“You all right?” murmured Hasyn.
“I had a hard night,” Rahl admitted. “I’m better this morning.”
“Guards say the mage-guards want to talk to you.”
Rahl nodded.
“Best of fortune.”
“Thank you.”
Neither spoke for the rest of the ride to the plate-loading dock, where, as usual, Rahl helped the steam mech with the coal and firebox before washing the coal dust off his hands and arms and taking his place in the checker’s kiosk. Also, as usual, neither Moryn nor Chylor said anything to Rahl, except to call out the hoist loads being set into the hauling wagons.
“Two half plates, ship cut, full span…”
“Three of the quarter plates, ship cut, full span…”
Rahl hadn’t thought about it before, but the thicker ship-cut plates had to be for warship hulls. The amount of iron being produced and shipped dwarfed anything he’d seen or heard of on Recluce. Why were the Hamorians using so much iron? Because it could withstand chaos, and they used more chaos?
Whatever the reason, he was careful to keep his tallies neat and his sums correct, but, while the work was far easier than being a loader or a slogger, he soon found it boring, and he had to concentrate on not letting his mind wander.
In between wagons, when Chylor was not looking, he tried to order-sense things, but he could not exercise any of the skills he had once possessed. Even after trying to recall what he could from The Basis of Order, he had no success. That raised another question. Had Shyret discovered the book among his possessions as well? Or had Daelyt just taken his coins and disposed of his personal gear without really going through it?
The day dragged on, and Rahl dutifully entered plate types and quantities on the forms. By midafternoon, despite the shade provided by the roof of the kiosk, Rahl’s shirt was splotched with sweat.
Although the sling-men were rigging another load, Rahl saw a two-horse team and a wagon approaching the loading dock. He watched as the wagon stopped. Taryl stepped down and walked toward the supervisor.
The mage-guard looked at Chylor. “I’ll need some time with Blacktop.”
“Ah…yes, ser. If we could finish this wagon…?”
“I’ll wait.”
Taryl’s patience impressed Rahl. The mage-guard seemed far less imperious than the magisters of Recluce-or even the Council Guards.
“Hoist on the way!”
Rahl checked the form and his pen.
“Three of the quarter plates, half span…”
Rahl made the entries for the remaining two loads, then waited.
“Wagon away!” called Chylor.
Rahl stepped out of the kiosk and moved toward the mage-guard.
Chylor took the seat in the kiosk. His look at Rahl was not particularly friendly.
Taryl motioned for Rahl to follow him, then turned and walked to a spot shaded by a stack of plate, where he stopped.
“You left word with the guards,” said Taryl. “What do you remember?”
“Most everything…I think.” Rahl smiled apologetically. “If there’s something small I don’t recall, how would I know I didn’t remember it?”
Taryl just waited.
“My real name is Rahl. I was sent from Nylan to be a clerk at the Nylan Merchanting Association, and I’d been working there for most of the summer season until close to the beginning of fall. I was noticing some irregularities in the accounts, things being declared as damaged or spoiled in shipment, and some I was sure weren’t. Someone tried to break into the Association one night, but I stopped them, and the bravo ran off. I never found out who it was. I was even thinking about leaving the Association and seeing if I could become a mage-guard, but then someone drugged me-it must have been Daelyt-and I can remember getting really sleepy and being unable to move, and someone rolling a carpet around me…” Rahl stopped.
“Why did you think you could become a mage-guard?” Taryl didn’t sound particularly surprised.
“I didn’t know if I could,” Rahl admitted, “but the mage-guards where I registered said that anyone who had order-or chaos-talents could apply.”
“Is there any way you can support what you told me?”
“I was a clerk at the Merchanting Association. Shyret and the others there might say that I was there. They might not. I always ate at Eneld’s across the street. Seorya might remember me. I did register with the mage-guards in Swartheld, at the place off the main piers, but I don’t know what happened to the registry bracelet.” Rahl laughed bitterly. “It doesn’t matter now, though. I don’t have any order-abilities. At least, I can’t find them or use them.”
Taryl smiled. “You’re lucky. When they use nemysa on someone without order, or chaos-abilities, that person almost never recovers his memory. With mages, a handful die, but any who live will eventually recover everything. It will be days, or eightdays, or longer. Generally, the more powerful the mage, the longer it takes.”
“But…I wasn’t that powerful.”
“You’re still young…it’s Rahl, isn’t it?”
“Rahl, that’s right.”
“Rahl…powerful mages start showing traces of ability young, but they keep getting stronger long after those with less ability-if they work at it properly.”
Rahl was silent. Did he actually have a chance of regaining his abilities?
“We will have to send to see if they have any records remaining in Swartheld.”
“With my luck, ser, those will have vanished as I did.”
“That may be, but we will see.”
“Ah, ser. What do I do now? Keep on as a checker at the loading dock?”
“That would not be wise for anyone, but particularly for you. The mage-guards can always use clerks, especially here in Luba, and being around mages might help you regain your abilities. Besides, that’s where all mage-guards start in any case.” Taryl paused. “You didn’t say exactly, except about order-skills, but you were considered a black mage?”
“Of sorts. The magisters in Nylan said that I was a natural ordermage, and that I’d amount to little because, while I had skills, I was unable to learn others. I could either do things or not, but I never seemed able to learn what I couldn’t do.”
“There is a place for every level and type of mage in Hamor.” Taryl’s voice turned wry. “It may not be what one expected, but mages are not wasted or turned away here.”
Rahl could hear the irony in the older man’s voice, and couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Taryl had certainly not planned to be a mage in Luba.
The mage-guard turned and walked down the dock to the checker’s kiosk and Chylor.
Rahl followed, hoping he hadn’t upset Taryl.
“I’ll be taking…him…with me,” announced the mage-guard.
“Yes, ser. Ah…did he do something wrong?”
“No. Something wrong was done to him, we think.”
To Rahl’s eyes, the supervisor looked almost disappointed, but Rahl was more than glad to follow the mage-guard to the wagon.
LXIX
On fiveday evening, Rahl sat at the junior’s table in the mage-guard’s mess, with two others-Rhiobyn and Talanyr. He’d been issued two sets of khaki garments, similar to those worn by the mage-guards, except without any insignia, and a pair of heavy black boots that matched his new belt. His hair had been cut short, and the mages’ barber had shaved him. He’d been given a kit with a razor as well, and was sharing an actual room with Talanyr, not a bunk room. He’d even been given a truncheon, although it was of oak, rather than lorken. It had been provided with the caution that weapons were not worn inside the station, but always outside.
While Rahl still could not order-sense whether mage-guards were ordermages or chaos-mages, he realized that all he had to do was look at their belts. Those who wore clips for a falchiona scabbard were chaos-mages, and those who wore the short retaining harness for a truncheon were ordermages.