Mage-Guard of Hamor

XXXVIII

For the remainder of sixday, Rahl rode forward of the main column with the outriders, but a good quarter kay behind the scouts. The road had turned so that its general heading was due southwest, but they encountered only a few local carts and riders, and Rahl detected nothing suspicious. The half squads sent to ask local holders about rebels and armed men reported back that none of the locals had seen either. Rahl accompanied one of the groups, and the holders were indeed telling the truth. The lack of local observation bothered Rahl, but he didn't know what he could do about it except be vigilant. Once again, he'd failed to do something, and once again, it was because no one had told him what to look for. He was beginning to think that no one ever thought about telling others anything of value. Rather, they just came up with vague platitudes and thought they were being helpful. He snorted quietly.

The weather remained chill, but they'd been fortunate because they'd encountered no more rain, and Rahl could not sense any great amount of water in the air. That was encouraging for the next few days, at least. They had not sent any more troopers as messengers, nor had they received any messages from the submarshal's forces. The way matters were going, Third Company would reach Dawhut a good eightday before the submarshal-if not longer.

By sevenday, the rugged and rocky hills had gradually given way to lower, gentler, and more rounded rises, with a mixture of hardwood trees, meadows, and fields, although the tilled ground was winter-fallow. Rahl continued to keep pace with the outriders, checking everything that he could for possible traps or ambushes. He was riding beside Alrydd, an older and graying trooper.

"Still seems strange, begging your pardon, ser, to have a mage-captain riding with an outrider." Alrydd did not look at Rahl as he spoke, his eyes traversing the road and the areas on each side.

"Seems strange to be riding here, Alrydd." Rahl paused, then asked, "How long have you been a trooper?"

"Near on twelve years, ser. Was a butcher's apprentice in Sylpa. Figured being a trooper couldn't be any bloodier, and it'd get me out of consorting to the renderer's daughter."

"Did it?"

"Aye, yes, and that I never regretted."

Rahl could sense there were other regrets, but did not press. "I was a scrivener, and trying to avoid being consorted to a young woman led from one thing to another, and I ended up a trader's clerk in Swartheld, and then a mage-clerk in Luba."

"Women, ser… when you're with 'em, you can't do without 'em, except when you wish you could and can't."

Rahl wasn't certain he followed that line of thinking, but he laughed softly. "They can be a puzzle." Absently, he reached up and massaged the back of his neck, with his left hand. His head was already aching, and it was only midafternoon.

A low stone wall, no more than waist high, formed a neat border around a small orchard ahead on the left side of the road. With the almost-furled gray of winter leaves, Rahl couldn't tell the type of fruit trees, except that they weren't pearapple or apple.

He stiffened. Was there a hint of chaos there? He reined up the gelding and said to Alrydd, "Hold up."

The trooper complied without speaking.

"There's something about that orchard, or the wall in front of it." Rahl eased the gelding forward, but slowly, extending his order-senses.

The grass and weeds in front of the stone wall appeared and felt undisturbed, and so did the orchard, but an area a good ten or fifteen cubits wide behind the stone wall, on the end farthest north and closest to Rahl, had clearly been touched by chaos, if faintly.

"There's something here!" he called back. "Pass the word to the captain."

"Yes, ser."

Rahl inspected more closely, but still from a good ten cubits away. Loosely covered with leaves and grasses was an oblong two cubits in width and four cubits in height or depth. He guessed that it was similar to the earlier arrow traps.

He shifted his attention back to the road itself, trying to discover what mechanism the rebels had devised to set it off. There was a wide and flat space in the middle of the road, dustier than the area around it, and without any tracks across it. That had to be the cutter plate that severed the trip rope.

He turned in the saddle as the same pair of older troopers who had disassembled the first trap appeared. "The quarrel plate is behind the wall. It's fairly large." He gestured. "The spring plate is there. You can see the outline in the road. The rod is still in place. I wouldn't fiddle with it until you disarm the quarrel trap."

"No, ser. We wouldn't want to be doing that."

Rahl offered no more direction, but continued to watch as the two went to work.

What the troopers finally lifted clear of the ground between the trees and the walls was a wooden throwing plate with tubes for sixty-four quarrels, and all the tubes were filled. Once they had the plate uncovered and clear of the weighted throwing links, Rahl could sense chaos around the plate more strongly.

"There's a paste smeared on the tips," said one of the troopers.

"Poison, most likely," added Drakeyt, who had ridden up shortly before the two troopers had eased the throwing plate away from the mechanism.

Rahl almost nodded. "Why would they use poison on the quarrels?"

"To kill more of us." Drakeyt's words were dryly sardonic.

"No. The poison would still only kill a few more troopers than the quarrels without poison, but it takes more time and effort, and it's more dangerous for whoever's assembling the device."

"And it's likely to make the troopers more angry," Drakeyt added. "You're suggesting that these traps aren't being set by regular troopers or officers. They're either trying to save their troopers for actual battle, or they have something else in mind."

"Or both." Rahl had no idea what other idea might be behind the actions of the mages and crafters-it had to be a combination of both-who were setting the traps.

"That sort of treachery doesn't speak well of Golyat or those supporting him. Mythalt's been a good emperor, as emperors go," replied Drakeyt. "Why would anyone want to support someone who would poison everyday troopers? It says they don't think much of the rank and file."

"Or they think that poisoned quarrels will make the men less determined in battle."

Drakeyt shook his head. "Word about the poison gets around, and most of the troopers won't want to give quarter-especially to rebel officers."

Rahl thought it might just show the arrogance of the rebel mageguards-and that they were the ones who felt they were above rules, decency, and being accountable for what they did. His lips quirked. They were-until or unless the Imperial forces and mage-guards defeated them.

Drakeyt turned in the saddle to the two troopers breaking up the quarrel-throwing trap. "Wrap up the poisoned quarrels. We'll want to give them to the submarshal when they join forces with us."

Whenever that might be, Rahl thought.

Then the captain looked at Rahl. "From here on in toward Dawhut, we'd better check every stead and structure near the road, and all of the side lanes or roads with tracks."

"I think that's a good idea," Rahl replied. For many reasons.