Natural Ordermage

LXXI

As the sun shone over the eastern hills, Rahl and Talanyr sat in the third row of the long transport wagon while its iron tires rumbled over the stone road that rose gradually from the Luba Valley toward the southern pass. At Talanyr’s urging, not that it had taken much, Rahl had agreed to accompany him to Guasyra on eightday. Rahl had certainly wanted to leave Luba and the ironworks, as much to know that he could as for any other reason, and it had been so long since anyone had wanted him to accompany them anywhere. On the other hand, he had but six coppers to his name. He tried not to think about that. At the very least, he could walk around the town and learn more about Hamor.

“The town’s south of Luba, but isn’t the Swarth River to the east?” asked Rahl.

“It is, but Guasyra sits on the north side of the Rynn. It’s a small river that runs out of the mountains and into the Swarth, but, even without the cataracts east of it, it’s not deep enough for the iron barges and the steam tugs. It’s better that way. It’s still a small town. Well…for around here. It’s still three times the size of Jabuti.”

“Is there a town where they load the iron?”

“That’s Luba. It’s just docks and loading, and it’s almost as grimy as the ironworks. It’s also ten kays farther away from the ironworks than Guasyra is, but it’s a flat road almost the whole way, and that’s easier on the drays that haul the steel. The Emperor Halmyt thought about building a canal east from the ironworks, but the high mages told him not to. He got so upset that he tried to have one of them killed, but whatever he had in mind didn’t work, and his heart stopped.”

Rahl glanced ahead. The road had begun to level out. Less than half a kay ahead, it entered a stone-walled cut between two hills of a dusky red sandstone. “And nothing happened to the mages?”

“One died, and two of them were sent to oversee the mage-guard station here. That’s what they say, but when people talk about the Triad, you never know,” Talanyr said. “One of the first things the Emperor Mythalt had to do was to find a new trio of high mages. That took a while.”

“Do they come from the mage-guards?” Rahl blotted his forehead. Even the early sun was hot in summer, and the acrid odor of the ironworks still filled his nostrils. The ironworks never shut down, not even on eightday.

“They have to, and they have to have been a mage-guard for at least ten years.”

“Does the time spent as a mage-clerk count?” asked Rahl.

“After you finish training-or for someone like you-once you’re working in a mage-guard station.”

The transport wagon rolled into the stone-walled cut in the hillside. The walls stretched upward almost fifty cubits, and the stone pavement was wide enough to accommodate two wagons side by side and ran from wall to wall, except for shallow gutters a cubit wide at the base of the walls. The sandstone blocks were all of the same size and precisely cut and finished, although weathered and worn in places. Rahl was glad for the comparative cool of the shaded defile.

“This looks old.”

“Something like three centuries, Thelsyn said.”

From one of the mage-guards in the wooden seat just before them came a murmured comment. “That’s the sort of thing he’d know.”

Talanyr grinned and shook his head.

Just after the wagon rumbled through the stone defile, Rahl could see a small valley spreading out to the south. Unlike the desolation of Luba, the greenery of grass and of trees was almost everywhere. The road began to descend, but not nearly so far as it had climbed out of the Luba valley.

“It’s…different…” Rahl hadn’t expected comparative lushness around Guasyra. He also realized that the air was clearer and smelled fresher.

“That’s why it’s good to come here when we can.”

As they descended toward the town, the wagon passed through a stand of evergreens, and over a bridge that spanned a stone canal less than three cubits wide. On both sides of the road, below the canal were orchards. Dirt lanes led from the main road to steads among the orchards, but Rahl had no idea what the fruit trees were.

“Olives,” supplied Talanyr.

At the northern edge of the town was a temple, one that, except for its smaller size, was identical to the one Rahl had seen near the park in Swartheld-a tall one-story structure with a gently peaked and tiled roof, with the dissimilar pair of spires on the end away from the road. The straight and narrow southern spire shone silvery in the morning sun, while the curled and twisted, and somehow feminine, northern spire shimmered a warmer bronze.

“What’s that?” asked Rahl quietly.

Oh…that’s a temple to Kaorda-the almighty god and goddess of both order and chaos…”

“God and goddess?” Rahl had trouble dealing with the idea of gods anyway, but the idea of one that was both order and chaos and male and female all simultaneously made it even harder. “How can he or she be both?”

“They don’t have an image-that would be blasphemous-but the Kaordists say that his face is half of unworldly beauty and half of demented passion, and that the beautiful half is male and the passionate chaotic half is female.”

“Oh…”

“I’m not sure I believe that, but it makes as much sense as the one-god believers.”

Rahl nodded dubiously, his eyes taking in the outskirts of the town, which looked to be larger than Land’s End. All the dwellings, outbuildings, as well as the shops, were constructed of the red sandstone blocks, and roofed with curved pinkish tiles

He saw women with children, and other women with laundry piled in baskets on their heads, and a youth pushing a handcart with a wooden cage filled with some sort of plumpish rodentlike animals. Two other young men were leading lambs.

“Eightday is market day-except for the Kaordists,” said Talanyr.

The wagon slowed to a stop on the north side of a square, a good two hundred cubits on a side, each side flanked by the road. The square itself was raised a cubit above the surrounding sidewalk and contained by two courses of sandstone block and paved as well. In the middle of each side was a stone ramp leading up from the street to the square. As in the market square in Nylan, the space was filled with carts and tents and booths, and the sounds of haggling and selling easily reached Rahl, as did the odor of burning wood or charcoal. He scrambled off the wagon and walked around it to rejoin Talanyr. His fingers dropped to his belt to check the truncheon, but it was firmly in place.

He noticed that none of the other mage-guards headed for the market square. “Where…” He decided not to finish the question.

“Some of them have consorts or mistresses who live here. They can’t live near the ironworks or in Luba.”

That made sense to Rahl. If he’d had either, he wouldn’t have wanted them to live near the ironworks.

“I thought we’d go through the market square first.” Talanyr grinned boyishly. “We’ll also avoid the women’s quarter-at least until you’re…more familiar…with the town. They certainly won’t hurt a mage or a mage-clerk, but…it could be costly.”

Rahl understood the unspoken message about the order-skills that had not returned-and might never. He followed Talanyr up the stone ramp to the market square.

“Who’s your friend, Talanyr?” The mage-guard who walked toward them didn’t look that much older than either of the two mage-clerks.

“Chovayt!” Talanyr turned. “I thought they were transferring you to Sylpa.”

“Not until fall. That’s when it rains all the time there.” The broad-faced mage offered a hangdog smile.

“Oh…this is Rahl. He’s new to Luba station.”

“I’m pleased to meet you,” Rahl offered.

Chovayt laughed. “Trust Talanyr to find someone else he can guide to the finer pleasures in life.” He shook his head. “Just don’t trust his taste in leshak and dovarn, or you’ll have a headache for days.” Abruptly, he turned. “There’s trouble in the corner. Silverwork and gems.”

Since Talanyr followed the mage-guard, Rahl ran to keep up with the other two. He didn’t want to be left alone in a town where he’d never been before, especially when he had no order-senses.

Chovayt sprinted around a pile of baskets, and past a rack on which folded colored blankets were displayed, and down a space between stalls toward a cart painted a faded green. Talanyr was right behind him. A woman dragged her children out of his way, and several loaves of bread bounced on the paving stones. Seven handcarts were arranged to form an aisle, with four on the right and three on the left. The last cart on the right was painted a faded orange, and displayed what looked to be silver boxes and pins on an inclined board covered with black cloth.

An older gray-haired man sagged against the side of the cart, while a matronly woman stood in front of him and a girl perhaps eight or nine years old. She held up a wicker basket that she jabbed toward a bearded man who was scooping the silver items into a bag. “Thief! Mage-guards! Help!”

Another stockier man vaulted from behind the cart, brandishing a sabre. The other sellers were nowhere in sight, probably hiding behind their carts.

Chovayt had his falchiona out of his scabbard and Talanyr had a truncheon out as they engaged the thieves.

Belatedly, Rahl drew his truncheon, doubting that he could help much in the crowded quarters.

A third man, with a bag in his hand, darted from between two carts after Talanyr and Chovayt had passed those carts and began to sprint away from the mage-guard. Rahl stepped forward to block his escape.

In a single motion, the thief stuffed the bag into his shirt and came up with two long and sharp-edged daggers, one in each hand. Rahl dropped to one side, then came up and back with the truncheon. Hard as he struck, the man did not wince, but only paused, before jabbing the dagger toward Rahl, who jumped to one side, then slammed his truncheon down into the man’s arm just above the wrist. That dagger clattered on the paving stones of the square.

The other knife slashed toward Rahl’s unprotected side, but Rahl stepped inside, elbowing the knife arm away, and drove the truncheon straight up under the point of the attacker’s jaw. This time, there was a crunching sound and a strangled scream. Still, the man staggered back, pulling away, trying to bring the dagger to bear on Rahl.

Rahl side-kicked the man’s weight-bearing knee, then knocked the dagger out of his hand. The assailant collapsed into a shuddering heap. Rahl turned, keeping an eye on the downed thief, but trying to see what was happening with Talanyr.

One of the other attackers half sat, half sprawled against the side of a cart, his hands around his bloody forearm.

As Rahl watched, Chovayt’s blade touched the shoulder of one of the other thieves, and chaos-fire charred the arm. The thief did not surrender, and a second chaos-fired slash charred his other shoulder, and he pitched forward.

Talanyr was fighting a taller bearded man who was clearly a better blade than the mage-clerk, but Talanyr held his own with the truncheon, despite retreating slowly. Rahl wondered where the fourth thief had come from. As Talanyr moved back, the bigger man grinned and darted forward.

Whsst! A small bolt of chaos-fire turned the bearded man’s head into a charred mass, and he pitched forward onto the redstone pavement.

Rahl stood watching the thief he had stopped, not certain of what he was supposed to do next, and wondering why he had had so much trouble in dealing with the man.

Chovayt glanced around, then nodded toward Rahl. “Can you drag that sorry sow-carcass over here?”

“Go ahead, Rahl,” said Talanyr. “If he makes a move, I’ll smash whatever moves.”

Rahl didn’t want to get too close to the man he’d brought down. So he grabbed the foot of the uninjured leg and dragged the thief across the pavement one-handed, holding his truncheon ready in the other.

The fellow moaned. Rahl left him beside the wounded thief by the cart wheel, then stepped back.

“He’s got a bag with stuff in it in his shirt.”

A muscular woman appeared after his words, bent down and ripped open the shirt, pulling out the cloth bag. “My coins he took-and some scrip.”

“That was a little messy,” said Chovayt. “Mage-Captain Zillor isn’t going to be happy. You two might as well move along.”

“You’re certain?” asked Talanyr.

Chovayt nodded. “He’s on his way.” He gestured at the two bodies and the two wounded thieves. “They aren’t going anywhere.”

Rahl couldn’t sense anything, but Talanyr and Chovayt clearly could.

“This way,” said Talanyr. “We’ll walk down toward the local river docks until things cool off. We can go back later.”

Rahl followed the other mage-clerk through the open spaces of the square and down the ramp on the south side. He could see how the vendors stepped back as they neared and passed, but he still could not sense what they felt. He was still trying to figure out what had happened. He’d struck the thief hard and solid, but he’d had trouble anticipating the other’s moves, and his blows hadn’t had the effect they usually did. Why? He almost shook his head. He’d been using order-skills before, and now he didn’t have any. And…his previous truncheon had been lorken bound in black iron, which weighed more and conducted not only the force of his blows but the order behind them.

For a moment, he stopped, fighting the wave of rage that threatened to cascade over him, as well as the underlying sense of unfairness.

“Are you all right? You didn’t get cut or anything?”

“No. I think I need a heavier truncheon, though.” Rahl forced a smile. It wasn’t Talanyr he was angry at, but Puvort and the magisters and rules of Recluce and Nylan.

“They might have some in the armory at the station.”

“I’ll look tomorrow.” Rahl glanced back toward the market square.

“Chovayt is doing fine,” Talanyr said.

“We weren’t supposed to help him?” asked Rahl.

“No. We’re always required to help another mage-guard, even if we’re only clerks. But there’s nothing to say we have to stay afterward. If we stayed, Zillor might have thought we’d distracted Chovayt. That’s one of the tactics the thieves use. They’ve got a lookout who lets them know when the mage-guards are occupied and the farthest away from their target. If we hadn’t been there, most of them would have escaped. This way, he can just say that we helped, and he has everything under control. It looks better for him. Besides, do you want to write up his reports, too?”

“You both used weapons,” Rahl said.

“We had to. Chovayt couldn’t use chaos-bolts in the market there at first, and I can’t,” said Talanyr. “Chovayt couldn’t because the girl and her mother were standing too close to the two offenders. That’s why he used the blade as a conduit for the chaos.” He paused. “You’re good with that truncheon.”

“My father started me early. I had a lot of bruises for a while.”

“It made things easier. Thank you.”

Somehow, as Rahl crossed the street on the far side of the market square, walking beside Talanyr, he hadn’t thought that there would be that many thieves in Hamor, not when the mage-guards patrolled everywhere.

“I’ll show you around,” Talanyr went on. “Later, we can go to the Nalyrra for a really good dinner.”

“Talanyr,” Rahl said. “I can’t. I don’t have any coins to speak of.”

The other mage-clerk laughed. “I know. Tonight will be my treat, and it will be. You helped back there, and it’s good to be with someone who can handle a truncheon and who’s actually read a book. Rhiobyn thinks that you pick them for the color of the binding and how they look on a library wall.” Talanyr laughed. “Besides, I don’t have much to spend on anyway. You can treat me sometime when you’re paid.”

“I will.” Rahl paused, then added, “Rhiobyn must come from coins.”

“His family’s coins have coins. They’re merchanters in Atla. You wouldn’t know it, because they hired tutors so that they wouldn’t talk like Atlans.”

“Like me?”

“You talk like an educated Atlan, and that’s fine. Besides, I talk like an Afritan, and that’s worse than an Atlan for most people.”

Rahl just nodded. He had more than a little to learn about Hamor.