L. Modesitt - Natural Ordermage

When he awoke he was sweating, but he remembered little of the dreams, save a short fragment where he and Deybri were on separate ships passing in the afternoon, and all he could do was watch while she was carried farther away. Something about that bothered him even more than the idea of separation, but he couldn’t put a finger on it.

He cleaned up, shaved, dressed, and hurried through breakfast to get to the duty desk before Myala. As he waited, he had to wonder why Taryl had been so insistent on his being stationed in Swartheld. Even to him, it was clear that the chaos-mages had a clear advantage over him in dealing with problems. Rahl’s sole edge was that he seemed to be able to sense some trouble earlier than they could.

Myala said little once she arrived, just nodded and headed out, clearly expecting him to follow her. Once again, Rahl had to take several quick steps to catch up with her.

By the time Rahl and Myala had reached the end of pier two on their first patrol, a third Jeranyi ship was tied up at the seaward end, almost directly opposite the first Jeranyi ship. Like the other two, the new arrival was overcrewed, guarded, and not preparing to off-load cargo immediately.

“Have to admit that I can’t ever remember seeing three of those big Jeranyi ships in port at the same time.” Myala turned. “Best that you go and report that to the duty desk, and the captain and undercaptain if they’re in the station. Otherwise, leave a watch report, but make sure that the duty mage gets it to them. Then I’ll meet you at the main pier guards’ station.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Before Myala could add some caustic remark or observation, Rahl was on his way.

He didn’t have to look far for the undercaptain because Craelyt was actually at the duty desk when Rahl hurried inside the station building.

“Ser!”

“What sort of trouble are you about to report, Rahl?”

“We now have three of the large Jeranyi vessels, two on pier two and one on pier three. All have concealed gun ports, and all are carrying excessively large crews, and those crew members look more like soldiers or marines than merchant crew. Also, there doesn’t seem to be any cargo coming aboard or being off-loaded, even for the one that’s been at pier two for over an eightday.”

“Have we had any crew trouble from them?” Craelyt glanced to Nyhart, the duty mage-guard.

“No, ser. None at all.”

Rahl forbore to point out that alone was unusual.

Craelyt shook his head regretfully, “You know they’re trouble, and so do I, but we really can’t do anything so long as they behave themselves, just because they might do something against the Codex.”

“Yes, ser.”

“It’s important you watch closely, though,” Craelyt added. “If they’re going to try anything, now would be the time, with the revolt brewing in Merowey. More than a few of the Emperor’s warships have been dispatched to keep arms and ammunition from being shipped to the rebels. If they can pull off something here, there aren’t enough warships to chase them.” He looked to Rahl. “Just keep a careful watch on them.”

“Yes, ser.” Rahl inclined his head politely, then stepped back, turned, and left the building. With the undercaptain’s shields firmly in place, Rahl hadn’t been able to sense anything except what Craelyt wanted to reveal-and that had been mild concern. Rahl was more than mildly concerned, even if he couldn’t have explained why, but he hoped that he’d been able to hold most of those feelings behind his own shields. He also couldn’t see why Craelyt was just mildly concerned when the Jeranyi might be taking advantage of a revolt-especially one started by the Emperor’s brother. That whole situation seemed strange to him. Wasn’t the older brother the one who inherited power? Why was it different in Hamor?

The late-morning sun beat down through a cloudless green-blue sky, and the fall day was beginning to feel more like summer by the time Rahl reached the station where the pier guard and Hegyr were monitoring the traffic entering and leaving the piers. Rahl blotted his forehead and adjusted his visor cap.

“What’s happening?” asked Hegyr from the high and shaded seat, even as he kept his eyes and senses on the wagons and pedestrians moving toward the piers.

“There’s another Jeranyi ship on pier two. Just reported it to the undercaptain. That makes three.”

“It’s not as though we need more trouble. Poor Niasl.”

“He’s on the night watch?” asked Rahl.

“He is.” Hegyr broke off. “You there! Stop that wagon! Now!”

Rahl moved forward, his hand on his truncheon.

“Your rear axle’s cracking,” added Hegyr, “and we’re not about to have broken-down wagons on the piers. Go up to the turnabout and get back here. You try to make the pier, and you won’t have a wagon.”

The teamster nodded. “Yes, ser.”

Beneath the man’s impassive exterior, Rahl could sense anger, probably because the fault wasn’t his but belonged to the trader who owned the wagon.

At that moment, Myala arrived. “Did you find them?”

“I reported to the undercaptain and told the duty mage-guard. The undercaptain said to keep a close watch on them.”

“We’ll take a look at pier three first, this time.”

Behind Myala’s back, Hegyr gave the smallest of headshakes and then a sympathetic broad grin. The wide piers were crowded; but as always, everyone stepped back when either of the two mage-guards moved toward them.

At the foot of pier three, Myala turned to Rahl. “You go up the south side, and I’ll take the north. When you get to the end, we’ll meet, and you tell me what you’ve observed.” Then she left Rahl standing there.

He wanted to shake his head at her abruptness. Instead, he took his time, moving along the edge of the pier, trying to sense chaos or trouble. He was halfway out on the wide pier when he saw ahead of him a wagon bearing the familiar emblem of the Nylan Merchant Association, drawn up short and waiting for another wagon to move into position alongside a Spidlarian clipper. Rahl walked over to the teamster seated on the wagon. “I haven’t seen Guylmor recently.”

“He hasn’t been around for almost a year.”

“Why not?”

The teamster shrugged. “He was killed in a loading accident at the warehouse. That’s what they told me.”

Rahl could sense both the truth of the man’s statements-and his unease. “Sorry to hear that. Where are you picking up cargo?”

“The Dawnbreaker …way at the end…if that boar’s ass up there will ever get out of the way, beggin’ your pardon, ser.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“Never really know, not until it’s off-loaded. They give me the declaration, and I give it to Chenaryl. That’s his problem. Usually, from the Jeranyi, it’s something in barrels.” The teamster shrugged.

“Good fortune!” Rahl nodded and moved on.

As he walked away from the teamster and past the clipper toward the Jeranyi vessel, Rahl had a definite feeling that he was being watched, perhaps even by a mage. Guylmor’s “accident” also disturbed him more than a little, though, because it had occurred not that long after he’d been drugged with nemysa, and there were too many coincidences for his liking. There was also almost no hard proof of anything, and both the captain and undercaptain weren’t that different from the magisters in being unwilling to take Rahl’s unsupported word about matters.

On fourday, Rahl woke with a feeling of apprehension, yet outside his window, the sky was clear, the air refreshingly dry and cool. At breakfast, Carlyse was even more ebullient than ever.

“Rahl…when are they going to give you your own duties?” She laughed, loudly. “It’s got to be soon, because Myala just glared when I asked how you were doing, and if she couldn’t find anything to complain about, then there wasn’t much.”