Mage-Guard of Hamor

XVIII

On sevenday morning, Rahl was in the mess earlier and sat across from two captains he had not met before.

"I'm Bertayk," offered the younger one.

"Alfhyr." The older captain nodded brusquely.

"Rahl."

"You're new here. Some of the other mage-guards were talking about a patrol mage-guard who was a bravo…" Bertayk looked speculatively at Rahl.

Alfhyr concealed a wince.

"I'm the guilty party, but I never was a bravo. Something I said was taken in a way I didn't mean…" Rahl went on to explain briefly what had happened at Swartheld. "… and all I meant was that, with Jeranyi everywhere, and explosions, I don't think anyone kept tallies on who they fought and what happened."

Alfhyr nodded slowly and said in a low voice, "You've already found out that the… mage-guard… you spoke to doesn't always convey matters in the way you meant."

"I have." Rahl smiled ruefully. "But I do appreciate the words of caution."

"Are you from Merowey or Atla?" asked Bertayk.

Alfhyr winced inside once again, and Rahl managed to keep from laughing or smiling.

"I'm not from either, but I learned to speak where that was the way people did." He paused. "Actually, I'm an exile from Recluce."

Bertayk nodded enthusiastically. "They say that many of the mage-guards come from Recluce or Recluce stock. My great-uncle came from Alaren, and the engineers in Nylan sent him on his way. He hoped I'd be a mage-guard." The young captain shrugged. "I don't have any talent."

"I'm sure you have other talents," Rahl said.

"He's good with a blade and getting troopers to follow him," interjected the older captain. "They appreciate his enthusiasm."

Rahl actually enjoyed the rest of his breakfast, passing pleasantries with the two, although he still had to concentrate on maintaining tighter personal shields.

The rest of sevenday morning and afternoon was much like sixday, except that Xerya pressed Rahl into trying to negate some of the chaos in the trooper with brain fever. Rahl thought he might have helped, but he didn't notice much improvement when he left the man.

He did allow himself plenty of time after his casual inspection of the river docks to return to his quarters to polish his boots and wash up and don the crimson dress uniform. In fact, he was the one waiting for Taryl.

When Taryl arrived, the overcommander looked over Rahl, then nodded. "You'll pass." He turned and walked toward the waiting coach-one decorated in tan and crimson.

Taryl said little until the coach pulled away from the quarters. "Tell me about your day."

"I spent most of it with Majer Xerya. She's as demanding as you are, ser."

"She should be. I asked her to be. The more you learn before you're reassigned, the better your chances to survive and succeed. I stopped by later. She said you already know what's required of a senior mage-guard. That's not enough, but it's a start."

Rahl managed to keep a smile on his face and his irritation behind his personal shields. Why was nothing he did enough for Taryl anymore? Had he displeased the older mage-guard that much? "After that, I checked the loading docks. I think they're running behind. They're supposed to finish loading tomorrow, but… I got the impression.. it won't happen."

"You're right about that. We'll be fortunate to leave by threeday." Taryl leaned back and closed his eyes for several moments.

Rahl waited.

After a while, Taryl straightened. "Tonight is a social occasion, as much as any reception hosted by the Emperor is. You are not to approach him. When it's appropriate, I'll present you, or Jubyl will, and the Emperor will make some pleasant comment. You are to give him a bow and thank him, nothing more. If he says more, you reply, but always briefly and courteously. You do not ask him any questions. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ser." Rahl paused. "Might I ask if there is any special reason for the reception?"

"He generally has a reception for senior officials once or twice a season, sometimes more often. There is no special reason for the reception. There is a reason why we were invited. Can you tell me why?"

"To show his support for your appointment as overcommander in Merowey."

"Exactly. Now… why were you invited? You were invited by name and will be announced by name."

"Ah… I don't know, ser. I have no idea."

Taryl smiled. "By inviting you, as my assistant envoy in Recluce and as my current assistant, the Emperor is making the point that he will brook no disparagement of my decisions and choices."

"Especially since it must be known that I am from Recluce?"

Taryl nodded.

Rahl had to ask himself if he would ever understand or master the intricacies of personal plotting and positioning seemingly required in Hamor. Then he almost laughed. Much as he might dream, he'd never have to worry about the sorts of matters that faced Taryl.

"And Rahl…"

"Yes, ser?"

"I know you've memorized some verse. Don't quote more than one or two back at Klassyn. That's appropriate. More isn't."

How had Taryl known that?

"You're letting your personal shields slip. I saw the book you had in hand when you were supposed to be reading the history of the mage-guards."

"I read parts of two of the histories, ser."

"Good. Oh… one other thing. You'll probably run across Triad Jubyl. He will be there."

"What about the others?"

"Except when the Triad meets officially in council to advise the Emperor, and all are present, there is never more than one in attendance upon the Emperor at one time. Now… if you'll excuse me, I'm going to try to get a nap."

Rahl looked out the window. He was feeling almost as frustrated as he had in Nylan. He was supposed to keep his emotions hidden behind personal shields, learn all sorts of new applications of his order-skills, and not let any vital information slip. On top of that, he was just supposed to let insults and slights slide off him and do nothing.

"Rahl," Taryl said in a gentle-and tired-tone, his eyes still closed. "Please stop feeling sorry for yourself and angry. I suspect that combination of feelings has led to many of your problems. Because of your abilities, I tend to forget how young you are. Let me explain. First, if you do not learn to shield your feelings, seniors who are less scrupulous will use those feelings to manipulate you, and that will never be to your advantage. Second, if you do not learn everything possible about your skills, you will be at a disadvantage in dealing with others who have not neglected to develop their skills fully. Third, if you reveal information that you do not wish to reveal, it can and will be used against you. Finally, insults and pettiness are just that. They're usually a reflection of the uneasiness of others and their fear that you might be superior or a threat. While they should never be ignored, responding directly to them weakens you. It's always better to deal with such individuals when it suits you-after reflection-not immediately, and never when it suits them." Taryl sighed. "Please think about what I have said, and if you wish to be angry, please cloak the anger behind your shields. That way, at least you'll get more practice, and I might be able to nap."

Most of Rahl's anger faded as he heard the patient tiredness in the older mage-guard's voice. Not all of the anger, but what remained was not directed at Taryl so much as at Rahl's own situation. Even so, he strengthened his shields.

"Thank you," said Taryl.

Why did people have to be so difficult? From everything Rahl had learned, Prince Golyat was in charge of an area ten times the size of Recluce, and he wasn't satisfied and had to plot a rebellion. Cyphryt was one of the highest-ranking mage-guards, and he was still scheming. Puvort was one of the top magisters in Recluce, and he'd used order dishonestly and unfairly-and Rahl had injured Jienela's brothers-not that they hadn't deserved it-in defending himself, and they'd been hurt, and Rahl had been exiled to Nylan. Everywhere he looked, people were trying to drag others down, often people who were their betters.

He frowned. He had to be honest with himself. That wasn't always true. He hadn't liked her decision, but Magistra Leyla had tried to be fair, as she saw it. Taryl was fair, and Deybri was one of the fairest and most honest people he'd met. Poor Captain Gheryk had been fair, too. But it was hard to deal with so much unfairness and pettiness, especially when he felt it was directed at him.

Then he nodded. He was likely to face some sort of slight or comment from Klassyn and perhaps even from Serita or others. What could he say that would be polite and friendly, without accepting such a slight? For a long time, he considered possible phrases.

Finally, he looked out the coach window, taking in the neatly fenced and bordered fields to the west, and the orchards to the east, stretching down toward the river, almost a kay away from the road. Before all that long, as the twilight began to darken into evening, the fields and olive and fruit trees gave way to small dwellings with garden plots around them. Unlike the buildings in the center of Cigoerne, the houses and cots were of brick, but the roofs were of red tile, if more faded than that Rahl had seen in other places. He didn't think that was because of the dimming light, either.

Despite the growing darkness, Rahl could see the Imperial Palace ahead, dominating the city from its position on the low hill in the center of Cigoerne. The gentle slopes-holding gardens and lawn-that rose from the white walls encircling the grounds were too regular on all sides for it to have been anything other than created for just that effect.

The gateway on the east side of the Imperial Palace, as well as the Palace itself, was lit with lamps seemingly hung everywhere, and behind each was a polished reflector. Several coaches-one of them a gleaming silver-preceded the one holding Taryl and Rahl through the outer gate and up the slight incline of the drive paved in white stone toward the Palace proper. The white stone of the Emperor's gate-and the receiving rotunda-shimmered in the light.

In time, their coach came to a halt, and a crimson-clad footman opened the coach door. "Welcome to the Palace."

"Thank you." Taryl nodded, and so did Rahl.

They walked along a pillared and covered walkway to a wide archway whose gilded double doors were drawn open. Inside was a vaulted entry hall that soared upward into one of the three domes of the Palace. The polished-marble floor was of pale rose, as were the fluted columns. The entire inside of the dome was comprised of pale rose triangles, the vertices alternating up and down, against a white background. Rahl looked again. Some of the triangles were windows of milky rose glass.

The sound of Rahl's boots was lost in the vastness of the circular entry hall-a good fifty cubits across, and more than that to the top of the dome.

Taryl turned to the left in the middle of the hall toward a series of columns framing a hallway with a wide crimson carpet runner. Stationed at intervals along the hallway were guards in crimson-and-gold uniforms. Ahead was another circular hall foyer, but one less than twenty cubits across, where several couples waited to enter through a set of doors to the right.

Taryl and Rahl stopped at the end of the short line.

"This is the Grand Parlor," Taryl murmured.

Ahead were a man wearing a dress uniform of black and khaki, with a crimson stripe down the outside of each trouser leg. The woman wore a black-and-silver gown, with the sheerest black-shimersilk sleeves and a silver scarf. As the couple stepped through the archway into the chamber beyond, a sonorous voice announced, "Land Marshal Valatyr and his consort Chelyna."

Taryl stepped forward, and so did Rahl. After a moment, Taryl nodded to Rahl.

"Mage-Guard Overcommander of Merowey Taryl. Mage-Guard and attache to the Overcommander Rahl," announced the crimson-clad functionary.

Inside the Grand Parlor, Rahl could see close to twoscore individuals, and it felt as though about half had turned to look at him. He kept smiling, and managed to keep his personal shields strong, as he accompanied Taryl.

Music filled the room, a lush melody of mixed instruments, without a sense of discord. Rahl's eyes traveled to the far end of the Grand Parlor, where he could see a half score of players, including violins, a large floor viol, and two sets of hammered harps, as well as several horns and a flute. The melody was soft, and not intrusive, yet held a harmony.

"The Emperor doesn't like receiving lines," said Taryl quietly. "He tends to wait until everyone is here before he appears. I see Klassyn and Serita over to the right. Since they're the only ones you officially know, except for Marshal Byrna, you should begin by paying your respects. Then, in time, someone will offer you something to drink. Try not to have to sneeze."

Rahl couldn't help smiling. "I'll just set it down somewhere and forget it, if it comes to that."

"Servers will appear with various dainties. Eat what appeals to you because that will be dinner, but eat judiciously."

Rahl nodded. Although Taryl had said all that earlier, Rahl didn't mind the reminder.

Taryl moved toward Marshal Byrna, while Rahl made his way toward Serita and Klassyn, both of whom wore mage-guard dress uniforms-with one addition. They wore gold-braided epaulet cords on their left shoulders. Each held a crystal goblet.

"Good evening," offered Rahl, inclining his head to Serita, then to Klassyn.

"Good evening to you, Rahl," she replied.

"It is a very good evening," added Klassyn, "and good to see you here. You actually look as though you belong."

"One can look as though he belongs when he's properly invited," replied Rahl. "I've found that it's usually discomfort that makes one look out of place." He smiled politely, glad that he'd thought ahead somewhat. He continued to project friendliness. "Still, I imagine it took some time for you to get used to working and living in the Palace. It's quite a change from even the largest of mage-guard stations."

"Oh, not so much a change for Klassyn," said Serita. "His family owns rather a great deal of land in the northwest. Somewhat isolated, I understand, but quite grand."

"And for you?" inquired Rahl. "You seem equally at home."

"We were comfortable."

"More than that," added Klassyn cheerfully.

Rahl could sense a certain coolness beneath the facade.

"Compared to your family, Klassyn, comfortable is appropriate."

"I won't dispute you, not tonight. What about you, Rahl?"

"All Recluce is modest, compared to Hamor, and my background more so than most."

"One would never guess it. You speak and comport yourself like a well-educated Atlan or Nubyatan."

"I suspect that's in my favor," Rahl replied.

Serita laughed softly. "You must have something to drink." She raised a hand, and a server seemed to appear from nowhere.

"Ser, might I get you some refreshment?"

"A pale lager, please."

The server slipped away.

"No leshak or brandy?" asked Klassyn. "The Emperor's leshak is not to be believed."

"And probably what it does to those who are unprepared to drink it is also not to be believed," Rahl said genially.

The server turned and offered Rahl a crystal beaker from a small tray.

Rahl let his order-senses check the lager, but it felt untainted, and he took the smallest sip. "The Emperor's lager is also quite good."

"As it should be," said Klassyn.

Another crimson-clad server slipped up next to the three, proffering a tray on which rested small pastry octagons. Rahl waited for Serita to take one before helping himself.

Klassyn ignored the server, instead continuing, "I understand you're going off to be a hero. As one of the old poets-Remyl, it was, said,

How brave are they who sleep in earth who blessed in death their land of birth.

"Although," he added, "Hamor is not actually your land of birth."

Rahl smiled politely. "I'm afraid I'm not that kind of hero. I think such words reflect another time. Today,

The song is strained, the notes are cold, the strings will break with words so old…"

Serita laughed.

"Some think times change, but they don't," Klassyn replied. "As the ancient Cyadoran wrote, and the new becomes the old, with the way the story's told."

"That's a good point," Rahl conceded.

"Precisely. We all think that we and our times are different, but all situations result from people, and people don't change from generation to generation." Klassyn offered a superior smile.

"Ah… but that same poet would not necessarily agree," interjected another voice.

Rahl turned to see a slender man dressed in gold and crimson. It had to be the Triad Jubyl.

"He also wrote some other lines, such as take your desert dunes and sunswept sands, and pour them through your empty hands.

"Or," continued the Triad,

"I hear the altage souls lifting lances against what the future past advances… until those towers crumble into sand and Cyad can no longer stand.

"And since Cyad no longer stands, and has not for many, many centuries, it is fair to conclude that while human nature may not change, the circumstances do, and at times, the new is indeed new, and not merely a retelling of the past. But the trick is to learn when new is new, and when it is not." The Triad turned to Rahl. "You must be Taryl's assistant."

Rahl bowed. "Yes, Triad."

"Save your bows for the Emperor. A simple 'ser' will do. As you have doubtless surmised, I am Jubyl."

"Yes, ser."

"You are said to have considerable skill with truncheon and staff, enough to be considered as equal to an armsmaster with those weapons. Have you thought of seeking such a position?"

"No, ser."

"Why not? It is a most honorable position, and those armsmasters with whom you have worked feel you have the ability to impart skills to others." Jubyl smiled, not coolly, but as if with interest, although his personal shields hid all feelings except a general friendliness, most possibly projected in the way that Taryl had suggested Rahl attempt to cultivate.

"I had not thought of it. It might be because I feel that I still have much to learn, and that handling a blade is painful and difficult."

The Triad nodded. "It is unwise to dream of what cannot be, but it is even more foolish to have no dreams beyond the present."

How could he reply to that? After a hesitation, Rahl offered a smile. "I'm still trying to learn about what is possible and what is not."

"If you can determine that, Rahl, you will have attempted what most never try, and fewer yet can do."

Rahl could sense that both Klassyn and Serita were watching intently. Although they were out of comfortable earshot, both were capable of using their skills to catch every word. "I will keep your observation in mind, ser."

"Oh… now you sound like the courtiers who used to flatter Hamylt."

"Ser… if I say that I will determine what is possible, then I sound arrogant. If I say that I will act as I can, I will sound willful and stupid, and if I agree, then I sound weak and seeking merely to agree."

Jubyl shook his head, still smiling. "That is the answer you should have given first."

"I might have, ser, but I couldn't think of it that quickly."

At that, Jubyl laughed. "A most honest answer."

Before Rahl could say more, the Triad turned toward his assistants. "A word with you, Klassyn, if you would."

Rahl watched for a moment as Jubyl steered Klassyn in the direction of the main doors to the Grand Parlor.

"Honeyed biastras, ser?" A server appeared with a tray, offering delicate pastry tubes.

Rahl took one, carefully, and ate it, finding it too sweet for his taste. At that thought, he smiled, knowing that his mother would never believe that he would find anything too sweet. He took a longer swallow of lager from the beaker he still held.

"Mage-Guard Rahl?"

The voice was Taryl's, but the formality of the address alerted Rahl, and he turned immediately.

With Taryl was a personage that could only be the Emperor. Surprisingly, at least to Rahl, the Emperor Mythalt did not wear crimson or gold, but a black-silk shirt with a white vest trimmed in crimson and white trousers with a single black stripe down the outside of each leg. He was not especially tall, a span less than Rahl, but his black eyes were alert, and his smile was warm. So were the feelings behind the smile.

"Highest," said Taryl, "this is Mage-Guard Rahl. He was the assistant envoy on the mission to Recluce, and he acquitted himself well."

Rahl immediately offered a bow. "Highest."

"You are an exile from Recluce who registered as a mage and labored in Luba. Is that not so?"

"Yes, Highest."

"How have you found Hamor?" A faint smile hovered on the Emperor's lips.

"Hamor has been far more welcoming to me than Recluce, Highest, and Overcommander Taryl has taught me much."

"Did he tell you to say that?"

"No, Highest. He told me to keep my replies to you direct and short."

Mythalt laughed. "Would that all those who serve Hamor followed that advice." After the slightest pause, he added, "We wish you well and thank you for all that you have already done for us."

"Thank you, Highest."

With another smile, the Emperor nodded to Taryl and moved toward Jubyl.

Taryl did not follow the Emperor but remained beside Rahl. "A good touch. Short, polite, but not obsequious, and truthful. Now that the Emperor has recognized you, we need to mingle. Just accompany me." Taryl eased toward a man in black and tan who was talking to another senior officer in a similar but not identical uniform.

Rahl realized that the first man was the Land Marshal who had preceded them into the Grand Parlor.

"Ah… Overcommander Taryl," offered Valatyr. "Surely, you recall Sea Marshal Chastyr."

"I do indeed." Taryl inclined his head slightly.

"A pleasure to see you back in a more commanding role, Taryl," replied Chastyr. "I understand your mage-guards in Swartheld got rid of more than a few of those Jeranyi vermin. It's too bad that you had to travel the whole Eastern Ocean to smooth the feathers of those self-important engineers in Nylan. Worth the effort to us, though."

"It was worth the effort." Taryl inclined his head to Rahl. "Rahl here was the one who uncovered the Jeranyi plot and managed to destroy the one pirate vessel himself."

Valatyr nodded to Rahl. "A pleasure to meet you, Rahl. I told the Sea Marshal here that there was a reason the Emperor recognized you."

Rahl inclined his head politely. "I've attempted to follow the example of the overcommander."

"A good example, indeed," said Valatyr heartily.

"Likewise, I congratulate you," added Chastyr. "A pity you couldn't have gotten all those Jeranyi in Swartheld. The world wouldn't miss them. We certainly wouldn't."

In turn, Rahl inclined his head to the Sea Marshal.

"Rahl was my assistant in Recluce and will be a part of the land campaign," Taryl added. "We'll not keep you, but it was a pleasure to see you both again."

Rahl followed Taryl away from the two marshals, and toward a woman standing beside two younger women, yet looking somehow alone. The taller and black-haired woman was attired in a deep green that matched her eyes. Her shimmersilk sleeves and scarf were of the same shade, but so sheer that they were nearly transparent.

"My lady Highest," offered Taryl, bowing deeply.

Rahl followed Taryl's example but did not speak.

"Triad Taryl, I had hoped you would notice me."

"One can never not notice you. That has always been true, and always will be so." Taryl inclined his head. "Might I take the liberty of presenting my assistant, Rahl?"

"Indeed you might." She turned the deep green eyes on Rahl.

Abruptly, Rahl realized two things he should have caught the moment he had first seen her. She was the Empress, and she was a healer.

"Yes," she replied ambiguously, "and it is always a pleasure to meet a mage-guard who holds order."

"Thank you, lady Highest."

"Emerya. Lady Emerya is required and more than enough." Her eyes and being were lit with a warmth that Rahl associated with the best healers. Without ignoring Rahl, she addressed Taryl. "I wish you well, and thank you for returning." Her eyes returned to Rahl. "I also wish you well, Rahl."

"You are kind, lady," replied Taryl.

"How could I not repay such as you have done?" Her eyes flicked to her left, to the Emperor. "If you will excuse me."

Both Rahl and Taryl bowed.

After that, Rahl lost count of the names and introductions.

When the time came for their departure, he was more than glad to accompany Taryl out through the marble halls and columns and back to their coach-waiting several hundred cubits away from the rotunda concourse, unlike a number of others lined up at the entrance. Most of those were far more ornately decorated than the one that had brought the two mage-guards.

"We don't need to make a departure," Taryl murmured, but he said nothing more to Rahl until they were in the coach and had left the outer gate of the Palace well behind.

Then he turned to Rahl. "What did you think of the Emperor?"

Rahl wondered how he could respond to such a question. "An honest and direct answer, ser?"

"So long as we're in private, Rahl."

"He's intelligent, good-hearted, and he chose his consort well."

"That he did. Better than even he deserved but what Hamor needs."

Rahl could sense something behind Taryl's words, but wasn't sure he should ask or even hint.

"What else? Was that all you noticed?"

"The Emperor is possibly too kind to be as effective as he needs to be. He seems like the kind of man who might give too many second chances."

"He already has, especially to his brother, but he has begun to learn the costs of ill-advised kindness." Taryl leaned back in the coach seat. "One of the hardest things to learn is when to offer kindness and when not to."

"Is there any rule to that?"

Taryl laughed softly in the darkness. "Only that you will always make mistakes."