Natural Ordermage

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Rahl hid a frown. Pickles so early in fall? Unless they were last year’s pickles, but why would a Jeranyi ship be carrying Reduce pickles to Swartheld? Pickles weren’t something that he’d seen on a manifest… but there was something about pickles that he should remember…

  “What are you thinking?” asked Dalya.

  “About pickles.” He shook his head, hoping he could remember what he’d been thinking about. A raindrop struck the back of his neck, and he glanced up. The clouds overhead were definitely darker. “It won’t be long before the rain gets heavier.”

  “I need to check pier three. Might as well get started before I get soaked.”

  Rahl nodded and walked back along the pier with her, passing a Sligan brig, then a battered Lydian side-wheeler with a bastard rigging he’d never seen before.

  “Do you know who you’ll be patrolling with yet?”

  “Myala.”

  “Good woman, but don’t ever try to mislead her about anything. She won’t forget it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I wouldn’t have said much, but you did listen to me once.”

  Rahl laughed softly, the sound barely louder than the faint pattering of raindrops on the stone of the pier.

  At the end of the pier, Rahl nodded slightly. “Good evening.” He didn’t really want to get drenched in the rain that was increasing in intensity with every moment.

  “Good evening, Rahl.”

  As he hurried back toward his quarters, he just wished he could remember what it was about pickles. But he also had to take some time to relax and open himself up to sensing what lay around him.

  XC

  On threeday evening, after supper, Rahl left the mage-guards’ mess and walked toward the pier-guard station. After five days of mostly sitting and writing, he was more than ready to leave the port area around the mage-guard station.

  He’d already learned from the station manual that, during the working day, two mage-guards were stationed on the piers, one as a roving patrol, and the other with the two main pier guards at the entrance to the pier area. There were also guards armed with falchionas at the foot of each individual pier. After sunset, when the piers were cleared of vendors and wagons, only one mage-guard remained on a roving duty, and the two armed guards remained at the main guard post. There were-no individual pier guards after sunset unless ordered for special reasons. The pier-duty mage-guard was supposed to remain close to the main guard post at night, except when conducting periodic inspections of the piers.

  As he neared the main guard post, he could hear Dalya talking to the pier guards. “… still worry about the Jeranyi… good thing the Hydlenese left, but watch the crew on Byneget Bay if they come by…” As she caught sight of Rahl, she stopped. “You headed out?”

  “Just for a walk. I need to refresh my memory about where things are.”

  Dalya nodded. “Understand there’s a crowd at the Red Pier. If you go by there, I’d have the truncheon out.”

  “I appreciate that.” Rahl smiled pleasantly.

  Dalya turned back to the pier guards. “… probably not see much for a while yet… don’t take your eyes off the Jeranyi…”

  Rahl continued south until he reached the avenue that ran from the northeast to the southwest and several blocks farther to the southwest joined the boulevard that fronted on the Nylan Merchant Association building. He realized he was coming close to disobeying Captain Gheryk, but so long as he merely walked by the Merchant Association, he wasn’t probing or seeking anything… and besides, it was on one of the main streets.

  The fall evening was early enough that couples walked down the stone way in-the center of the divided avenue under the false giant acacia trees, and carriages and a few riders traveled on both sides, although the traffic was far more sparse than in midday. Most glanced at Rahl— or his uniform—and nodded politely, but did not let their gaze linger on him long at all.

  He did let his order-senses take in anything around him.

  As he neared a bench on which a couple were entwined more closely than might have been decorous, he sensed someone behind the tree to their right, and he could sense a certain amount of greed—possibly a petty cutpurse. Rahl stepped past the couple, who barely seemed to note him and toward the tree, drawing his truncheon and wishing he had enough order control to become less visible.

  A youth darted from the tree, then froze, looking at Rahl.

  “Ah… ser… good evening, ser,” the young man finally stammered.

  “What you had in mind could get you in most serious trouble,” Rahl said quietly. “Since you didn’t do it… I won’t take you in, but if I see you up to it again, it will go twice as hard.” Even projecting his displeasure, he doubted his words would have that much effect. An offense hadn’t actually been committed, and that meant he couldn’t do that much except warn the boy.

  Surprisingly, the youth paled, actually quivering, and stepped back. “Yes, ser. I won’t even think of it. Please, ser.”

  “On your way.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  The young man practically ran from Rahl.

  By now the couple had disentangled, and Rahl turned. “I wouldn’t get so lost in each other in a place where cutpurses ‘could make off ”with something.“ Then he nodded and continued on.

  Behind him, he could sense relief.

  “… if he told… your consort…”

  “… not as though it’s an offense…”

  Rahl shook his head slightly.

  Before long, he crossed to the boulevard, but to the paved sidewalk on the north side. Ahead to his right, he could see Eneld’s, where the lamps were still lit, but the lacemaker’s windows were shuttered and dark. Across the boulevard to his left, he could see the Nylan Merchant Association. As he neared it, he slowed his steps, realizing that he still had his truncheon out.

  A clerk Rahl did not recognize walked swiftly toward him and passed him, giving Rahl a quick and perfunctory nod. Rahl didn’t sense any chaos or anything but faint worry and returned the nod.

  Across the boulevard, the door to the Association building was locked, and the interior dark. The gates to the warehouse yard were also locked, but he could see at an angle a light in the upper-level window where Daelyt and his consort lived—or had lived, since Rahl had no idea even whether Daelyt was still working for Shyret.

  Rahl shook his head.

  Given the whiteness he’d sensed around the head clerk the year before, and Daelyt’s consort’s inability to walk far, he doubted that Daelyt had left the Association. Then, what would happen when Shyret was rotated to another port? Did the clerk remain? Follow the managing director? Find another position?

  Rahl didn’t know and wished that he did.

  He turned his attention to the cantina immediately on his right, glancing in through the one window. Seorya was serving a couple—obviously consorted or related, or they wouldn’t have been at the same table. She looked up as he passed, but he sensed no real interest or recognition, and that was for the best.

  Rahl walked another two blocks, then crossed the boulevard and walked back on the south side. He did not change his pace as he passed the warehouse yard gates once more, although he did try to sense anything out of the ordinary. All he could feel was a sense of whiteness, not overpowering, but stronger than when he had been a clerk.

  At least, he thought it was stronger, but, honestly, how would he know, with all the changes that had affected his order-abilities. He also sensed the presence of a pair of guards, not near the gates, but one near the doors to each of the two warehouses. The additional guard was a change. He did not sense anyone within the main building as he passed, but that did not surprise him greatly.

  By the time he’d walked back to the avenue, the couple had vanished, and the walkway and the stone benches were all deserted. His boots echoed hollowly on the stone, the sound matched only by the clopping of the now-infrequent carriages.

  He had to wonder about the greater
chaos-mist around the warehouses—and the night guards—hut there wasn’t much that he could say or do. Not for now. He continued to make his way back to the mage-guard quarters.

  XCI

  Sixday morning began as any other morning had over the past eightday at the duty desk, except that Rahl was paired with Carlyse, the older red-haired chaos mage-guard who sparred verbally with most of the men.

  Her first words to Rahl were delivered softly and with a smile. “You were a pretty boy before Luba, weren’t you?”

  Her words did not so much take him off guard as bring up the image of Deybri saying, “You’re too much of a pretty boy.”

  When he didn’t answer immediately, Carlyse laughed, not mockingly. “You’ve had to live with that, haven’t you?”

  Living with memories and thoughtless words was just a small unpleasantness in life. That Rahl knew, but he could still feel a torrent of rage that the words had stirred up. Had Puvort gone after him because he was good-looking? Had the magisters dismissed him because his looks had convinced them that he couldn’t learn or think?

  “That’s the advantage of being a mage-guard, Rahl,” Carlyse went on conversationally. “Your looks don’t matter nearly so much. The uniform and what you accomplish do.” She glanced at what he had already written. “Good hand, too. Mind if I ask how you ended up as a mage-guard?”

  “I was a clerk, and I saw something someone didn’t want me to, but I didn’t think they knew I’d seen it. I was wrong, and I woke up working in Luba, without any memories at first. The overseers discovered I could write and handle numbers, and they made me a checker. Then , Taryl found me and told me I’d been dosed with something. He made me a mage-clerk and started training me.” Rahl shrugged.

  “You were a mage, but you were a clerk?” Carlyse raised, her finely drawn left eyebrow.

  “I had limited abilities, and Reduce tossed me out because they said I wasn’t trainable. I got a job as a clerk here. I did register, of course. But Taryl discovered that Reduce hadn’t been training me right.”

  “He’s good at that. He did something like that with Saelyt, and some others.” Carlyse looked up as Captain Gheryk neared the desk. “Nothing happening, ser.”

  ‘That’s always good.“ The captain paused. ”Portmaster says we may begetting another Jeranyi ship. If you’d pass that along to the pier mages.“

  “Yes, ser.”

  Gheryk glanced at Rahl. “You finding your way around, Rahl?”

  “Yes, ser.”

  “Good.” With a warm smile and a nod, Gheryk turned and headed toward his study.

  “Two Jeranyi ships here at the same time… that’s always more work.”

  “Because the crews are disorderly?”

  “Half of them act as if they don’t care if they live or die, so long as they get what they want right now. We end up flaming or sending one or two to Luba or the quarries nearly every single time they port.”

  “Is that a lot worse than the ships from other lands?”

  “They all have problems at times, but the Jeranyi make the others look like scared schoolchildren.” Carlyse stood. “Just hold the desk. You know enough. I want to tell Suvynt about the Jeranyi while he’s still at the pier gate. I won’t be long.”

  While he sat alone at the duty desk, Rahl struggled to deal with the anger raised by Carlyse’s question. Why did everyone have expectations based on what they thought they saw?

  “Ser…?”

  Rahl looked up to see a youth, barely old enough to have the first hints of a beard, walking toward the duty desk. His accent was Hamorian, but not from a region Rahl recognized. “Yes? Can I help you?”

  “I’m supposed to do something like get a bracelet that says… I don’t know.” The young man was trembling.

  “Let’s start at the beginning,” Rahl said, extending his own order-senses and discovering the weak, but definite, hints of chaos, around the youth. “What’s your name? Were you born in Hamor?”

  “Kiehyt, ser. I was born… ah… in Cienta. That’s near Heldya.”

  “Who told you to come here, and why?”

  “I was working in the bakery, I mean, we came to Swartheld ‘cause my uncle has a bakery, and the drought burned out the old place… ground wasn’t that good anyway…”

  Rahl listened politely.

  “… and Uncle Jeahat, he couldn’t get the coals to light, and I just sort of looked at them, and they did, and he got scared and told me to come here and never come back ‘t there, and that if I didn’t, he’d tell the mage-guards, and you’d send me to the quarries.”

  “No one is sending you to the quarries.” Rahl hoped that was so, because the youth didn’t look strong enough to lift a shovel, let alone massive stones. “We do need to… take care of some things, but you’ll have to wait a few moments for another mage-guard to help.”

  Carlyse showed up within moments, looking from the youth to Rahl.

  “Kiehyt. He’s a chaos type,” Rahl explained. “Not too strong yet, and he lit the oven coals in the bakery, and his uncle threatened him with the quarries and worse if he didn’t come here. That much reads true.”

  Carlyse studied the youth, then nodded. “He’ll have to go to school in Diancyr. He’s older than most of them, but that’s nota problem.”

  Kiehyt looked from Rahl to Carlyse and back to Rahl.

  “You could be a type of mage,” Rahl said, “but you need to go to a special school.”

  “I know my letters… I do. Don’t put me in gaol.”

  “You need to learn more,” Rahl said.

  “No one’s going to put you in gaol,” added Carlyse.

  “Come with me, Kiehyt.” Carlyse’s voice was gentle. Then she looked at Rahl. “I’ll be with Saelyt beyond the undercaptain’s office if anything comes up.”

  Rahl’s anger had been submerged by his concerns for the very frightened Kiehyt, but once the youth left with Carlyse, even more questions burned through his thoughts. Why did people just throw out people who were different? Or those who didn’t—or couldn’t—obey every word slavishly? Was there really that much difference between Puvort and the boy’s uncle?

  He didn’t have answers to his questions, but he was far calmer when Carlyse returned, after completing arrangements for quartering the youth and having him sent south to Diancyr, a small town on the outskirts of Cigoerne Where the mage-clerk school was located. After that, the rest of the morning and early afternoon went without incident So far as he could tell, the duty mage-guard was basically a coordinator, backup, registry-receiver, and record-keeper combined, which explained to Rahl why the duty was rotated so that every mage-guard only stood duty—either day or night—only about once every two eightdays.

  Rahl had noticed that he had not seen much of Undercaptain Craelyt, and it was a surprise when the undercaptain appeared at the duty desk in late afternoon with another mage-guard… “Ser.” Rahl stood.

  “Rahl, I thought you ought to meet Myala, since she’ll be the one you’ll be partnered with for the next few eightdays.” Craelyt offered a warm smile, stepping back and inclining his head to a wiry brunette with a sharpish nose and intense gray eyes. Chaos lurked behind moderate shields—chaos and controlled anger.

  “I’m pleased to meet you,” Rahl offered. “Captain Gheryk had high praise for you. He also told me to listen to you.”

  Myala nodded politely but not effusively. “I’ll meet you at the duty desk right after early breakfast on eightday.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “It’s good to meet you.” She stepped back and glanced at Craelyt. “Thank you, Undercaptain. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  “You’re excused, not that I have to, since you’re not on duty.” Craelyt smiled warmly once again, waiting until Myala had departed before turning back to Rahl. “She’s all to the point, Rahl, but a good mage-guard. She doesn’t stay around here much when she’s off duty, but that’s understandable, since she has two daughters and a consort who like to s
ee her.”

  Craelyt offered a parting nod and slipped away soundlessly.

  Rahl sat and read the station manual again, then stood and stretched, then riffled through the duty log, reading some of the older entries.

  “Rahl… you’re getting jittery.” Carlyse gestured: “Go inspect the piers. See if that other Jeranyi ship has come in yet. If it has, .take a good look, and then tell Suvynt and come report to me.”

  “I can do that.” He rose quickly.

  “You don’t have to be that enthusiastic.” But she smiled.

  Once outside the mage-guard station, Rahl stretched, then turned toward the piers. The afternoon was warm and muggy, as if the moisture dropped by the intermittent rains had never quite left.

  Pier one was almost filled, if with smaller vessels, mainly from Austra and Nordla, and vendors and teamsters were everywhere, but matters were orderly. Rahl nodded to . Hegyr, who was the roving pier mage, as they passed.

  On pier two, there were fewer vessels, including the Wavecrest at the far end. Before Rahl reached the Jeranyi ship, he approached a wagon and team loaded with amphorae and barrels beside a comparatively large but four-masted and square-rigged Sarronnese ship. He could smell something pungent on the light breeze blowing off the harbor, something like vinegar.

  “Friggin‘ careless sow’s ass… idiot offspring of a gelded boar…” One of the teamsters was swearing and tossing heavy pieces of pottery into his wagon. He glanced up and broke off the stream of epithets. “Just upset, ser. Hoist crew dumped the amphora right on the stone… said it was our fault, left it for us to clean up.”

  “What was in it?”

  “Some kind of special vinegar.” The teamster’s eyes were watering.

  Rahl could feel the stinging in his own eyes as well. “That’s unfortunate, but .you’re doing a good job cleaning it up.” He nodded. That was one of the responsibilities of the teamsters. They could be fined—Or worse—if they left garbage or refuse on the piers. So could a ship’s captain.

  The teamster nodded, then went back to work, mumbling in a lower voice. “… good job… frigging good job him…”