Mage-Guard of Hamor (34 page)

Over the next two days, neither Third Company nor the scouts of any other company could discern any sign of rebels or traps on the road to Dawhut or in the area around it, and on midafternoon on oneday, the long column of Imperial forces rode into the city. Under a clear and cold green-blue sky, with a blustery westerly wind, Third Company rode directly in front of the submarshal's headquarters company, and behind the array of outriders and scouts. Word had obviously spread among the locals, because the road was empty except for the Imperial forces. Every stead and dwelling was shuttered, and all the chimneys appeared cold and smokeless.

As Third Company came over the last low rise before the road descended to the bridge over the Awhut River, the odor of the distilleries enveloped Rahl. He glanced at the scattered chimneys to the south, and while half appeared to be cold, the odor from those in operation was still most objectionable.

“How do they live with it?” he murmured.

“Some people get used to anything,” replied Drakeyt.

Rahl supposed so, but he had his doubts that, if he lived in Dawhut, he would ever be able to ignore the odor. Certainly, he'd never been able to ignore the aspects of Recluce that had bothered him.

Once they reached the city itself, crossing the northernmost of the two bridges over the river, the column turned south on the river boulevard. The dwellings and shops in Dawhut itself were not shuttered, but the sidewalks and side lanes were mostly deserted, and those people who watched the Imperial forces did so from windows, porches, and, occasionally, balconies. As elsewhere in Merowey, the structures were mainly brick, with a few of stucco and timber, and a comparative handful constructed of worked stone. The roofs were all tile, but the colors varied widely.

According to their orders, Third Company was supposed to form up with the others in the River Square that was the center of Dawhut. The square was midway between the two bridges, a half kay south of the north bridge. Rahl did not see or sense any mage-guards anywhere, and that bothered him.

Just before noon, they rode into the square, a paved open space a good two hundred cubits on a side, surrounded by brick-and-stone buildings, with a modest circular monument, with a statue of a man on horseback—doubtless a famous emperor or local hero. Rahl glanced ahead to the south side of the square, dominated by a large three-story redstone building with green trim and shutters. The oversized signboard proclaimed the River Inn.

From there, he surveyed the square, noting the problem almost immediately. While the square might accommodate a regiment of heavy infantry, there was no way that three regiments and a headquarters company would fit there, even with mounts shoulder to shoulder.

“We won't all fit in here,” Rahl observed to Drakeyt, “even squashed together.”

“We'll have to try. Those are the orders. I hope that all the scouts are right that there aren't any rebels around, because with all of us in one place, we're grounded geese.”

The river side of the square ended in a low gray-stone wall. Rahl could sense that the east side of the wall dropped to a walkway, and the side of the walkway next to the river was actually the top of a stone levee that formed a river wall. There were people walking along the river, but the walkway was enough lower that he could not see them from the square.

Third Company formed up facing the river, as ordered. The submarshal and a small group rode toward the inn. Rahl could see that Taryl was with Dettyr, but the companies that followed them into the square restricted the effectiveness of Rahl's order-senses. Rahl could not follow Dettyr's actions, except intermittently, since he was facing away from the inn, and since the growing number of mounts and men blocked his vision when he tried to look back over his shoulder.

“They can't get any more into the square,” Rahl said. “Not many, anyway. There's still a little space at the edges.”

“That's so the submarshal can ride around to the front and tell us…whatever he has in mind.”

Rahl suspected Drakeyt had almost said something far less complimentary.

Before long, since the square was filled with mounted heavy infantry, the submarshal rode out from somewhere near the inn and along the south side of the square and then along the river wall toward the midpoint of the section of the wall that formed the river side of the square. Taryl rode the mount beside and slightly behind the submarshal.

Just as the submarshal and his escort from the headquarters company almost reached the midpoint of the narrow space between the companies and the square wall above the Awhut River, a man appeared on the wall, less than a score of cubits from the submarshal, carrying a horn bow and a quiver of long arrows. He wore a maroon jacket and khaki trousers—garb similar, if not identical, to the uniforms worn by the rebels who had manned the cannon that had damaged the
Fyrador.
His first shaft was away before almost anyone noticed—except Taryl, because the arrow skittered sideways just before it would have penetrated the submarshal's shoulder.

Taryl gestured, and a firebolt flared toward the would-be assassin from a mage-guard farther back in the submarshal's small entourage. Even so, the archer had loosed a second shaft, and was nocking a third when the firebolt flared across his chest.

Rahl had already urged his own mount forward and out of the front rank toward the wall, his truncheon in hand, because he could sense three others even before they vaulted onto the top of the river wall, bows at the ready, and quivers full.

Rahl's shields deflected the arrows aimed at him, but he could sense that some of the others had struck either troopers or their mounts, and that more archers had appeared on the square wall farther to the south, but closer to Taryl and the chaos-mage.

Rahl slammed the long truncheon, backed with order as well as all the force he could impart, into the nearer archer's leg. He could feel the crunch, and the man toppled forward, flailing, toward the paving stones of the square. Rahl kept his mount moving, somehow managing to swing the truncheon clear of the falling rebel, while moving to attack the next archer. The rebel loosed his shaft point-blank at Rahl.

Rahl's shields took the force, but the impact rocked him back in the saddle, and he had to struggle for a moment to hold his seat. Then he was almost past the archer, and he had to backcut, but the truncheon took the archer in the side of the knee, and he also tumbled off the wall and into the square.

The third archer had fled, scrambling down the back side of the wall and sprinting across the walkway below the wall. A firebolt flared across his back and shoulders, and he collapsed on top of the river wall, twitching but for a moment.

Rahl reined up. Even using both sight and senses, he could detect no other rebels—at least not along the square wall or the river walkway below—and he turned his mount back toward Third Company. Troopers from the headquarters company had taken both fallen archers prisoner. The second archer glared at Rahl as the mage-guard rode past. Rahl ignored the hatred, but he wondered how someone could hate so violently a man he'd never met. Rahl might hate Puvort, and the magisters of Land's End, but they had acted vindictively and dishonestly against Rahl personally. All Rahl had done was to prevent the archer from killing troopers. Several had been wounded, but he had not sensed any deaths besides those of the two rebels killed by the chaos-mage from headquarters company.

“…still a bad idea…” murmured Drakeyt as Rahl edged his mount back into formation beside the captain. “If you and the overcommander hadn't been in front where you could move, there'd have been a lot more casualties.”

Rahl agreed, but he only nodded.

The submarshal, unhurt, waited until quiet settled over the companies. Then he began to speak. Loud as Dettyr's voice was, Rahl doubted that many troopers or officers more than thirty cubits away could make out what he said.

“…Dawhut is just the first step toward reuniting Hamor under the true and rightful Emperor. While some days will be long, and some battles bloody, we will persevere, and we will win. The attempt to disrupt this muster was an example of the evilness of our enemies. This evilness cannot be allowed to poison our land, and no sacrifice is too great to rid us of those who would divide us….”

The beginning of what Dettyr said was trite enough, but with each succeeding word, Rahl just felt that the subcommander would have been better saying nothing—or stopping after the first few words.

Near what Rahl hoped would be the end of the submarshal's too-long speech, Dettyr said, “…quarters assignments for each company are being dispatched as I speak. Obviously, the compound here at Dawhut cannot accommodate all of the companies…do not attempt to change or to find other arrangements…everything has been carefully planned…”

If it all had been so carefully planned, then why had the submarshal tried to cram all the companies into the River Square? Good planning would have shown it wasn't possible. Rahl frowned. How had the assassins known where the companies would be—unless someone on the headquarters' staff had let them know?

At that moment, a messenger rode up and handed a folded dispatch to Drakeyt, who immediately opened it and began to read as the submarshal finished his address.

“…the beginning of a successful effort to return all of Merowey to the order and prosperity afforded by the Emperor, and every trooper and every officer is expected to do his best at all times. You can do no less for yourselves, and I will accept no less.” After a pause, Dettyr added, “Long live the Emperor!”

There was another pause before the first and closest companies repeated the words, if raggedly.

“Long live the Emperor!”

“We've been assigned quarters,” Drakeyt said, looking up from the dispatch. “Such as they are.”

“Not in the High Command compound, I assume?” asked Rahl.

“Hardly. We've got the equivalent of something like three heavy infantry regiments—and that's only a third of the force—and you and I are scarcely in the best graces of the submarshal.”

Rahl had to convert that mentally to numbers of troopers. With five companies to a battalion, and four battalions to a regiment—if all the companies were at full strength—Drakeyt was talking about six thousand troopers in Dawhut at the moment. That meant that the land campaign from Kysha would require almost two-thirds of the entire army, possibly against twice as many men. From what Taryl and Marshal Byrna had said, only a fraction of the rebels were highly trained, but each eightday that it took for the Imperial forces to reach the coast reduced that advantage.

“We've been assigned to a stead about a kay to the west of the compound. The holder's name is Korsyn, and he's got a large barn and a shed, and some rooms in the dwelling.” Drakeyt raised his eyebrows. “We're to begin scouting the south road tomorrow, and prepare for departure within the eightday. We're also ordered to maximize supplies for the ride to Nubyat, consistent with established practices.”

“Maximize supplies?”

“Scrounge, beg, borrow, offer script—anything but actually commandeer food. And we're to send daily reports to the submarshal on our efforts.”

“Where?”

“His headquarters is in the River Inn—that big place at the south end of the square over there.”

“If size means anything, it must be a good inn,” replied Rahl dryly. “The best in Dawhut anyway.”

“Would you expect any less?”

Rahl shook his head.

On twoday morning before dawn, Rahl sat at one end of a swaybacked trestle table in Korsyn's kitchen eating fresh-fried egg toast. The kitchen was a long, narrow room with tan-plaster walls—or walls that might once have been white and that had become tan from the heat and smoke of cooking. The big iron stove dominated the outside wall, and hints of turf smoke escaped from the ceramic tile that vented the stove into the hearth chimney behind it.

Drakeyt sat to Rahl's right. The holder's consort and two older daughters were busy frying up stacks of toast for Third Company—using not quite stale bread that Quelsyn and the company's acting quartermaster had gotten from somewhere on oneday afternoon while the rest of Third Company had been setting up at the holder's stead.

Rahl almost felt guilty eating a hot breakfast with the holder and his consort, but Drakeyt didn't seem to have any qualms as he quickly ate the egg toast drizzled with a thin and barely sweet redberry syrup.

“This is good egg toast,” Rahl said.

“Khasia makes the best in this part of the valley,” replied Korsyn.

“The best north of Dawhut,” added Khasia, not turning from the turf-fired iron stove that warmed the entire kitchen. “And don't you forget it.”

“You've not had any…trouble…last night or this morning?” inquired Drakeyt.

“No, ser. Your troopers been right polite to all of us.”

Drakeyt looked to Rahl.

Rahl nodded, sensing that the holder and his consort were saying what they felt.

The night before, after Drakeyt had mustered the company at the stead, he had gathered the squad leaders, and he had been adamant that no harm of any sort was to come to the holder or his family. He'd even indirectly referred to Rahl, by suggesting that, if any questions were raised, there was no doubt that he'd find the truth. All five had glanced at Rahl, even though the mage-guard's name had never been mentioned.

“I wish we could pay you in coin,” added Drakeyt.

“Script's better than potatoes and roots we'd have to sell in Nubyat for the prince's paper chits,” replied Korsyn. “That paper'll be worthless in less than two seasons.”

Rahl thought that Korsyn was being optimistic until the holder spoke again.

“One way or another. The Emperor'll defeat the prince. If he doesn't, the prince still won't have the golds to pay off his paper.”

“We won't be here too long,” said Drakeyt, ignoring the obvious truth of the holder's words. “I know it's cramped.”

“We're not doing too bad. Norwal…he's just to the north. He's got two companies there. They claimed he had two big barns. Wanted to know where the second one was.” Korsyn laughed roughly. “Burned down three years back. He lost his eldest and his consort and all that year's crop. Never had the golds to rebuild.”

“It sounds like the quartering plans were based on information that was years old,” offered Drakeyt.

“Five years leastwise.”

How much other information was that dated? Rahl wondered.

“Did you ever hear any word about the rebellion?” asked Rahl. “Before it happened, that is?”

“Not a word, not here in Dawhut. I was down in Storisa last spring, and I heard one of the grain factors there saying that things were going to change, but he wouldn't say how. The fellow with him muttered something about a ‘real emperor.' I just thought it was talk.” The holder turned both palms up.

“Has anyone else you know heard things like that anywhere else?”

“I haven't.” Korsyn glanced toward Khasia.

Even though he had not spoken to his consort, and she was working at the stove with her back to the table, Khasia replied. “Calydena was in Nubyat in early summer. She sometimes works the barges with her consort. She told me that they were building big walls around parts of the harbor, almost like a fort. No one seemed to know why.”

If true, that would tend to confirm Taryl's supposition that the planning for the rebellion had been ongoing for some time.

Neither Korsyn nor Khasia had any more to offer, and Rahl hurried to finish his breakfast so that he would not delay Drakeyt and Third Company.

Once the two officers were outside the dwelling in the chill and damp northwest wind, Drakeyt stopped and looked at Rahl. “We're better off here. I wouldn't want to be at the compound right now. Not with all the senior majers and the commanders billeted there. The majer there—I think it's Zoacyr—can't be having an easy time.”

“The River Inn would be worse with the commanders and the submarshal,” Rahl added, thinking about their last encounter with Submarshal Dettyr. “Especially after yesterday. Why would he do something that stupid? Every junior captain in the army would know that you don't pack troops into a confined area like that.”

Drakeyt shook his head. “I can't agree with you on that. Remember, the submarshal was once a junior captain, and there are others just like he was around now. There are always some of that type. They don't think; they just follow orders, and they get promoted. They keep following orders, and some of them get promoted until they become majers and commanders.”

“All of them?”

“No. Just the ones lucky enough to survive.”

Rahl's lips quirked, and he nodded. Was it that way everywhere? He'd seen that in Land's End, and in Nylan. No one had liked it when he'd asked questions. But then, Taryl didn't mind questions. No…Taryl didn't mind good questions; he was less patient with stupid questions. But then, could anyone learn to ask good questions without asking stupid ones, at least in the beginning?

In the gray light that preceded dawn, Drakeyt and Rahl resumed walking toward the stable that held but a handful of mounts. The others were either on tether lines or in a corral to the west of the barn where most of the company had bedded down.

“How do you want to handle the scouting today?” asked Rahl.

“I'd thought…now, I'm only suggesting…” Drakeyt began.

“Suggest away,” Rahl said dryly.

“No one's going to be putting traps on the side lanes and the back roads, but holders back there might have seen anyone who did.” Drakeyt said blandly.

Why was the captain being so indirect?

“Of course, if you don't agree…”

Rahl suddenly understood. “When did you notice?”

Drakeyt gave a sheepish grin. “I didn't. When we were leaving the square, Balazyr rode over and asked if I knew you were a senior mage-guard.” He shook his head. “I thought I'd looked close enough when you were posted to Third Company.”

“You did,” Rahl replied. “I only got the promotion when the submarshal's forces joined us in Saluzyl. I didn't expect it.”

“You never said anything. You outrank me, now.”

Rahl shrugged. “You're still in command of Third Company. It doesn't change anything. I still don't know as much as you do about running a company.” He grinned momentarily. “What did you have in mind?”

“Like I said, no one's going to set traps away from the main road. So…if you could take fourth and fifth squads and check over anything that looks strange on the main road, then Quelsyn and I will follow and see what we can find out from the holders on each side, and on the side and back lanes.”

“How far out should we go?”

“Ten kays, if we can.”

“I can do that, but it will take longer for you to check all the holders. Once we reach ten kays, we can turn back and start talking to the holders until we meet up.”

“Good.” Drakeyt nodded.

As he saddled the gelding, Rahl wondered why Drakeyt had become even more deferential. Or did senior mage-guards just have a reputation for being difficult?