L. Modesitt - Natural Ordermage

“I’m pleased to meet you,” Rahl offered.

Chovayt laughed. “Trust Talanyr to find someone else he can guide to the finer pleasures in life.” He shook his head. “Just don’t trust his taste in leshak and dovarn, or you’ll have a headache for days.” Abruptly, he turned. “There’s trouble in the corner. Silverwork and gems.”

Since Talanyr followed the mage-guard, Rahl ran to keep up with the other two. He didn’t want to be left alone in a town where he’d never been before, especially when he had no order-senses.

Chovayt sprinted around a pile of baskets, and past a rack on which folded colored blankets were displayed, and down a space between stalls toward a cart painted a faded green. Talanyr was right behind him. A woman dragged her children out of his way, and several loaves of bread bounced on the paving stones. Seven handcarts were arranged to form an aisle, with four on the right and three on the left. The last cart on the right was painted a faded orange, and displayed what looked to be silver boxes and pins on an inclined board covered with black cloth.

An older gray-haired man sagged against the side of the cart, while a matronly woman stood in front of him and a girl perhaps eight or nine years old. She held up a wicker basket that she jabbed toward a bearded man who was scooping the silver items into a bag. “Thief! Mage-guards! Help!”

Another stockier man vaulted from behind the cart, brandishing a sabre. The other sellers were nowhere in sight, probably hiding behind their carts.

Chovayt had his falchiona out of his scabbard and Talanyr had a truncheon out as they engaged the thieves.

Belatedly, Rahl drew his truncheon, doubting that he could help much in the crowded quarters.

A third man, with a bag in his hand, darted from between two carts after Talanyr and Chovayt had passed those carts and began to sprint away from the mage-guard. Rahl stepped forward to block his escape.

In a single motion, the thief stuffed the bag into his shirt and came up with two long and sharp-edged daggers, one in each hand. Rahl dropped to one side, then came up and back with the truncheon. Hard as he struck, the man did not wince, but only paused, before jabbing the dagger toward Rahl, who jumped to one side, then slammed his truncheon down into the man’s arm just above the wrist. That dagger clattered on the paving stones of the square.

The other knife slashed toward Rahl’s unprotected side, but Rahl stepped inside, elbowing the knife arm away, and drove the truncheon straight up under the point of the attacker’s jaw. This time, there was a crunching sound and a strangled scream. Still, the man staggered back, pulling away, trying to bring the dagger to bear on Rahl.

Rahl side-kicked the man’s weight-bearing knee, then knocked the dagger out of his hand. The assailant collapsed into a shuddering heap. Rahl turned, keeping an eye on the downed thief, but trying to see what was happening with Talanyr.

One of the other attackers half sat, half sprawled against the side of a cart, his hands around his bloody forearm.

As Rahl watched, Chovayt’s blade touched the shoulder of one of the other thieves, and chaos-fire charred the arm. The thief did not surrender, and a second chaos-fired slash charred his other shoulder, and he pitched forward.

Talanyr was fighting a taller bearded man who was clearly a better blade than the mage-clerk, but Talanyr held his own with the truncheon, despite retreating slowly. Rahl wondered where the fourth thief had come from. As Talanyr moved back, the bigger man grinned and darted forward.

Whsst! A small bolt of chaos-fire turned the bearded man’s head into a charred mass, and he pitched forward onto the redstone pavement.

Rahl stood watching the thief he had stopped, not certain of what he was supposed to do next, and wondering why he had had so much trouble in dealing with the man.

Chovayt glanced around, then nodded toward Rahl. “Can you drag that sorry sow-carcass over here?”

“Go ahead, Rahl,” said Talanyr. “If he makes a move, I’ll smash whatever moves.”

Rahl didn’t want to get too close to the man he’d brought down. So he grabbed the foot of the uninjured leg and dragged the thief across the pavement one-handed, holding his truncheon ready in the other.

The fellow moaned. Rahl left him beside the wounded thief by the cart wheel, then stepped back.

“He’s got a bag with stuff in it in his shirt.”

A muscular woman appeared after his words, bent down and ripped open the shirt, pulling out the cloth bag. “My coins he took-and some scrip.”

“That was a little messy,” said Chovayt. “Mage-Captain Zillor isn’t going to be happy. You two might as well move along.”

“You’re certain?” asked Talanyr.

Chovayt nodded. “He’s on his way.” He gestured at the two bodies and the two wounded thieves. “They aren’t going anywhere.”

Rahl couldn’t sense anything, but Talanyr and Chovayt clearly could.

“This way,” said Talanyr. “We’ll walk down toward the local river docks until things cool off. We can go back later.”

Rahl followed the other mage-clerk through the open spaces of the square and down the ramp on the south side. He could see how the vendors stepped back as they neared and passed, but he still could not sense what they felt. He was still trying to figure out what had happened. He’d struck the thief hard and solid, but he’d had trouble anticipating the other’s moves, and his blows hadn’t had the effect they usually did. Why? He almost shook his head. He’d been using order-skills before, and now he didn’t have any. And…his previous truncheon had been lorken bound in black iron, which weighed more and conducted not only the force of his blows but the order behind them.

For a moment, he stopped, fighting the wave of rage that threatened to cascade over him, as well as the underlying sense of unfairness.

“Are you all right? You didn’t get cut or anything?”

“No. I think I need a heavier truncheon, though.” Rahl forced a smile. It wasn’t Talanyr he was angry at, but Puvort and the magisters and rules of Recluce and Nylan.

“They might have some in the armory at the station.”

“I’ll look tomorrow.” Rahl glanced back toward the market square.

“Chovayt is doing fine,” Talanyr said.

“We weren’t supposed to help him?” asked Rahl.

“No. We’re always required to help another mage-guard, even if we’re only clerks. But there’s nothing to say we have to stay afterward. If we stayed, Zillor might have thought we’d distracted Chovayt. That’s one of the tactics the thieves use. They’ve got a lookout who lets them know when the mage-guards are occupied and the farthest away from their target. If we hadn’t been there, most of them would have escaped. This way, he can just say that we helped, and he has everything under control. It looks better for him. Besides, do you want to write up his reports, too?”

“You both used weapons,” Rahl said.

“We had to. Chovayt couldn’t use chaos-bolts in the market there at first, and I can’t,” said Talanyr. “Chovayt couldn’t because the girl and her mother were standing too close to the two offenders. That’s why he used the blade as a conduit for the chaos.” He paused. “You’re good with that truncheon.”

“My father started me early. I had a lot of bruises for a while.”

“It made things easier. Thank you.”

Somehow, as Rahl crossed the street on the far side of the market square, walking beside Talanyr, he hadn’t thought that there would be that many thieves in Hamor, not when the mage-guards patrolled everywhere.

“I’ll show you around,” Talanyr went on. “Later, we can go to the Nalyrra for a really good dinner.”