L. Modesitt - Natural Ordermage

“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.