“Yes. I’m back.” . . “Good. Sleep well.”
Sleep well? After everything that had happened?
“Good night,” he finally said as he moved through the darkness to his own small chamber and narrow bed. He closed the door, close as it made the room feel.
After undressing, he lay on his pallet, looking up into the darkness and thinking. Should he have gone to the magisters? But how could he after having killed a man? He knew that was cause for exile, jf not worse, even if he had been attacked. But he’d been attacked because he was where he shouldn’t have been after he’d probably revealed something he shouldn’t have to someone who was guilty.
But… he hadn’t known that. He hadn’t even realized that Fahla was guilty until after he’d seen her face at Sevien’s. And then what could he have done? He shook his head.
IX
Rahl had finally managed some sleep on fiveday night, after persuading himself that he really hadn’t done wrong. He’d only been trying to defend himself against someone who’d wanted to kill him. But he had wondered about the reddish white shadow around the bravo, something that he’d felt, but not seen. Even after getting some sleep, he’d felt tired when Kian had wakened him on sixday.
Then his father had insisted on sparring before breakfast.
Rahl had taken another bruise or two. He had to admit that his father was good with the truncheon, and he probably owed his life to his father’s training, but he wasn’t about to tell him—not for a long time, if ever.
While Kian washed up, Rahl oiled the scarred area of the truncheon where he’d slipped the attacker’s blade, then studied the wood. The scar wasn’t that noticeable, unless he looked, very closely. Then he washed up, finished dressing, had breakfast, and headed to the workroom.
There he laid out the mathematics text. He was almost finished, with just a few pages left to copy. As he settled in, Kian appeared with a broad smile.‘
“You’re almost finished, aren’t you?”
“Yes, ser.”
“Good. I’ll be able to start binding it on oneday, and you can take over the copying of the Philosophies of Candar.”
Rahl thought that might be even worse than Natural Arithmetics.
“I need to finish the frontispiece, though, and I’d like you to hurry down to Clyndal’s to pick up a book from him. I’m not sure if it’s properly a book, but his nephew’s been apprenticing with him, and Clyndal’s grown fond of the fellow, and he wants to give him a copy of his formulae so that he can set up his own alchemy shop in Lydkler. ” There isn’t one there, and it’s probably one of the few towns of any size in Reduce that doesn’t have one.“
Rahl stood. “I can do that.” It would also give him a chance to see what had happened around the chandlery.
He did slip the truncheon back into his belt loops before he left the workroom, turning it so that the scarred side was against his trousers, not that anyone was likely to notice or comment on a scrape on a truncheon.
The sky was a hazy greenish blue, and the stillness of the air made the morning seem warmer than it probably was as he headed down the street toward the center of Land’s End. The avenue seemed more deserted than normal, and usually it was more crowded on sixday.
As Rahl neared Clyndal’s shop, just south of the chandlery, he could see two Council Guards standing post on the porch of the chandlery. The shutters remained closed, and the front door was chained shut. Rahl couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to Fahla and Faseyn, although he wasn’t about to ask the Guards.
He opened the door to the alchemy shop and stepped inside. The air smelled of all sorts of odors that shifted as he stepped toward the counter set directly facing the door, less than four cubits back. Clyndal turned from the workbench and moved to the counter. His face was lined, and his gray hair thin. His water green eyes smiled with his mouth. “Young Rahl, I thought your father might send you. What I have here is in a leather folder, but if he could copy it, and then bind both, I’d be much obliged. I’d pay for the extra binding, you understand. He said a plain binding would be a gold.”
“I can’t offer a price, ser,” Rahl said with a smile. “Not when he’s already talked with you.”
“Smart son.” Clyndal handed the stained thick leather folder to Rahl. “Be most careful.”
“That I will, ser.” Rahl paused, then asked, “I see that the chandlery is locked and guarded…”
“Aye. The magisters came with the Council Guards late last night. The magisters left, but the Guards have remained. I’ve heard not a word as to why, but…”
Rahl waited.
“… I’ve been wondering about their prices. Hostalyn was a tight man, but he never wanted to charge two coppers when one or one and a split would do. This Kehlyrt, he charged even less, and I’d be wondering where he got his goods, especially after the Council notice.”
“About the Jeranyi and the pirates?”
“Exactly my thought, young Rahl. Exactly my thought.”
“What did they do with the factor and his family?”
“Heard that he was a widower, but what happened to him and the girl and boy… you’d have to be asking the magisters. The place was like as to now when the sun rose this morning.”
“I suppose we’ll find out in time,” observed Rahl, offering a pleasant expression he didn’t feel. He lifted the heavy folder. “We’ll get this back to you, with both books bound, as soon as we can.”
“That’d be good. You don’t know as your father wants any more of the good iron-brimstone, would you?”
“I’d judge he will in another eightday.”
“I’ll make sure to have some.”
The door opened behind Rahl. He turned to see Hyelsen entering.
“Clyndal! Has that shipment of cuprite arrived yet?”
“No, ser. I’m expecting the wagon any day.”
“We need that to. soak the planks and timbers for the next one. Without that, the oak’s just food for the shipworms.”
“I know that, ser, but it comes from Worrak, and I can’t make ‘em sail any faster.”
“Good day, portmaster.” Rahl nodded politely.
“Good day, Rahl.” Hyelsen. turned back to the alchemist. “It’s not good to be waiting. We ordered in plenty of time…”
As Rahl stepped out of the alchemy shop, he looked toward the harbor. The chandlery remained closed, with the same pair of Council Guards posted on the porch, but farther on, Rahl saw a Guard wagon outside the coppersmith’s.
As he watched, two burly Guards marched out a slender figure and set him on the rear bench seat, then shackled him there. The coppersmith followed, just standing there, watching, his shoulders slumped. Even from where he stood close to two hundred cubits away, Rahl sensed the anger walled away—anger and sad acceptance. He could also hear the prisoner’s protests.
“I didn’t do anything… I didn’t! It’s all wrong! I didn’t do anything.”
“Tell it to the magisters, fellow!”
“I didn’t…”
The Guard driving the wagon flicked the leads, and the wagon moved toward Rahl. He just stood and watched as the three Guards rode past. As the wagon came by Rahl, he recognized the prisoner—Balmor.
“… I didn’t do anything wrong… I was just helping Da with the forge…”
At those words, Rahl looked more closely at Balmor. For the first time, he could sense the reddish white around the young man—the same kind of shadow that he had sensed around the man who had tried to kill him the night before. It had to be the aura of chaos. He’d read and heard about it, but he hadn’t thought about its being on Reduce. Was that why the Council had closed the chandlery? Because Kehlyrt had been using chaos?
Rahl frowned. He was certain he would have sensed something on Fahla. He’d watched her closely enough.
After a moment longer, he turned and began to walk back up the avenue toward the southern section of Land’s End and home, carefully carrying the heavy leather f
older,
He couldn’t help but wonder what was happening. He didn’t recall anything like the chandlery being shut . down or people being dragged off by Council Guards. Or had he just not seen what had happened?
He still worried about Fahla. . and even about why Jienela had been so upset. He’d been careful not to promise anything to Jienela, very careful, but it was clear by her actions that she thought he had, and that could be a problem.
He walked quickly, and it was still close to midmorning when he stepped back into the workroom.
“Did you get it?” asked Kian. “You took a while.”
“It’s all loose, but he wants them ”bound, too.“ Rahl held up the folder. ”The magisters shut down the chandlery. It’s chained shut, and they have guards posted. I was leaving Clyndal’s, and Council Guards from the keep were dragging Balmor away. He kept saying that he didn’t do anything wrong.“
“Balmor? Balmor…”
“He’s Fherl’s oldest. I remember him from lessons when we were younger.”
“Dragging him away?” Kian frowned.
“Well… really, they shackled him to a seat on one of their wagons and drove off with him. He kept saying that he didn’t do anything except help his da with the forge.” Rahl suspected that had somehow involved chaos, but saying that directly might reveal too much about his own abilities.
“Must have been using chaos.” Kian shook his head. “The magisters don’t like that at all. Did Clyndal know anything about the chandlery?”
“I asked, but he just said that the magisters arid Council Guards came in the night. He didn’t know why, but he thought they might be involved with the Jeranyi.” Rahl carried the leather folder across the room and handed it to his father.
“Thank you. Some folks never learn. You just don’t cross the magisters.” Kian set the folder on the narrow table that held work yet to be copied. At the moment, the folder lay there alone. “You need to finish up with the arithmetics book.”
Rahl settled himself back before his copying table and opened the mathematics text to the next-to-last page.
He finished that page before dinner, and then the last page in early afternoon. After he stretched and checked the ink, he came back to find Kian setting another book on the copy-stand.
“The Philosophies of Candar. You can start with the text… here.”
“Yes, ser.”
While he copied, Rahl still couldn’t help but worry about Fahla. The magisters wouldn’t have executed her, would they?
As the afternoon was coming to a close, and the sun hung just over the low mountains to the west of Land’s End, mere was a knock on the workroom door.
“Rahl…”
“I’ll get it.” Rahl got up and headed on to the door. - Magister Puvort stood there.
“Magister,” Rahl inclined his head, “how might we help you?”
“Is your father here?”
“Yes, ser.”
“Good. I need to talk to both of you.”
Rahl stepped back, and Puvort moved into the workroom, a stolid presence of order, embodying a blackness even deeper than the black of his tunic and trousers, or the polished black boots he wore.
Kian started to rise.
“You can keep your seat, Kian. I won’t be long.” The magister offered a smile, an expression of courtesy, carrying little warmth. “You may have heard that the Council has been forced to act against those who would bring chaos into Reduce. We have acted, and we will continue to act, as we must.” He looked to Kian. “Although you have no abilities in handling order, scrivener, you have always acted in accord with order, and for that the Council is pleased.” His eyes went to Rahl. “For those who may have ability with order, there is always a choice—order or chaos. That is not as simple as it sounds, because failing to make a choice is also a decision, and that apparent lack of decision often leads to chaos.”
The magister offered another smile and moved toward Kian. “Your work on the notices was excellent.” He extended a small pouch. “Here is your payment, and it includes an additional token for timeliness and craftsmanship.”
“Thank you, magister. We do appreciate it.”
“As does the Council.” Puvort glanced at Rahl. “And Rahl, I trust you’ll come to me with your decision on oneday. I’ll be… traveling… until late on eightday.” With a slight inclination of his head, Puvort turned and departed.
Not until the magister was well out of earshot did Kian speak. “What did he mean by saying you had to decide, Rahl?”
“Well… ser… on fourday, when you sent me for the pen nibs…” Rahl explained what Puvort had said about his small order abilities and the possibility of training by the magisters and magistras.
“And you don’t want to do it? Rahl… are your brains all in your trousers? Do you see the garments the ordermasters wear, and how respected they are? No scrivener is ever that well-off and respected.”
“I could end up in Nylan or exiled,” Rahl pointed out. “Puvort said that was always possible.”
“So you could,” admitted Kian. “And if you have those abilities, and they are not properly trained, do you think you’d end up anywhere else?”
For a moment, Rahl just stood there, thinking. He didn’t like to admit it, and in fact, he hated the idea, but his father had a point. He took a deep breath. “Best I go and see Magister Puvort first thing on oneday.”
“Why not now?”
Rahl gestured at the window, which showed a sun already .touching the rugged horizon. “They close the Black Holding just before sunset, and Magister Puvort said he wouldn’t be there until oneday and to see him then.”
“Sometimes…”
Rahl knew what Kian would have said, that at times Rahl put off doing things when he shouldn’t. Still, there was little enough he could do at the moment.
“I’ll go see Shahyla on end-day and Magister Puvort early on oneday.” He thought the mention of Shahyla might divert his father’s attention from himself.
“Do you like her?”
“She’s pleasant, and pretty enough, and she’s brighter than I recalled,” Rahl said. His father laughed.
Rahl forced himself to laugh as well, little as he felt like it.
X
Sevenday dawned hazy and warm, but at least Kian hadn’t insisted Rahl join him in a sparring session, and there had even been a piece of leftover green-apple-cracker pie for breakfast. Midday dinner had been even better, with breaded cutlets and brown gravy with roasted potatoes.
That had taken Rahl’s mind off all the things that were nagging at him. He still worried about Fahla, and Jienela, and especially about having to go to the magisters for instruction in using order. To be a scrivener, he didn’t need instruction, but after he’d seen Balmor carted off, he couldn’t afford not to take the magisters’ instruction and teaching. But that didn’t make him any happier about it, especially not after what he’d seen and heard during the past eightday.
With all those thoughts on his mind, the afternoon dragged, and he had trouble concentrating on Philosophies of Candor. Each stroke of the pen took special effort.
“Rahl… Rahl… are you listening?”
Rahl jerked himself to attention. “Yes, ser?”
“I said I’m going down to see if Clyndal has gotten in any iron-brimstone. Or if he knows who might have backing clips.” Kian shook his head. “You get a good factor, and he’s never satisfied. They’re either sloppy and could care less, like old Hostalyn, or they’re doing what they shouldn’t, like that Kehlyrt fellow. I don’t know how long I’ll be. You did a good job on Tales of the Founders and on the Natural Arithmetics, but you’ll need to be even neater on this one.”
After his father had left, Rahl looked out the windows at the corner closest to the garden, where a traitor bird had landed on the low stone wall, calling out to anyone who would listen that a cat—or something—lurked in the parsley and brinn patches. His mother had harvested some more of the early brinn an
d had taken some sprigs to Elantria, the old healer who lived in a neat but modest cottage beyond Sevien’s dwelling.
Finally, Rahl forced himself back to the copying at hand. The philosophy book was easier… and harder than the mathematics book had been. It was easier because he could read it as he copied, but harder because the words seemed to twist back and around on themselves. He read the paragraph again.
… there is no school of thought or of mental debate developed within or upon Candar that cannot cite or claim in its defense at least one obscure principle from the fragments remaining from the Code of Cyador… yet presented within this tome will be a unified and concrete cosmological system of thought, developed in complete synchrony with its own categoreal notions and implications, which can stand any test raised by the philosophy of organism, since all relatedness has its foundation in the relatedness of actualities, relatedness being established as that which is dominated by quality and subordinate only to quality as defined in Cyadoran sense of sensibility…
He’d read that part at least three times, and while he thought he understood the meaning of almost every single word, he still did not have the faintest idea what all the words together meant. Thwump!
Rahl looked up with a start.
A stocky young man with truncheon in hand stood just inside the workroom. It was Jaired—Jienela’s brother. The grower stepped toward Rahl, who hastily cleaned his pen and set it aside.
“Jaired… what can I do for you?” The question sounded inane, even to Rahl, but he had to say something.
“You’ll take her for your consort,” announced Jaired. While he was not so tall as Rahl, Jaired was older and stockier, and he did have his truncheon in hand.
Rahl’s was still in his small sleeping chamber. He’d never thought he’d need it while he was copying.
“Take who for what?” Rahl attempted to show surprise. “What are you talking about?”
“You know well enough what I’m saying.”
“You’re wrong,” Rahl persisted. “I have ho idea what you’re talking about or where you got this idea.” He rose from behind the copying table and closed the Philosophies of Candar.
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