kay to the southeast, Rahl could make out what clearly had been a narrow watercourse, where some of the exposed stone was damp.

  He shook his head. Of course, the rebels had dammed the stream, doubtless from a spring. That might have been another reason for choosing that ridge.

  What was of greater concern to him was the sense of hundreds, if not thousands, of rebels located on the ridgetop—that and the three-cubit-high stone-and-earth wall across the top of the grassy slope. He could also sense at least two chaos-mages near the earthworks. Yet the road below and northwest of the earthworks was not barricaded or blocked in any way, although a strong chaos-mage could certainly have splashed a firebolt on anyone using the road.

  As he waited for Drakeyt to join him, Rahl surveyed the area to the west of the road, but so far as he could tell, it consisted mainly of scores of rice paddies, many of which had been planted and refilled, and all of which were separated by dikes anchored by trees of a kind whose leaves never shriveled into silver-gray for the winter. He thought he could see the glint of sunlight off the ocean ahead and to his right, but it might have been the sun reflecting off more rice paddies.

  Before long, Drakeyt reined up beside Rahl. “I see that they’re dug in up there, some of them anyway.”

  “Close to a thousand, but it could be more.” Rahl pointed. “I’d guess that they can reinforce the position from the far end there. I’ll have to ride along one of those paddy dikes to get close enough to see about that.”

  “You’ll take a squad with you?”

  “It might not be a bad idea. Could you send Quelsyn or a squad leader to look over the paddies to the west? We don’t need to find that there’s a hidden road there.”

  “Like Thalye?”

  Rahl nodded.

  “Lyrn’s pretty solid, and he’s familiar with wetland growing. I’ll send out fifth squad.” Drakeyt glanced back at the ridge. “What do you think about the earthworks, Majer?”

  “They’ve fortified the approach, and probably the one at the other end, but it’s not as strong as the barricades at Nubyat. Stronger than what they had at Selyma. The north side above the paddies is too steep for a horse and too exposed for troopers on foot—unless we could attack along the entire perimeter, and I don’t think we have enough troopers for that, especially if they have more than a few chaos-mages.”

  “I don’t like this,” murmured the captain.

  Rahl didn’t either. They’d seen no opposition for nearly two eightdays, and now they faced a fortified position that didn’t even block the main road into Sastak. To Rahl, that suggested great confidence by the rebels. Had the whole campaign just been designed to lure the Imperial forces to this particular battle, well out of the way? Was something else going on in another part of Hamor?

  “After I look over the southeastern end of the ridge, I’ll see what else is down there. I’d appreciate it if you’d find out what you can from any of the growers around—if you can find any.”

  “We’ll see what we can do.” Drakeyt paused. “I trust you’ll be careful, Majer?”

  “As I can,” Rahl replied.

  Rahl didn’t have to wait long after Drakeyt rode back to the main body of Third Company before Dhosyn and first squad rode forward to join Rahl.

  “Ser.”

  “I’ll be leading the squad on one of those paths on top of the paddy dikes. We need to get far enough east to find out what the rebels have at the other end of that ridge.”

  “Yes, ser,” replied the squad leader.

  Rahl turned the gelding toward the dike that looked the widest and most solid, and that took him another two hundred cubits closer to the ridge before he could start eastward. He wasn’t exactly comfortable leading Dhosyn and first squad in a single file along the top of the dike that paralleled the ridge. While the paddies held no obvious water, the exposed soil was clearly wet and muddy enough that a mount might well sink half a cubit into the mud—if not more.

  As he rode, Rahl concentrated on picking up any signs of possible attackers or traps. While he kept checking, he neither sensed nor saw either. Nor were there any boot prints or hoof prints on the narrow pathway he followed. What he did pick up was the unmistakable fetid odor of waste or sewage, and he had the definite feeling that more than one kind of manure had been used over the years to fertilize the paddies.

  The sun was warm, almost hot, and the combination of the stench and the heat left him sweating heavily and more than ready to leave the paddies behind when he suddenly experienced a chill—not a physical chill, but an order-chaos chill, the kind that came from the use of a screeing glass. After several moments, the chill passed over Rahl and the squad, suggesting that whoever was using the glass had not been looking for Rahl specifically, but for Imperial forces. Still…

  Rahl kept riding and finally reached a wider area of ground where the dikes of four paddies intersected far enough eastward that he could see and sense the earthworks on the southeastern end of the ridge.

  “Looks just the same, ser, doesn’t it?” asked Dhosyn, who had moved his mount up beside Rahl’s.

  “They’re almost identical in length, height, and construction.” Rahl continued to study the approach. “There’s a road to the base of the slope, and it looks to run straight south to the city and up to a flat space a half kay or so south of us.” He wanted to take a deep breath, but decided against that as he eased the gelding onto another dike pathway, heading south. He didn’t sense any rebels, and he needed to get closer.

  He just hoped Lyrn hadn’t run into any trouble in the paddies west of the main road.

  XCIII

  Late on twoday afternoon, Rahl dismounted outside a white-stone villa on a hilltop just to the southwest of Taskyl. Two headquarters troopers stood outside the small entry portico of the country estate. It had belonged to one of Golyat’s local supporters who had fled, presumably to Sastak. Both the portico and the villa itself were roofed in a tile so light a gray that it was almost white. The outer walls were of a white stucco over stone, and the window shutters, though open, were of the same light gray shade as the roof tiles.

  “Afternoon, Majer.”

  “Good afternoon. I assume the overcommander is here.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  Rahl stepped into the welcome shade offered by the portico roof, then through the doorway into the villa. Another undercaptain Rahl did not recognize sat behind a small table inside the foyer. He took one quick glance at Rahl and jumped to his feet. “Majer, ser!”

  “Is the overcommander free for my report?”

  “Yes, ser. He said to send you in whenever you arrived.” The undercaptain pointed down a white-walled corridor.

  “Thank you.” Rahl smiled and turned down the corridor, wondering why an undercaptain he’d never seen was nervous and even frightened by his presence.

  The study door was ajar, and Rahl called out, “Ser?”

  “Come in, Rahl, and close the door.”

  Rahl did so, stepping into a small chamber no more than ten cubits by twelve. The white walls were bare, but the lighter patches of white suggested that paintings or hangings had been recently removed. The wide windows overlooked a walled garden. Beyond and below the lower wall was an expanse of rice paddies that had been drained for planting.

  Taryl looked up from the map spread on the table desk before him, leaning back slightly in the wooden armchair. “You’re back earlier than I expected. What did you discover?”

  “We could take Sastak with minimal casualties and without confronting the rebels.”

  Taryl said nothing.

  “There’s a long ridge about six kays south of Taskyl and four north of Sastak…” Rahl went
on to explain what he and Third Company had observed, using Taryl’s map to point out the disposition of the enemy forces. He finished up with, “They’ve fortified the southwest end of the ridge at the top of the gentle slope that leads down to the main road, and there are embankments on the north side above the gentler slopes. But they haven’t blocked the road to Sastak. We could ride past them and into the city. We might take a few losses, but not many. I worry about attacking their position on that ridge. We’ll lose hundreds, if not thousands, if they fight as well as they have before.”

  “Unfortunately,” Taryl replied, “you’re probably right.”

  “We could just take the city,” Rahl suggested again.

  “I’m certain we could,” replied Taryl. “And then what?”

  “They’d hold the high ground behind us,” replied Rahl, “but we’d still control the roads and the supplies.”

  “Rahl…how long has this revolt been going on?”

  “Since last summer.”

  “We’re now into spring. That’s more than half a year. What would happen if we followed your suggestion and avoided fighting them in a pitched battle?”

  “They couldn’t stay on the ridge. They’d have to retreat in-country.”

  “Exactly. Through all those rice paddies, and those near-tropical swamplands farther to the southeast. How long would it take to chase them down? How many troopers would be tied up watching them? How many would sicken and die of swamp fever? How much in the way of supplies would we have to ship here to support the armies? Would we lose any fewer men that way?”

  Rahl didn’t have an answer to those questions.

  “The Emperor can lose two ways,” Taryl went on. “He can lose if we fight the rebels here and lose. He can also lose if we choose not to fight the rebels here, and the revolt drags on for another half year…or longer.”