Mage-Guard of Hamor

LXXV

Rahl and Drakeyt sat at a small table along the wall in the public room of the Tankard, one of the less prepossessing of the handful of inns in Selyma. Even though the night was barely chill, the acrid odor of smoke straying from the smoldering hearth added to the already pronounced perfume of cooking fat and overbaked bread.

Rahl took a small swallow of a bitter brew that passed for lager.

"What do you think the subcommander will do next?" asked Drakeyt.

"The marshal's the one in command," Rahl pointed out.

"The word is that the overcommander's the one making the decisions." Drakeyt sipped from his beaker.

Rahl shrugged. "I don't know what either plans, and the overcommander hasn't told me. He did say that nothing would happen for a day or two."

"Good. Our troopers need rest. Some of the troopers in the other companies are in worse shape." Drakeyt shook his head. "Ours had seen magery before. Most of them haven't."

"It's likely to get worse," Rahl said slowly.

"Did the overcommander tell you that?"

"No. Not in so many words. He's been warning me for eightdays about how I'll need to hold stronger shields once we get close to Nubyat and Sastak." That wasn't quite what Taryl had said, but Rahl thought it meant close to the same thing. Why else would Taryl have been pressing him on the personal shields so much?

"It's fiveday night. You think we'll be moving out by sevenday?"

"I don't know. I'd judge sevenday or eightday, but that's just a guess. It all might change, too, depending on what Golyat does."

"If I were the prince, I'd find a ship and go somewhere else."

"He can't," Rahl replied. "He's not worth the trouble to any land powerful enough to stand up to Hamor and too dangerous for those less powerful."

Drakeyt took another swallow from his beaker. "Means we'll lose more troopers for no good reason. Suppose that's always been the case when there's a war."

"Besides," Rahl went on, "I get the feeling that he really believes he should be emperor. People who feel like that don't usually just turn away." Not to mention the fact that Golyat was probably surrounded by people who wanted him to be emperor so that they could also have more power.

"You think you'll be a mage-guard commander or overcommander some day?"

Rahl almost choked on the bitter lager. He managed to swallow, then cleared his throat. "Me? I'm lucky to be a senior mage-guard. I think I'd be fortunate to be a city captain or something like that." Rahl would have liked to think he could be more, but his experiences to date suggested that he was exceedingly fortunate to have gotten as far as he had, and that had only happened because of Taryl.

Drakeyt shook his head. "You get out of this mess alive, and the over-commander has something in mind for you."

"Why do you say that?"

"He's given you and Third Company too many sowshit missions, and he keeps reinforcing the company."

Why did reinforcing Third Company mean Taryl had something planned for Rahl? Usually Taryl wanted Rahl to learn or see something. But what would reinforcing a company rather than transferring Rahl to another company show? What fighting did to the troopers? Or to Drakeyt? Or how many died? Rahl was well aware of that-more than half the original company had perished.

Finally, Rahl replied. "He never does anything without a purpose, but I can't figure out what he has in mind, except to give me experience, because I didn't have all that much."

"You had a lot more than most mage-guards your age, didn't you?" asked Drakeyt.

Rahl shrugged. "That's probably true. I also made a lot more mistakes than most did."

Drakeyt laughed, darkly, then swallowed the last of the brew in his beaker. "That'd be true, too. I'm heading back." He stood.

So did Rahl. He was in need of some sleep. He just hoped he could and that he didn't spend all night worrying about what Taryl had in mind for him… or about all those who had died-on both sides-because of what he had done.