As simply as he could, Rahl related what had happened. He did not mention the feeling of order from the hidden magister Puvort, but otherwise, he told everything. “… and then Magister Puvort appeared. He said that I had misused order, but I was only defending myself against two men who are both older than I am, and I didn’t use order. I just used my truncheon. I wouldn’t even know how to use order.”
“Yet you broke the wrist of a man who was on the ground,” observed Puvort.
“He wasn’t going to stay there, ser,” replied Rahl, “and they both threatened me.”
“That is supposition, not fact” said Puvort mildly.
“Be that as it may,” added the gray-haired magister, “you misused order in your seduction of young Jienela, and you attempted to avoid consorting with her. You tried to avoid—”
“Ser! She’s older than I am, and Magister Puvort even said that she was as much at fault as—”
“Silence!”
Rahl decided against saying more. It was clear that Puvort had already persuaded the magisters that everything was Rahl’s doing and fault.
“… and you only decided to seek order training after it was clear that you would risk punishment or exile if you did not.”
The woman in the center looked to Puvort, then to the gray-haired magister. Then she looked back at Rahl. “The - Council has decided that you are not suited to remain on that part of Reduce under the control of the Council. You may not be suited to remain in Nylan, either, but that decision will be made by the engineers. You are hereby sentenced to removal to Nylan, and you will remain in the custody of the Council until you arrive in Nylan.” She nodded brusquely. “That is all. Remove the prisoner.”
“But…” Rahl closed his mouth. Nothing he could say would change matters.
“Very wise, young Rahl,” said Puvort quietly. “Very wise”
XIII
Rahl sat on the edge of the pallet bed. His cell was on the lower level of the keep in Land’s End. All that the cell held were the pallet, the pallet frame, a chamber bucket, and a water bucket. He’d been in the cell for close to two days, and all he’d seen were the guards when they brought him his single daily meal—a bowl of gruel. The bucket of water had to last the entire day.
The. more he thought about what had happened, the angrier he felt. The Council, or the sub-Council, hadn’t even heard a word he’d said. They’d all decided to send him to Nylan before he’d ever walked into the hearing chamber. Puvort had probably planned it all for eightdays, if not longer, just the way he’d planned to kill Khelyrt and send Fahla and Faseyn off into slavery. He’d told Rahl’s parents that Jienela was equally to blame, and then told the Council that it was all Rahl’s fault. They hadn’t even given him a chance to explain anything, or the fact that Rahl would have consorted Jienela if his parents had insisted.
What did Puvort have against him? He’d always been polite to the magister, and he’d never been discourteous, uneasy as the magister had sometimes made him feel. And why had the other magisters gone along?
After a. time in the dimness, he looked up. He thought he’d heard footsteps and sensed someone, but so far as he could tell, he was the only one in any of the six cells.
A guard walked by, glanced around, then stopped. He was a different guard from the other three he’d seen in the past day or so.
“You’re Rahl?”
“Yes.” Rahl’s response was careful.
“You got a brother named Kacet?”
“He’s my older brother. He’s at Reflin.”
“Thought so.” The guard shook his head. “You’ll be headed to Nylan tonight, right after dark.”
“After dark?”
“They don’t want folks to see when exiles leave for Nylan.”
“Are there many exiles?”
The guard laughed. “Not many go to Nylan. Maybe one every other eightday. Most get shipped straight to Austra or Candar.”
“Why is that? Do you know?”
“Simple. Folks who are chaos-touched get sent from Reduce right off. Folks who use order wrong get sent to Nylan to see if they fit there. Most don’t, they say. Some go to Lydiar, or Nordla, but-most of them get sent to Hamor.” The guard shook his head. “No one in his right mind wants to go there.”
“Why not?” Rahl had never heard anything about that, just that exile was bad.
“If you got chaos or order-abilities there—doesn’t matter which—you’re sort of a high-level slave to the emperor or one of his people. If you’re not chosen for that, you end up in the ironworks at Luba or the quarries.”
“But I didn’t do anything… not really.”
The guard laughed. “Doesn’t matter. Once the Council decides, that’s it. ‘Sides, who ever wants to admit they didn’t do quite right?”
“Everyone does something that’s not quite right now and again.”
“Don’t we all?” The guard laughed again. “But the Council decides, not you or me, young Rahl. Those that rule, they decide.”
“But… they’re supposed to do justice.”
“ The guard just shook his head. ”Best I be going.“
Rahl just watched as the man turned and left, his steps echoing in the empty corridor.
After having seen the injustice of the Council, Rahl had been thinking exile wouldn’t be that bad. But the best he could hope for in Hamor was to become a high-level slave? He didn even want to consider being a laborer in the ironworks or quarries.
That meant he had to swallow any pride he had and do whatever he could to stay in Nylan. He just had to, and at least that wouldn’t be nearly so bad as Hamor.
XIV
The closed Council wagon that carried Rahl from Land’s End did not leave the keep until well after sunset. The Guard drivers stopped periodically, and Rahl had a chance at water and to relieve himself, but no food was offered until they arrived at the keep in Reflin in late midafternoon and Rahl was placed in another cell there. Again, he found he was the only one confined.
Well after sunset, right after a Council Guard had checked on him, Rahl heard another set of steps. Even in the dim light of the single lamp on the stone wall outside his cell, he recognized the face of the Council Guard.
“Kacet!” Rahl jumped off the low pallet bed and hurried to the iron-barred door.
“Shsshhh!” Rahl’s brother raised his hand. “I’m not supposed to be here. I can’t stay long, but Drosett passed the word that you’d be coming.” Kacet glanced toward the archway to his left. “What did you do?”
“I don’t know.” Rahl shrugged tiredly. “I mean… they said I was misusing order, but I never did. I wouldn’t know how. Magister Puvort claimed I have order-abilities, but he was waiting when Jeason and Jaired attacked me. I used my truncheon to break Jaired’s arm and Jeason’s wrist, but I never used order.”
“Ah, Rahl… they just attacked you?”
“Well…” Rahl paused. “I got a little too close to their sister. They wanted me to ask for her hand—right then and there. I was supposed to see Magister Puvort first that morning…” He raced through what had happened, including his problem with Jienela and the fight with her brothers and how Puvort had appeared and what had followed. “… and I didn’t want to consort Jienela, but I would have, but no one listened to me. Puvort had me set up.”
Kacet shook his head slowly. “Puvort’s a nasty one. He sounds so good, but most of those who get exiled are because of him.”
“Why do they let him do that?”
Kacet was the one to shrug. “How are you doing? No one’s beaten you or anything?”
“No. The Guards have been all right. Not much food, but I haven’t been that hungry.”
“That’s good. Sometimes they aren’t, except that’s usually with exiles waiting for a ship. Sometimes, they get a little too friendly with the women.”
Rahl hoped that hadn’t happened to Fahla, but she was pretty, and she’d been exiled as a slave. That was something else he owed Puv
ort.
“I know about the food. I brought you some hard cheese and some bread.” Kacet eased a worn cloth pouch through the bars. “I’d have brought ale, but that would have been more than Captain Vorsa would allow.”
“The captain let you…”
“The captain’s a good woman. She doesn’t care for the Council that much, but she never says anything. Told me not to take too long, though.” Kacet paused. “How are Mother and Father? How did they… take it?”
“Mother was upset. She tried to point out to Puvort that
I hadn’t done anything wrong. He told her to shut up. Father had to quiet her. He was upset, but he didn’t say much. Puvort wouldn’t allow them to come to the Council meeting where they sentenced me to be sent to Nylan.“
“Bastard,” muttered Kacet.
“Don’t cross him, Kacet,” Rahl said. “He’d exile you as quick as me.”
“I can’t say as I understand, Rahl. You’re just a scrivener, barely more than an apprentice. So you got a girl with child. That happens enough. You didn’t refuse to consort her, did you?”
“We never got to that,” Rahl said. “Mother, Father, and I were going to talk to her parents later that day. After I went to see Magister Puvort.”
“Real bastard.”
A low whistle echoed from the end of the corridor.
“I’ve got to go,” Kacet said. “Sustel’s a traitor bird for the Council. Hide the food till he’s gone. Be real careful in Nylan.”
“I’ll try.”
Kacet vanished from the cell door, and Rahl hurried back and sat on the edge of the pallet bed.
Nylan
XV
From what Rahl could calculate, the Council Guard wagon came to a slow stop late on oneday—more than an eightday after the Council had sentenced him to exile in Nylan. He heard voices.
“Hallo, Council Guards. What do you have for us today? Another exile? What was the charge?”
“Misuse of order. Here are the papers.” A long silence followed before anyone spoke again.
“You know where to take him. We’ll expect you back here shortly.”
From that Rahl decided that he and the wagon had finally arrived at the black-stone wall that separated Nylan from the rest of Reduce. With a slight lurch, the wagon moved forward.
Through the barred window in the back of the closed wagon, Rahl could only see the upper section of the wall, but he could sense that the wagon was headed down a gentle grade. Shortly, it came to another halt. After several moments, the rear door opened. . “You can get out now,” said the one of the Guards.
Rahl eased his way out and onto the stone pavement. He was stiff and sore from the long trip. He looked around. The wagon had halted on a flat paved expanse. The sun hung above the ocean to the west. Before him was a city of low buildings built on a hillside that sloped down to a harbor. Every structure seemed to have been constructed of black stone, with slate roof shingles of dark gray or black. Higher on the slope, near where Rahl stood, the houses were far enough apart that grass and trees were plentiful, giving Nylan the air of a park. To his right was a long black-stone building.
A muscular woman wearing black trousers and a short-sleeved black shirt walked toward the Council Guards. Her hair was red and short, barely longer than Rahl’s. Rahl could sense the Guards’ unease.
“Another one your Council doesn’t like?” she asked.
“Here are the papers, magistra.”.
The woman radiated power, enough that she made Puvort seem puny in comparison, for all that she was a good head shorter than Rahl. She took the papers without looking at them and walked past the two Guards toward Rahl, stopping several cubits short of him. “What did you do?”
“I was charged with misuse of order, magistra.”
“I’m sure the papers say that. I’d like to know what you did.”
"Two men attacked me. I broke one man’s forearm with a truncheon and his brother’s wrist. Magister Puvort said that I misused order because I had order-abilities and had not asked the Council for training. That was even though I was on my way to make that request."
She nodded, then read the papers. She turned to the Council Guards. “You can go. One way or another, he’s our responsibility now.”
Rahl didn’t like the words “one way or another.” He said nothing.
The two men quickly climbed onto the wagon seat.
The magistra said nothing until the wagon was headed back up the stone-paved High Road toward the gate in the black-stone wall.
“I’m Magistra Kadara. You’re Rahl?”
“Yes, magistra.”
“What haven’t you told me?”
Rahl didn’t quite know how to answer that. “About what, magistra?”
“A cautious one. Ah, well, let’s get you get washed up and set up with a room in the transient quarters, and then we’ll get you something to eat, and you can tell me what you really don’t want to say.”
As pleasant as Kadara appeared, Rahl felt that she was far more dangerous than Puvort.
“Follow me, if you will.”
Rahl didn’t see much choice.
They took a stone-paved walk that skirted the uphill side of the building to the west of where the wagon had stopped. A long oblong flower garden extended a good fifty cubits farther uphill. Ahead was a two-story stone structure with evenly spaced windows. The path led to a doorway on the downhill side. Kadara paused on the wide stone stoop.
“This building holds the transient quarters, and you’ll eventually meet—or at least see—everyone here. Right now, most of them are still at work.” Kadara opened the door and led him down the hallway to the third door. She opened it. Rahl noted that there was an inside bolt but no lock. The room was small, but still twice the size his own sleeping chamber at home had been. The bed was narrow and set against the far wall, but it was a real bed. Folded on the end were a blanket and a towel. There was a wall lamp, and a set of pegs on the wall for garments, and a writing table and a stool. The floor was polished gray stone. The large window was glassed, with inside shutters.
“All the rooms are the same. In the morning, we’ll find some clothing and boots that will fit you. Those of you on probation all wear light gray. The jakes and the wash showers are in the enclosed area just outside at the north end of the building. I’ll meet you where the wagon dropped you after you take care of things. Don’t be long.” With that, she turned and left Rahl standing in the room.
Rahl hurried, but the lower edge of the sun was touching the surface of the ocean by the time he finished washing up. He hurried to meet Magistra Kadara.
As if she had sensed him, Kadara stepped out of the building. “We’ll walk down to the mess area. It’s a little early, but they should have something for you to eat. How long were you in that wagon?”
“If I counted right, seven days. Most nights I was in a keep cell.”
“Someone must like you, or you’ve been very careful.”
Her words puzzled Rahl, because he didn’t sense any sarcasm behind them. He’d been accused of something he hadn’t done, exiled from his home, and packed off to Nylan, and she was saying that someone must have liked him?
“That amazes you?” Kadara asked. “Yes, magistra.”
“That’s not completely surprising.” She gestured to the squarish structure ahead. “This is the eating hall, otherwise known as the mess. You get three meals a day here. They’re served at first morning bell, noon bell, and evening bell. That’s when the bells in the tower there ring.” She nodded toward a slightly taller square structure that stood on a low rise to the west of the eating hall. “If you want to eat at other times, the canteen in the corner of the mess is open from dawn to the lamps-out bell. But you don’t pay for the meals in the mess, and you do pay for anything you eat in the canteen. Is that clear?”
“Yes, magistra.” It was also clear that he’d be eating in the mess because he didn’t have a copper to his name.
The mess
was large and simple—with a half score of long tables, flanked by benches on each side. Each table looked to seat between ten and twelve people. At the east side of the hall was a set of serving counters, and several men and women were in the process of setting out large earthenware crocks and covered platters.
“Just pick up a platter at the end there and fill it with whatever you’d like,” Kadara said. “You can have as much as you can eat, but if you’re not sure, just take a little and come back for seconds. Your eyes might be bigger than your stomach after an eightday on low rations. We’d prefer you didn’t waste food. When you’re done, you take your platter and mug to the cleaning area and rinse them and set them in the racks.”
Rahl followed her advice and took only moderate portions of the mutton in brown sauce and the lace potatoes: He took a slightly larger portion of the baked pearapples, and a small mug of ale. Then he carried his food—and the utensils he’d found at the end of the serving tables—to the table where Kadara stood.
“You’re not eating, magistra?”
“I’ll eat later. I haven’t been starved for an eightday.”
Rahl settled onto the bench. He looked at Kadara.
“Go ahead.”
He didn’t need any more encouragement.
“While you eat, I’ll fill you in on a few matters I’m sure that the magisters in the north have failed to mention,” Kadara began. “First, if anything, Nylan is more concerned about order and the Balance than is the rest of Reduce. Because we deal with black iron and machines, we have to be. We don’t tolerate any free chaos at all, and we don’t allow any chaos-wizards anywhere except on passing ships in the harbor. Second, everyone here works. Third, if you commit any offense or wrongdoing, and that includes failing to work, you’ll face immediate exile. Are those points clear?”
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