The Magic of Recluce

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Footsteps thudded on the ground.

  “Do I have to disappear again?” I asked the young soldier.

  He shook his head. “No. No, ser. We’re supposed to bring anyone from Recluce in to see the sub-commander. Those are the standing orders. I should have remembered. The sub-commander was-”

  “The sub-commander?”

  “She’s in charge of training. She does many other things, and she’s also the autarch’s champion. Perhaps all that is not so wondrous to a magician like you, but she is famed and fabled…”

  It didn’t surprise me-not after recalling the shy lady who had dismembered the apples so quickly, or the woman who had been pressing Gilberto by the time she left Recluce.

  “He’s going to Kyphrien to meet the sub-commander. I will be the one to carry out the standing orders and to convey him there, for has he not found our waystation? The way-station of Pendril and Shervan…”

  The others stood back, and that was how I met Shervan.

  “You water your horse, and Barrabra will fix you something to eat. Then Pendril and you and I will saddle up, and we will depart for Kyphros,” Shervan announced after ushering off the half-dozen armed and able-bodied citizens of the little crossroads.

  “That’s not a problem?”

  Shervan shook his head. “I must only apologize that we did not recognize you. It has been so long…”

  “So long?”

  “We used to receive the pilgrims from Recluce, but seldom do we see them any more.”

  I nodded, knowing why-Antonin.

  Whuuuffff… interrupted Gairloch, as if to ask about the water I had promised.

  “Ser?” called a strong feminine voice from the covered portico. The shade kept me from seeing more than an ample figure.

  “That’s Barrabra,” explained Shervan.

  “I need to water my horse…”

  “That’s a horse?” asked Barrabra, still shrouded by the portico.

  I smiled. “He’s enough of a horse to have carried me through the Easthorns and the Little Easthorns.”

  Shervan looked toward the portico with a look I could not quite decipher, but would have said embodied the concept of “I told you so.”

  I took the reins and led Gairloch around the building to the watering trough. Shervan followed, still talking.

  Unlike some towns I had seen since leaving Recluce- places like Hrisbarg, Freetown, Hewlett, and Weevett, to name a few-the rear of the whitewashed stone or brick buildings was as clean as the front, and similarly shaded by the protruding tile roof. The housing design confirmed my feelings that in the summertime Kyphros was hot indeed.

  “… and the Gallians, they just keep coming. We never fight unless we have the advantage, and we must kill three of them for every one of us they get. Having the hills and the mountains there helps, but just two eight-days ago some of them got as far as Sintamar.” Shervan grinned. “They didn’t get back.”

  I watched as Gairloch drank from the trough, carved roughly from limestone, glancing back toward the north and the clouds that were again building over the Little Easthorns. They didn’t look natural, but who was I to say? “Those clouds-”

  “… and the only other one was the knife-thrower… such a-”

  “What knife-thrower?”

  “You were asking about the clouds, ser?”

  “Later. What were you saying about the knife-thrower?”

  “I have never seen such a knife-thrower. Never. No, ser, the clouds, we did not used to have clouds such as those…”

  “What about the knife-thrower?” I interrupted.

  “… not since the days of the Great White Wizards, they say. You were asking about the knife-thrower. Yes-that was the best. The cowardly Gallians-that was before they became the mad dogs they are now-they ran from the black horse, anywhere to escape the knives and the sword. Such a pair they were! Never had we seen such a pair!”

  I was getting ready to strangle the cheerful Shervan, especially since Gairloch had finished drinking.

  Whheeee… eeee…

  I fished out the remaining grain cake from the right-hand saddlebag provided by Brettel.

  “How-how did you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “That food for your horse. You made it appear out of thin air. Never have I seen that. Not even the Great White Wizard could do that, I would bet.”

  I sighed. I’d totally ignored the shield around the second set of saddlebags, that minor bit of order-control that left them out of sight. Now Shervan would be telling the world about my marvelous food creation. “No… no. I didn’t make it. There’s a hidden sack there. That’s all.”

  “Hidden sacks! What will they think of next?”

  “When will we leave for Kyphrien?” I asked desperately.

  ‘Tendril has to get his horse, and you need to eat, and we need to put your horse with his hidden sacks in a shady place to rest while we eat. Then we will go.“

  I didn’t quite roll my eyes. “Let’s eat, and you can tell me about the marvelous pair and the knife-thrower.”

  “Shervan! Stop flapping your tongue and let the poor wizard have something to eat. The rest of us would like to talk to him, too.” Barrabra stood on the raised step that led from a narrow archway in the back of the structure. Her figure was as ample as I had guessed, but her hair, unlike Shervan’s short and coarse black strands, was nearly white-blond and shoulder-length, swept away from her broad face with green combs set above each ear.

  “Yes. Yes. You see why Barrabra is the one who runs the store. She keeps her mind upon what is important.”

  “Shervan!”

  The young man shrugged at me and smiled.

  I shrugged back. “About my horse?”

  “Ah, yes. This way.”

  The side of the structure that we had not yet been to was the stable, empty except for a single palomino. Inside the heavy walls and through the wide circular archway, the air was cool and still.

  “You may use any of the stalls, but Pabblo does not like all horses…”

  I took the hint and put Gairloch in the stall farthest from Pabblo. I did not unsaddle him, nor did I close the stall. If I had to leave quickly, I certainly wanted to be able to do so.

  “It’s about time,” observed Barrabra as Shervan led me into a long dim room dominated by a long polished red-oak table. On each side was an equally long and backless red-oak bench. At each place was a large and empty bowl with an equally-proportioned spoon.

  At the table sat another youth older than the boy who had greeted me, a girl with golden hair like Barrabra’s but barely coming into womanhood, and just showing curves under her maroon shirt; and two men even younger than Shervan, but wearing the same uniforms.

  A woman easily three times my age sat in the middle of the side of the table opposite the door where I had entered. Her gray hair was worn in combs like Barrabra’s. Like Barrabra, she also wore three-quarter-length trousers with wide legs, and a loose shirt with sleeves that ended above the elbow. While the younger woman’s garments were a dark green, the ancient’s were a pale yellow.

  Click… click… My boots clattered on the tile floor.

  “He doesn’t sound like a wizard,” complained the old woman.

  “Grandmere!”

  “He doesn’t.”

  “I saw him pull a cake for his horse out of thin air!” announced Shervan.

  “You’re calling that pony a horse?”

  “He’s cute,” added the boy who had first greeted me. “I wish I could have a-little horse like that.”

  “It’s time to eat. It’s past time to eat. So sit down. No, not there! You give the wizard the chair.”

  Shervan bowed and gestured to the chair at the head of the table. I supposed I should have refused and offered it back to him, but the confusion of the conversation was disorienting.

  I sat. The place on my right was empty, and the blond girl was seated on my left.

  The room was suddenly sile
nt. I swallowed, and it seemed like an eternity before I realized, silently thanking Magistra Trehonna as I did, that Kyphros belonged to the one-god believers. I swallowed again as everyone looked at me.

  “In all times…” I began slowly, and as I began I could see the tension on the other faces ease. “In all times, there has been disorder. It is the job of right-thinking people to bring order from chaos… may we have the will to bring that order. May we have the strength to resist evil and do good.”

  I bowed my head, since I had no way to end the prayer, not that I could voice.

  “Peace under God…” added Shervan.

  “Very nice… it was strange, but nice…” said one of the other soldiers.

  “He sounds like a wizard,” added the old woman who had just said that I didn’t sound like one.

  “Where’s the food?”

  “I’m getting it, I’m getting it!”

  An aroma of spices and meats entered the long room even before Barrabra arrived with the tray, bearing a huge casserole which she set in front of the older woman before heading back to the kitchen. One saving grace was that I wouldn’t need the knife that I didn’t have. I fingered the empty sheath, wondering if I had really wanted to carry the knife at all. But that was silly. At least, I thought it was silly, but I still wondered.

  “Spiced lamb chili, my favorite! You remembered.”

  The second tray held two enormous freshly-baked loaves of bread, and that was followed by a pitcher of something and a tray of battered mugs.

  With that, Barrabra plopped herself onto the end of the bench next to me and looked at me, face to face. Her breath was like cloves, strong, but not unpleasant. “Do you have a woman, wizard?”

  I swallowed.

  “I don’t think so, Barrabra.”

  “Well, do you or don’t you?”

  “Pass the chili!”

  “Just take a chunk of bread, and send the loaf to the wizard.”

  “My name is Lerris, and I’m-” I was going to say that I wasn’t a wizard, but the words stuck in my throat. That scared me, the thought that I was even partly maybe a wizard.

  “He says his name is Lerris.”

  “That’s better than calling him wizard. He’s too young to be called wizard, even if he is one.”

  “I want the chili!”

  I looked frantically at Shervan, but he just grinned and plunged his spoon into the bowl of chili, whatever that was. In his other hand, he held a large chunk of bread.

  “About your woman? Is she young? I’ll bet she’s thin and harsh-tongued. She probably would starve you to keep her looks, just like a northern woman.” As she talked Barrabra ladled her bowl full of the spicy mixture from the casserole and began to fill my bowl.

  “Here! You need some teekla.” Those words came from the other side, from the blond girl who looked like a younger and thinner version of Barrabra.

  My eyes darted from one to the other. At that point, the bread tray was thrust under my nose, and I broke off a large chunk. “Barrabra, he can’t have a woman. I’ll bet he didn’t even have a sister. Did you?”

  “No,” I admitted, taking a spoonful of the spicy mixture and swallowing it.

  “Oooofff…” I swallowed again and grabbed for the mug. Hot? Spicy? Neither was an adequate description of the chili. It didn’t burn; it seared my throat all the way down.

  “Not the teekla, silly. You eat the bread. That’s the way you do it,” advised the girl, her tone patient and condescending simultaneously.

  Since the teekla, with its unknown fruity taste, hadn’t eased the fire in my throat and stomach, I chewed off a large corner of the chunk of bread, swallowing as evenly and quickly as I could.

  With the back of my hand, I wiped the sudden tears from my eyes, but the burning had in fact diminished.

  “… the post-rider said the madmen lost one of their wizards…”

  “… Haylen’s cousin said a wizard freed him…”

  “Ha! He didn’t want to admit he got careless! That’s all.”

  “Some more chili, please.”

  “When are you going to take me to Kyphrien, Shervan? You promised…”

  Amid the friendly chaos, I took another spoonful of the chili, the stew, whatever it was-a much smaller spoonful, accompanied by a much larger mouthful of the heavy bread. The combination seemed to work. Only my forehead broke out in sweat this time.

  “You never answered about your woman, wiz-… I mean, Lerris.”

  I took a small sip from the mug. “Right now… I don’t have one. It’s not wise-”

  “I told you, Barrabra! He doesn’t look like he knows women.”

  In that, certainly, the girl was right.

  “Hush, Cirla.” Barrabra held her hand up. “Not wise? Is it wise to be tempted by every pretty face?”

  “I have a lot-” I struggled with both her question and another spoonful of chili.

  She shook her head. “You men. You think that women are fragile, that only men can do the great deeds.”

  “I never said that…”

  “It is not what you said, but what you thought. Would you rather live in Kyphros under the autarch or under a madman like the Prefect of Gallos? Great deeds… phewwww… dreaming of great deeds only leads to great evils, and too many men dream of great deeds. Give me a solid man any day, one who loves an orchard.”

  I thought about woodworking, but decided against arguing my case. She would have found something else to throw against men. Instead, I struggled with the chili and listened.

  “… their soldiers are younger each season…”

  “And so are ours. We’re all bleeding to death…”

  “Pass the bread.”

  “… we’ll stop in Meltosia. Even from there, it’s a good day’s ride.”

  Barrabra stopped talking and kept exchanging glances with the girl Cirla. I ignored both, trying to pick up on what Shervan and the other two soldiers were discussing, but there were too many interruptions. So I ate, slowly and carefully, wondering exactly how badly my stomach and guts would torture me in the days ahead.

  The midday meal ended as suddenly as it began.

  “Enough!” announced Barrabra. “You all would sit here all afternoon if you could. The wizard must go to Kyphrien, and Saltos and Gerarra”- she pointed at the other two soldiers- “must take the watch station from my Nicklos and Carmen.”

  “So soon?” pleaded the youngster.

  “So late. Shush! Clear off the table. Out to the kitchen.”

  I retreated to the stable with Shervan. “Your sister?”

  “How did you guess?”

  “A look, and the mention of her Nicklos.”

  Shervan began to saddle Pabblo. I rummaged around and found what looked to be a short stack of grain cakes.

  “If I could purchase some of these…”

  “No… no… they are yours. We have fresh grain and grasses.”

  “I can’t just take them.”

  Shervan shrugged. “Then… someday, sometime, make us a gift. Make it for Barrabra.”

  I thought I understood. “I will.” Another obligation, but what other choice was there? Gairloch needed travel food as much as I did. Maybe more in the dry Kyphran climate.

  Clinkedy… clink…

  “Pendril is here.”

  The other trooper was heavier than Shervan, older, with a flowing black mustache. “Come on, Shervan. You want to get to Meltosia before Parlaan’s closes? He’s riding that pony? Ah well, wizards will be wizards…” Pendril shook his head.

  Shervan winked at me.

  I didn’t shrug, but I felt like it. Instead, I flicked the reins, and Gairloch carried me out into the full afternoon sun.

  The road out from Tellura and toward Kyphrien was the same as the road that had led me into the little crossroads town-hot, dusty, and up one rolling hill and down the next.

  Shervan rode his palomino Pabblo, and the other trooper- Pendril, who had not been at the noon meal-rode a bl
ack-and-white spotted gelding. Both horses reminded me exactly how small Gairloch was.

  “He moves quickly for a pony,” said Pendril.

  “And the wizard rides well for a wizard, too.”

  “Are you sure he’s a wizard?”

  “Am I sure? Let me tell you…”

  In the first five kays we traveled, Shervan must have told how I disarmed him and how I had made a grain cake appear from thin air in at least three different ways.

  By then, the sun had touched the clouds in the west, and the unseasonable heat began to dissipate. I wiped my forehead and began to enjoy the ride, noting that the hills were flatter, not quite so barren, and that some fields held goats- but only in the fenced fields.

  “Ah… yes… the autarch. Any unfenced goat is considered a game animal that anyone may kill or capture-unless it is branded. But if it is branded, the owner must pay two coppers to ransom it back.”

  I frowned, but I didn’t need to. Shervan kept explaining.

  “The goat, you see, it will eat anything, and if it eats everything, then the desert will come. We need the goats, but we need the trees, especially the olives and the lemons and oranges.” He shrugged. “We also have a lot of good goat dinners.”

  “I haven’t seen any buffalo.”

  “Kyphros is too hot for them, except under the West-horns,” explained Pendril. His voice was lower and slower than Shervan’s. “Few of us would live near the wizard mountains, especially now.”

  “The wizard mountains?”

  “That is where the clouds that bring lightning and fire come from, where the white wizards live, and where too many people have disappeared. To go to Sarronnyn, it is better to go south first, to use the southern passes, or to go north of even Gallos. Going north is not possible any more, either…”

  “My father said that Sarronnyn was bright, with grassy hillsides, not as cold as Gallos, and not as hot as Kyphros, and the women were always friendly, and they liked strangers. That’s what he said.” Shervan looked ahead at the dusty and hilly road, then continued without a break. “My father, he used to drive a road wagon for Wistar, but that was when the middle road was open to all, and it took only four days to Sarronnyn, not an eight-day and more like now. That road wagon, it took four horses to pull it, and it glistened like red gold. I remember when he put me up on the seat and let me hold the reins.”