Mage-Guard of Hamor (24 page)

“With that…truncheon?”

“No. I used a standard short one.”

Drakeyt shook his head, then smiled, more warmly. “We need to get you a mount and a bedroll…and lean on the quartermaster. If we both tell him that the overcommander delivered the company orders, he might cut us some slack and add a few things.”

Rahl could see that possibility. He just hoped they wouldn't run into trouble before he learned more about riding.

In the end, by midafternoon, Rahl found himself in the saddle of a chestnut gelding near the front of Third Company, riding southwest on the narrow stone highway that led to Dawhut—some three-hundred-odd kays to the southwest. Drakeyt rode to his left, and the vanguard was close to a kay ahead on the straight road. Kysha was some five kays behind them.

A space half a kay back from the road had been cleared years before, and small holdings periodically dotted the open area, with fields empty of much except browned grass and vegetation. The forest behind was partly evergreen and partly broadleaf hardwoods, but the leaves of the hardwoods were in winter gray.

“Does it snow here?” asked Rahl.

“Some, they say, but I couldn't say from experience,” replied Drakeyt. “I'm from Elmari originally. I'd wondered if you knew more about the area, but…”

“I don't sound like I'm from around here?”

“Sastak, maybe, or Atla, but not here. They talk flatter.”

“My last duty station was as a harbor station mage-guard in Swartheld.” Rahl smiled, even as he wondered whether he could have said more about where he was from. He'd tell Drakeyt sooner or later, but he worried about saying too much too soon because he couldn't help but like Drakeyt. “Where do we start the reconnaissance patrols?”

“We've been running patrols as far as five, sometimes ten kays this way out of Kysha. We haven't seen any signs of the rebels in those sweeps. The next town—one that's more than a hamlet—is Troinsta. It's about fifteen kays from Kysha. We'll set up there. If there are rebels around, there'll be some signs. While we're setting up, you and I will talk to some of the locals. Can you get some idea of whether they're telling the truth? I know some ordermages can.”

“I can get some idea with most people,” Rahl replied. Almost anyone except a mage with good shields.

“That will help.”

Rahl glanced to the north side of the road, then beyond the small herd of sheep beyond the split-rail fence to the south. On either side, beyond the scattered dwellings, the trees were taller, and the undergrowth far thicker than the scattered forests on Recluce, but that was probably because this part of Merowey got more rain than Recluce did. While he was thinking of rain, Rahl made another attempt to see if he could determine what the evening's weather might be. The wind had switched from the northeast to the northwest, and the air felt drier and cooler. He
thought
that meant less likelihood of rain, but he wasn't about to say so unless asked.

“There's a lot of forest here, and not that many people.”

“The ground here doesn't suit most field crops. The forests belong to the Emperor, but they're rented to foresters who are allowed to cut a certain amount each year. Mostly the hardwoods for cabinets and furniture. That's one reason why the main road's paved. Those wagons are heavy. Then, there are places with nothing but nut orchards when we get closer to Dawhut.”

“Are there more Imperial lands in Merowey?” Rahl asked.

“There are some in most administrative districts. Usually, they're places where farmers were using the land wrong. Most of them are rented at low tariffs, but with conditions on how the land can be used. That way, people get use of the lands, but they don't get ruined again.”

“I was wondering why Prince Golyat…” Rahl didn't finish the sentence.

“Who knows?” Drakeyt shook his head. “Merowey's not the richest district, but it's not the poorest, either.”

The company continued to ride southwest, with the outriders continually returning and reporting, but there were no signs of rebels. The company had to leave the road for timber wagons a half score of times. The road was wide enough to share with the other wagons—factors and farm wagons.

In late afternoon, the company rode up a long, gradual slope that leveled off into a flat area filled with orchards, some with different types of trees. Whatever the variety of nut being grown, the trees in that orchard were old, with broad trunks, but they had been pruned and shaped so that their tops were never more than ten or fifteen cubits.

“We must be getting close to Troinsta,” Rahl said.

Drakeyt just nodded.

They rode another kay before the land and the road began to descend again, and Rahl could see Troinsta. The town was set in a valley close to five kays wide. A stream meandered down the middle of the valley, running from the south but angling to the northeast, probably eventually draining into the Swarth River, Rahl thought, conceivably not all that far from where the
Fyrador
had been attacked.

“Are there any back roads that run from Troinsta more to the northeast?” asked Rahl.

“There are back roads everywhere, but the maps we've got don't show them,” Drakeyt replied. “Why?”

“Some rebels had a cannon on the river, and they fired on the
Fyrador.
Roads tend to follow water.” Rahl had read that in the tactics manual, but he didn't have to admit it. “I was looking at the stream down there, and it runs northeast. It struck me that it might enter the Swarth about where we took fire.”

“We'll have to keep that in mind,” replied the captain. “I've already sent an outrider patrol forward to scout around the town. They won't find much, but it's good practice. The closer we get to Dawhut, the more careful we'll have to be.”

“I thought Dawhut was loyal to the Emperor.”

“That's what the reports we get say. Even if it is, it doesn't mean that there aren't rebels in the lands outside the city, or that there won't be attacks or raids.”

The sun was hanging just above the hills to the west when Third Company rode into Troinsta. The town was laid out in the same fashion as most towns and cities in Hamor were, at least from what Rahl could determine, with a cleared area of grassy meadows, now winter brown, just outside the outermost dwellings. There was no sprawl of huts or hovels away from the town proper. The main streets and roads were laid out in a grid, with all the dwellings and other buildings with walls of either stone or brick. Troinsta had both, but the roof tiles were all the same shade, a grayish faded pink. The shutters and the doors were all painted, and most shutters matched the doors.

While a few people hurried away from the road, which after crossing a stone bridge turned into the main street, most just watched as Third Company rode into the town. By the time the company reined up in the town square, both the local town administrator and the head of the local patrollers were waiting.

The administrator was a heavyset and round-faced blond man who might normally have looked jovial, but his worried expression and manner overrode any sense of joviality. He looked at Drakeyt, but his eyes kept returning to Rahl. “Everyone here is loyal to the Emperor, most loyal, Captain…Mage-Guard. There's not a rebel here, not a one, and we wouldn't be having it, even if there were.”

Rahl could sense both the truth and the fear in the administrator's words.

“We've been sending our reports and tariffs direct to Cigoerne, sers. You must know that.”

Drakeyt glanced to Rahl.

Rahl nodded.

“Since you all are loyal,” Drakeyt said, “I'm certain you will be able to help us settle in for a few days. We need a base to do some scouting. Even though Troinsta is most loyal, we'll need to make sure that loyalty extends to the lands around it.”

“Ah…we can do that. The inns haven't been seeing that many travelers, and we've got some barns…” The administrator's head bobbed up and down.

Drakeyt turned to the local patrol chief, a rangy graying man wearing a pale blue uniform long-sleeved uniform shirt, a darker blue vest, and khaki trousers. “What have you seen and heard?”

The patroller glanced from Drakeyt to Rahl, then back to the captain before he replied, “We haven't seen much of anything here, sers. Some of the steadholders to the north, the ones that harvest the hardwoods—the ones that go downriver to Cigoerne and Swartheld—one of them claimed he saw wagons on the back lanes, must have been an eightday ago.”

“You don't get many travelers here, I wouldn't think,” offered Drakeyt. “Not in the winter.”

“No, ser.”

“Has anyone been complaining about their sheds or barns being raided, or things missing?”

“There's always some of that.” The patroller looked to Rahl. “Not being a mage-guard, I can't always tell who might be telling what. I can't say that there's been more than usual, though, not unless someone's not saying, and that's always possible.”

“We'll be talking to people, and we'll be sending patrols around, but for now, we need to get the company and mounts settled.” Drakeyt smiled politely. “Where are these inns?”

Rahl stayed with Drakeyt all through the process of getting Third Company settled into the area close to the larger inn—the Painted Pony—even though his thighs felt raw from all the riding. While he certainly didn't want anything to happen to the captain, he also didn't want to be any more unprepared than he had to be if something did happen to Drakeyt, and the more Rahl knew about what the company commander did, the less unprepared he'd be.

He and Drakeyt ate a modest meal at the inn, late, and Rahl probed gently about as much as he could about the company, while, in turn, Drakeyt asked similarly gentle questions about what he could expect from Rahl as a mage-guard.

After dinner and then accompanying Drakeyt on an inspection tour of all the areas that held the company, Rahl retired to a room in the Painted Pony, one not that much larger than the cabin on the freighter, with a single bed and little more. He had thought about adding to his letter to Deybri, except his buttocks and thighs were so sore that he doubted that he could sit for long enough on the single stool to write.

He stretched out on the bed and slept, if uneasily, waking early on threeday morning, even stiffer and sorer than when he'd gone to bed.

He eased himself to his feet and used the pitcher and bowl to wash and shave as he could, then climbed into his uniform. He packed his gear, but left it on the bed and headed down the stairs to see if he could get something to eat.

Drakeyt was already in the public room, although he could not have been there long because a small girl was standing at his table listening, and there was nothing on the table. Rahl eased into one of the other chairs.

“There's little enough choice for breakfast,” Drakeyt said.

“We only have ham and fried heavy corn—and fresh bread. It's two coppers each for you.”

“Do you have lager?” asked Rahl.

“No, ser. We have ale. It comes with breakfast, for you, Mama said.”

“Then that's what we'll have,” Drakeyt said.

“Yes, ser.” The girl turned and walked quickly past the brick fireplace with its cold gray ashes and through an archway into the kitchen.

“How are you feeling this morning?” asked Drakeyt.

“Sore,” Rahl admitted.

“It'll pass.”

Rahl hoped so.

“I walked around some last night, talked to some of the locals,” offered Drakeyt. “No one seems to have seen anything here.”

“The town administrator was telling the truth about sending their tariffs to the Emperor.” Rahl paused as the girl, who couldn't have been more than ten, approached and set two mugs of ale on the table.

“Your ales, ser. The rest will be here before long.”

“Thank you.”

The meal that arrived on orangish brown crockery platters might best have been described as hash composed of chopped corn niblets, bits of carrot, and ham chunks held together with glue and a hint of egg. Rahl just looked at it for a moment.

“It's good,” the girl said. “You'll see.”

Rahl couldn't help smiling as he put three coppers on the table. “You help a lot around here, I'd wager.”

“Yes, ser.” With that she was gone, almost scampering back to the kitchen, but not until she'd collected the three coppers from both officers.

Rahl took a bite. Surprisingly, it wasn't bad. He wasn't sure he would have called it good, but he'd eaten far worse, and the bread was hot and good. He did save the largest carrot chunk, still partly raw.

“Good bread,” offered Drakeyt. “The rest is filling.”

They ate quickly, and neither left anything, although Rahl did save half his small loaf of bread and slip it into his cold-weather jacket pocket.

“Wise man.”

“I didn't have a chance to gather much else,” Rahl pointed out.

“We'll be heading out shortly,” Drakeyt offered as he rose from the table.

“I thought I might have a word with the chandler,” Rahl said. “My gear is ready, and I'll get saddled and ride over there. It shouldn't take long.”

“I thought we'd split the company. You want to go north or south?”

“North. I'd like to see if I can find anything about the raiders who fired on the
Fyrador.
”

“I'll send Quelsyn with you and two squads. He's the senior squad leader. They'll form up outside the stables and wait for you if you're not back when I take the other squads south.”

“I'll try not to keep anyone waiting.”

After leaving Drakeyt, Rahl gathered his gear and walked out into the morning chill and toward the stable across the churned clay that would have been ankle-deep mud had there been any rain at all. Outside the stable he paused, looking to the north, but the wind was light and the clouds thin. He spent a moment probing the air to the north, but he sensed little water in the thin clouds. There was a hint of more, but beyond the range of his abilities.

He entered the stable, with careful steps, making his way to the third stall. There, he set down his gear and studied the gelding. If he could just remember how to saddle the horse…he looked at the saddle blanket. That came first.

“Be needing a hand, ser?”

Rahl turned to see a young trooper standing there and smiling. He grinned back. “I could, but I'd better do it myself. You just might not be here next time. I would appreciate it if you'd watch and tell me if I'm going wrong.”

“Yes, ser.” The trooper smiled.

Before even lifting the blanket, Rahl eased up beside the gelding's shoulder, patting him and projecting both control and warmth. The horse tossed his head slightly, then turned it. Rahl offered the small chunk of carrot he had brought from the inn, on his open palm. The gelding took it, gently. Then Rahl slipped the saddle blanket in place, followed by the saddle.

“Ser…be better if the blanket and saddle were just a touch back, maybe half a span.”

“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 the 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.