Natural Ordermage

Swartheld
LXXXVIII

On sevenday morning, Rahl sat beside Caersyn-the station duty mage-in the foyer that seemed half study, the same place where he had once gone to register, more than a year before. The mage-guard station was the same one Rahl remembered-right off the main piers of the harbor beyond the enumerators’ building. What he had not noticed then were the two adjacent buildings almost tucked away farther shoreward toward the bluff and slightly to the south. One was the gaol, for holding offenders until they could be sent to the quarries or Luba, or until a case could be resolved, and the other served as quarters for unconsorted mage-guards. He had been given a small main-floor chamber, off the middle of the corridor, but it was his alone, for which he was grateful.

On the wagon, and on the barge downstream, Jyrolt had talked far more about the overall mission of the mage-guards, and about their history than about specifics of mage-guard duties. Rahl had found it interesting that the early emperors had been ordermages, not chaos-mages, and that one of them had actually created the mage-guards, but now he was listening carefully to Caersyn, because he needed to know more.

“Now…here’s the duty book,” said Caersyn, “and because I’m lazy, and you need to learn about Swartheld, you’ll be doing the entries this morning. The captain likes them neat.”

Rahl doubted that would be a problem.

“He’ll be in shortly. He likes to spend some time with all the new mage-guards. Since nothing’s happening yet, you might as well start reading the station manual.” Caersyn pulled a leather-bound book from a shelf under the single drawer of the battered oak desk.

Rahl opened it to the first page.

He’d read four pages, when Caersyn whispered, “Here comes the captain.”

Even before he reached Rahl, the dark-haired and blue-eyed Mage-Captain Gheryk radiated a cheerful strength.

Rahl stood. “Ser.”

“You’re our new addition, Mage-Guard Rahl?”

“Yes, ser.”

“Good.” Gheryk glanced at Caersyn. “I see you’ve already put him to work.”

“Yes, ser. You and the undercaptain always start them here.”

“I can tell I’m getting too predictable,” replied the captain before turning his eyes back on Rahl. “I need to go over a few things with you. Why don’t you come with me?” He grinned at Caersyn. “He’ll be back before long.”

“Yes, ser.”

Gheryk led the way to a small windowless chamber less than twenty cubits away, where he settled behind a small desk and gestured for Rahl to take the straight-backed chair across the desk from him. The room was empty except for the desk and chairs, a small bookcase less than half-filled, and a wooden file chest.

“Welcome to Swartheld.”

“Thank you, ser.”

“You’ve been assigned to Swartheld port station. The other station is the city station, but it’s on the south side. There’s a naval station over by the piers, but the mage-guards there are in the navy. I’m in charge of both Swartheld stations, but the day-to-day operations are run by the undercaptains. Craelyt is the undercaptain here, and Demarya is the undercaptain of the city station. There’s a map in the station manual that shows which sections of the city which station patrols, but you’ll learn them all in time, because you’ll be rotated over there at some point for familiarization. You won’t meet Craelyt until tomorrow because he has today off, and I usually take eightdays off.

“Caersyn was right about putting you on the duty desk today, and having you read the manual. You’ll also draw another set of uniforms and another pair of boots. Alternate the boots every day. They’ll last longer, and so will your feet. There’s one other thing. It’s mentioned in the manuals, but I want to emphasize it. Mage-guards are never truly off duty, except when you’re sleeping. You wear your uniform everywhere outside your quarters, except bathing or swimming, and you always wear a weapon outside the quarters. This is true in all towns and cities, even though it is mentioned only briefly in the Manual of the Mage-Guards. Part of the reason for this is that mage-guards are a group apart, and we are never to deceive others as to who and what we are. Another part of that is that there are never enough of us, and when we all wear our uniforms everywhere, we create the impression of a larger force.” Gheryk leaned forward slightly. “Peaceful and orderly as it may seem, Swartheld is a dangerous city, Rahl, even for mage-guards. We do lose guards. Sometimes, we never find a trace of them.”

Rahl nodded.

Gheryk’s eyes sharpened. “That’s a knowing look. What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know if you know, ser. I was once a clerk here in Swartheld. I woke up one morning seasons later in Luba without any memories. It took another season before I recalled anything. I was agreeing with your observation that it’s a dangerous city.”

Abruptly, Gheryk laughed. “Oh…you’re the one Taryl was inquiring about last spring. That’s probably why Jyrolt left a note that he wanted to talk to me about you. You’re the outlander who registered and had been a clerk with the Recluce trade outfit. You speak like an educated Atlan, and I didn’t realize who you were.”

“Yes, ser.”

The mage-commander was the one to nod. “Seen that way, I’m beginning to understand why you were sent here. Mage-Examiner Jyrolt left your evaluation, but I haven’t talked to him yet. Your weapons skills are impressive. He never exaggerates. I only wish you were on the chaos side. It’s a little safer to be able to handle some of these bravos from a distance.” He fingered his chin. “But…in crowded areas, one can’t always use chaos. I think we’ll have you on the piers to begin with…after you’ve spent an eightday on the duty desk as an assistant so that you’ll get to know everyone, and they’ll get to know you. You’ll also have time to read the station manual and listen to the others about what is happening.”

“Yes, ser.” That all made sense to Rahl.

“Do you have any questions?”

“Just one, for now, ser. I’m sure I’ll have more later.” He paused, then asked, “Is there any way to send coins places safely, like to Recluce? I suppose I could get a draft from the Exchange, but…”

Gheryk raised his eyebrows slightly.

“I need to repay someone for a favor, for getting word to my parents that I was safe.”

The captain’s frown vanished. “You can send your Exchange draft with assurance through most bonded Hamorian factors. The assurance fee is a silver for the first five golds, and a silver for each ten above that, I’m told. That’s only for a draft, though. You can’t send actual coins, of course.”

“Thank you, ser.”

“Any other questions?”

“No, ser.”

“That will be all…for now.”

As Rahl headed back toward the duty desk, he came face-to-face with Jyrolt. “Ser.”

Jyrolt looked at Rahl. “You’ve already met with Mage-Captain Gheryk?”

“Yes, ser. I didn’t know exactly what to say. I just told him that I’d been a clerk and a registered outlander and lost my memories and woke up in Luba. He remembered Taryl’s inquiry. I didn’t want to say more after what you’d told me.”

“Good. I’ll explain the rest.”

Rahl didn’t sense any deception in Jyrolt, but he still worried as he rejoined Caersyn.

“The captain set you straight?”

“He was pretty direct.” Rahl paused. “What are the undercaptains like?”

“Craelyt’s our undercaptain,” replied the duty mage-guard, “and he doesn’t say much, except what needs to be said. Knows being a mage-guard, been one longer than even the captain. Likes to handle things quiet-like. Always pointing out that mage-guards aren’t supposed to be seen, just supposed to keep things orderly.”

Caersyn didn’t seem inclined to say much more, and Rahl went back to reading the manual. He’d gotten through several more pages when Mage-Captain Gheryk appeared again.

“Anything I should know, Caersyn?”

“It’s been quiet this morning, ser, but it’s early. If there’s trouble, it’ll be tonight.”

Gheryk laughed softly. “Sevenday nights.” His eyes turned on Rahl. “Let’s see your truncheon.”

Rahl stood and handed it over. He’d oiled and polished it, but it showed the abuse it had taken at Luba.

“That’s a sorry-looking truncheon you’ve got there. I thought that might be the case.”

“It was the heaviest ironbound one they had at Luba, ser.”

Gheryk glanced to the duty mage-guard. “Caersyn…would you check with the armory and see if we have any of those iron-banded black truncheons for Rahl? He’d take forever to get one because he’d have to explain, and then you’d have to go anyway. I’ll wait here.”

“Yes, ser.”

Once Caersyn was well out of sight and earshot, Gheryk looked evenly at Rahl. Then he shook his head. “Jyrolt told me the rest of your story. I don’t know whether I owe Taryl, or he owes me. Something is going on, and I don’t like things like that. Until I learn more, you are not to tell anyone more than that you were a mage-clerk in Luba, and that you only have vague memories of Swartheld. That includes the undercaptains and duty supervisors. You are not to seek out anything of your past now, but if you discover more, and in time you may, you are to find a way to talk to me that is not obvious. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ser.” Rahl could sense a certain anger deep within himself, and he immediately blocked it, although the effort limited his order-sensing, if not so much as letting it surface might have done.

“Good.

“Since you recall something of commerce, you will be assigned to work with Mage-Guard Myala. She is a solid chaos-mage, and I strongly urge you to listen to her. She’s on leave until sixday, or I’d have you meet her now.”

“Yes, ser.”

“After your eightday assisting the duty mage-guard, you two will have daylight duty from eightday through sixday, with sevenday off. Later, you’ll get the night shift…” Gheryk broke off as Caersyn returned, carrying two black-oak truncheons.

“This one’s standard, and this one’s heavier.”

“I’d prefer the heavier,” Rahl said.

“For you, that would be best,” said the captain. “Later today, take the old truncheon and turn it in to the armorer and introduce yourself.”

“Yes, ser.”

Gheryk smiled. “I’m going to take a tour of pier two. There’s a Jeranyi vessel there, iron-hulled and almost big enough to be a warship.”

“Yes, ser.”

After the captain had gone, Rahl said, “He’s concerned about a Jeranyi ship?”

“Iron-hulled and big…sounds like a pirate coming in here as a trader. Not that we care about that so long as the crew behaves and they stay orderly, but pirate crews don’t always do that.”

“And sevenday nights? Why does that make a difference to the crews?”

Caersyn laughed. “It’s not the crews. It’s the locals. More of them are out on sevenday evenings, and they don’t care much for outland sailors with lots of silvers. We shift more patrols to the eateries and taverns after dusk. So does the city station.”

That also made sense to Rahl, although he wouldn’t have thought of it.

“You a weaponsmaster with truncheon?” Caersyn asked, indicating a touch more than idle curiosity.

“Jyrolt said my skills were more than adequate.”

The other laughed. “From him, that’s praise. You get all those nicks in the old one working against blades?”

“Against Khaill and Jyrolt.”

“With a truncheon? They’re both armsmasters.”

“Sometimes with a staff,” Rahl admitted.

“Wondered why they’d send a new ordermage here. That explains it.”

“The captain said I’d be working the piers, places where it’s so crowded that sometimes chaos-bolts are hard to use.”

“He say who you’ll be working with?”

“Mage-Guard Myala.”

Caersyn winced. “Better you than me. You make a mistake, and you’ll know it.”

That didn’t surprise Rahl either. He looked down at the station manual. “I guess I’d better learn this.”

“That you had.”

The day was quiet until just past midday, and, after a while Rahl turned in his old truncheon. He’d only been back at the duty desk for a short time when an older mage-guard appeared.

“Caersyn, we’ve got something to be logged.”

Rahl set aside the manual and reached for the duty book.

“Oh, Niasl, this is Rahl,” Caersyn said. “Started today. What’s up?”

“Good to meet you.” Niasl offered a quick smile, then went on, “Hydlenese ship on pier two-the Pyrdyan Pride…has a chaos-mage on board. Man ran down the gangway, trying to leave. Mage flamed him. He’s dead. The captain claimed he was a stowaway. He was too well dressed for that, but the mage never left the ship so we can’t do much about him. We’re keeping watch on the ship.”

Caersyn looked to Rahl. “Enter that.”

“Yes, ser.” Rahl was already writing what the pier mage-guard had said, if adding a few words to make the report clearer.

“We’ll add watch reports for the undercaptain and the captain,” added Caersyn.

After Niasl had left, Rahl wrote up the two watch reports, under Caersyn’s direction, and carried them to the two mage-guards’ message boxes. When Gheryk returned, he read the report, but only nodded on his way past the duty desk, clearly preoccupied with something else.

Rahl wondered if it had to do with him and what Shyret represented, but he doubted it. While Shyret might well remain a problem for Rahl, Gheryk doubtless had far larger concerns than the shady trading of a Recluce factor.

At the end of the day shift, when another mage-guard appeared, Caersyn stood and stretched. “Ready to eat?”

Rahl was more than ready, since all he’d had since breakfast was the midday duty ration of bread and cheese, and he followed the older mage-guard.

As at Luba station, there were three tables in the mage-guard mess. One for men, one for women, and one for juniors, although Rahl noted that a female mage-clerk was seated at the lower end of the women’s table. The junior table was empty.

Rahl took a seat at the lower end of the men’s table.

“We’re not real formal here,” Caersyn said, “except for the places at the head. Those are in case the captain or undercaptain need to join us.” He glanced around the table, where there were but five others. “It’s a light night, because some of those without consorts go out on their own on sevenday.” Caersyn raised his voice slightly. “For those of you who haven’t met Rahl, he got sent here after a stint as a mage-clerk at Luba station.”

“Good training for here, they say,” offered a graying and long-faced mage-guard. “I’m Hewart.”

“Vosyn…”

The introductions went around the table as a mess attendant appeared and set several platters and pitchers down.

Caersyn served himself three chunks of the grilled fish and a heaping stack of hot rice cakes, and then covered them with fish sauce. “The mess meals here aren’t bad, and you can’t beat the price.”

Rahl went easy on the spicy sauce, barely drizzling it on his fish and rice, but took a large chunk of the dark bread, the first fresh dark bread he could recall in a long time, perhaps since he’d left Recluce. As he ate, he listened.

“…glad I’m not on tonight…Jeranyi bunch could be trouble…”

“…worry about the Hydlenese…keep your shields up on that pier…”

“The portmaster should have put a Recluce ship beside ’em…”

“…not one in port…”

“More’s the pity.”

“You hear about the new eatery opened down from Hakkyl’s. Ventaryl says it’s good.”

Rahl recognized Hakkyl’s, where he’d once had a good meal he probably shouldn’t have splurged on, but the name Ventaryl also sounded familiar, but Rahl couldn’t place it, even though he knew he’d heard it somewhere.

“He would…got nothing to spend his coins on but food.”

Rahl continued to listen, and only answered politely on the few occasions when a question was directed at him.

When the meal ended, several of the guards, perhaps five or ten years older than Rahl, hurried out. Caersyn was talking with Hewart, and Rahl stood and turned. The woman mage-guard who was the last to rise from the other table looked familiar. Had she been one of those he’d encountered? He smiled faintly and looked away before she was aware of his scrutiny. He wasn’t about to ask.

Instead, he headed for his small room. He might take a walk later, but at the moment, he just wanted to be alone, and to think. Behind his cheerfulness, Gheryk had been concerned about what he’d learned about Rahl from Jyrolt, and his concern had raised even more questions about what Shyret had really been doing. At the same time, what could Rahl do except learn his job and save coins?

At his new pay rate of three silvers an eightday, he could certainly send another letter to Deybri before long, but it would still be several eightdays before he had enough coins to pay for both the letter, the draft, and the assurance charge.