Storm Warning - Mercedes Lackey [67]
“It can be done in theory, though no one in Karse ever tried that I know of,” Ulrich told him. “There’s some mention of such things in older texts on magic, but using magically-induced or steered weather as a weapon is generally considered too unreliable to count on, since it is too easy to counter.”
“Unless, of course, your enemy is known for not using magic.” Rubrik cursed again. “The Empire’s spies surely picked that up, at the very least. They must be laughing up their sleeves at us, if this is their doing. I’ll make sure and mention it, just so that someone considers the idea.”
“Even if it’s sent-weather, a reliable weather-worker can deal with it,” Ulrich offered. “The worker doesn’t even need to be particularly powerful. I can’t tell you if your ‘wizard-weather’ is sent or created myself; at least not at the moment. I’m too tired, and the probable distance between us and any Empire mages is too great. But if it is something the Empire is causing, that very distance works for us far more than it does the Empire. As far away as they’d be working, they wouldn’t be able to stop a minimally-talented weather-worker from getting rid of anything they could send at us. In fact, a minimally talented worker, casting close to the target, can disperse the sendings of someone much more powerful than he is.”
“That is good to know.” For all his weariness, Rubrik sounded grateful. “Please, in case I forgot to tell this to someone, make sure you do.”
“Take note, Karal,” Ulrich told his aide, who filed it carefully away in his memory. He would, some time within the next two days or so, make certain that this whole bit of conversation was included in the notes that Ulrich would take into a discussion with Valdemar’s leaders.
“What is that?” Ulrich asked, as Karal repeated everything to himself once, just to be certain he had it all. Karal looked up; there seemed to be something awfully large across their path, and it was much too big to be a building. There were lights across the top of it, lights that might be torches or lanterns. How high was it? Several stories, at least. Well, this part of Haven rated some admiration, at least.
“The old city walls,” Rubrik replied, with relief in his voice. “They mark the boundary of the original city of Haven. We are almost home.”
The walls were impressive; quite thick, as demonstrated by the tunnel beneath them with gates at either end.
And manned by competent, alert Guards, as demonstrated by the ones that stopped them. They were detained at the gate long enough for the Guard Captain to look through a set of papers, scratch something with a stick of graphite, and wave them through.
“Efficient,” Ulrich noted. Rubrik only nodded.
Looks as if they really were waiting for us—
By now the lights along the side of the road were frequent enough that neither they nor their mounts had any trouble seeing, and once inside the walls, there were further signs of life. Taverns were still open; music and the sound of voices came from windows open to whatever breeze might happen by. Here and there an industrious tradesman burned candles to finish a task. The scent of baking bread told Karal that bakers in Haven were no different from those in Sunhame; they did most of their work late at night, when it was cooler. Here and there they even crossed paths with a huge, heavy cart hitched to a team of four or more enormous draft-horses, hauling wagonloads of barrels and huge crates about that could not be transported during the heavy traffic of full day.
The streets here were paved, covered with something smooth that didn’t resemble cobblestones or any other form of pavement Karal recognized. Rubrik looked around at the fronts of the buildings,