L. Modesitt - Mage-Guard of Hamor

The crimson brandy was yet another delicacy Rahl had never heard of, and probably would never be able to afford, either. His eyes dropped to the road, its churned and dusty surface bearing hoofprints obscuring other hoofprints, the same pattern he'd seen ever since they had left the ooze-battle site the afternoon before. He had not sensed any sign of riders or chaos anywhere close during the entire ride toward Lahenta, and the scouts and outriders had seen no one. The locals they had questioned had all seen the withdrawing rebels, but the rebels had not paid for supplies or even demanded any.

Lahenta was barely even a hamlet. As they rode along the main road that was also the only real street, Rahl counted less than two score dwellings, but three overlarge storage barns and one small structure with a tall large brick chimney that he took for the brandy distillery.

The hamlet square was little more than an oblong of clay and dirt with the obligatory statue of some past emperor. There was no inn, and one shop that looked as if it were part chandlery and part something else, perhaps a cooperage. A dwelling slightly larger than the others stood on the south side of the square, set off by a fence comprised of white rails set between pillars made of stones mortared together. The pedestal and statue were both modest, with the top of the statue barely higher than Rahl's head while mounted. The weathered letters spelled out "Elycatyr."

"Elycatyr," Rahl said.

"Never heard of him," replied Drakeyt, reining up beside Rahl. "What do you suggest?"

"I've been pretty much ordered to check the town administrator's or clerk's records, and I'll need to check the records of the distillery. I haven't sensed any horsemen or rebels or wizards anywhere near here."

"I'll have second squad go door-to-door to see what they can find." The captain laughed. "There aren't that many doors."

"I'm going to start with the chandlery. Someone there should know more about who's who and where they are."

Drakeyt nodded. "I'll leave you fourth squad. You may need them for the distillery."

Rahl hoped not. "Thank you."

"My pleasure, Majer."

After discussing with Fedeor what needed to be done, Rahl rode across the square to the chandlery, where he dismounted and tied the gelding, leaving fourth squad outside.

He stepped into the chandlery, nodding as he took in the stave blanks in crude bins and hoops hanging on one side of the single long and narrow room. The room was empty, and he walked forward.

Abruptly, a young woman in trousers and a stained leather vest appeared. Her boots were scuffed and worn. She started as she caught sight of Rahl. "Ser… ah… what can I do for you?"

"Answer a few questions." He offered a smile.

The woman did not step closer to Rahl but remained a good five cubits away, holding a wooden mallet.

"You're a cooper?"

"What passes for one, here."

Rahl wondered if she were the daughter or the young widow of the former cooper, but did not ask. "What can you tell me about the rebel troopers who rode through here yesterday?"

"Not much. Some came in here on sixday and bought some things, small stuff, mostly dried redberries. I think they were officers. I never saw any of them again." She shivered so slightly that Rahl would have missed it had he not been watching closely.

"You were worried about them."

"Why would I worry about officers?" The cynicism in her voice was barely veiled.

"Did anyone hurt you?" He tried to project concern, which was easy, because he hoped she had not been hurt or molested.

"No." After a moment, she added, "But the way one of them looked.."

He nodded. "I'm glad you're all right."

"Is the Emperor coming back?" She didn't want to discuss how she felt. That was clear.

"We're the vanguard of Second Army. We're here to put down the rebellion." He paused, then asked, "Was the town clerk sending tariffs to the usurper?"

"Of course. Chyrl thought he should be so much more than a town clerk in Lahenta." The scorn was even stronger than her previous cynicism. "He must have known you were coming. He rode out to join the rebels yesterday."

"Did he leave any records? Where would he have kept them?" Rahl tried to keep his voice even.

"He took the main ledger, but there's plenty of records left. He didn't understand bookkeeping all that well, either."

Rahl was getting a very good idea who and what Chyrl was, unfortunately.

"The rest of the records are on the table there. I suppose I should have burned them or something and said I didn't know anything, but Lahenta's too small a place to cover anything up."

"You didn't support the rebels, did you?"

"No. I couldn't say much, but…" She shrugged helplessly.

Rahl could sense the total honesty of what she had said, but he needed to make sure about one thing. "You seem to know a lot about him."

"I should. He was… I guess he still is… my consort. He ran the chandlery part, well as he could, and that wasn't all that well, and I did the cooperage. Learned it from my da. Wouldn't have consorted, except Da was dying." She shook her head. "Don't know why I'm telling you."

"Because you believe in the truth," Rahl suggested. "And you tell it."

She looked at him more intently, and her mouth opened. "You're a mage-guard, aren't you?"

"Yes. Don't worry. It's clear you had nothing to do with what he did. I would like your help in going through the papers he left."

"I guess…"

Rahl could sense the doubt behind her reluctant agreement. He smiled again. "You're worried, and you don't trust me. I don't blame you for your caution, but I'm not here looking for people to punish because they didn't resist the rebels. I'm only after the ones who went out of their way to support them, and that's why I want to look over the records."

"I'm Khelra." She walked over to the shelf on the north wall that rested on two wooden brackets. "Here's his draft ledger. He had to draft everything, because he never could get anything to balance the first time. I had to check his figures half the time." She snorted. "I insisted, even from the beginning, when he was just a town clerk for the Emperor. Otherwise, I could just see the tariff enumerators visiting him with a mage-guard, begging your pardon, ser, and that wouldn't have been good."

Rahl was getting the feeling that the young woman had been far too good for her consort, and he almost hoped that Chyrl would be one of the unfortunate casualties of the revolt. He forced a pleasant nod as he turned to the last pages in the draft ledger.

After a brief study, Rahl turned to Khelra. "There are only five people who paid large tariffs, and by far the largest were paid by someone called Gorsyn. Who's that?"

"Gorsyn owns the distillery. He has the big house on the south end of the square."

"He makes the crimson brandy?"

"Grande Crymson-that's what he calls it. We don't sell it here. No one here has that kind of coin, except him and his family."

"What did Chyrl do with the tariffs he collected?"

"He gave them to the enumerator who came from Nubya, the same as always."

"But he must have known…"

"He knew. He even said that he was glad they were going to someone strong." Khelra shook her head. "I'd prefer an Emperor who lets us be as much as possible… begging your pardon, ser."

Rahl continued through the ledger. "Who are Desytt and Shavorn?"

"They're the two biggest growers…"

When Rahl finished, he had a list of five men he needed to visit, starting with Gorsyn. Khelra had also supplied their approximate locations. He had a long afternoon ahead.

He found Gorsyn at his dwelling. In fact, the distiller was the one who stood there when the door opened, a carved goldenwood portal, flanked by two frosted-glass panels displaying stylized redberries.