L. Modesitt - Mage-Guard of Hamor

Taryl gestured, and a firebolt flared toward the would-be assassin from a mage-guard farther back in the submarshal's small entourage. Even so, the archer had loosed a second shaft, and was nocking a third when the firebolt flared across his chest.

Rahl had already urged his own mount forward and out of the front rank toward the wall, his truncheon in hand, because he could sense three others even before they vaulted onto the top of the river wall, bows at the ready, and quivers full.

Rahl's shields deflected the arrows aimed at him, but he could sense that some of the others had struck either troopers or their mounts, and that more archers had appeared on the square wall farther to the south, but closer to Taryl and the chaos-mage.

Rahl slammed the long truncheon, backed with order as well as all the force he could impart, into the nearer archer's leg. He could feel the crunch, and the man toppled forward, flailing, toward the paving stones of the square. Rahl kept his mount moving, somehow managing to swing the truncheon clear of the falling rebel, while moving to attack the next archer. The rebel loosed his shaft point-blank at Rahl.

Rahl's shields took the force, but the impact rocked him back in the saddle, and he had to struggle for a moment to hold his seat. Then he was almost past the archer, and he had to backcut, but the truncheon took the archer in the side of the knee, and he also tumbled off the wall and into the square.

The third archer had fled, scrambling down the back side of the wall and sprinting across the walkway below the wall. A firebolt flared across his back and shoulders, and he collapsed on top of the river wall, twitching but for a moment.

Rahl reined up. Even using both sight and senses, he could detect no other rebels-at least not along the square wall or the river walkway below-and he turned his mount back toward Third Company. Troopers from the headquarters company had taken both fallen archers prisoner. The second archer glared at Rahl as the mage-guard rode past. Rahl ignored the hatred, but he wondered how someone could hate so violently a man he'd never met. Rahl might hate Puvort, and the magisters of Land's End, but they had acted vindictively and dishonestly against Rahl personally. All Rahl had done was to prevent the archer from killing troopers. Several had been wounded, but he had not sensed any deaths besides those of the two rebels killed by the chaos-mage from headquarters company.

"… still a bad idea…" murmured Drakeyt as Rahl edged his mount back into formation beside the captain. "If you and the overcommander hadn't been in front where you could move, there'd have been a lot more casualties."

Rahl agreed, but he only nodded.

The submarshal, unhurt, waited until quiet settled over the companies. Then he began to speak. Loud as Dettyr's voice was, Rahl doubted that many troopers or officers more than thirty cubits away could make out what he said.

"… Dawhut is just the first step toward reuniting Hamor under the true and rightful Emperor. While some days will be long, and some battles bloody, we will persevere, and we will win. The attempt to disrupt this muster was an example of the evilness of our enemies. This evilness cannot be allowed to poison our land, and no sacrifice is too great to rid us of those who would divide us…"

The beginning of what Dettyr said was trite enough, but with each succeeding word, Rahl just felt that the subcommander would have been better saying nothing-or stopping after the first few words.

Near what Rahl hoped would be the end of the submarshal's too-long speech, Dettyr said, "… quarters assignments for each company are being dispatched as I speak. Obviously, the compound here at Dawhut cannot accommodate all of the companies… do not attempt to change or to find other arrangements… everything has been carefully planned…"

If it all had been so carefully planned, then why had the submarshal tried to cram all the companies into the River Square? Good planning would have shown it wasn't possible. Rahl frowned. How had the assassins known where the companies would be-unless someone on the headquarters' staff had let them know?

At that moment, a messenger rode up and handed a folded dispatch to Drakeyt, who immediately opened it and began to read as the submarshal finished his address.

"… the beginning of a successful effort to return all of Merowey to the order and prosperity afforded by the Emperor, and every trooper and every officer is expected to do his best at all times. You can do no less for yourselves, and I will accept no less." After a pause, Dettyr added, "Long live the Emperor!"

There was another pause before the first and closest companies repeated the words, if raggedly.

"Long live the Emperor!"

"We've been assigned quarters," Drakeyt said, looking up from the dispatch. "Such as they are."

"Not in the High Command compound, I assume?" asked Rahl.

"Hardly. We've got the equivalent of something like three heavy infantry regiments-and that's only a third of the force-and you and I are scarcely in the best graces of the submarshal."

Rahl had to convert that mentally to numbers of troopers. With five companies to a battalion, and four battalions to a regiment-if all the companies were at full strength-Drakeyt was talking about six thousand troopers in Dawhut at the moment. That meant that the land campaign from Kysha would require almost two-thirds of the entire army, possibly against twice as many men. From what Taryl and Marshal Byrna had said, only a fraction of the rebels were highly trained, but each eight-day that it took for the Imperial forces to reach the coast reduced that advantage.

"We've been assigned to a stead about a kay to the west of the compound. The holder's name is Korsyn, and he's got a large barn and a shed, and some rooms in the dwelling." Drakeyt raised his eyebrows. "We're to begin scouting the south road tomorrow, and prepare for departure within the eightday. We're also ordered to maximize supplies for the ride to Nubyat, consistent with established practices."

"Maximize supplies?"

"Scrounge, beg, borrow, offer script-anything but actually commandeer food. And we're to send daily reports to the submarshal on our efforts."

"Where?"

"His headquarters is in the River Inn-that big place at the south end of the square over there."

"If size means anything, it must be a good inn," replied Rahl dryly. "The best in Dawhut anyway."

"Would you expect any less?"

Rahl shook his head.

On twoday morning before dawn, Rahl sat at one end of a swaybacked trestle table in Korsyn's kitchen eating fresh-fried egg toast. The kitchen was a long, narrow room with tan-plaster walls-or walls that might once have been white and that had become tan from the heat and smoke of cooking. The big iron stove dominated the outside wall, and hints of turf smoke escaped from the ceramic tile that vented the stove into the hearth chimney behind it.

Drakeyt sat to Rahl's right. The holder's consort and two older daughters were busy frying up stacks of toast for Third Company-using not quite stale bread that Quelsyn and the company's acting quartermaster had gotten from somewhere on oneday afternoon while the rest of Third Company had been setting up at the holder's stead.

Rahl almost felt guilty eating a hot breakfast with the holder and his consort, but Drakeyt didn't seem to have any qualms as he quickly ate the egg toast drizzled with a thin and barely sweet redberry syrup.

"This is good egg toast," Rahl said.

"Khasia makes the best in this part of the valley," replied Korsyn.

"The best north of Dawhut," added Khasia, not turning from the turf-fired iron stove that warmed the entire kitchen. "And don't you forget it."