L. Modesitt - Mage-Guard of Hamor

"Majer Rahl to see Administrator Esryk."

"Ah… ser. He asked not to be disturbed."

"Tell the administrator that he can either see me immediately, or these troopers, and those in the side lane, will make certain he is greatly disturbed. And leave the door open."

Her eyes widened. "Yes, ser." She backed away, then scurried out of the entry foyer and out of sight.

Rahl extended his order-senses, but he could only sense five people in the house, and four were women. Both troopers unsheathed their sabres.

A slender man with deep black eyes walked toward the open door. Esryk's jet-black hair had been dyed, Rahl realized, as had his eyebrows, but the deep blue velvet jacket was genuine, as was the gold chain around his neck, and the fharong embroidered in silver thread. Rahl hadn't seen a jacket over a fharong, and he immediately probed with his order-senses. The jacket covered sheathed twin daggers that dripped chaos within their scabbards-poison.

Esryk smiled, but only with his mouth. "This is a private residence, Captain."

"Majer… and mage-guard," Rahl replied politely. "The reason why I'm here is that we were attacked by rebels when we entered Helstyra yesterday."

"I cannot see what that might have to do with me, Majer."

"You are the town administrator, and it should concern you." Rahl could sense the fear and worry behind the cool words and almost-insouciant smile. "Were you aware that there were rebels in Helstyra?"

"How would I know that?"

Rahl could sense the lie concealed by the question. "Why are you trying to avoid answering me?"

"Ser… I don't keep track of every person in the town. I collect the tariffs and refer the delinquents to the regional overcommander of the mage-guards."

Rahl realized that he was being short with the administrator, but he hated verbal fencing and the use of words and procedures to obscure matters. It reminded him too much of Puvort. "All right. Let's make this very simple." Rahl smiled. "Are you supporting the rebels or Prince Golyat, either directly or indirectly?"

"How can you possibly charge a town administrator with such a matter?" demanded Esryk.

"Because I'm a mage-guard, and it is part of my duty to discover who is loyal to the Emperor and who is not."

"You will find that I am most loyal to the rightful emperor, Majer."

"Good. Just tell me that you're loyal to the Emperor Mythalt."

"Didn't I just say that-"

Rahl reached out and grabbed Esryk by the lapels of the velvet jacket and slammed him into the door casement, following the blow with an order-thrust. Esryk sagged, and the half-drawn dagger clattered on the stones.

"Don't touch it," snapped Rahl. "Fourth squad! Weapons out!" He stepped back, then ripped the belt from under Esryk's jacket and tossed it and the twin scabbards, one with the dagger still in its scabbard, back away from the house. He dragged Esryk down the three steps to the stone walk.

"I'll have you court-martialed and executed," declared Esryk, straightening. "Mage-Guard Overcommander Ulmaryt will destroy you."

"That's not likely," Rahl replied. "I report to Mage-Guard Overcommander Taryl." He could sense that the name meant nothing to Esryk. "Tie him up with whatever you have," he told the troopers.

"What are you doing to my consort?" A woman much younger than Esryk appeared at the door.

"Administering justice to a traitor who attempted to kill a mage-guard with a poisoned dagger," Rahl replied coolly.

Her face paled, but she did not shut the door.

Rahl turned back to Esryk. The troopers were finishing binding his hands in front of him with heavy cord.

"Have the rebels been here from the beginning of the revolt?"

Esryk said nothing, but Rahl could sense that they'd probably been there even longer.

"How many?"

There weren't that many, Rahl decided.

"Why did you support Golyat?"

"Because Mythalt is a miserable weakling, ruled by his own consort." Esryk straightened. "Go ahead and murder me. Go ahead."

"I think not. Not yet, and it will be an execution in the square. A very public execution." Rahl smiled. "How close are the nearest rebel companies?"

Esryk didn't know, but they weren't that far.

"Twenty kays?"

The administrator didn't know.

"What did you do to support the rebels…?

"Who else is town is backing them…?"

Rahl kept asking questions, trying to sense and judge Esryk's silent reactions. In the end, he didn't discover much more than the fact that Esryk had been supplying and feeding a squad of rebels, that the man had probably been promised a position by Golyat or Ulmaryt, and that all the town's tariffs had been sent to Golyat in Nubyat.

After it was clear that either the man didn't know any more or Rahl couldn't discover it, Rahl ordered the troopers to hoist him onto a mount, and they rode back toward the River's Edge. Rahl just hoped that Taryl would be with the advance forces and could learn more from Esryk. It might even be better if Taryl were the one to execute the traitor.

Once Rahl had arranged for the traitorous administrator to be bound and confined in what amounted to a closet in the stable, with a trooper posted as a guard, he and fourth squad made a series of patrols of the river district of Helstyra. Hard as he tried, and it was difficult enough that his head was splitting by the time they finished, he could discover no other signs of rebels. He did get the impression that Esryk was far from the only one in the town who supported Golyat-at least tacitly-and he wondered why.

The other aspect of the town that struck him, as he was riding back to the inn after the patrols, was that all the women were covered from ankle to wrist to neck, and that the scarves and head coverings were far more substantial and opaque than those he had seen anywhere else in Hamor, especially more so than in Swartheld and Cigoerne.

He had just ridden back into the courtyard, when a trooper-Reolyn from first squad, Rahl thought-rode in behind him.

"Ser! The submarshal's forces are riding up the main street here, and the overcommander wants to see you."

Rahl managed to dismount, although he staggered when his boots hit the ground.

"Ser," called Fedeor, "we'll take care of your mount."

"Thank you."

Rahl hurried across the courtyard to the inn and out onto the wide front porch. A gust of wind chilled him, but passed, as he stood there alone. Before long, a score of outriders appeared, scanning everything. With them rode Drakeyt and first squad.

With the first full company, Rahl could make out Taryl. The overcommander eased his mount away from the company, although a squad followed him, and reined up next to the porch.

"Good afternoon, ser." Rahl wasn't quite sure what else he could say.

Taryl dismounted, slightly stiffly, and handed the gray's reins to a squad leader, then climbed the two steps to the porch.

"Can we can sit in the corner of the public room?" asked the over-commander. "I could use something to drink. We've been riding harder than I'd like."

"There's no one else there right now," Rahl said. "There wasn't, anyway, a little while ago."

Taryl gestured for Rahl to lead the way, and the younger mage-guard did, making his way through the foyer and into the public room, and to a corner table. Once there, Rahl gestured to the servingwoman.

"All we have is ale."

"All?" Rahl raised an eyebrow. At least, that didn't hurt.

"There's a bit of lager, but not much."

Rahl looked to Taryl, who nodded, then seated himself.

"If you could come up with two lagers, that would be appreciated."

"Yes, ser."

Rahl sat down across from the overcommander, whose thin face looked even more drawn. "I didn't see the submarshal," Rahl finally offered, not wanting to ask.