Natural Ordermage

LXXXIX

Rahl hadn’t slept all that well on sevenday night, although he’d been so tired that he’d had to stop reading the Manual because his eyes had stopped focusing on the words on the page. His thoughts kept going back to the points that Jyrolt had raised and Gheryk’s concerns about them. Eventually, he did sleep, if fitfully.

There were even fewer mage-guards at breakfast, and Caersyn was not among them, although two of the three mage-clerks assigned to the station-Fhasyl and Zachyl-were already there at the juniors’ table and eating heartily.

Vosyn called out cheerfully, “Morning, Rahl. You’ll be standing desk duty with me today.”

“Caersyn has eightday off?”

“This one, and he’s headed to see his sister.”

“More like her consort’s younger sister. Hear she’s really a beauty,” said Hegyr, who nodded to Rahl. “They say some of the girls in Guasyra are beauties. You ever have any time to see them?”

Rahl offered a laugh. “See them? Yes. Do anything about it? Not exactly. Taryl kept us busy.”

“They say he got on the Emperor’s bad side. You hear anything about it?”

“I heard the talk, but I don’t think it’s true.”

“Why not?” asked Hegyr, not challengingly, but with what seemed to be real curiosity.

“He’s a strong mage,” replied Rahl. “I’ve heard from senior mage-guards who should know that he’s one of the strongest. If he’d gotten in trouble with the Emperor, then I think we’d either have had a new emperor or a dead ordermage.”

Vosyn nodded, then gave a short laugh. “That’s probably true, but your thoughtful answer takes all the pleasure out of all the rumors.”

Rahl wasn’t quite sure what he could answer. He just shrugged helplessly.

Hegyr laughed raucously. So did the two mage-guards at the women’s table.

“Maybe he’ll keep you fellows from gossiping the way you’re always accusing women of,” added one.

“Watch out for Carlyse,” advised Vosyn. “When she says she likes what you say, she’s most dangerous.”

“Watch out for Vosyn. He’s worse,” replied Carlyse dryly.

Rahl couldn’t help smiling at the banter.

He finished his breakfast-overdone egg toast and dry mutton, with a chunk of day-old bread and a healthy mug of ale-and then made his way to the duty desk. He hadn’t been seated there long enough to more than check the duty log when Vosyn elbowed him.

“Undercaptain’s coming,” murmured the older mage-guard.

Rahl looked up, then stood as the undercaptain moved toward him. “Ser.”

Craelyt was a slender man, and a good half head shorter than Rahl, but he carried himself with assurance, and muted chaos flowed around his shields. His brown eyes were alert and his face inquisitive as he studied Rahl, who could sense the chaos-probes against the light shields he’d come to maintain all the time. “You’re Rahl?”

“Yes, ser.”

“Order type, but highly skilled with weapons, is that right?”

“Jyrolt made the evaluation, ser. I just did my best.”

“If he said so, none of us would dispute it. Just truncheon?”

“Truncheon and staff, ser.” Rahl decided against mentioning his modest skills with a blade.

“Good.” Craelyt smiled, an expression both warm and professional. “We’re glad to get another good mage-guard.” He glanced to Vosyn. “It’s quiet today, and it will be till later. Tell him anything you think will help.”

“Yes, ser.”

With a nod to both mage-guards, the undercaptain moved away, almost silently, Rahl noted.

Craelyt had been quick and professional, and he’d offered a smile almost as warm as Gheryk’s, but all his personal feelings were locked behind personal shields, and his were among the strongest Rahl had sensed in a long time.

“Good man, the undercaptain,” offered Vosyn.

“How long has he been undercaptain here?”

“Six-seven years, I’d say. Gheryk was the undercaptain on the city side, and Craelyt was undercaptain here before the Triad made Gheryk the captain, and that was five years ago, just after I got here.”

Rahl nodded.

“If you haven’t already, write down in the duty log that I’ve taken the duty, and add that you’re assisting under training.”

Rahl had already written that Vosyn had taken the duty, but he added that he was assisting under training.

After that, for the entire day, there was only one report Rahl had to write up, and that was about a peddler unlicensed to solicit on the piers. He’d drawn a miniature crossbow-and been flamed down. The mage-guards had discovered he’d actually been a Jeranyi crew member. That explained how he’d even gotten past the outer pier guards.

Dinner on eightday was even quieter, and afterward, Rahl decided to take a walk on the piers to stretch his legs. He wasn’t ready to wander around Swartheld-not yet.

When he left the quarters, it wasn’t dark enough even to be considered twilight, despite the thickening clouds and the warm damp air rolling in from the northwest, both suggesting that more rain was on the way.

Pier one had only three vessels tied up, one without an ensign, but with the name SEADOG on a weathered plaque under and just aft of the bowsprit, and the others bearing the limp flags of Austra and Nordla. The Seadog was an ancient sea schooner without engines or paddles, and the other two were newer side-wheel steamers, with oak hulls, and both bore the signs of great care, with varnished railings and gleaming brasswork.

Rahl smiled as he made his way to the foot of the pier and past the port-master’s guard, who nodded and said, “Good evening, ser.”

For a moment, Rahl was taken aback, almost looking around for a senior mage-guard before he realized that the pier guard was speaking to him. “Good evening.”

Behind the guard was a raised stone stand with a vacant chair-the same one occupied by the first mage-guard Rahl had met in Swartheld, the one who had told him to register.

On the northern side of pier two, near the end, he could make out the bulk of a large iron-hulled vessel, probably the Jeranyi ship. He continued to walk toward it, although he did see another mage-guard ahead, walking in the same direction.

She paused short of the Jeranyi vessel, studying it, but turned as Rahl neared, waiting for him.

Rahl stopped short and nodded. “Good evening.”

“You’re not on duty.” Her voice was firm, and almost as weathered as her face.

“No. I’m new.” Rahl looked at her, sensing the chaos-energies behind her shields, realizing that she was only moderately strong in chaos-forces, certainly not able to overcome his shields, even though he was not sure they were yet what they had once been. “I just got here late on sixday.”

“Oh…you’re the one on desk duty. I’m Dalya.” She smiled, then frowned. “I don’t think we’ve met, but…you look familiar. Were you at Dibolti station?”

Rahl smiled in return, realizing where they had met. “No. I was an outlander. You were the one who told me to register when I first came to Swartheld. One thing led to another, and I ended up a mage-clerk at Luba station, and I was sent here.”

“Did you register?” There was a hint of laughter behind the hard voice.

“You scared me so much I went and registered right after I did what I was supposed to do.”

A laugh followed his words. “Would that I had that effect on more.”

Rahl glanced past Dalya at the Jeranyi ship. Even the steel plates of the Wavecrest felt as though they carried a low-level form of chaos.

She turned and followed his gaze. “You’re an order type. What do you think?”

“Even the plates reek of chaos. I’m new, but I’d not want to encounter them at sea.”

“There’s not much we can do so long as they behave.”

“One of the Hydlenese didn’t yesterday.”

“Saelyt told me that, but I didn’t have any trouble with them or the Jeranyi.”

“What do they carry on a vessel that large?”

“Whatever they want…Yesterday, they were unloading when I came on duty. They had a couple score barrels of pickles. At least, you could smell the vinegar, and they had writing on the barrels that I thought said ‘Feyn pickles.’”

Rahl hid a frown. Pickles so early in fall? Unless they were last year’s pickles, but why would a Jeranyi ship be carrying Recluce pickles to Swartheld? Pickles weren’t something that he’d seen on a manifest…but there was something about pickles that he should remember…

“What are you thinking?” asked Dalya.

“About pickles.” He shook his head, hoping he could remember what he’d been thinking about. A raindrop struck the back of his neck, and he glanced up. The clouds overhead were definitely darker. “It won’t be long before the rain gets heavier.”

“I need to check pier three. Might as well get started before I get soaked.”

Rahl nodded and walked back along the pier with her, passing a Sligan brig, then a battered Lydian side-wheeler with a bastard rigging he’d never seen before.

“Do you know who you’ll be patrolling with yet?”

“Myala.”

“Good woman, but don’t ever try to mislead her about anything. She won’t forget it.”

“Thank you.”

“I wouldn’t have said much, but you did listen to me once.”

Rahl laughed softly, the sound barely louder than the faint pattering of raindrops on the stone of the pier.

At the end of the pier, Rahl nodded slightly. “Good evening.” He didn’t really want to get drenched in the rain that was increasing in intensity with every moment.

“Good evening, Rahl.”

As he hurried back toward his quarters, he just wished he could remember what it was about pickles. But he also had to take some time to relax and open himself up to sensing what lay around him.