“What matters is that you understand now. Most young people don’t understand. The problem is when they get older and still don’t.”
In what seemed like moments, Meldryn finished eating and hurried back to the bakery. Beltur quickly cleaned up the kitchen, washed up, finished dressing, and headed out the door. The day was clear and sunny, but the white sun seemed to provide only light and no warmth.
When Beltur entered the smithy and took off his coat and scarf, Jorhan looked up in surprise. “You’re here more than a mite early, not that I mind that.”
“I’m here early because I have to leave early, and I didn’t want to shortchange you.”
Jorhan laughed, almost harshly, shaking his head. “You’d be the last one who’d short me.”
“I didn’t think you’d be needing me quite so much, and I’d agreed to help someone with a problem this afternoon. I was so disconcerted by the Council proclamation that I didn’t even think about that until after I left.”
“Seeing you’re more than a glass early, I think we’ll manage.”
“What are we casting today?”
“A sabre, two pair of candelabra … and another mirror—a small one—if we have time.”
Beltur moved to the bellows. “Do you know when you’re thinking about leaving?”
“That depends on how long the casting and finish work takes, and what the weather’s like. I also want to look into getting another horse. I’ll travel faster that way, and I can always sell a horse, especially in Axalt. Traders coming through are always looking for mounts.”
“Do you have room for two horses in the barn?”
“Had four, once, years ago, when Menara and I were running sheep.” Jorhan moved to the forge and picked up the crucible with his tongs.
Beltur began to work the bellows.
When he left at two quints before third glass, the two had indeed cast all Jorhan had planned, including the small hand mirror.
Beltur went down the stone lane, completely cleared of snow, at a fast walk, and he didn’t slow down until he reached the north door of the Council building. There he stopped and took a deep breath, then stepped inside, where he saw a city patroller standing in front of Raymandyl’s table desk. Since neither man had even looked in his direction, Beltur wrapped himself in a total concealment and eased as quietly as he could toward the clerk and the patroller, hoping he might hear something of importance.
“There you are … three silvers,” offered the clerk.
“The bounty of the Council,” said the patroller sardonically.
“It’s better than the alternatives, especially with winter coming on.”
“Barely enough for food, rent, and coal. Council hasn’t raised pay in five years. Wasn’t that good then, but it got worse when the Gallosians attacked. Everything costs more now.”
“They haven’t raised my pay, either,” the clerk pointed out.
“Don’t notice any traders suffering. They never do, but they can’t pay a man a decent wage.”
Beltur had the feeling that Raymandyl shrugged, but sensing under a concealment didn’t reveal facial expressions or small body movements.
“Won’t bother you more, Raymandyl.” The patroller laughed. “Not till next eightday, anyway.” He turned.
Beltur eased to the side, but the departing patroller didn’t come close to him. He waited until the door closed and Raymandyl was bent over his desk before removing the concealment and stepping forward.
The clerk looked up, clearly surprised. “Beltur! I didn’t hear you. You’re much earlier today. Are you going to make a habit of it?”
“Most likely just today.”
“Just my luck.” The clerk shook his head, mock-mournfully. “Let me get the ledger. Any tokens?”
“Not today. The way things are going, there may not be any for the rest of my duty.”
“There aren’t many in winter.” Raymandyl pushed the ledger across the desk.
Beltur took the pen, dipped it in the inkwell and signed his name, then watched as the clerk sealed the entry and then took a pair of silvers from the floor chest.
“Here you are.”
“Thank you.” Beltur slipped the silvers into his belt wallet, then said, “You know … last twoday, I mentioned the copper problem Jorhan was facing. I didn’t really notice it at the time, but when I thought about it, you didn’t say anything.”
“Oh?”
“You always say something.” Beltur smiled. “You know what I’m talking about. I think you already knew that the proclamation about goods made with magery was being worked on. Maybe the Council in Spidlaria had already sent something.”
“How would I—”
“I imagine that sort of thing comes across your desk. Besides, you frowned, and you didn’t say anything, and you usually do.”
Raymandyl offered a rueful expression. “Can’t keep much from mages, I suppose. Especially you. Laevoyt said it wasn’t a good idea to try and hide things from you.”
He did? “So when did Trader Alizant start talking to Jhaldrak?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t, and even if I did, it wouldn’t be good if I said anything.”
He’s admitting it was Alizant without saying so. “It probably wouldn’t, but it had to be a while ago if it was decided by the whole Council,” Beltur pointed out. “How long does it take when Councilor Jhaldrak wants to bring something before the Council until there’s a proclamation?”
“Sometimes, it doesn’t happen. Not everything he wants gets approved.”
“But if it does?” Beltur pressed.
“Never less than three-four eightdays.” Raymandyl sighed, as if he wished the matter would disappear. “Not that I’ve seen, anyway.”
That told Beltur enough. Whether it had been three eightdays or five, Alizant’s plan had been in the works likely within days of Beltur’s mentioning the value of cupridium to Zandyr. And it never even crossed your mind that such a simple statement would come back to bite you. But how could you have known back then?
Beltur just said, “Thank you. I’ll see you in an eightday.”
“If we don’t get a northeaster.” The clerk managed a faint smile.
“Then I’ll see you later.” Beltur offered a pleasant smile before making his way out.
Even hurrying as much as he could without actually running, which wouldn’t have been wise since there were still patches of ice hidden in the shadows cast by the afternoon sun, Beltur didn’t reach Lhadoraak’s house until after half past third glass.
Tulya opened the door when he knocked.
“I’m sorry I’m later than I said,” said Beltur. “I didn’t know I’d have to work until late yesterday.” That wasn’t quite true, but he didn’t feel like going into details.
“That’s all right,” replied Tulya. “Lhadoraak said that might happen. Come on in. Taelya’s in the parlor. I’ll be in the kitchen.” She stepped back from the door.
Beltur entered and closed the door. “You can listen if you want, but I’d appreciate it if you’d stay out of sight.”
“Thank you.”
He took off his coat and scarf and hung them on a wall peg, then stepped into the parlor. “Good afternoon, Taelya.”
“Good afternoon, ser.”
As he seated himself in the straight-backed chair, Beltur carefully studied the girl, sensing that some of the free chaos around her was beginning to mix with her natural order barrier that separated her natural chaos from the free chaos. “Taelya … look at yourself. Look at where the whitish chaos is.”
She immediately looked away.
Beltur waited.
After more than a few moments, she finally said, “It’s work to keep them separated.”
“Isn’t everything work when you first begin?”
“Yes, ser.”
“Reorder the levels the way I showed you.”
“Is that all we’re going to do … ser?”
“No. That’s where we’
ll begin every time I come. Unless you’ve already done it before I arrive.”
Beltur watched and sensed as she struggled, then said, “Use the order to separate the two kinds of chaos. Order stays together more easily.”
“Moving the chaos is easier.”
“Not if it doesn’t stay where you want it.”
“Is this really important?”
“It’s more important than you have any idea,” Beltur said firmly.
Not totally surprisingly to Beltur, once Taelya concentrated on order, she reestablished clear levels and separations.
“Good. Now, I’m going to see what you need to learn to develop shields. All good mages have good shields.”
“I was hoping you’d show me how to do chaos bolts.”
Beltur shook his head. “Shields have to come first. Shields are what you need to protect yourself if your chaos bolt comes back at you or if someone else throws a chaos bolt at you.”
“Chaos bolts can come back?”
“Other mages can make them do that. Sometimes, storms can do that also.” If rarely. “There are other important reasons for shields as well, but I can’t show you why those reasons are important until you have the ability to form and hold some sort of shield.”
Taelya frowned.
“I say some sort of shield because every mage I’ve known has shields that are different from every other mage. Sometimes, the differences aren’t much. Sometimes, they’re considerable.” Beltur paused. “You know how to link bits of order together. You can make a shield by linking order and chaos together. I’m going to put together a simple shield right in front of you. I want you to watch closely with your eyes and senses.”
What Beltur did was to create what amounted to a series of chains of free chaos, with the chains linked together by order. The shield was small, less than half a yard by half a yard.
“That won’t protect anything,” observed Taelya.
“No, it won’t. But you have to figure out what kind of shield you can build, and it’s a waste of time and effort to try to build a full shield until you know what works.”
“That makes sense.”
I’m so glad that it does, dear child. Beltur just nodded. “Now, you try to do what I did.”
Taelya pushed together several stringy strands of chaos, with a few scattered order links, before the structure collapsed. “That’s harder than it looks.”
“It will likely take you at least several tries.”
Beltur heard the front door open, but he also sensed a concealment and movement toward the kitchen, suggesting that Lhadoraak had returned. Taelya seemed not to notice as she tried again.
“This isn’t working.”
“Then don’t try chains. Can you knit?” Beltur should have thought of that earlier, he realized.
“Of course.”
“Then make one yarn out of order and the other out of free chaos and knit them together in a pattern you already know. That might work better for you. As I told you, each mage has to figure it out in a way that best suits them.”
Beltur forced himself to observe—mostly—only occasionally giving suggestions.
After almost a glass, Taelya came up with a small shield. “I have one, and it’s staying together.”
“Good.” Beltur could sense that. “Just hold it there. I’m going to push against it with order. Try to keep me from moving it toward you.”
“I’ll try.” Taelya sounded doubtful.
“Holding it will be easier than making it was.” Beltur offered the tiniest pressure, smiling as Taelya’s shield held against it. He added a little more pressure, and pressed the small shield back. “Try a little harder.”
“I’m trying.”
Beltur could see perspiration on Taelya’s forehead, and he released his pressure on her shield. “That was very good. You’re doing well for having worked with this for so short a time. Now, the next thing you need to work on is building a shield that will surround you.”
Taelya sighed, despairingly.
Beltur wanted to smile at the dramatics. “Not at this moment, but I want you to work at it once you’re rested, and I want you to keep working at it.”
Surprisingly, she said, “This is really important, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Why do you think that?”
“You’re not trying to make it fun.”
“Later, when you’re better with shields, we can try things that might be more enjoyable.” Beltur stood, stretching a little as he realized he’d scarcely moved while working with Taelya. “Right now, you need to do something else.”
“Are you done?” called Tulya.
“We’re done,” replied Beltur.
After several moments, both Lhadoraak and Tulya walked into the parlor.
“Father! When did you get home?”
“A little while ago. I didn’t want to disturb your lesson with Beltur.”
“Would you like a little something to eat?” Tulya asked her daughter.
“Could I, Mother?”
“You can indeed.” Tulya smiled.
After the two left the parlor, Lhadoraak looked at Beltur. “You actually had her working on the beginnings of shields. I can’t believe it.”
“She’ll need them.” Especially here in Elparta.
“How did you do it?”
“I just made suggestions until we found something that worked.”
“When will you come again?”
“I could come for a little while on fourday, but it would have to be close to half past four.”
“We can do that.” Lhadoraak paused. “I still worry about Cohndar finding out she’s going to be a white.”
“Lhadoraak,” Beltur said gently, “she’s already a white. Just try to keep her away from other mages for a while.”
“You think there’s a way?” Hope filled the other’s face.
While Beltur did have something in mind, he shook his head. “She’s a white. If we can train her early and well, she might be able to handle her talents well enough that they won’t discover her too soon. She’s also younger than when this much ability usually shows up. That may help.” Before Lhadoraak could ask another question, he added, “They really don’t believe there are whites here in Elparta.”
“That’s true…”
“I need to get back to the bakery. I’ll see you—or Tulya—on fourday.” Beltur moved toward the front hall.
“You have to understand,” said Lhadoraak, as he walked beside Beltur. “Taelya’s our only child.”
Beltur not only heard, but felt, Lhadoraak’s anguish. “I think I do. Remember, I’m an only child who lost everyone. I’m doing my best.”
“I know you are, but … she’s…”
She’s all you have. “I know,” said Beltur as he donned his coat and wrapped the scarf around his face and ears. “I’ll be here on fourday. Remind Taelya, every so often, if you would, to use order to separate her natural order from the free chaos she attracts. She needs to make that a habit, one that happens without her even thinking about it.”
“Is that…?”
“That way, she’ll not only live longer, but it will reinforce the patterns for her to hold shields, much earlier than most mages learn to do it.” Certainly far earlier than I learned it.
“You’ve really thought this through.”
“I’ve tried.” Beltur opened the door. “Until fourday.”
As he left Lhadoraak and walked through the cold air of late, late afternoon, glancing to the north where more clouds were appearing, Beltur couldn’t help worrying that troubles seemed to be coming, not only at him, but at those around him—Jorhan, Jessyla, Lhadoraak and Tulya, and indirectly at Meldryn and Margrena. And besides earning as much as he could, learning more about healing, and helping Taelya to master her abilities, he didn’t know what else he could do, much as he feared that he wasn’t doing enough. Not nearly enough.
XXI
When Beltur headed out for City Patrol duty on th
reeday, the snow was ankle-deep and falling fast with large flakes that clung to everything, but the snow was definitely warmer and didn’t crunch or squeak under his boots.
As was often the case, Laevoyt was waiting for Beltur in the duty room. Neither spoke until they left headquarters and were walking east on Patrol Street toward the market square.
“This is quite a snow,” Beltur offered.
“It won’t last more than a few glasses. The flakes are big and soft. That kind never lasts. By afternoon, or maybe even sooner, it’ll likely be sunny and warmer than it’s been in several eightdays.”
“I’ll take your word for it, but it doesn’t seem like it’ll blow over that soon.” Beltur brushed more snow off his scarf and visor cap.
“You’ll see. That’s why we’re headed to the square and not along River Street.”
Beltur nodded and brushed away more snow.
When they reached the market square, the workhouse crews were shoveling off the northwest corner, seemingly barely keeping ahead of the snow, yet by a little before eighth glass, the snow had dwindled to intermittent flakes, and shortly after the chimes struck the glass, the sun appeared. There were more vendors and shoppers than Beltur had seen in some time, even one table that held rings and jewels, but Beltur had the feeling that table was there more to buy than sell, no doubt profiting off those feeling short of silvers.
By half past the glass, Beltur had unwound his scarf because he was getting too warm, and by ninth glass he walked to the corner to meet Laevoyt with his heavy coat open. The stones that had been shoveled clear were already beginning to dry under a sun that had not felt so warm in more than two eightdays.
Laevoyt, his heavy patroller’s coat open, grinned at Beltur, but said not a word.
“You were right,” offered Beltur. “How long will it stay this warm?”
“At least a day or two, and then it will get colder, but it usually doesn’t snow for almost an eightday after one of these warm-ups.” Laevoyt’s voice turned more serious. “For the next glass or so, keep your eyes open. If there are any lifters at all, it’ll be now.”
“That makes sense. There’s more than produce and woolens for sale today.”
“This eightday might be the last for a while.”
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