L. Modesitt - Natural Ordermage

“She was just in a hurry to leave,” Rahl countered. “She’s in a hurry all the time.”

“Can’t be all the time,” interjected Hewart. “She’s got two daughters.”

Both Dalya and Carlyse shook their heads.

Caersyn howled with laughter. “If anyone could hurry that, she could.”

Zachyl, alone at the juniors’ table, looked up wide-eyed.

Rahl still had the feeling it would be some time before the captain or the undercaptain would let him do much in the way of true mage-guard duties without supervision, and he still rushed through his breakfast.

Once he was on the piers with Myala that morning, her matter-of-fact attitude and marginal instruction and information seemed to confirm that feeling. Her only truly informative comment did not come until close to midday on pier one, when she gestured toward a heavyset man wearing a loose and cheap cloak of thin material.

“Cutpurse or thief, if he gets the chance. Thin fellow under the cloak. He may drop the cloak on someone, and like as not, he’ll jump into the water and dodge out to one of the fishing boats. Not a real fishing boat, but it’s hard to tell.”

“Then he’s going after a lot of coin.”

“Exactly. Not worth the trouble otherwise.”

“Do we…”

Myala laughed, softly but harshly, because the man turned and walked back off the pier. “He won’t be back today. He knows we’d recognize him. He might come here for days before he acts. Good thieves aren’t hasty.”

Rahl hadn’t thought of using the harbor water as a way to escape chaos-bolts, but it certainly made sense.

After that, the rest of the morning was quiet, although Rahl could still detect the miasma of white chaos every time he and Myala passed any one of the three Jeranyi ships. All three maintained their armed guards at the top of the gangways, and there was no sign of any cargo loading or unloading.

Slightly after midday, for the first time since he’d been a mage-guard in Hamor, he saw a wagon platform with slaves being sold-two lithe women and three youths, and all were dark-haired. According to the Codex, slavery was not allowed, but permanent indenture was. Rahl didn’t see any difference in that, except that children of those permanently indentured could not be indentured for the debts of their parents-or by their parents.

He glanced to Myala. The older mage-guard said nothing, although Rahl could detect greater tenseness in her as they passed the wagon.

“…look at those bodies…strong and agile…look close now!”

Rahl couldn’t help the flashback to Fahla and her brother, nor the rush of anger at Puvort and the magisters. To enslave or indenture children because they had not turned in their father? That still struck him as wrong, no matter what the magisters said.

“Some of them have no memories,” Myala said quietly.

“Why?” asked Rahl in a low voice.

“The harlots who drug men and steal from them are heavily dosed with nemysa and indentured. They say that’s because they wouldn’t last in the quarries.”

“And the children?”

“They’re cutpurses and thieves. It’s kinder than working them to death.”

Rahl had his doubts, and he couldn’t help but wonder how much choice any of them had had. He almost laughed bitterly when he considered how little choice he’d really had. Those in power, and those who drafted rules like the Codex, seemed to think there were more choices in life than there were. What choices did an urchin child have? Being indentured to who knew what kind of owner? Begging? Stealing? Or starving to death?

Thankfully, for the next several rounds of the piers, Rahl didn’t see any other indenture wagons.

Slightly after midafternoon, as they left pier one and headed for the base of pier two, Rahl caught sight of two empty Nylan Merchant Association wagons just ahead of them moving through the crowds to pier two. Since there weren’t any Recluce ships tied up, he suspected that they would be unloading from one or both of the Jeranyi ships.

Fhasyl, the juniormost mage-clerk, was hurrying through the crowd, looking this way and that-until he caught sight of Myala and Rahl and trotted up to them.

“Sers!” The young man stopped short and inclined his head. “Mage-Guard Rahl, the undercaptain has requested that you join him and the armsmaster in the exercise area.” He turned to Myala. “He should be back by late afternoon, ser. That’s what the undercaptain said.”

“Patrolling might be easier,” Myala said dryly. “Only come back if you can still walk.”

“I’ll manage.” What he might manage was another question. He turned to Fhasyl. “Lead on.” Part of that was because he’d only seen the arms exercise room once, and he’d had the feeling it wasn’t used that much. Fhasyl was likely to get him there more directly than he might on his own. Even so, he kept his eyes and senses alert, and that was difficult because he didn’t like the idea of the Merchant Association’s wagons heading toward the Jeranyi ships.

“Ser,” inquired Fhasyl, “is it true that you were once a laborer in Luba?”

“Yes. I spent a year there.”

“But…ser…?”

“I was an outland clerk here before that, and I had some small magely abilities. I was registered, but didn’t think I’d ever be a mage-guard. Then I lost my memories and ended up in Luba.”

“Did you really break a thief’s arm?”

“Yes. He had a pair of long knives.”

“And you did it with a truncheon?”

“I’m not exactly a chaos-mage, Fhasyl.”

“Oh…” The mage-clerk led Rahl past the quarters building and to a side door on the north side of the gaol. “Here, ser.”

“Thank you.”

Fhasyl vanished even before Rahl had the door open.

Inside waited the undercaptain and another mage-guard.

Craelyt smiled politely and nodded to the wiry man in the black of an armsmaster. “Ah…Rahl…I showed Boltyk your arms evaluation, and we thought it might be best to see how it compares with our standards. Then, there’s always the possibility that you might have something to teach us.”

Rahl pushed away his irritation at being pulled off the pier and smiled politely, inclining his head to both. “Sers, I will be most happy to help in any way possible.”

“I’d thought a series of sparring matches might be most illustrative,” suggested the undercaptain.

“Since your weapon is the truncheon, perhaps we could begin there,” added Boltyk.

Unlike Craelyt, the armsmaster’s shields were less than complete, and Rahl could sense the combination of doubt and contempt as Boltyk moved to the center of the exercise space and raised a golden oak truncheon slightly longer and thinner than Rahl’s black weapon.

Rahl laid his visor cap aside on the bench against the wall and slipped his truncheon from its holder before moving out opposite the armsmaster.

“Begin,” said Craelyt quietly.

On the possibility that Boltyk was letting the contempt show in order to make Rahl angry and careless, Rahl simply wove a defensive screen for the first several passes, getting the feel for the other’s moves and rhythm.

Craelyt did not depart but watched closely.

Rahl saw several openings, but let them pass, taking his time and measuring the other, realizing that Boltyk was not nearly so good as Taryl or even Khaill with the truncheon.

Then Boltyk lunged, and Rahl anticipated both the half feint, and the counter, and slashed the truncheon out of Boltyk’s hand. Then he stepped back.

Rahl could sense the astonishment, but Boltyk merely reclaimed the weapon. “If you would…another round.”

Rahl nodded. “As you wish, ser.”

The second time around, the armsmaster was more cautious, but, again Rahl disarmed the other and just tapped his shoulder blade and darted back before Boltyk could react.