L. Modesitt - Mage-Guard of Hamor

"See you in the public room?" asked Rahl. "I'm going to wash up."

"In a bit."

Rahl tried not to rush back to his small room. Even so, he permitted himself a smile once he was alone there and had the letter out and in his hand. He stood beside the window, letting the last light of day fall on the envelope in his hands.

He could sense that it had not been opened and that the seal was intact. Equally important was the sense of order around the seal. Somehow… it felt like Deybri. He used the tip of his belt knife to slit the envelope-carefully-then smoothed out the single sheet of paper and began to read.

My dear mage-guard,

Your letter arrived today, and I am replying as soon as I can. From your words, if I do not respond soon, you may not read what I must say for a season or more. Please pardon my haste and penmanship. I almost hesitate to write you anything in reply to your elegant words and beautiful letters, yet I must.

Rahl was afraid to look at the next words, and he glanced out the window, toward the sun that was sinking below the rooftops to the west. After a moment, he turned back to the letter and continued reading.

I cannot deceive you. Although I am older than you in years, I am not that much older in my feelings. You have seen and felt those feelings, as I have felt yours. You know what I feel about you and about Hamor. At the same time, it is like I have seen the sun for the first time in years. I am half-blinded by all the light, and I cannot say what will come of what I see. I cannot promise you, not now, but your words and letters offer hope and love in a world of too much order. I must sort through all that I feel under the light of this different sun. For me either to close or open a door when I am still half-blind would serve neither of us well.

Until then, and always, my deepest affection.

Her deepest affection? Those words sounded as though she actually might recognize that she loved him. Yet… would she accept that? Could she? His eyes returned to the top of the page.

After rereading her letter, Rahl folded it and slipped it inside his tunic, smiling. At least, she hadn't closed off all possibilities-even if he had no idea how he would manage to see her again… or when.

He might as well wash up and meet Drakeyt for dinner. After that he could begin to wrap up the letter he had been writing to Deybri so that he could have it ready for dispatch.

Two days later, just past midafternoon on fourday, Third Company reached Shaluzyl, another town set amid widely spaced low rolling hills. The spaces between the hills were filled with heavily worked bog meadows, many of them abandoned and filled with black water. Neither the scouts nor the outriders nor Rahl had discovered any sign of rebels or traps, but Rahl couldn't help but wonder how long it would be before they encountered either or both.

As they rode into the town, Rahl could make out several brick buildings that looked to be distilleries, with chimneys seeping gray smoke against a sky that was as much gray as green-blue. The brick houses were neat enough, but older, and the bricks were dingy, doubtless from years of smoke from the distilleries, and the air held the same pungent odor as it had in Fhydala.

The chandlery in Shaluzyl was fair-sized and across the square from the Inn of the Dun Cow. As the company drew up in formation, Rahl turned in the saddle and said to Drakeyt, "Once we get everyone quartered, I think I'll go over and talk to the chandler. We're close enough that he might know something, and what he's selling or not selling or can't get should tell us something."

"The chandlers in the past haven't been too helpful," Drakeyt pointed out.

"They've told us that there weren't any rebel forces or strangers, and that seemed to be right."

"They missed the mages and saboteurs."

Rahl wasn't quite certain how to respond to that. After a moment, he asked, "Do you have a better idea about whom in town we should question?"

"You might as well question him. Then we can claim that we've done our best when the marshal complains, not that he'll listen to us. I just don't think questioning people here is going to tell us much."

"Probably not, but how will we find out if we don't try?"

Drakeyt shrugged. "We'd better get on with dealing with quarters and food."

Rahl nodded. He was still going to talk to the chandler.

As in the other towns, the proprietor of the Dun Cow was willing to take script for quartering and feeding Third Company, but it was late afternoon by the time Rahl finished helping Drakeyt with quartering arrangements. Then he had to stable and groom the gelding. After that, he left his gear in the small room and walked to the chandlery.

The white-haired chandler was beginning to close the inner shutters when Rahl walked through the door. He turned.

Rahl saw that the man had but two fingers on his left hand. "Good evening."

"Evening, Captain. You're almost too late. You interested in some good riding fare? Or replacing some gear?"

"I might be interested in the fare. If it's not too costly. What do you have?"

"Hard white cheese wedges, and some dried beef strips. I've got some biscuits, special-like, a pack for a copper."

"Those might be useful," Rahl admitted. "Could I see them?"

"Over here, Captain." The chandler's two fingers pointed to a table against the wall. "In the tin on the left."

Rahl opened the tin. The riding biscuits were squares a span on a side and of a finger's thickness. Rahl suspected it would take strong teeth to chew them, but that they might fill his stomach at times. "How long will these last before they spoil?"

"Two seasons if you keep 'em dry."

The chandler believed what he said, Rahl could tell. "How many in a pack?"

"Five, but I'd make it six for you."

"Two packs, then." Rahl could have bargained for a lower price, but it had been a long day, and that wasn't his purpose in being there.

"Have to wrap 'em in grease paper unless you got a biscuit tin." The chandler smiled. "Got one of those, too. Old, but clean. Could let you have it for three coppers. It'll hold fifteen biscuits."

Rahl laughed. "How about half a silver for the tin and fifteen biscuits?"

"Suppose I could do that. Have to be for coin, not script. Been slower than I'd like lately."

"Coin it is." Rahl handed over five coppers. "Slow as it is, you still must get some travelers from Dawhut."

"Not many. Not these days, Captain. Just those who want to sell me the things I don't need more of because there aren't that many travelers."

"Are there any at all coming from the coast?"

"Not travelers."

"Then who?"

"Coast city traders and factors, looking for goods, or to sell 'em."

"What do they tell you about the rebels?"

"What rebels?" The chandler snorted. "Closest rebels are a good hundred kays southwest of Dawhut. The High Command garrison in Dawhut's got three companies. My cousin there… well, he's really Aviera's second cousin, but he's selling all he can get from everywhere else in Merowey because the rebels aren't letting any goods leave the coast."

Three companies in Dawhut? Then why hadn't they done any scouting? Or sent any scouts or messengers? Or had they, and had the rebel mage-guards captured or killed them? The latter possibility didn't seem that likely to Rahl, but he couldn't disregard it.

"What about goods here? Is anyone selling much?"

"Big thing is the Vyrna, and business there is piss poor. The Emperor won't let ships leave Nubyat, and the distilleries are stocking up Vyrna in barrels, hoping it's all over before long. A lot of folks sold their garden produce when one of the factors from Nubyat came up here last eightday. Some sides of mutton, too. Didn't think much of letting go of what they had for coin, but they will. They will. Can't eat coin, and prices'll go up come late winter and spring."