The Magic of Recluce

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “The masters this, the masters that… what difference does it make?” Her voice was disgusted, but she took off her pack just like the rest of us as she came down the stairs. Then I realized she only came to my shoulder but she had carried a pack fully as big as mine, and while she was fine-featured and slender, she was not thin like Krystal nor muscular like Wrynn. She was about the same size as Dorthae, but she had a certain presence.

  She didn’t sit down either, but put her pack at the end of the right-hand bench, next to Sammel’s stuff. Then she looked at the pictures, which outside of their somberness seemed unremarkable to me. She ignored the quality of the woodwork and kept comparing the pictures.

  Since she was ignoring me, like the whole sorry bunch, I walked over and stood in front of the picture on the left, trying to figure out why Tamra felt it was so interesting.

  The man in the picture was in black, but not in the official-type robes of a master, and his hair was silvered gold, much like my father’s. Even though they didn’t look much alike, the more I looked at the portrait, the more I could sense a certain likeness. I pushed that thought away and looked for the technical details.

  A shadowed bar behind his right shoulder caught my attention next. The height and the positioning indicated that it had to be a staff of some sort, but unlike the detail shown in the man’s face, none of the background was depicted clearly at all.

  I looked around the room. Tamra was still studying the other portrait. Wrynn and Krystal were talking in little more than whispers. Sammel and Myrten looked at the stone flooring, and Dorthae sat on the bench with her eyes closed.

  My eyes returned to the portrait. It was the only thing in ‘ the whole foyer, besides the other portrait, that had any detail. That had to mean something-but what? I shook my head. More riddles. The masters had more riddles than a world full of jesters, and no one wanted to ask them anything.

  For a moment I thought the man in the picture had come alive and was looking at me, but when I concentrated on the picture, it was as lifeless as ever. Accurate, perhaps, but lifeless.

  I glanced at Tamra. She was looking at me.

  She wanted to look at the picture of the man. I could tell. I nodded and moved aside.

  Not a word from her as she walked over and stood where I had been standing. So I walked back to where she had been and tried to concentrate on the picture of the woman in black. The portrait woman was not blond, but brown-haired, and the artist had caught a glint in her eyes though they were black. The only live black in that picture was that of her eyes.

  I was no artist, but it seemed to me that the same person had painted both portraits. That would have been hard to do, painting a series of masters, if you knew that these were the people who controlled Recluce.

  Enough was enough, and I looked away from the painting. Wrynn and Krystal had lapsed into silence. Tamra glanced away from me with a funny look on her face.

  “Thoughts?” I asked, without thinking.

  She grinned and shook her head. Her expression was so knowing that I immediately wanted to bash her with my staff-except it was sitting in the corner. And besides, I had no reason. I just knew I would have.

  “Careful, Lerris,” boomed a deep voice.

  I jumped. So did everyone else in the room, even Tamra.

  How he had entered unseen bothered me, but the man’s voice was bigger than he was. He had silver hair and broad shoulders, but he did not even reach to my shoulder. For Recluce, I was only a half-head above average, if a shade broader in the chest and shoulders.

  He wore a tunic and trousers of some sort of silvery-gray. Even his boots were silver-gray.

  “No black?”

  Tamra shook her head at my comment. No one else did anything but stare.

  “As you will learn, Lerris, one way or another, black is a state of mind.” He bowed to me, then to Tamra, and finally to the others in a sweeping gesture. “I am Talryn, and I will be your guide to Nylan and for the first few days of your stay here.” He gestured toward the doorway between the two benches, then stepped forward and touched the wood. The doorway swung open, and I could see the light flooding from the room. “If you will gather your possessions and follow me, we will begin with a meal.”

  Talryn stepped through the doorway.

  I picked up my staff and pack, then nodded to Tamra. She inclined her head to me. I inclined mine back, but she still waited.

  Finally, I walked after Talryn, and Tamra’s light steps clicked after mine. The others shuffled along after us.

  The doorway led not into another room, but into a long corridor lit solely from a clear glass skylight. I studied the skylight as well as I could without losing my balance while trying to keep up with Talryn.

  A series of curved glass panels had been fitted into bent dark-oak framing for the entire length of the building. Through the glass, I could see that the skylight was nothing more than a continuous window into a small garden above us that filled the center of the building.

  On each side of the corridor where we walked were massive stone supports, clearly bearing the weight of the garden.

  Somehow, again, it was disappointing. The design and engineering had been well-thought-out and the effect was quite pleasing. But that was all it showed: good solid design and good engineering.

  Talryn tapped another door, dark oak, at the far end of the garden corridor walk, and stepped inside. We all followed into a small room.

  He waited until everyone had gathered.

  “Through the door on my right, there are facilities suitable for you gentlemen. On the left are facilities for you gentle ladies. Please leave your packs and traveling gear in the open lockers. They will be quite safe there, and you can reclaim everything after we eat.”

  “Why different facilities?” asked Tamra.

  “Because, even in Recluce, there are some who hold to the Legend, who feel men and women are different, Tamra.”

  “That’s just an excuse.”

  “Perhaps. You may use the facilities or not.” Talryn’s deep voice was noticeably cooler. He turned from her. “Once you are washed and ready, step through the center doorway here and we will eat. During the meal, I will attempt to provide a general introduction to the dangergeld and what it may entail.”

  The way he stood before that door, almost like a guard, made it clear that a certain amount of cleanliness was mandatory. I didn’t bother to wait, but headed toward the facilities. I was ready for both the relief and the cleanup, in that order.

  Myrten dragged in after Sammel and me, as if he didn’t like soap and water. That confirmed my opinion of him.

  The masters not only had good engineering and sanitary facilities, they had an ample supply of warm and cold running water, and heavy gray towels. It took a fair amount of soap and water to get the road dust off my face, hands and arms. I really could have taken a shower, except the building facilities weren’t that elaborate, for all the gray tile on the walls and floor. But I felt better, a lot better, by the time I finished.

  VII

  THE TABLE WAS filled with platters, mostly of fruit and vegetables, with a variety of cheeses and some thin slices of meat. Two smaller platters bore a selection of breads. I concentrated on the fruits, noting apples, sourpears, and chrysnets, not to mention the heap of redberries. The plates were heavy gray stoneware, serviceable and banded with a thin green border, like something that might have been produced by one of my mother’s better apprentices after a year.

  Beside the plates were matching heavy mugs, small towels in place of napkins, and spoons and forks. No knives. The black-oak surface was polished but bare, without even rush mats under the plates.

  Talryn stood by the head of the table set for eight, three on a side and one at each end. The space on his right was vacant. On his left stood Dorthae. On her left was Myrten. The foot of the table was vacant.

  So was the other space on the left, as were all the spaces on the right.

  “If you would tak
e the other end, Lerris…”

  Since he was a master of some sort, and since it wasn’t exactly a request, I moved over and stood at the end, waiting for the others to arrive.

  Sammel came next, his balding forehead shiny and his remaining thin brown hair damp. The loss of road dust and grime made him look younger. He gave Talryn an almost shy smile.

  “If you would take the middle, Sammel…”

  Sammel did just what I had done. He nodded and eased up to his indicated position.

  As he stepped around the table, Wrynn and Krystal appeared together, still whispering like girls after school. They stopped as they saw Talryn looking at them.

  “If you would take the place between Myrten and Lerris, Wrynn… and you, Krystal, the space across from her…”

  That left Tamra, who seemed already to be the last one anywhere. She still hadn’t appeared and would have to sit next to Talryn. I didn’t think that was coincidence, somehow.

  Talryn let us stand for a little while longer, then nodded. “Please be seated. I think we should begin.”

  Even before we could get the heavy wooden chairs pulled out, Tamra appeared. Her hair was lightly curled and brighter than when I had first seen her, as if she had washed and shaped it, but it was as dry as if she had been sitting in the sun. She had also pulled it back from her face with a pair of dark combs.

  She still wore the gray tunic and trousers, but a blue scarf around her neck added a touch of color. All in all, she made a striking appearance.

  Talryn nodded to the empty space at his right.

  Tamra opened her mouth, then shut it quickly as Talryn pulled out her chair for her. Her ice-blue eyes flashed like sun from a glacier.

  Talryn moved the chair so easily that I tried to edge mine back with one hand. It didn’t move. I quickly reached down with both hands and lifted it by its curved arms, sliding it back. Black oak, shaped and bent into a flattened point without a crest at the height of the chair back. The curved back was supported by four spokes twice the width used for household chairs. A flat black cushion covered the seat.

  “If you are done inspecting the chair, Lerris, would you join us?”

  “Sorry. The design…” I sat down and edged the chair forward to the table. Again, it took two hands.

  Everyone waited, looking at Talryn.

  “Go ahead. There’s no blessing, no incantations, no mysticism-just good food.” He reached for the platter of breads. “After all of you have served yourselves, I will provide the explanation I promised.”

  I reached for the cheeses before me, spearing several with ! the long wooden-handled fork, just ahead of Krystal. She already had taken a sourpear and a chrysnet.

  “Would you pass the cheeses?” Wrynn asked. Her voice was flat.

  “You done?” I asked Krystal.

  “Yes.” When she wasn’t giggling her voice almost sang when she talked, but it didn’t sound affected.

  At the other end of the table, Tamra had piled her plate with everything in sight-sourpears, apples, cheeses, breads, and meat.

  Beside me, Krystal offered the meat platter.

  “Thank you.”

  She nodded, and, after removing several slices, I took the serving plate from her and offered it to Wrynn. The blond woman took twice what I had heaped on my plate, without looking at me-leaving me still holding the platter.

  “Wrynn… would you pass this to Myrten?”

  The woman still didn’t look at me, but took the platter with a sigh and thrust it in front of Myrten, almost hitting him in the nose as he bent forward.

  “Thank you.” Myrten’s voice was pleasant enough, but it sounded as though he had polished each word.

  Wrynn said nothing to him, either.

  I lifted the mug, sipping gingerly, and found it was some sort of juice combination-light, with a touch of sparkle.

  Krystal, to my right, had produced a small knife and dissected her sourpear into neat slices. Just as quickly, she had eaten nearly half of the fruit. I tried not to gape, instead smearing some redberry jam over a thick slice of bread and munching through that, interspersing it with some of the yellow cheese.

  “Where are you from?” I finally asked Krystal.

  “Oh, from Extina.”

  I’d never heard of Extina.

  “A little village near Land’s End. No one else has ever heard of it, either.” The small knife flashed, and the chrysnet lay in quarters, the pit removed nearly effortlessly. “What about you?”

  “Wandernaught.”

  “Oh… is it true what they say about it?” She giggled, spoiling the momentary impression of a calm and dark beauty.

  “What they say about it?” I’d never heard anything said about it.

  “You know,” Krystal giggled again, “that nothing ever happens there because the Institute really runs the Brotherhood.” She popped two orangish chrysnet quarters into her mouth, one right after the other.

  “Oooofff…” I choked on the last part of her question. The Institute running the Brotherhood? That collection of four buildings where people just gathered to talk to each other?

  “Are you all right, Lerris?” broke in Talryn from the other end of the table. All conversation died away for a moment.

  I nodded, managed to swallow the suddenly very dry bread, and reached for the mug of fruit punch, ignoring the glint in Tamra’s eyes as she watched my discomfort.

  Krystal, her eyes on me, brought forth the little knife and, with deft cuts, not even looking, created four miniature sandwiches out of a slab of white cheese, some dark bread, and one thick slab of buffalo.

  I swallowed again.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Krystal asked, her voice concerned for the first time.

  “Yes… just surprised. I’ve been to the Institute many times, even heard my father speak there, but no one acted as though they were running anything at all-except their mouths. It was boring… very boring.” I took another sip from the massive brown mug. “You are right about one thing. Nothing ever happens in Wandernaught.” I stopped, realizing that tears were welling up in the corners of Krystal’s eyes. “Are you-did I say something?”

  She shook her head, pursing her lips together.

  Wrynn had stopped shoveling in her food and was listening, as was Sammel on the other side of Krystal. Myrten pretended not to listen as he played with a sourpear. Tamra, Talryn, and Dorthae were discussing shipping, or ships.

  Krystal swallowed.

  I waited, suddenly not as hungry as I had thought.

  “It’s just…” Krystal began, “… your father, to even speak there… and you’re younger than anyone here… and you have to do dangergeld…” She shook her head slowly, the sandwiches left neatly on her platter.

  My head seemed ready to lift off my shoulders.

  “Is your father a master?” blurted out Wrynn.

  I shrugged. “He never said so. He never did anything that made me think so, and he never wore black. I never thought about it. My mother is a skilled potter. People come from as far as Austra to buy her vases and figurines. My father was always the holder…”

  “You sound as though you are reconsidering,” observed Myrten. His voice was even more polished, as if oil-coated.

  “I don’t know. He’s always talked a lot about the importance of order. I found it boring. Still do.”

  Krystal sniffed. “… no mercy…”

  I didn’t really expect mercy from the Brotherhood, but what did she mean? “Mercy?” I finally asked.

  “All of you,” interrupted Talryn before Krystal could reply, “I promised you an introduction and an explanation. I will try to make both short and then answer questions. Some questions I may not answer until later, but I will try to provide as much information as I can.”

  Once again, even before they started, they were saying they were going to hide something. I stifled a snort.

  At the other end of the table, Tamra had adopted a look of resignation. Only Sammel loo
ked really interested in what Talryn might have to say.

  “First, the dangergeld. What is it, and why is it necessary? And, from your point of view, why were you selected?” Talryn took a sip from his mug.

  “Stripped of all the piety, rhetoric, and rationalization, the dangergeld is simply a quest, a series of duties, or an exile-or some combination of all three-to enable you to discover whether you belong in Recluce, and, if so, in what capacity. None of you have been happy in what you have been doing. Unfocused discontent is contagious and leads to disorder. Disorder leads to chaos, and chaos to evil.

  “After this meal, you each have a choice. You may accept dangergeld training, which can last several months, sometimes longer, or you can accept immediate exile. If you choose training, then depending on the results of that training you may be offered one or several options on how to fulfill your dangergeld obligation. Again, if you like none of the options, at that point you may choose exile.

  “All exiles are transported, with their available funds and traveling gear, to one of three outside ports, depending on the time of year. Those are Freetown in Candar, Brysta in Nordla, or Swartheld in Afrit, north of Hamor.”

  At the last two names, most of the eyebrows around the table went up. I’d heard of Brysta and certainly wouldn’t have been pleased to land there. Nordla was cold, and Brysta was as far north as you could get for an all-year port. Above Brysta, the winter ice sheets closed the coast.

  “… may not bring more than you can comfortably carry on your person. If any of you choose exile, the next departure will be in about ten to twelve days. You will remain in Nylan, although you may participate in any or none of the dangergeld training, as you please.

  “For those of you considering dangergeld, training begins tomorrow. There will be classes on the details of what the dangergeld obligation entails, on the geography and customs of most major countries outside Recluce, on their economies and trade, on how money is handled-customs surrounding funds do vary, by the way-and on weapons familiarization and self-defense.