Chovayt glanced around, then nodded toward Rahl. “Can you drag that sorry sow-carcass over here?”
“Go ahead, Rahl,” said Talanyr. “If he makes a move, I’ll smash whatever moves.”
Rahl didn’t want to get too close to the man he’d brought down. So he grabbed the foot of the uninjured leg and dragged the thief across the pavement one-handed, holding his truncheon ready in the other.
The fellow moaned. Rahl left him beside the wounded thief by the cart wheel, then stepped back.
“He’s got a bag with stuff in it in his shirt.”
A muscular woman appeared after his words, bent down and ripped open the shirt, pulling out the cloth bag. “My coins he took-and some scrip.”
“That was a little messy,” said Chovayt. “Mage-Captain Zillor isn’t going to be happy. You two might as well move along.”
“You’re certain?” asked Talanyr.
Chovayt nodded. “He’s on his way.” He gestured at the two bodies and the two wounded thieves. “They aren’t going anywhere.”
Rahl couldn’t sense anything, but Talanyr and Chovayt clearly could.
“This way,” said Talanyr. “We’ll walk down toward the local river docks until things cool off. We can go back later.”
Rahl followed the other mage-clerk through the open spaces of the square and down the ramp on the south side. He could see how the vendors stepped back as they neared and passed, but he still could not sense what they felt. He was still trying to figure out what had happened. He’d struck the thief hard and solid, but he’d had trouble anticipating the other’s moves, and his blows hadn’t had the effect they usually did. Why? He almost shook his head. He’d been using order-skills before, and now he didn’t have any. And…his previous truncheon had been lorken bound in black iron, which weighed more and conducted not only the force of his blows but the order behind them.
For a moment, he stopped, fighting the wave of rage that threatened to cascade over him, as well as the underlying sense of unfairness.
“Are you all right? You didn’t get cut or anything?”
“No. I think I need a heavier truncheon, though.” Rahl forced a smile. It wasn’t Talanyr he was angry at, but Puvort and the magisters and rules of Recluce and Nylan.
“They might have some in the armory at the station.”
“I’ll look tomorrow.” Rahl glanced back toward the market square.
“Chovayt is doing fine,” Talanyr said.
“We weren’t supposed to help him?” asked Rahl.
“No. We’re always required to help another mage-guard, even if we’re only clerks. But there’s nothing to say we have to stay afterward. If we stayed, Zillor might have thought we’d distracted Chovayt. That’s one of the tactics the thieves use. They’ve got a lookout who lets them know when the mage-guards are occupied and the farthest away from their target. If we hadn’t been there, most of them would have escaped. This way, he can just say that we helped, and he has everything under control. It looks better for him. Besides, do you want to write up his reports, too?”
“You both used weapons,” Rahl said.
“We had to. Chovayt couldn’t use chaos-bolts in the market there at first, and I can’t,” said Talanyr. “Chovayt couldn’t because the girl and her mother were standing too close to the two offenders. That’s why he used the blade as a conduit for the chaos.” He paused. “You’re good with that truncheon.”
“My father started me early. I had a lot of bruises for a while.”
“It made things easier. Thank you.”
Somehow, as Rahl crossed the street on the far side of the market square, walking beside Talanyr, he hadn’t thought that there would be that many thieves in Hamor, not when the mage-guards patrolled everywhere.
“I’ll show you around,” Talanyr went on. “Later, we can go to the Nalyrra for a really good dinner.”
“Talanyr,” Rahl said. “I can’t. I don’t have any coins to speak of.”
The other mage-clerk laughed. “I know. Tonight will be my treat, and it will be. You helped back there, and it’s good to be with someone who can handle a truncheon and who’s actually read a book. Rhiobyn thinks that you pick them for the color of the binding and how they look on a library wall.” Talanyr laughed. “Besides, I don’t have much to spend on anyway. You can treat me sometime when you’re paid.”
“I will.” Rahl paused, then added, “Rhiobyn must come from coins.”
“His family’s coins have coins. They’re merchanters in Atla. You wouldn’t know it, because they hired tutors so that they wouldn’t talk like Atlans.”
“Like me?”
“You talk like an educated Atlan, and that’s fine. Besides, I talk like an Afritan, and that’s worse than an Atlan for most people.”
Rahl just nodded. He had more than a little to learn about Hamor.
LXXII
Rahl had enjoyed Talanyr’s tour of Guasyra, and the meal at the Nalyrra, but by the end of eightday, much of what he saw had become a blur, and he had been glad to climb on the wagon that night and ride back to Luba station. He could not remember his dreams, save that they were disturbing and left him feeling apprehensive when he woke.
As soon as he finished breakfast, he hurried to the armory.
The armorer was an older man, uniformed as was Rahl, except with the silver insignia of a falchiona crossed with a truncheon on his collar, rather than starbursts of the mage-guards. He stood behind a low counter and peered at Rahl. “You’re the new one, aren’t you?”
“Yes, ser.”
“No ‘sers,’ young fellow. What do you need?”
“I was hoping you might have a heavier truncheon.” Rahl held up the one he’d been issued. “This…well…I could do a better job with a heavier one.”
“Heavier…hmmm…I might have something…just might…” The armorer turned and walked to the racks in the right-hand rear corner, murmuring to himself. “Now…where was that…saw it the other day…” After several moments, he turned and walked back to the counter. “This one here’s been around ever since I’ve been here, but it’s still solid as the day it was crafted.” The armorer extended a dull black truncheon.
As he took it, for a moment, Rahl thought that it might be like the one he’d been given in Nylan, but he could see that the half guard was a touch thicker and the weapon was a trace longer. Still, there was an iron band below the half guard.
“It’s black oak,” added the armorer. “Only thing better than that is lorken, and I haven’t seen any of that in years.”
“Thank you.” The older truncheon even felt better in his hand.
“Never let it be said that Vymor couldn’t find the right weapon for you.”
“Oh…” Rahl handed the truncheon he’d been issued to Vymor. “I only need one.”
“We’ll find a place for this one, we will. Best you be on with your duties.”
With the effective dismissal, Rahl turned.
Once he got to the copying chamber, he set the truncheon aside and picked up the first report in the stack.
He’d finished both copies of that and was working on the second when Talanyr appeared.
“Thelsyn is going to start asking why I don’t follow your example,” Talanyr said as he took his place at the other end of the copying table.
“Because you already know what I need to learn.”
“You know more than you think you do,” countered Talanyr, “or Taryl wouldn’t have made you a clerk.”
“He just needed someone who could write quickly and accurately.”
“That doesn’t hurt…” Rahl broke off as Thelsyn stepped into the copying room.
“What doesn’t hurt?”
“Writing quickly and accurately, ser.”
“No, it doesn’t, and I imagine that you both could do so with even greater results if your hands were as engaged as your tongues are.”
“Yes, ser.”
The mage-guard walked up to Rahl and inspected the first set of reports, then walked toward Talanyr.
“I just got here, ser.”
“In mind, at least,” Thelsyn said dryly, before turning and departing.
Rahl said nothing, but went back to copying and rewriting the almost illegible report of a mage named Sostrost. He had completed both copies of eight more reports by the time Taryl walked into the copying room in late midmorning, just before midday.