The Magic of Recluce

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  I knew that was nonsense, but when I looked at the man in black I wanted to shiver. I didn’t look at the woman. She reminded me of Tamra, for all that there was no physical resemblance.

  Sammel went in, and he didn’t come out. I presumed that he left through the other doorway. Then Talryn called for Dorthae, followed by Wrynn and Myrten. Krystal and Tamra each sat on a bench. Krystal sat on the edge, ready to stand up in an instant. I understood.

  I wasn’t about to sit anywhere. I still didn’t know much more than when I had arrived early in the summer, although I was in better shape and knew enough about half-a-dozen weapons to get myself into real trouble.

  What I didn’t know was why I was being sent from Recluce. Oh, they’d all explained how I was a danger to the order of our wonderful island nation. But not one had explained exactly why.

  “Krystal…” Talryn waited by the half-open black oak door.

  Krystal stood up slowly.

  “Good luck,” I said softly.

  She gave me a faint smile, then a shrug.

  Talryn’s face remained professionally cheerful, like that of a dedicated executioner.

  Click.

  Tamra glanced up at me from the bench. Unlike Krystal, she was almost casual, half-draped along the dark wood. The sharp blue of her scarf and the brightness of her hair made her seem somehow out of place in the somber setting of the anteroom. “Fond of older women?”

  “No. Just like women.” I was so damned tired of her edges. She didn’t want to understand anything, just to use it. “Particularly women who don’t mind admitting that they’re women.”

  “Oh… the submissive kind.”

  I shook my head, not bothering to look at her. “Good as you are, Tamra, Krystal could cut you into little pieces. That’s not submissive, not by chaos or by order. Krystal is my friend. That was the way she wanted it.”

  “So you’re the submissive one, then.” She half-smiled, stretching out on the bench, cat-like.

  I didn’t bother answering. Tamra would twist… use… anything I said. Instead I studied the stone underfoot, trying to touch the patterns of its existence, trying to trace out the hidden breaks in the stone. According to Magister Lennett, all materials had patterns. The wood I understood, and, were I ever to work it again, that understanding would allow me to craft more finely than most journeymen. The heavier materials-like slate, marble, granite, iron-were tougher.

  The stone floors in Nylan were different. All the stone used by the Brotherhood was different. The hidden breaks weren’t there, and each paving stone seemed complete by itself, yet fitted into a larger pattern. Worked metal felt that way, but not most stone.

  “Tamra.” Talryn merely announced her name.

  As she sat up, rather abruptly, I thought about looking up to see her leave, but kept my head down. She’d just turn my concern against me.

  Click.

  Alone in the anteroom, I finally sat down under the picture of the woman master. Why did I even care about Tamra? Krystal needed me more than Tamra, didn’t she? Tamra didn’t need anyone, except to insult them in order to feel superior. She was good at that, because she was better than anyone else, both in brains and physical skills. So why did she have to keep proving it?

  “Lerris.” Talryn’s voice was calm, and this time he wasn’t smiling.

  I took a deep breath and rose, wishing I had my staff with me. Everything was packed, but waiting, in the room that had been home for the late spring and long summer.

  He held the door open for me, then closed it. I stood by the table where we had eaten so many eight-days earlier.

  “Sit down, Lerris.” Talryn took the same chair, the one at the head of the long table.

  I pulled out the heavy black-oak chair. This time it moved easily. I said nothing, waiting for Talryn to say whatever he had to say, since whatever I thought clearly didn’t matter.

  “You could be a problem, Lerris. You keep expecting someone to hand you the answers. Life isn’t like that. Neither is the dangergeld. Because you demand answers and reasons, no one wants to give them to you.”

  I tried not to sigh. Another lecture I didn’t need.

  “So I will. We’ve discussed it. You may not believe me now, but try at least to remember what I’m about to say. It might save your life.”

  I almost smiled at the melodramatic touch, but decided to listen. It couldn’t hurt.

  Talryn waited.

  Finally, I nodded.

  “First, you are a potential order-master. You have the talents to be a chaos-master, but not the disposition. You aren’t contemptuous enough, and you never will be. Trying the chaos path will leave you dying young in Candar, if it doesn’t kill you outright.

  “Second, you’re strong enough to tempt most chaos-masters into trying to corrupt you. Third, you refuse to understand that each master must find his or her own meaning in life.” Talryn sighed. The master in silver actually sighed. “Finally, what we’re doing is unfair to you.”

  “You admit that?” I couldn’t help asking.

  “We admit it.”

  “Then why are you doing it? I don’t understand.”

  “Because your doubts and your open skepticism are enough to disrupt anyone who spends much time with you. Normally, two masters work with each dangergeld group. Sometimes only one.”

  Talryn, Trehonna, Gilberto, Cassius, and Lennett-not to mention the occasional appearances by others-that totaled five, plus apprentices like Demorsal.

  “Four… five perhaps. It took that many to keep your efforts damped, and we’ll all have to work that much harder for another year to catch up.”

  “Why?”

  Talryn sighed again. “You have great potential, Lerris-for order or chaos. How you use it is your choice. That choice is not simple. Not at all.”

  I opened my mouth.

  Talryn raised his hand. “Let me explain. The reason why you call upon order or chaos is meaningless. If you destroy a tree for firewood to warm a freezing child, you have still given yourself to chaos. Likewise, if you heal a murderer, you give yourself to order.”

  “What?” I couldn’t believe what Talryn was saying.

  “That’s why handling order is so difficult. You have to have good intent, and using chaos for a good purpose leads to greater disorder.”

  I still couldn’t believe him. “I couldn’t even fell a tree to save a child?”

  Talryn smiled sadly. “I didn’t say that. I said you could not use chaos forces. You could use an ax or a sword to cut branches. Where physical force doesn’t affect human life, it doesn’t affect order or chaos either.”

  I shook my head.

  “Oh… it’s worse than that, Lerris. Far worse.” His tone was almost mocking. “What I said is not quite true. You can occasionally use chaos in service of order-but only when balanced by higher-order considerations. Indeed… if you choose to serve order, you may have to. If you wish to be an order-master, every use of order must be calculated. You may be lucky. You may intuitively understand those balances, but without being able to check such intuition logically, how will you be able to tell the differences between what is intuitively correct and your underlying desires-and we all have them- to take the easier path?”

  “You re asking for… a man… a woman… someone who is perfect…”

  “Didn’t I tell you we were being unfair?” asked Talryn softly. His tone was not mocking now, just soft.

  I looked down at the polished surface of the table. “Are you done?”

  “Not yet. I have to lay our charge upon you. It seems simple. It is not. You must travel Candar beyond the East-horns to the Westhorns, and you must not return until you feel you are ready. You must also travel alone; that is, not in company of anyone else from Recluce.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” I think I glared at Talryn.

  He met my glare. “You will know what it means. Do you have any more questions?”

  I had lots of them, but they were the
kind I couldn’t ask. Why me? What did I ever do? Why didn’t anyone ever try to explain things? Why was everything either on faith or through experience I didn’t have? Why did they train us together and then say not to travel together? “No. None that make any difference.”

  “All right.” He stood up, tired-looking, the first time I had seen him show any really human feelings. “I will not see you until you return. We wish you well, Lerris. The rest of your group is waiting. Your ship leaves shortly.”

  “Now what?”

  “You pick up your things and walk to the pier where the Eidolon waits.” He gestured toward the other door, also of black oak, but did not move.

  I nodded. “Thank you for your frankness. I hope I can use it.”

  The gray man said nothing, just watched me. So I took the hint, inclined my head, and walked away from Talryn.

  Would we be traveling in the strange black Brotherhood ships that everyone ignored? Or in the hull of some Candarian duchy’s freighter? From what Talryn had said, I still didn’t know.

  There was so much I didn’t know. Even Talryn had behaved as though he were bending some great rule or tradition to say what he had said. He believed it-that was for sure, and that made it a little scary. Never to use a destructive power… even in the service of good?

  I shivered. My feet carried me down the long underground hallway, well enough lit by the late afternoon sun, and the green of the gardens beckoned through the overhead glass. But I still shivered.

  XVI

  TALRYN WAS RIGHT. Sammel, Myrten, Dorthae, Wrynn, and Krystal all stood outside, waiting. The late-afternoon westerly swished the leaves of the red oak under which they had gathered. Behind us, the dangergelders’ quarters loomed black even in the sunlight.

  Sammel wore his pack and a pair of shortswords-short staves, a closer look revealed. Myrten wore no obvious weapons, nor did Dorthae. Wrynn had on her belt both a short sword and a throwing knife. A second knife was concealed in the hidden thigh-pocket of her trousers.

  Krystal wore her faded blues and the blade I had bought her, although she had replaced the cheap scabbard with an older but sturdier one of hardened gray leather. She nodded at me.

  I wiped my forehead and nodded back, then walked over to her.

  “Talryn was hard on you,” she observed.

  “I’m fine.” I really didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Tamra came out looking the same way.”

  “What about you?” I asked.

  She didn’t giggle, just smiled gravely. “He told me I might be happier in Candar, and to weigh what I really wanted carefully.”

  A cold weight settled in my guts.

  “Are you all right?” As she spoke, her hand was warm on my shoulder.

  “I’m fine.”

  “What did Talryn tell you?” Her voice was gentle, again musical.

  I shrugged. “What he told everyone, I guess. That I had to find myself for myself. Except it’s going to take a long time.”

  Krystal nodded. Her fingers squeezed my shoulder, then relaxed. “You’d better get your pack.”

  “Thank you.” I didn’t look at the others as I headed past Wrynn and Myrten and through the open doorway. One door was ajar-Tamra’s. I didn’t look inside.

  In my former room, my things were where I had left them. The pack lay on the bed, the staff beside it, along with the knife-not that I expected to use the knife for anything besides cutting brush, meat, and other non-intelligent objects. My heavy cloak was rolled into the top of the pack. With the knife on my belt, I slung the pack half over my shoulder and picked up the staff. The door I left open as I left-a minor protest against the order of the Brotherhood.

  Tamra had left her door open as well.

  By the time I stepped outside-my feet moving from the smooth stones of the interior hall to the heavier, weathered, paving-stones of the walkway that would eventually lead to the harbor-everyone was waiting.

  Waiting with Tamra and the rest was a woman I had not seen.

  “My name is Isolde,” she announced. “I will be your guide from here to Freetown.” Her hair was silver-blond, cut squarely across the back of her neck, and her eyes were dark gray. She wore a faded green one-piece coverall and black boots. At her belt were a pair of knives, one on each hip. The belt was wide, of black leather with a triangular silver buckle. “The Eidolon is a Nordlan half-steamer registered out of Brysta. We have two cabins, which shouldn’t be that much of a problem since Freetown isn’t much more than a day and a half under normal conditions…”

  Problem? Why would two cabins be a problem? I glanced over at Tamra, but the redhead was staring at the ground, ignoring Isolde and me. Even from nearly ten cubits away, I could see Tamra’s fingers were white from how tightly they gripped her staff.

  “… make the transition easier, we have an inn in Freetown where you will all stay, assuming you wish to, tomorrow night. Once we reach the inn-it’s only a short walk from the harbor-you’ll receive a last briefing on the current conditions in Candar. Things like which provinces or duchies to avoid, and why.

  “Two days from now, you’ll be on your own. Any questions?”

  “… Uhhhhmmmm?” coughed Myrten. “Who pays the passage costs?”

  “Those have been taken care of by the Brotherhood. So have your meals and lodging at the Travelers’ Rest. After that, all expenses are yours.” Isolde glanced around the group, looking for other questions.

  “Why are we going on a Nordlan ship?” Wrynn’s voice seemed to silence even the breeze.

  “Why not?” Isolde’s tone was amused. “The Eidolon is headed where you are going, and it’s a lot cheaper than sending a Brotherhood ship on a special run.”

  “It also tells the world that Recluce is harsh enough to throw out its own.” As she spoke, Tamra barely glanced toward Isolde.

  The brittleness of Tamra’s voice surprised me, as did its ragged sound. Was this the confident woman who had thrashed me so soundly with the staff in our initial sparring? The woman who understood order theory better than Magister Lennett?

  “That is also partly true. By your actions or beliefs, you have chosen not to accept Recluce. Until you do, you are from Recluce, but not of Recluce.”

  I almost shivered. Isolde’s matter-of-fact tone was more chilling than any of old Kerwin’s lectures had been. No threats, no scare tactics-just a statement. Unless you believe, you don’t belong.

  Tamra glanced up from the grass, and I tried to catch her eyes. No wonder she was upset. All the excellence in the world didn’t matter, only what she couldn’t bring herself to accept. The redhead looked away, back toward the harbor.

  “If there are no other questions, let’s be on our way.”

  Slinging my pack onto both shoulders, I straightened, ready to leave. Sammel and Dorthae stood on each side of Isolde. Myrten picked up his pack.

  Without another word, Isolde left, leading us straight down the main walkway, straight through a market square largely deserted, except for a pie vendor who was closing up and a sailor from somewhere stretched out on a table, sleeping.

  The Eidolon, moored at pier number one, the one closest to the sea, carried one square-rigged mast and whatever they called a sloop’s mast. A mizzenmast, I thought. Amidships, between the masts, were two paddle wheels, one on each side. A black stack, slashed with a diagonal green stripe, ran up between the masts as well. The sails were furled on the masts.

  “Hello, the Eidolon!” called Isolde.

  “Hallo… the pier…” A tall blond man waved vaguely.

  Isolde didn’t bother to call again, but walked up the steeply-inclined gangplank, leaving us to follow.

  I followed right after her. Waiting wouldn’t solve anything.

  “Stand right over there,” ordered our guide, pointing to a clear space of deck to the right of where the ship’s officer waited.

  I followed her directions and positioned myself by the railing. A quick glance toward Nylan reassured me that I cou
ld still see the market square, though most of the tables and booths had been deserted even before we had passed by on our way to the harbor.

  “… eight passengers, as agreed with Captain Heroulk…” Isolde started right in with the mate on duty, a man with a short blond beard and a sleeveless shirt that revealed heavily-muscled and bronzed arms.

  At first, as I stood by the rail, I could smell nothing except a lingering scent of something-salt, soap, varnish. The deck was clean, aside from several coils of heavy rope by the foot of the masts. The railing, as my fingers brushed it, felt faintly tacky, and glistened as though recently varnished.

  Two sailors stopped their work on a windlass, or something like it, to survey the group that had trooped on board.

  “Witches, the whole lot…” observed the older, a wiry man with salt-and-pepper hair.

  Clank. His hammer knocked the handle loose from the assembly.

  “… see if you can pry loose that broken edge…”

  “The ship seems clean enough, if small,” noted Myrten, stepping up next to me.

  “Small?”

  “Haven’t you seen the Hamorian freighters? Some of them are nearly three hundred cubits long.”

  I shrugged, not really having thought about it.

  “Good thing it’s only a day and a half. I’d hate to go to Hamor on this. That would take nearly two eight-days.”

  Tamra stood by herself further down the rail toward the bow. I walked away from Myrten and stood next to her. She said nothing, just looked up at the black wall overlooking the harbor area, much as I had first looked at that same wall, wondering how it could look so insignificant from behind and so imposing from the waterfront.

  “Are you all right?” I tried to keep my voice low.

  “Does it matter?” She sounded tired.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  I didn’t know what to say. “… Because.”

  She didn’t say anything. She just kept looking from the harbor wall to the hill wall and back again.

  After a while, I eased away, thinking she wanted to be alone.