Recluce Tales

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  He managed a faint smile, then lifted his mug and took a deeper swallow, before returning his full concentration to the game.

  Five moves later, Paitrek linked his two groups of lattices. “You see. I won.”

  Aloryk smiled. “I think we all won.” But his words were barely loud enough for Paitrek to hear.

  “Another game?”

  “I think not. I’ve enough games for tonight.”

  Paitrek grinned. “You played that other game pretty well.”

  “I thought so. We’ll have to stop and tell the guards. He might be smart enough to go back to his ship. If not…” He’ll experience perfect order.

  The two engineers replaced the stones in their respective boxes, then stood and walked toward the door.

  While I’ve usually written stories or novels featuring main characters with order or chaos abilities, most people in the world of Recluce don’t have those talents, and they deserve their stories as well. This is one of those.

  THE ASSISTANT ENVOY’S PROBLEM

  Erdyl, the temporary acting Envoy of Austra, officially the Assistant Envoy, and, as a matter of family, the youngest son of Lord Askyl of Norbruel, stood beside the desk in the study of the envoy’s residence and looked out into the chill and gray late fall morning, watching as the coach pulled up the drive. He waited until Sestalt, wearing his comparatively new black-trimmed green uniform, stepped into the study.

  “What did you find out?”

  “Like they said, ser, it was the Seahound.”

  “Any messages?”

  “No, ser. She’s inbound to Valmurl from Lydiar.”

  Then there wouldn’t be any dispatches for us, not on a vessel headed back to Austra. “Thank you.”

  “Any time, ser.”

  “Oh … have you and Undercaptain Demyst had any fortune in finding another suitable guard for the residence?”

  “Ah … best you talk to the undercaptain, ser.”

  “Could you tell him I’d like to see him?”

  “Right away, ser.”

  In moments, Demyst entered the study, in the dark gray uniform jacket and trousers he preferred to the black and green. “Ser?”

  “Sestalt said you might be able to tell me…”

  “About guards, ser? That’d be a bit of a problem…”

  “Why? Lord West hasn’t made a proclamation forbidding people to work for envoys, has he?” At least, Erdyl had no knowledge of such a proclamation. He was also certain that the ruler of the West Quadrant was looking for a way to inconvenience Erdyl and Austra … and even make the residence a target for brigands, all because his predecessor, Lord Kharl, had hired some local men as guards, enough to shelter Enelya and Jeka from Lord West’s late brothers, unlamented as their passage was by anyone, including Lord West. The fact that Lord Kharl had consorted Jeka and that she had departed with him seemed to make no difference.

  “No, ser.”

  Erdyl waited for Demyst to explain.

  “He’s let it be known that any man who takes a position from now on with any envoy will be conscripted into the Lord’s Guard … or pressed into merchanter service.”

  “From now on?”

  “The word is that the high justicer told him that he’d be breaking his own laws if he tried to conscript men already working for envoys, even if he issued a proclamation or edict.”

  Erdyl frowned. “So he can claim it’s within his rights, and that makes it appear as though it applies to all envoys, but since we’re the only ones who are short-staffed, this new ‘guidance’ or whatever he wants to call it won’t greatly inconvenience most other envoys.”

  “Not for a time, ser.”

  “A rather long time.”

  “Begging your pardon, ser,” continued the undercaptain, “but aren’t envoys allowed the privilege of hiring and sheltering any who remain on the premises?”

  “That’s not the problem.” And it wasn’t. Lord West wasn’t about to send armsmen to drag people out of any envoy’s residence, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t drag them off if they ever left the residence or its grounds … or do things to their families if they went against his wishes. Enelya had no desire to leave the residence immediately, and Erdyl doubted that Lord West even knew who she was, but most men who would be suitable guards had some ties to friends and relatives in Brysta, and even if they didn’t, their usefulness would be limited to the residence grounds. “I’m not a powerful black mage like Lord Kharl who could enforce his will beyond the residence and do as he wished.”

  Demyst raised his bushy eyebrows.

  “You’re right.” Erdyl sighed. “He went through a lot, and he couldn’t do everything, but the fact is … he’s not here, and I am.”

  “Yes, ser,” replied Undercaptain Demyst. “You’re a man bred and trained to be an envoy. You’re you. You need to do things your way. Not his.”

  Absolutely accurate advice … and not terribly helpful. “I could start by talking with some of the other envoys.” Or assistants, where the envoys aren’t available, for one reason or another. “There will likely be some at Envoy Kyanelt’s reception tomorrow.”

  “Yes, ser,” agreed Demyst.

  The undercaptain’s tone was so unemotional that Erdyl understood the unvoiced suggestion that somewhat earlier action might be advisable, although Erdyl had no doubt that some envoys would definitely be “unavailable” to him since he was only an acting envoy … except at the reception where they could not avoid him.

  “I could see a few today,” Erdyl mused aloud.

  “What about Envoy Luryessa? She was helpful … before.”

  “Even she at least pretends to comply with Lord West’s wishes, and she’s partly a mage. She also has a mage assistant named Jemelya. But I can’t talk to Luryessa anyway.”

  The undercaptain raised his eyebrows, but did not speak.

  “She hasn’t returned to Brysta yet.”

  “What about the mage?”

  “I suppose it can’t hurt,” Erdyl replied, not willing to admit that the thought of dealing with a woman mage from Sarronnyn definitely unsettled him. Lord Kharl had been a mage, but the man’s honesty and goodness radiated from him like light from a mirror. On the one occasion when Erdyl had seen Jemelya, she’d revealed nothing.

  “Good,” declared the undercaptain. “Should I tell Mantar to make ready the carriage?”

  “In half a glass.”

  Once Demyst departed, Erdyl turned, catching a glimpse of himself in one of the two ornamental mirrors flanking the hearth in the study. Hardly prepossessing, you are. He knew he didn’t cut the figure Kharl had. The mage had been big and broad-shouldered, and Erdyl was shorter, slender, and had fine rust-red hair to boot.

  Less than a full glass later, Erdyl stepped from the carriage outside the residence of the envoy from Gallos, nodded to Mantar, and then walked along the paved way to the wide covered porch and to the front door. There he dropped the polished brass knocker, once, which struck the plate beneath with a resounding impact. He waited. No one came to the door. He was about to lift the knocker again when the door opened.

  “The envoy is not in Brysta at present,” replied the white-haired retainer who opened the door partway.

  How did he know that is who I sought? Erdyl brushed aside his own question and asked, “I’d like to speak with whoever is handling the envoy’s duties.”

  “Who might I say seeks him?”

  “Envoy Erdyl of Austra.”

  “I will see if Secretary Ustark is here.” The door closed.

  Several long moments later, a stocky, graying man, attired in gray and black, opened the door. “Come in, come in; Arias is sometimes too protective of me. You’re the one who succeeded Envoy Kharl, is that right?”

  “I’m officially the acting Envoy of Austra.”

  Ustark smiled. “Then we are in similar positions.”

  “You are also acting envoy?”

  “In practice, if not in name. Being appointed envoy is larg
ely ceremonial … or serves a purpose for the Prefect. At the moment, there is no envoy. Doubtless one will be appointed … at some time.”

  “The Prefect is not concerned about not having an envoy, particularly in matters of trade?” asked Erdyl.

  “We do not trade that much with Nordla, especially Brysta.” Ustark offered a sardonic smile. “Or with anyone across oceans, since our traders do not have easy access to ports. That limits the need for and duties of an envoy. Unlike Austra, whose merchanters are said to be everywhere.”

  “Not everywhere, although Austra trades much, even with Brysta…” Erdyl paused. “I came to inquire about your thoughts on something. I received word that Lord West has issued an edict that effectively prohibits any men from Brysta … or the West Quadrant … from working for outland envoys.”

  “Ah, yes, I have heard about that.”

  “What do you think?”

  Ustark shrugged. “It is not good, but it affects us little. I do what I do. I gather information for the Prefect and send it regularly. One can find out much when one is well away from, shall we say, the intricacies of the ministries surrounding the Prefect.”

  “I’ve not discovered that, at least not yet,” replied Erdyl. “Unlike you, I do have to deal with matters of trade, even if there are fewer … intricacies in Valmurl these days.”

  “Since your predecessor removed most of them, perhaps?”

  “Lord Ghrant is not fond of unnecessary intricacies.”

  “Ah … but sometimes those intricacies can prove useful … particularly those that are overlooked by others.”

  “Such as?”

  “Revealing such, my friend, might limit my ability to use them in the future. I trust you understand that an envoy or someone such as I, or you, acting as envoy, must hoard stratagems and use of intricacies … for at times we have little else.”

  Erdyl nodded. “I understand.” And, unfortunately, he did. “Is there anyone else you might suggest who might prove helpful?”

  “I could suggest many, but whether they would prove useful…” Ustark shrugged once more.

  When Erdyl finished with Ustark and walked out to the waiting coach, it was only slightly past first glass. Erdyl sighed and looked to the coachman. “The Sarronnese Residence, Mantar.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  After a drive of perhaps a kay, Mantar eased the coach through a set of stone pillars and up a drive, halting in a stone circle just south of a modest entry portico.

  Erdyl stepped out of the coach, squared his shoulders, and then walked up the white marble steps toward the muscular woman in a blue-and-cream uniform—with the double shortswords, if at her waist, rather than in the shoulder battle harness she likely would have worn in a less ceremonial position.

  “Envoy Erdyl … Envoy Luryessa is not here.”

  “I’m aware of that. I’m here to see the Magia Jemelya.”

  The Sarronnese guard, as tall as Erdyl himself, and likely better at arms, at least from what he had heard, opened the door and announced. “Envoy Erdyl of Austra.”

  Erdyl stepped into the high-ceiled and marble-walled entry hall as the door closed behind him … and found himself alone. After several moments, a slender woman in a pale blue shirt, a cream vest, and darker blue trousers appeared. Erdyl recognized Ziela, a serving girl or receiving maid. She could act as either, and probably did, he reflected.

  “Envoy Luryessa is not here, ser.” Ziela did not look directly at Erdyl.

  “I know. I wish to talk to the Magia Jemelya.”

  “Please wait a moment. I will see if she is in the residence.”

  Erdyl waited even longer before Jemelya appeared. Like Luryessa, she wore flowing pale green trousers and shirt, with a dark green vest. Unlike the silver-haired envoy, Jemelya had dark brown hair. Her eyes swept over Erdyl as they had the first time they had met and in a way he found disconcerting, as if she were weighing and measuring him as he stood there, like a butcher or cook might a piece of meat, although he had to admit that he’d seen neither happen.

  “You are the Envoy of Austra now, it is said?”

  “Acting Envoy,” Erdyl admitted. “Only until a permanent envoy is named.”

  “How might I help you, Envoy Erdyl?”

  “You might. Is there somewhere we could talk for a few moments?”

  “The library is free.” Without another word, Jemelya turned.

  Erdyl followed her down the corridor, with its off-white walls and crown molding and chair rail of Sarronnese blue—and no other ornamentation whatsoever—and into the oak-paneled library, one that made Lord Ghrant’s in Valmurl look modest.

  With the door still open, Jemelya stopped and faced Erdyl. “What did you wish to talk about?” A pleasant smile followed her words, and her eyes met his.

  Erdyl realized that her eyes were golden green, intense, and focused. He had hoped that she might suggest sitting and talking, but that was clearly not her intent. “Osten, Lord of the West Quadrant, and his veiled threats to his own people about serving outland powers.”

  “Such as Austra, perhaps?”

  “Perhaps.” Erdyl let an ironic smile surface. “But then those words and threats could apply to all of us outlanders.”

  “They could.”

  Erdyl realized that the magia was not about to offer any easy openings. He smiled in a moderately warm way. “You know that I am new to the west quadrant of Nordla and to Brysta, and I was curious to know whether this veiled prohibition is a reiteration of an old policy or something that Lord West is attempting to establish as a new custom, as it were.”

  “Now … it really wasn’t that hard to come out and say it, was it?” Jemelya offered a smile that was mostly humorous; at least Erdyl thought it was.

  “I suspect you know exactly the effort and difficulty, magia, just as you and your envoy—and Lord Kharl—all know more about some things than I ever will.” Erdyl kept his words light and warm. “Is it an old or a new position?”

  “It is a new position because Osten is a new Lord West. His father did not care who we hired. He was not pleased if we sheltered those who opposed him, but so long as they left Brysta by ship soon after we sheltered them, nothing was said. He felt that their departure was best.”

  “It was best for those who left, I’m sure … or better than remaining, at least.” Erdyl decided to wrench the conversation back to the central reason for his visit. “How do you propose to deal with his threat to conscript any man who works for an envoy?”

  “We don’t face that problem. None of the local men would even consider working for Sarronnyn … or Southwind. We both follow the Legend, remember?”

  Erdyl should have recalled that. “I suppose Southwind doesn’t have a problem, either, then?”

  “No … I would think not. There are some advantages to following the Legend.”

  “The Hamorians bring their own armsmen and staff, and aren’t likely to hire locals.…” Something about what Jemelya said brought up another thought, but it was gone before he could capture it. “The others … even Lord West would not dare to impose such conditions on the Recluce envoy. How can he expect those conditions not to apply to them?”

  “You are forgetting one thing,” she pointed out. “Recluce doesn’t need guards. They send a black mage and an assistant. That suffices for them, and the Council of Recluce does not meddle in the affairs of other lands.”

  “Except when they do … and no one wishes that.”

  “Precisely.”

  “So … until I can get the envoy from Recluce interested … very interested, Lord West will retain his proclamation.”

  “Unless you can come up with a solution that fits your needs without violating his announced position.”

  Erdyl frowned. And how likely is that? He had no idea of even where to begin. He turned slightly as a bell chimed somewhere, and his arm struck the edge of a bookcase that was closer than he realized. He couldn’t help wincing.

  “Are you all right?�
� Jemelya studied Erdyl more closely. “Your arm was injured, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes. In the fighting against Captain Egen.” Erdyl still had twinges of pain, especially when he wrote for any length of time—or when he bumped something—and not all the strength had returned … and might not for all he knew.

  “Might I touch you?”

  “Of course.” Erdyl flushed, embarrassed at how quickly the words had come out. “My arm, I mean.”

  “I understood what you meant.” The magia’s fingers barely touched the back of his hand.

  Almost immediately, Erdyl felt a warm tingling that seemed to flow up his arm and then vanish when her fingers left his bare skin.

  “That may help. You should be careful for another season. It still has not healed completely.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You are welcome. I’m sorry that I could not offer more useful advice in dealing with your difficulty.”

  Erdyl was still trying to reclaim the vagrant thought he was certain he had had in the library when he re-entered the coach, and Mantar began the drive to the official residence of the Hydlenese envoy. Unfortunately, when they arrived, and Erdyl walked to the gates, he found them chained, with the residence beyond shuttered and dark.

  “Another way to deal with Osten, I suppose, just not one open to you,” he murmured as he returned to the coach.

  “Ser?” asked Mantar

  “I was just thinking aloud. Do you know where the Suthyan envoy’s residence might be?”

  “Yes, ser. It’d be two blocks south on the corner.”

  “Then we should go there.”

  The gates to the long drive leading to the Suthyan residence were open, and Erdyl could see that the windows were unshuttered. Once Mantar halted the coach, Erdyl got out and walked up the stone steps to the entry portico, but he did not even have time to knock before a man in brown-and-yellow livery opened the door.

  “Might I be of assistance, ser?”

  “I’m Erdyl of Austra, to speak with the envoy.”

  “I’m most sorry, ser, but the envoy is hunting in the eastern hills.”

  “And his assistant?” Erdyl asked.