L. Modesitt - Mage-Guard of Hamor

"You didn't, I take it?"

"I'm just a town chandler, but I know when I'm looking at a long winter."

"Produce wouldn't keep for that long, not on a wagon back to the coast."

"Not fresh, but he had pickling barrels in his big wagon, and lots of salt."

"There weren't any rebel troops with him?"

"Haven't seen a one. Aviera said they were staying away from the main road. Wouldn't have been surprised if the fellow with the pickling barrels hadn't already sold what he got before he'd even delivered." The chandler finished packing the biscuit tin and handed it to Rahl. "Here you go, Captain."

"Thank you. Have you seen or heard anything else that might be of interest?"

"The factor fellow was looking for bitumen. Didn't find any. The only place you can get that is in the hills north of Elmori. Other than that, haven't heard or seen anything… or anyone. Suppose that's of interest, seeing as we usually get more travelers this time of year than in summer or harvest."

Rahl could sense that the older man wasn't hiding anything and had said what he knew. "I appreciate the tin, the biscuits, and the information."

"I appreciate the coppers, Captain." The chandler smiled.

Rahl inclined his head, then turned and left. Even before he'd taken more than a few steps across the square toward the inn, the chandlery was shuttered and locked.

Drakeyt was standing on the front porch of the Dun Cow, looking northward at the puffy white clouds that were moving southward. "Rain, you think?"

"Not tomorrow, or not from those clouds," replied Rahl.

"What have you got there?"

"A biscuit tin, filled with biscuits."

"When a mage-captain buys hardtack biscuits…" Drakeyt shook his head. "That doesn't sound good."

"The chandler said a factor was here an eightday ago, buying all the produce he could get, and pickling it. Some mutton, too-salting it."

Drakeyt frowned. "So the rebels have taken steps to load up on supplies."

"That's my guess. The chandler's, too. Oh, the factor from Nubyat was looking for bitumen, too."

Drakeyt winced. "They're looking to make Cyadoran fire. Nasty stuff."

"They didn't get any here, but there's supposedly some north of Elmori."

"We'd best hope that they don't ship a lot to Nubyat."

"Did you know there were three companies in Dawhut?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," replied Drakeyt.

"Why couldn't they keep the roads open and deal with the few rebels that there are?" asked Rahl.

"Three companies three hundred kays from Nubyat are enough to hold a large town," Drakeyt pointed out. "That is, if the rebels don't send ten companies and if the companies don't get whittled down in piddling engagements."

"So these traps were designed to whittle them down?"

"More to slow and whittle us down. The rebels had to know that the majer in Dawhut wouldn't risk troopers on road patrols. He might even have had orders to hold the town. That could be why we've been ordered to wait for the submarshal."

"Because he's worried that there might be rebel forces around Dawhut? Or because the majer might attack us if we tried to enter the town."

Drakeyt shrugged. "It could be either. We'll find out when we start sending out scouting patrols tomorrow. We wouldn't want the submarshal to encounter any surprises."

"I should be with one of the patrols near the main road," Rahl offered.

"I'd thought you would be," Drakeyt replied. Then he smiled.

Rahl couldn't help grinning… but only for a moment.

Later, after eating with Drakeyt, Rahl retired to his small room. There he sat on the edge of the bed, using the small washstand as a desk, under the dim light of the single lamp, trying to find the right words to close his letter to Deybri so that he would be able to dispatch it as soon as Taryl and the submarshal's forces joined them.

He murmured the words, "I have just received your letter…"

No, that wasn't right.

"We are in the small town of Saluzyl, and I've read your letter four times already since I received it two days ago…"

He frowned, then shook his head. What he needed to do was to write a short cover letter expressing his feelings in response to her letter, and then enclose with it the more lengthy correspondence he had been writing a bit at a time. But how could he begin? Finally, he began to write, one slow word at a time.

Your letter was its own sunshine when it arrived, and I have savored the light brought by each and every word.

You wrote about being blinded by the sun. I also saw the sunlight, except it crept upon me like a slow sunrise, and I did not know that you were the source of that light until I realized that the days when I saw you were the brightest. Yet how could I tell you that? Then, I did not have the words or the courage.

Now, I know that there is at least a faint hope that we may share that sunlight, and that if I do not write and tell you that, then we both may lose that warm and loving light. Yet I do not wish to compel anything of you, and should you choose to close the shutters and turn from that light, I will grieve at the loss, at the thought of what might have been between the two of us, and at the dimming of the light you have brought into my life, but I will respect your decision.

I am far from wise enough to know what steps are the best for us to make sure that light endures, but I am confident that, together, we could determine what those steps might be, if that is your wish and decision. While it appears that I have found a place as a mage-guard, ordermages are welcome in at least some other lands besides Recluce and Hamor, and healers are welcome the world over. Whatever we decide, I am obligated to finish this campaign, for I owe that at the very least to Taryl, for he saved me from Luba. Without his wisdom, his patience, his tutoring, and his perception, I would have nothing, and I would never have seen or written you again.

This time, he did sign it, "With all my love."

Was he being too bold? Assuming far too much?

He tightened his lips. He might be too bold, but he did not think he was assuming more than was warranted. Deybri would never have committed what she had to paper if she had not felt even more strongly than what her words had spoken.

After a time, he sealed the letter and addressed it.

Although he blew out the lamp, he lay on the lumpy inn bed for a long time, thinking, before he dropped into an uneasy slumber.

When Rahl rode back into Saluzyl on sixday at the head of fourth and fifth squads, after a second day of patrols that had revealed nothing more than what he'd learned from the chandler two days earlier, he found the town filled with troopers and wagons, but no one hindered him as he formed up the two squads in the area between the stables and the Dun Cow.

Another trooper rode up even before Rahl finished dismissing the squads to their squad leaders, but he reined up and waited until Fedeor and Fysett released their men to care for their mounts. Then he eased his mount over toward Rahl.

"Captain Rahl, ser?"

"Yes, trooper?"

"The Mage-Guard Overcommander sent me to escort you to headquarters."

Headquarters? Rahl supposed headquarters was wherever the sub-marshal declared it to be. "Lead on."

"Yes, ser."

The ride was short, less than a quarter kay, by the time Rahl reined up in front of a moderately large but modest-looking two-story stone dwelling surrounded by a chest-high brick wall. Rahl had not seen the dwelling before, because it had not been in that part of town he had scouted. The roof was of dark gray tile, and the wooden trim was painted white. The area between the front wall and the house was a garden, not particularly well kept, Rahl noted, with more than a few wilted and dead flowers that should have been cut or trimmed eightdays before. Guards stood at the open gates that flanked a lane leading to a separate stable. Neither gave Rahl more than a passing glance as he rode past them.