L. Modesitt - Natural Ordermage

Only after Caersyn was well away, and Rahl had dragged the three bodies and their weapons over to the gate pillar and laid them out, did Myala speak. “Weakassed excuse for a chaos-mage. And letting a guard go off…that’s inexcusable. Why was he on duty? Do you know?”

“He said he was filling in. Hegyr was too sick to stand duty. That’s what he said.”

“I don’t like it. The weakest chaos-mage in the station with an ordermage.”

Rahl had his own doubts, but he said, “They might not have known I was going to be here. They started the attack with chaos-bolts.”

“Hmmm…that’s true.” Myala gestured to the teamster moving southward and away from the piers. “Hurry it up. Time to clear the piers!”

The driver flicked the long leads, and the wagon, laden with bales of wool, began to move a trace more quickly. Behind him were two vendors, pushing carts.

“What about the Jeranyi crews?” asked Rahl.

“Some have been going ashore, but they’ve been going like most crews…that’s in groups of two or three, or sometimes all alone.” She gestured toward the three bodies. “They don’t look like Jeranyi. The others didn’t, either.”

“So what were they after?” asked Rahl.

“I don’t have any idea. That’s why I sent Caersyn to get the undercaptain.”

Just before the sun finished dropping behind the distant hills, three pier guards appeared with a cart. Two began to load the bodies onto the cart. The other took station by the gate.

Suvynt had accompanied them. “I’m here to relieve you. The undercaptain asked if you would meet him at the duty desk to brief him on what happened.”

“We can do that.” Myala’s words were clipped.

Rahl could sense her displeasure.

Neither spoke until they were a good fifty cubits from Suvynt.

“Would have been easier if he’d just come out and seen it,” was all that Myala said.

Rahl couldn’t help but feel that somehow the attack had been aimed at him, but how could he say that? He had not one shred of proof, only his feelings that it was all linked to the pickle barrels, the Jeranyi, and Shyret and the Nylan Merchant Association warehouses. The problem was that he couldn’t figure out any possible reason why the Jeranyi would want him dead. How did any of them even know who he was? And why would the Jeranyi even care?

Almost as soon as they stepped into the mage-guard building and neared the duty desk, Craelyt appeared, as if he had been waiting for them.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t come out to see what happened, but the captain left word that I was to meet him here for something urgent.” Craelyt’s shields were even tighter than usual, and not a trace of any emotion escaped, but his voice was warm. “I heard that you both had a difficult time at the pier-guard station.”

“You could say that, ser,” replied Myala.

“Caersyn said that there was an attack on the pier-guard mage post,” Craelyt said. “I’d like to hear your account of what happened?” His eyes were fixed on Rahl.

“After I finished sparring here, ser, I returned to the pier-guard mage post to meet up with Mage-Guard Myala…” Rahl related what had happened from the chaos-bolt attacks onward. He did not mention the Nylan Merchant Association wagons or the pickle barrels. “…and then Myala sent Caersyn to find you. He didn’t seem in any condition to finish his duty.”

“He’ll have to have several days off,” Craelyt agreed. “Were you able to discover anything about the chaos-mage who attacked? Did you see who it might have been?”

“No, ser. There was almost no warning at all,” replied Rahl. “Then, as soon as Caersyn was staggered, the bravos and ruffians appeared.”

“Did they say anything?”

“No, ser. Not a word.”

“Did you notice anyone entering or leaving the piers while you were engaged?” Craelyt turned to Myala. “Did you?”

“I was close enough to see that no one did. The vendors and teamsters ran and stayed away until it was over.”

“Do either of you have any idea what this was all about…or what they might have had in mind?”

Rahl had an inkling of what might be involved, but nothing solid enough to be considered an idea, and he wasn’t about to tell Craelyt. Telling the undercaptain didn’t feel right, and Rahl in fact didn’t actually know. “I don’t know, ser. I thought it might have something to do with the Jeranyi ships, but Mage-Guard Myala has been watching them, and there’s nothing strange going on there.”

“Is that right?”

“I wouldn’t say quite that, Undercaptain,” replied Myala, “but we haven’t seen anything so far.”

“Why do you think they might be a problem?”

“Because, ser, we’ve never seen three of their pirate vessels in port for this long at any time since I’ve been a mage-guard,” replied Myala. “That suggests trouble.”

Craelyt kept questioning them until he had asked the same questions in different forms at least three or four times. Then he smiled and looked at Myala. “I’m sure your report, and that of Mage-Guard Caersyn, will cover everything. You both have had a long duty. Go and get some rest.”

“Yes, ser.”

Rahl followed Myala out of the station, but she did not even look back as she kept walking away, presumably to her home and quarters. Rahl could detect a mixture of both anger and apprehension.

He watched her for a moment, then looked toward the quarters building and the mess. Finally, he turned toward it. He was hungry.

All through dinner, as he ate mechanically, Rahl kept thinking about the attack and all the pickle barrels on the Nylan Merchant Association wagons. It would have been better if the last bravo hadn’t been flamed, because they might have been able to find out who had been behind the attack. He frowned. That blast had come from Caersyn, but Caersyn wasn’t at the table, and neither was Hegyr.

“You’re looking worried,” offered Vosyn.

“More than that,” added Hewart.

“How often do attacks on mage-guards happen?” asked Rahl.

“Not that often, but they do happen,” replied Vosyn.

“Usually at night,” said Niasl. “I’ve had two in maybe ten years. Always with a renegade mage, like what happened to you. They know they have to distract or disable the duty mage-guard. It’s usually so that they can raid one of the ships while most of the crew is ashore.”

Rahl nodded. What had happened to him just didn’t feel like that. “How is Hegyr? Caersyn said he was pretty sick.”

“He’s better,” interjected Dalya from the women’s table. “He was hotter than burning cammabark this morning.”

Cammabark! Vinegar! Rahl almost froze in his seat. Why hadn’t he remembered sooner? Was that what was in the pickle barrels? Another thought struck him-he shouldn’t have been able to smell the vinegar in pickle barrels because they should have been sealed more tightly. So the pickle barrels had been opened recently. But why would Shyret be in league with the Jeranyi?

Rahl forced himself to finish his meal before excusing himself and heading in the direction of his room, but he didn’t enter it, but slipped out the side door and made his way through the dampish evening toward the main mage-guard station building.

Nyhart looked up from the duty desk. “Evening, Rahl. You’re not doing some evening duty, are you?”

“No. I was just thinking about something. Have you seen the captain?”

“No. He was supposed to meet with the undercaptain, but he never did. That’s what the undercaptain said. No one’s seen Captain Gheryk since midafternoon. He might be meeting the regional commander about the rebellion in the south. Do you want to leave a report for him? Or see the undercaptain? He’s around somewhere. He might be out on the piers.”