Rahl swallowed a mouthful of the baked pearapples, then nodded. “Yes, magistral
“Now…” Kadara laughed gently. “I doubt that you’ve told me the entire story, Rahl. No one ever does. Let’s start at the beginning, though. What skills do you have?”
“My father is a scrivener. I was his apprentice and assistant.”
“So you can write High and Low Temple?”
“Yes, magistra. High Temple is a little harder.”
“Do you know Nordlan or Hamorian?”
Rahl frowned. “Do Nordlans speak differently from what they write? I’ve copied their books, and the word order’s different, but not that bad.”
“Some would say so.” She seemed absently pleased by his response. “What about Hamorian?”
“No, magistra. I’ve copied their books once or twice, but I just had to copy the words letter for letter…”
“Have you read most of what you have copied? In Temple, that is?”
“Yes, -magistra.”
“Do you understand what you have read?”
“Mostly. I had trouble with the higher mathematics book and the Philosophies of Candar.”
Kadara laughed again. “Most would.”
The questions seemed to go on and on. .Rahl could tell that it had taken a while because the mess area had filled up with people eating, then mostly emptied out. While several people had looked in his direction, none had approached him or the mage, as if they knew what was happening and not to interfere.
Finally, when the light outside had faded into late twilight, Kadara looked straight at Rahl. “You’re going to have a hard time here in Nylan. I can tell you that. I can’t promise that you’ll stay here, and if you do, you won’t be a scrivener, but we do have a need for translators and printers. Usually, people with some order-skills who work with words can pick up other languages quickly. We’ll start you with Hamorian, and then, if you have a talent for it, with the finer points of High Nordlan. That is, if you’re willing to work.”
“I’ve always worked, magistra.” Rahl was willing to work at whatever it took not to be exiled to Hamor.
“For at least the next three or four eightdays, you’ll be expected to study order and languages in the mornings, and work in the print shop and wherever Magister Sebenet needs help in the afternoons.”
“The print shop?”
“Oh… we have a printing press. It makes multiple copies of books. The typesetting is harder than writing, but once it’s set, we can print as many copies as we need.”
Rahl could only wonder at how his mother’s friend Eldonya had known, or from whom she had heard what she had said about scriveners no longer being needed. “Is this… machine… new?”
“No. Not really. It’s something else that the Council of Reduce would prefer we hadn’t developed.” Kadara smiled. “Now… one last thing. You’ve danced around it, but never really explained why those two men attacked you.”
Rahl swallowed. “They claimed that I had gotten their sister with child, and they wanted me to go with them at that very moment to ask her father for her hand. My parents and I had planned to go later that morning, after I had seen Magister Puvort…” Rahl repeated all the events of that morning.
“Did you get her with child?”
“I didn’t see how I could have, but I did sleep with her. Not many times, and it was her idea, and she is several years older.”
“Would you have taken her as consort?”
“If I had had to,” he admitted.
“Did you want to?”
“No.”
“At least, you’re mostly honest.”
Mostly? Rahl thought he’d been more honest than anyone else in his position would have been.
“I’m going to repeat a few simple rules, Rahl. First, and it may seem obvious, but some people don’t understand, you are not to go through the wall gate. We could care less, but the Council cares a great deal, and there is an outpost of Council Guards less than half a kay to the north. If they capture you and discover you’re an exile, your life is forfeit on the spot. Second, you will obey any magister. You can question how to do something, but not whether to do it. Third, you are to realize that only if you fit within Nylan can you remain here permanently.”
“If you decide I do not fit, what will happen?”
“You will be exiled, although you will be given training and information about where you will be exiled. We’re far less cruel with those we exile.”
Rahl had his doubts. Exile was exile.
“Do you have any other questions?”
“Do you meet every exile?”
“Darkness, no. I’m the duty mage. Whoever has the duty takes care of exiles. Yesterday, it was Tamryn, and tomorrow it will be Leyla. It’s not that much of a problem. We don’t get that many exiles.”
Rahl couldn’t help but frown.
“It’s simple. If someone is chaos-tinged they get exiled immediately from here or from the north because we don’t take someone with chaos in their blood. Likewise, we don’t take anyone who has killed someone or anyone who has committed a premeditated offense. That doesn’t leave that many.” Kadara looked squarely at Rahl. “You’re very lucky not to have been exiled directly. You have promise, but you have this tendency to want things to go your way, regardless of what it costs others. That’s very close to chaos.”
He hadn’t meant to kill the smuggler, and didn’t everyone want things to go their way? What was wrong with that? She wasn’t suggesting that Rahl couldn’t have things go his way if there happened to be any costs to anyone else, was she? It certainly sounded that way. Rahl was getting the feeling that Kadara didn’t care that much for him, and she was sounding a lot like Magister Puvort. Still… the last thing he wanted was to be shipped off to Hamor.
“I have a lot to learn.” That was certainly safe to say, and honest as well.
“That you do.” Kadara sighed. “I just hope you can.” Then she stood. “You can wander around and meet people after you take care of your dishes.” She gestured at the handful of people around the hall. “Or you can walk the grounds. I’d suggest you stay close to the buildings you know until you’re more familiar with Nylan. You’re expected to be in your room—or at least in the transient quarters—shortly after the lamps-out bell. That will be the next bell you’ll hear. It won’t be for a while yet. In the morning, wait here after you eat, and Leyla will find you and get you some proper clothes and boots.”
With a brief smile and a nod, the magistra turned and walked from the hall.
Rahl just stood stock-still for a moment, then carried his platter and mug to the corner and dipped them in the rinsing buckets and racked them.
He turned and took several steps, then stopped, wondering exactly what he should do next.
A muscular young man, perhaps a year or two older than Rahl, walked over. “You’re new, aren’t you? I’m Khalyt.”
Rahl could sense the other’s charm, a charm fueled by order. He forced a smile. “I’m Rahl. Are you from ?”
Khalyt shook his head. “I’m from Feyn. That’s where Brede came from.”
Rahl had no idea who Brede was.
“Brede was the one who saved Dorrin and made Nylan possible. Kadara’s named after his consort.” Khalyt shrugged. “Not many people know that.”
“What do you do here?”
“Work and study, the same as anyone else, the same as you’ll do. I’m studying to be an engine designer. They say that the engines on the black ships can’t be improved, but anything can be made better. Have they told you what you’ll be doing?”
“Studying languages.”
Khalyt shook his head. “Better you than me.”, He turned as a petite young woman approached. “This is Meryssa. Meryssa, this is Rahl.”
Meryssa’s short black hair glistened almost with a light of its own. Her black eyes fixed on Rahl. She smiled politely. “Welcome to Nylan, home of the dedicated, dispossessed, and distressed.”
&
nbsp; “Which are you?” replied Rahl.
“All three. Most of us are. Reduce doesn’t want us, and the rest of the world would only enslave us. So we become very dedicated to avoid further dispossession and distress. If we can. You’ll see.”
Rahl was afraid he might. “Work hard and well or see the world?”
“That’s the way it is. The magisters don’t put it quite that way,” replied Meryssa.
“You’re giving him a bad impression.” Khalyt looked to Rahl and offered a smile, one short of falsity and not quite ingratiating, but barely. “She’s so direct it can be unsettling.”
“That’s true.” Meryssa continued to study Rahl. “I work at it.”
He thought he sensed something—sadness, perhaps— behind her bright black eyes. “What are you studying?”
“Nothing. Not anymore. I’m going to be an assistant purser on one of the trading ships. I’ll find out which one in the next eightday or so.”
“Is that good?” Rahl honestly didn’t know.
“Good? No. It’s better than the alternatives.” She smiled to Rahl, then nodded to Khalyt and slipped away.
“I’d better be going,” Khalyt said. “I’ll see you here and around.”
As Khalyt left, Rahl realized that he stood alone in the hall. After a moment, he shrugged and began to retrace his way out of the hall and back to his quarters. On the way, he saw others, usually in pairs, seated on benches or on the low stone walls, but no one else made any move to approach him, and he certainly didn’t feel like approaching them.
He was tired, and he Could use a good night’s sleep—if all the thoughts and feelings swirling through his mind would let him sleep.
XVI
Rahl had been tired enough, but sleep eluded him for a long time as he lay in the solid bed in his new quarters, looking up into the darkness. It wasn’t the bed; it was more comfortable than his own had been. The easy charm of Khalyt had disturbed him more than the hidden sadness of Meryssa, but both had bothered him. The chilling matter-of-fact statements by Magistra Kadara hadn’t helped much either, nor had her skeptical and almost dismissive manner. Nor had the number of people bustling through the eating hall. How many exiles were there, and where had they come from?
Eventually, he did sleep… and woke with the dawn bell.
He only washed up, rather than .showering, since he had showered the night before, and he wasn’t ready for another cold shower. He did shave, not that his beard was that long, with the small razor that had been wrapped in cloth and under the towel on his bed, along with the square of soap.
He was more than a little surprised to find several women swathed only in towels making their way back from the washstones. While one was more than a little shapely, another looked to be more the age of his mother. None of them gave him even a single glance, and from that he decided that manners meant not looking.
Back in his room, he finished dressing, then made his way to the eating hall. As he stepped forward to serve himself, he realized that most of those in the hall were dressed in gray, and that his brown and tan garments made him stand out.
He filled his platter and found an empty corner of a table. Someone sat down. He looked up to see a girl seated across from him. Then he realized she was older than that. She just looked girlish because she was thin and had a narrow face and long brown hair braided and coiled into a bun at the back of her head. “Hello.”
“Hello,” Rahl replied cautiously.
“I’m Anitra. I just got here last eightday. I’m from Huldryn. You’ve probably never heard of it. It’s a hamlet west of Enstronn.”
“I haven’t heard of Enstronn,” Rahl admitted. “I’m Rahl.”
“You must be from the north.”
“Land’s End.” He took a sip of ale.
“Is the Black Holding really on a hill that overlooks the harbor? Have you ever been there? Is there anything about it that makes you think of Megaera?”
“I’ve been there. Once. That was when the Council decided to send me here. I never saw anything that might have been made by the founders… except the stonework. It was good.”
“I’m sorry. I just wondered. I didn’t mean to bother you.” She put her hands on the edges of her platter, as if to slide it away or move down the bench away from him.
“Don’t go. I’m sorry. You just surprised me.” Rahl tried to study her, to feel what she was like. He could sense nothing.
She laughed, ruefully. “You look like all the mages when they meet me. They can’t sense anything about me. That’s why I’m here. It makes them uncomfortable. Are you a beginning mage?”
“I was a scrivener. I don’t know what I’ll be. They said I might learn languages.”
“Oh… that would be so good. I’d love to learn how people in Hamor and Nordla and Austra speak.”
“The Nordlans and the Austrans speak pretty much the same as we do. At least, the letters in their books look the same.” Rahl took a large mouthful of the heavy bread, slathered with thin mixed fruit conserve, and then a bite of the breakfast sausage. He followed it with a swallow of ale, thinking, as he did, that it was far inferior to what
Shahyla had given him. He almost wished that he’d just courted her and left Jienela alone—-except he still recalled the gelding knife and how that had bothered him… both the knife and the casual way in which Shahyla had handled it.
“I’m studying to be a machinist.”
“A machinist?” Rahl had no idea what that even was.
“Machinists work with the engineers to cut and grind metal for machines, especially for the black ships. I’ve got good hands for that, Ludwyn says.”
“How do you cut metal? With a chisel?”
“I suppose you could, but we use wheels with sharp edges… and grindstones to smooth the edges. Special grindstones. The engines power ’em all.” Anitra stood up.
Rahl realized that she’d been eating as fast as she’d talked.
“I’ll see you later, Rahl.”
“Oh… yes.”
“Better finish that up quick. Won’t be long afore you got to be somewhere.” With a wave she was gone.
Rahl didn’t exactly gulp down the remainder of his food, but he did hurry.
Even so, there was a magistra approaching him as he rinsed his dishes.
“You must be Rahl. I’m Leyla.” She had an open cheerful face and attitude.
“Yes, magistra.” Rahl inclined his head. Behind her facade, he could feel even more of the blackness that he associated with magisters than he had with Kadara, and far more than with Magister Puvort.
“You’ve eaten. So we’ll get you some proper garments and some boots that fit, and then we’ll come back to the academy building, and I’ll give you the basics on the Balance and handling order. After that, you’ll be in the lower-level order tutoring and the introductory Hamorian and customs class. Later on, we’ll get you into weapons training.”
Weapons training? Rahl didn’t verbalize the question.
“Sooner or later, everyone with order-skills of your potential will have to fight or defend themselves. We teach you how to do it properly.”
Even in Nylan?
Leyla did not answer that unspoken question. “This way. The wardrobing shop is west of here, past the bell tower.”
The wardrobing shop-was partly set into the hillside. It looked more like one of the livestock sheds on Bradeon’s holding than a shop, except that the stonework was far better, and it had several small windows, and the roofing slates were lighter and of far better quality. The oak door was slightly ajar.
Leyla stepped inside. “Elina! I’ve brought you another one to outfit.”
Rahl entered the dimness of the shop.
There stood an angular woman of indeterminate age, raking him with her eyes. “Hmmm… northerner… broad shoulders. No hips to speak of… We’ll see what we can do.” She turned and walked down an aisle between open cabinets in which were stacked all manner of folded garments.<
br />
Before long she returned with several, all of them of a pale gray color, the same color most of those in the eating hall had worn. “Trousers, drawers, undertunic, summer tunic, belt.” She gestured toward the front corner of the shop, where a curtain hung on a bar. “Try ‘em on.”
Rahl took the garments and walked to the corner. He pulled the curtain closed… or mostly closed, since it did not quite stretch from one end of the bar to the other. Even with the curtain shielding him, he felt uneasy disrobing. He shook his head and climbed out of garments that were far too soiled, and began to don the new ones.
For all their drab coloration, the quality of the grays was far better than what he’d been wearing, and they seemed to fit better.
“Let’s see, young fellow,” growled Elina.
Rahl bristled inside at her tone, but pulled back the curtain and stepped forward.
Both women studied him.
Leyla nodded. So did Elina.
“They’ll do,” added the magistra.
“Now… for some boots. This way,” ordered the wardrobe mistress.
Rahl followed her to another series of bins, from which she extracted three pairs of brownish boots. He tried on five pairs before he and Elina were satisfied.
Then she handed him another set of grays and extra drawers. “That’ll do you.”
Leyla looked at him. “Just leave the old ones. They’ll wash them and use them for rags in the engineering halls.”
“Washrags?” he blurted.
“There’s no sense in wasting them, and they’re pretty worn. You’re expected to wear relatively clean clothes every day, and you’re responsible for washing them. You get two complete sets of garments, and four sets of underdrawers. You can put the second set in your room on the way back.”
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