L. Modesitt - Mage-Guard of Hamor

"That wasn't an accident, was it?"

"I don't think so, but it will be a while before I know. What else?"

"I met the mage-guards. There's one senior mage-guard-Chewyrt. He tried to lean on me, but I think everything will be fine. I do need to get back there and talk to them. The sooner I can put him to work, the less trouble he'll be."

"Chyphryt sent him because he's always been trouble. Do you think you can keep him in line?"

"I think so. He's the kind who respects power and little else. I didn't raise my voice, but I just projected absolute authority at him. He might do better if I could make him an acting undercaptain and tell him that whether the position is permanent depends on how well he gets things working without using unnecessary force and authority."

Taryl smiled, if briefly. "You'd better go deal with him so that you can devote some attention to dinner and the healer. Oh… you can make him an acting undercaptain, but it is your responsibility."

In short, Rahl had to make sure that Chewyrt understood.

He was about to leave, but realized he had one particularly nagging question. "Ser? How did you know how to reach her?"

Taryl laughed. "Who posted many of your letters?"

Rahl shook his head. So simple, and he'd never even thought of it.

When Rahl returned to the harbor mage-guard station, still accompanied by the three troopers, he found Chewyrt was standing in the corner of the small front foyer. With the suppressed anger and energy within the older mage, he might as well have been pacing furiously back and forth across the foyer.

"Mage-Guard Chewyrt," Rahl said pleasantly, "I thought we'd walk around the area, and I could fill you in on some of the things particular to here."

"I'd be most pleased." Beneath very leaky shields, Chewyrt was anything but pleased. He was angry and felt that Rahl was being unfair and disrespectful. He jammed on his visor cap.

Rahl said nothing, but walked out the doorway, letting the senior mage-guard catch up. Rahl walked deliberately along the stone-paved walkway that led directly to pier one, saying nothing until Chewyrt had joined him. "You know, Chewyrt, I find myself in a rather unusual position. I don't imagine you know my background, do you?"

"No, I can't say that I do."

Nor did Chewyrt care, Rahl sensed. "It might prove useful to you, although I'm most certain that you have no personal interest. You can see by the truncheon that I'm an order-mage. What you can't see is that I'm an exile from Recluce who survived a year or so in the ironworks of Luba and who worked his way back to becoming a mage-clerk after someone dosed me with nemysa." Rahl smiled.

"I see."

Chewyrt didn't.

Rahl shook his head. "I seem to be able to sense, even behind shields, what most people are feeling. You, for example, feel that I don't respect you, that I'm being unfair, and that there's no reason that you should care about my background."

Chewyrt almost hesitated in taking his next step.

"You also feel that very few in the mage-guards understand what you've endured and that you should have been given more responsibility long ago." Rahl stopped, just short of the wide paved street that served all the piers, and turned to face the older man. "I've talked it over with the overcommander, and he told me that you'd been sent here because, despite your abilities with chaos, you're so difficult that no superior in the mage-guards really wants to deal with you."

"That's not true."

Rahl shrugged. "You have solid abilities. You've been a senior mage-guard for years. If it's not true, then why has no one ever recommended you for a position of authority?"

Rage erupted within Chewyrt, barely held in check. He tightened his lips and did not speak for several moments. "Because they don't want to put people with real ability in those positions. They just want lackeys."

That, unfortunately, was at least partly true, at least from what Rahl had seen. "You have real abilities, and I'd like to see you make use of them." Rahl paused.

"But what? There's always a 'but.' "

"But…" Rahl drew out the word, "you've gotten so bitter and angry that your abilities haven't been recognized that no one wants to work with you or for you. I'll give you a chance at that position of responsibility-"

"You?"

Rahl smiled, then wrapped his shields around Chewyrt, contracting them. The older mage-guard tried to break free, but found himself immobilized. Rahl waited until the other stopped struggling before he eased the pressure.

"Me. For better or worse, the overcommander has made me his acting deputy. Despite your outburst, and your lack of respect for me, I'm still willing to make you the acting undercaptain of the harbor station. If… if… the overcommander and I are satisfied with your performance, we'll make the rank permanent."

Rahl could sense the faintest glimmer of hope amid the anger and bitterness, although Chewyrt did not reply.

"What we expect are what is expected of every undercaptain-that you be diligent, that you be effective in carrying out your duties, that you be open and fair, and that you do not abuse your position in having others do things for you that you should be doing for yourself. And that you stop arrogating yourself over others."

Rahl waited.

"I only…" Chewyrt broke off what he might have said. After another long pause, he asked, "Might I ask, ser, why you are only a senior mage-guard?"

Rahl was relieved to sense that at least some of the other's anger and bitterness had receded, if only because Chewyrt had realized Rahl's true power and position, and that the question was the only way that Chewyrt could admit that he would try to meet the terms.

"Because I haven't been a senior mage-guard long enough to prove that I'm worthy of being more." That was the most honest answer Rahl could offer.

The directness of the reply clearly stunned Chewyrt.

After another silence, the older mage-guard said, "I appreciate your honesty, ser. I would like to try."

"I'd like you to try. More than that, Chewyrt, I'd like to see you succeed." Rahl paused. "So would the overcommander." Left unsaid, but understood, was the fact that Chewyrt would never get another chance if he failed.

"So would I, ser."

Rahl nodded. "I don't have much time now, but across from us is pier one. That's for smaller fleet vessels. Pier two, over there is for the cruisers and larger ships. Pier three and four are for merchanters…"

As he continued to walk and explain, Rahl wondered if he'd handled Chewyrt correctly, but he thought that the man needed a combination of force and understanding. Rahl just hoped his feelings about the older mage-guard were right.

Rahl managed to get back to his small room in the overcommander's barracks with enough time to wash up and don a clean uniform. He did walk the distance to the Residence, if at a leisurely enough pace that he would not arrive overheated. No one questioned him-but no one had in days-when he entered the staff doorway and made his way to the upper level on the south end. He couldn't help but note that the green carpet runners in the staff quarters had seen far better days, and that the plaster walls could have used a fresh coat of whitewash.

He cleared his throat, squared his shoulders, and knocked on the goldenwood door. Then he waited. When Deybri opened the door, Rahl couldn't help but stare, thinking how truly alive and luminous she looked in another set of immaculate greens.

"The way you look at a woman makes her the center of the world."

"Not a woman," he protested, taking her hands. "You. Just you."

"I would say that you tell all the women that," she said gently, "and you say it well in Hamorian, but I know better. That's almost frightening."