Mage-Guard of Hamor

XXVII

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.

Rahl rode down the lane, the patrol following, and the scouts and outriders continuing over the stone bridge that crossed the stone-walled creek a good hundred cubits east of the mill. Rahl and the patrol reined up in the open space east of the drying barns. The outriders continued north until they reached the top of the rise on the far side of the vale.

A wiry dark-haired man walked from one of the drying barns toward Rahl with a carriage that suggested he was more than just a worker. He stopped well short of the patrol. "Ser? Might we be of some help?"

Despite the man's polite speech, Rahl could sense the combination of fear and irritation, and he offered a pleasant smile. "You're the mill-master and forester? You don't have any lorken in those woods, do you?" As he finished his questions, Rahl could sense the surprise from both the mill-master and Quelsyn.

"I'm Bercast, and the mill's mine. We lease the lands to the north and west from the Emperor. Our leasehold payments are made, Mage-Guard. If they haven't gotten to the Emperor, that's because of the trouble on the coast, not because we didn't pay."

"We're not here for that." Rahl could sense the honesty of the miller's reply-and the worry. "About the lorken?"

"I wish we could grow lorken here," replied Bercast, still puzzled. "Would that we could, but the best we can do is black oak and walnut, and dark rosewood… and, of course, goldenwood."

"What was on the wagon?"

"Those were all goldenwood planks."

"We're looking for some rebels who might have taken some of the back roads around here recently. I heard that you'd come across some tracks…" Rahl raised his eyebrows.

"No secret about that, ser. I even told Patrol Chief Dykstat."

"He said someone had seen them."

Bercast shook his head. "No, ser. Never saw a one. We ran across some tracks, and deep they were. That was what called my eye to them. As deep as my wagons, and my first thought was that someone was timber-poaching the backwoods, but we never found any sign of that."

"Where are these tracks?"

"I can tell you where they were. Tracks aren't so clear now-we've had some rain… but they were deep enough that they'll still stand out, I'd think. Couldn't figure what they were hauling that was so heavy if it wasn't timber. We use that lane off and on, and never saw 'em. I'd wager that they came through in the dark…"

Rahl could sense the truth of the forester's words.

"How do we get to this road?" asked Quelsyn.

"It's a good two kays from here, sers." Bercast pointed along the lane heading north. "You go maybe a kay, maybe less, until you get to the fork, where the big black stump is on the left side-that's the west side-and you take that fork over two rises and before long you'll get to the back road. Now it runs almost north and south on that stretch, and that's where the tracks I saw were, but you go a kay in either direction, and it goes back to east and west. Folks say that was once the main way, but that was a long, long time back. There are some old kaystones there. Never could figure out what they meant."

"Thank you." Rahl inclined his head.

"Glad to be of help, ser." The mill-master bowed his head.

Rahl could sense the man's relief as Quelsyn ordered, "Patrol! Forward!"

Rahl had the feeling it was more than two kays before they reached the black stump, and another kay and a half before they were on the back road-or the old road. Even the trees flanking the road were ancient, and while the road seemed to be clay, Rahl could sense that it was indeed old. He held up his hand.

"Patrol halt!" ordered the senior squad leader.

"You have someone good with tracks?" asked Rahl.

Quelsyn offered an embarrassed smile. "Ah… I was a scout, first, ser."

Rahl gestured for him to go ahead.

The squad leader rode less than a hundred cubits before reining up.

Rahl eased his mount along the shoulder of the road until he joined Quelsyn.

"Couldn't hardly miss them." Quelsyn pointed toward the middle of the road, where two deep traces remained, sometimes diverging as if two sets of heavy-laden wagons had passed. The wheel ruts had erased several hoofprints. "See the angle there. They were heading east… well, north here. More than an eightday ago… could be two." The senior squad leader looked to Rahl. "Heavy wagon, all right."

"We'll need to patrol back along the track. There might be supply caches or other rebels," said Rahl.

"Ser?"

"The tracks are from the wagons that carried small cannon to the river. The ones that fired on our river steamers," Rahl replied. "The shore force killed or captured all but a handful. Some of them might try to get back to the rebels."

"You think they've already passed here?" asked the squad leader.

"Close to five days… probably not more than fifteen or twenty kays from where they were." That was a guess on Rahl's part, but he felt that the surviving raiders were already to the west. He didn't want to say that, though.

"A long ways on foot back to where they came from."

"Unless they can steal mounts."

"The patrol chief honestly didn't know of any," Rahl pointed out. "If any horses are missing, it's from outlying steads."

"Where the holders can't report it, or are dead," Quelsyn concluded.

Rahl extended his order-senses. He didn't feel anyone nearby-except for the troopers of the patrol. But… there was something.

"We'll follow this road west for a while, squad leader, and we'll look for signs. If they're trying to get back, they'll stay close to the road."

"Yes, ser."

Rahl ignored the doubt behind Quelsyn's acknowledgment.