L. Modesitt - Mage-Guard of Hamor

He discovered that he could halt an arrow in midflight-but that continuing the effort for long left him light-headed. It also puzzled one of the instructors, a grizzled captain who began to look around.

Rahl had discovered what he needed to know and slipped away under cover of a sight shield and headed toward the river docks.

Rahl's feet were sore and his boots dusty by the time he returned to the visiting officers' quarters and washed up for dinner. He tried to say as little as possible in the mess, just smiling, and holding his shields, and asking a question now and again.

Taryl wasn't at the seniors' table, and after Rahl left the mess, he made his way up to the weather platform. Surprisingly, someone else was there-a woman undercaptain. She turned, and Rahl realized that she was as tall as he was, and almost as broad across the shoulders. He'd never run across a woman that large.

"Oh, ser," she said. "I was just taking the evening observations."

"What observations, Undercaptain?" Rahl had to wonder because she was a troop officer, not a mage-guard.

"Wind direction, clouds, mostly, but also if the air feels damp or dry." She paused. "Begging your pardon, ser, but are you a weather mage?"

"No. I have a few small skills."

"Is rain likely? Can you tell me that, ser?"

"I can try. Is it important?"

"If there's a lot of rain south of here, it changes the river currents, and that will slow the freighters. It also means the cargo loaders will have to rig tarps over the hold hatches or some of the provisions will spoil-more, really-on the trip upriver."

"They were loading today."

"Yes, ser, but it will take at least two more days, and a day for troops and mounts. That's without rain."

Rahl smiled politely. "I'm Rahl. You are?"

"Oh, Undercaptain Demya, ser."

"I'm not a weather mage, but let me see if I can tell you anything." Rahl concentrated on letting his senses range southward, toward what might be clouds just barely visible above the horizon in the last fading glow of twilight. There was definitely a touch more water in the air, but not much, and it was concentrated in two or three places, rather than in a broad sweep. He kept studying. Finally, he stopped. He wasn't even light-headed. Was that because he'd just eaten? That made sense.

"Ser?"

"There are some clouds south of here, mainly on the east side of the river. I can't say for certain, but it feels like there might be a few showers coming this way, but I don't think there will be any continuing rain."

Her eyes widened. "You can tell that? Just from looking."

"I was doing more than just looking, Demya. It's work. A true weather mage could tell you when any rain would arrive and how much. An air mage might even be able to move storms or clouds away from the river."

"You're a different kind of mage, then."

"I'm a mage-guard."

"Begging your pardon, again, ser, but all mage-guards are mages of some sort."

"I was a patrol mage in Swartheld. I'm good with staff and truncheon, and I understand something about trade and commerce." He smiled. "I was sent here, and I have no idea where I'll be assigned." Then he shrugged.

"I'm sorry, ser. I didn't mean…"

"That's all right."

She backed down the steps, then hurried away without speaking.

Rahl could sense Taryl approaching, but he had to wonder at her implied question. Just what sort of mage was he? The magisters in Nylan had called him a natural ordermage, but that had been as much epithet as description.

"What did you do to that poor undercaptain?" asked Taryl as he stepped onto the platform. "She acted like she'd been dressed down and ripped apart."

"I didn't raise my voice, ser, and I didn't say one harsh word. She kept pressing me about what kind of mage I was, and I finally said that I was a patrol mage who was good with a staff and truncheon who'd been sent here for reassignment."

"That was enough." Taryl laughed sourly. "Word is going around that one of the mage-guards sent here recently is a trained bravo who has killed scores, and that he's here to make sure that the junior officers stay in line."

"I never said anything like that. That idiot Tilsytt kept asking me how many people I'd killed, and I only said something like I couldn't have counted them in the mess at Swartheld." That wasn't exactly what he'd said, but he didn't want to admit his precise words.

"It doesn't matter. You were convincing enough that you've created a reputation that may be hard to live up to."

"Oh… frig," Rahl muttered.

"You can't do much about it now. How was the rest of your day?" asked Taryl.

"I spent the morning with the healer majer. She told me a great deal, and had me practice a few simple healing skills, and said that I wasn't that bad, not for an ordermage with no instruction in healing."

"Were those her exact words?"

"Close to it, ser," replied Rahl, smiling crookedly. "She did say that I paid more attention than most mage-guards."

Taryl just waited.

"Then I walked all around. I think I traveled every street and lane. There are heavy wagons coming in, and they're loading supplies on the steamers at the docks, and they're working from first light to darkness."

"They'd better."

"Oh… the undercaptain told me that they have two more days of loading supplies, and one to get mounts and troops aboard. That's if it doesn't rain."

"Will it?"

"I don't think so. We might get a shower or two. Maybe. If I'm reading things right."

"What else?"

"I've seen green troopers everywhere, greener than I was when I went to Nylan. Almost all of them look too young."

"You'll find that with each year they look younger." Taryl sighed. "But you're right. We don't have enough seasoned troops, and the only way to get seasoned troops quickly is to train them hard and send them into battle. Those who survive become seasoned."

Rahl didn't have that much more to say. "Is there anything else I should know, or that you'd like me to do?"

"Go back to the healer tomorrow and follow her around, or one of the others, if they'll let you. Do that in the morning. Then practice all of your order-skills in the early afternoon, and check out the docks after that. Tomorrow evening, we're going to a reception at the Palace-wear your dress uniform and best boots. We'll leave before the mess opens for dinner."

"Yes, ser." Rahl had no idea how a reception fit into Taryl's plans or why attending a reception was necessary, but he had no doubt that it was.

"And get some sleep tonight. I plan to." Taryl turned and walked away, down the steps toward his quarters.

Rahl had the feeling that somehow he'd disappointed the overcommander. He shouldn't have been so determined to put Tilsytt in his place… but the older mage-guard had been so condescending, just like Puvort and all the magisters in Nylan, as if Rahl were nothing. And he hated that.

Rahl took a deep breath, then headed down the stone steps, his boots echoing dully in the enclosed stairwell.

On sevenday morning, Rahl was in the mess earlier and sat across from two captains he had not met before.

"I'm Bertayk," offered the younger one.

"Alfhyr." The older captain nodded brusquely.

"Rahl."

"You're new here. Some of the other mage-guards were talking about a patrol mage-guard who was a bravo…" Bertayk looked speculatively at Rahl.

Alfhyr concealed a wince.

"I'm the guilty party, but I never was a bravo. Something I said was taken in a way I didn't mean…" Rahl went on to explain briefly what had happened at Swartheld. "… and all I meant was that, with Jeranyi everywhere, and explosions, I don't think anyone kept tallies on who they fought and what happened."

Alfhyr nodded slowly and said in a low voice, "You've already found out that the… mage-guard… you spoke to doesn't always convey matters in the way you meant."