Mage-Guard of Hamor

XVII

On sixday morning, even before Rahl could cross the foyer and step into the mess for breakfast, Taryl appeared and drew him aside.

"What do you have to report?"

"Last night, one of the mage-guards-that was Tilsytt-met with a majer I don't know and reported on what I said. They were concerned that I might be some sort of bravo."

"That won't hurt, so long as it's limited to that. What else?"

"A healer majer named Xerya asked me to visit her at the infirmary so that she could give me some instruction on field healing." Rahl smiled wryly. "The sort that any ordermage could do. I didn't tell her that in some areas I was less capable than any ordermage."

"Not anymore," Taryl said. "What do you think all the exercises were for? Go meet with her after breakfast and spend as much time with her as she'll give you. Learn and listen. After that, I want you to walk as much of the post as you can-slowly. Take in everything. Be friendly and talk to any officer who shows an interest. We'll meet on the weather platform after dinner. If I'm not there immediately, you can work on studying the weather."

"Yes, ser."

With that, Taryl was gone, and Rahl had the feeling that the overcommander had eaten very early and had just been waiting for Rahl. Just what had Taryl been doing? Rahl wished he knew.

Breakfast was far less formal, with officers coming and going, and all eating rather quickly. Rahl sat with some captains he had not met before and asked general questions, just trying to get a feel of what they and their units did, but not probing too intently, except with his order-senses.

After he ate, he left the mess and stepped outside, into a breeze, almost chill, and certainly the coolest he'd experienced in Hamor. He walked briskly southward, and then east. As the majer had said, with its bright green shutters and doors, the infirmary was hard to miss. He made his way through the main doors.

A woman younger than Rahl and wearing a plain trooper's uniform, except with the green healing corps chevron, looked up from the table in the infirmary's entry foyer. "Yes, ser. Might I help you?"

"Captain Rahl here to see Majer Xerya, at her request."

"Yes, ser. This way. She said you might be by. She's on rounds at the moment, but you're to accompany her."

Rounds? Of injured troopers? Rahl didn't ask, but followed the trooper along a narrow corridor, then around yet another corridor. The walls were smooth white plaster, and the stone floors shimmered.

Ahead of them was the healer majer. She smiled as she caught sight of Rahl, but addressed the trooper. "Thank you, Seshya."

Rahl's escort slipped away.

"You're prompt," noted Xerya. "I thought you might be. The over-commander isn't known to favor laggards. This way, if you would. We're fortunate that we don't have many injuries here at the moment, but I would have liked to show you a wider range." She turned into a larger room with three beds on each side. Four were occupied, with the middle one on each side empty.

A young trooper lay on the end bed, his back propped up with leather pillows and a bulky leather-and-iron splint around one leg.

"Can you sense what happened here?" asked Xerya.

"I don't know," Rahl admitted. "Let me try."

The trooper glanced from the healer to Rahl and back to the healer, puzzlement warring with pain on his face.

Rahl extended his order-senses, finding wound chaos, of a sort, in the splinted leg. He turned to the healer. "There's a spot where things don't quite meet, a broken bone, and there's still wound chaos there."

"Where?"

Rahl pointed to a spot two spans below the knee.

"That's where the bone broke. It just happened last night. There will be wound chaos for several days after a fracture, even if the wound is clean and the skin's not broken, but it should decrease some each day. The dangerous breaks are where the skin is broken, and the bone protrudes."

Rahl managed not to wince at that thought.

"Thank you." The healer nodded to the trooper, who still looked puzzled. She moved to the next occupied bed. The man lying there was barely breathing.

"Brain fever. All we can do is feed him ale and lager and keep him cool. About half recover." She crossed the ward to the next trooper. The man was missing his foot and his leg from just above the ankle. He was moaning, but not really awake.

Rahl could sense a certain amount of wound chaos, but it was spread throughout the man's body. He looked to the healer.

"He stepped on a spike or something and didn't tell anyone. The wound festered so badly we had to amputate his foot and lower leg. Almost any order-type mage-guard could have stopped or slowed the initial wound chaos. That's something you can look out for in the field. The same thing is true of minor blade slashes, thorns, that sort of thing." Xerya studied Rahl. "Can you concentrate order in a small space?"

"For a time," Rahl said.

"That's all it takes for some of the little wounds. Clean them out with something that won't make the festering worse-like lager or strong brandy, but clear strong spirits are the best, then concentrate a small bit of order around the wound and dress it with something clean."

Rahl nodded and followed her to the next trooper.

All in all, he spent the entire morning with the healer-and just hoped he could remember most of what she told him. Her warmth, although not directed at him especially, reminded him of Deybri, and he had to tell himself that it would be eightdays before she received his letter.

After that, he embarked upon Taryl's task, touring the post area, block by block, and taking in what he observed.

He saw more than a few companies of fresh-faced recruits, most seemingly much younger than he had been when he'd been sent to Nylan, being taught to march, and to handle sabres, rather than falchionas.

When he caught sight of two companies of archers launching arrows into skyward arcs toward distant straw targets, he moved closer, with an idea in mind. Could he create a small order shield, one strong enough to stop one of those long arrows? He moved closer, but stopped behind a stone pillar and began to try out his idea.

He discovered that he could halt an arrow in midflight-but that continuing the effort for long left him light-headed. It also puzzled one of the instructors, a grizzled captain who began to look around.

Rahl had discovered what he needed to know and slipped away under cover of a sight shield and headed toward the river docks.

Rahl's feet were sore and his boots dusty by the time he returned to the visiting officers' quarters and washed up for dinner. He tried to say as little as possible in the mess, just smiling, and holding his shields, and asking a question now and again.

Taryl wasn't at the seniors' table, and after Rahl left the mess, he made his way up to the weather platform. Surprisingly, someone else was there-a woman undercaptain. She turned, and Rahl realized that she was as tall as he was, and almost as broad across the shoulders. He'd never run across a woman that large.

"Oh, ser," she said. "I was just taking the evening observations."

"What observations, Undercaptain?" Rahl had to wonder because she was a troop officer, not a mage-guard.

"Wind direction, clouds, mostly, but also if the air feels damp or dry." She paused. "Begging your pardon, ser, but are you a weather mage?"

"No. I have a few small skills."

"Is rain likely? Can you tell me that, ser?"

"I can try. Is it important?"

"If there's a lot of rain south of here, it changes the river currents, and that will slow the freighters. It also means the cargo loaders will have to rig tarps over the hold hatches or some of the provisions will spoil-more, really-on the trip upriver."

"They were loading today."

"Yes, ser, but it will take at least two more days, and a day for troops and mounts. That's without rain."

Rahl smiled politely. "I'm Rahl. You are?"

"Oh, Undercaptain Demya, ser."

"I'm not a weather mage, but let me see if I can tell you anything." Rahl concentrated on letting his senses range southward, toward what might be clouds just barely visible above the horizon in the last fading glow of twilight. There was definitely a touch more water in the air, but not much, and it was concentrated in two or three places, rather than in a broad sweep. He kept studying. Finally, he stopped. He wasn't even light-headed. Was that because he'd just eaten? That made sense.

"Ser?"

"There are some clouds south of here, mainly on the east side of the river. I can't say for certain, but it feels like there might be a few showers coming this way, but I don't think there will be any continuing rain."

Her eyes widened. "You can tell that? Just from looking."

"I was doing more than just looking, Demya. It's work. A true weather mage could tell you when any rain would arrive and how much. An air mage might even be able to move storms or clouds away from the river."

"You're a different kind of mage, then."

"I'm a mage-guard."

"Begging your pardon, again, ser, but all mage-guards are mages of some sort."

"I was a patrol mage in Swartheld. I'm good with staff and truncheon, and I understand something about trade and commerce." He smiled. "I was sent here, and I have no idea where I'll be assigned." Then he shrugged.

"I'm sorry, ser. I didn't mean…"

"That's all right."

She backed down the steps, then hurried away without speaking.

Rahl could sense Taryl approaching, but he had to wonder at her implied question. Just what sort of mage was he? The magisters in Nylan had called him a natural ordermage, but that had been as much epithet as description.

"What did you do to that poor undercaptain?" asked Taryl as he stepped onto the platform. "She acted like she'd been dressed down and ripped apart."

"I didn't raise my voice, ser, and I didn't say one harsh word. She kept pressing me about what kind of mage I was, and I finally said that I was a patrol mage who was good with a staff and truncheon who'd been sent here for reassignment."

"That was enough." Taryl laughed sourly. "Word is going around that one of the mage-guards sent here recently is a trained bravo who has killed scores, and that he's here to make sure that the junior officers stay in line."

"I never said anything like that. That idiot Tilsytt kept asking me how many people I'd killed, and I only said something like I couldn't have counted them in the mess at Swartheld." That wasn't exactly what he'd said, but he didn't want to admit his precise words.

"It doesn't matter. You were convincing enough that you've created a reputation that may be hard to live up to."

"Oh… frig," Rahl muttered.

"You can't do much about it now. How was the rest of your day?" asked Taryl.

"I spent the morning with the healer majer. She told me a great deal, and had me practice a few simple healing skills, and said that I wasn't that bad, not for an ordermage with no instruction in healing."

"Were those her exact words?"

"Close to it, ser," replied Rahl, smiling crookedly. "She did say that I paid more attention than most mage-guards."

Taryl just waited.

"Then I walked all around. I think I traveled every street and lane. There are heavy wagons coming in, and they're loading supplies on the steamers at the docks, and they're working from first light to darkness."

"They'd better."

"Oh… the undercaptain told me that they have two more days of loading supplies, and one to get mounts and troops aboard. That's if it doesn't rain."

"Will it?"

"I don't think so. We might get a shower or two. Maybe. If I'm reading things right."

"What else?"

"I've seen green troopers everywhere, greener than I was when I went to Nylan. Almost all of them look too young."

"You'll find that with each year they look younger." Taryl sighed. "But you're right. We don't have enough seasoned troops, and the only way to get seasoned troops quickly is to train them hard and send them into battle. Those who survive become seasoned."

Rahl didn't have that much more to say. "Is there anything else I should know, or that you'd like me to do?"

"Go back to the healer tomorrow and follow her around, or one of the others, if they'll let you. Do that in the morning. Then practice all of your order-skills in the early afternoon, and check out the docks after that. Tomorrow evening, we're going to a reception at the Palace-wear your dress uniform and best boots. We'll leave before the mess opens for dinner."

"Yes, ser." Rahl had no idea how a reception fit into Taryl's plans or why attending a reception was necessary, but he had no doubt that it was.

"And get some sleep tonight. I plan to." Taryl turned and walked away, down the steps toward his quarters.

Rahl had the feeling that somehow he'd disappointed the overcommander. He shouldn't have been so determined to put Tilsytt in his place… but the older mage-guard had been so condescending, just like Puvort and all the magisters in Nylan, as if Rahl were nothing. And he hated that.

Rahl took a deep breath, then headed down the stone steps, his boots echoing dully in the enclosed stairwell.