Outcasts of Order

by L. E. Modesitt Jr

  Beltur couldn’t help frowning. He didn’t think there had been such tariffs in Gallos or Spidlar. Neither his uncle nor Meldryn had mentioned them. But you never asked. He also realized that he’d never even thought about tariffs on buildings.

  “They’re not that high. Some small cots pay only a half silver a year.”

  “If they’re that low…”

  Rhodos nodded. “Just let me know if you have any questions.”

  “I will.” Beltur smiled.

  He took his time perusing the chandlery’s tables, taking in the small table that held several pairs of scissors but no needles or pins. Beltur imagined those were kept close by the chandler. The items hung on the walls included several axes and shovels, and oddly, Beltur thought, a pole saw.

  When he left the chandlery, he was still thinking about the chandler’s reaction to the idea that Beltur and Jessyla might remain in Axalt. Why was he surprised? Besides, where else could they go that would be any better?

  With that thought still hanging over him, he continued his inspection of the other shops, particularly the dry goods store that displayed barrels and barrels of rolled oats, feed maize, wheat and rye flour, and white, brown, and black beans, as well as a small barrel of dried fruit.

  The graystone Council House seemed almost deserted, with only a few people entering or leaving it, while there was a continual flow of people around the inn, which almost seemed to be a meeting place for many, mostly men.

  Beltur finally returned to Barrynt’s mansion slightly after second glass and settled into the family parlor to read more in The Wisdom of Relyn. This time, instead of leafing through the volume quickly, he began at the start of the short section that seemed to be historical, reading quickly through Relyn’s training as a lord-holder’s second son in Gethen Groves, only to discover that Relyn left out most of what happened after that, just offering a summary.

  … as with many second sons, I fulfilled my duties with little hope of a consort or of lands of my own, until the Lord of Lornth offered lands in the Ironwoods to any who could vanquish the interlopers and remove them from the Roof of the World. I spent all of what few golds I had to raise a band and made my way there. Seeing how few of the interlopers there were, and seeing that most were women, I pressed the attack. In what seemed moments, most of my men were dead, the few others fleeing for their lives, my right hand was gone, and a strange man smaller than many of mine and smaller than the woman warleader of the interlopers, created flame from a metal pipe and seared the stump of my lower arm. Thus began my time and my learning among the angels. That time ended when Lord Sillek of Lornth massed his forces and attacked Westwind, for such the angels had named it, and the black tower created stone by stone by the mighty Nylan. All the angel warriors were women, save Nylan, and they slaughtered close to half of Lord Sillek’s men with those short bows that looked like a child’s and pierced mail and armor as if they were but thin leather. Yet Sillek’s forces pressed back the angels, who seemed to break and retreat to their tower, all but Nylan and the few who surrounded him.

  Just before that horde of Lornth seemed about to overwhelm the black mage, he summoned the fires of Heaven and burnt the battlefield and all upon it to ashes and dust in but an instant. I stood there, no more than a yard away. One moment, there was a mighty army charging across the trampled grass and the next there was nothing but gray ash … and Nylan lay still, nearly at my feet, but he was alive and breathing, and the silver-haired healer—not Ayrlyn—said he would live.

  Nylan had told me that, if I wished to live, I should flee, immediately after the battle …

  Beltur blinked. That’s all he wrote about the battle?

  He looked to see if a page had been cut from the volume, but none had. Finally, he read on, following Relyn’s slow travel through Gallos, avoiding Fenard, until he reached Passera.

  At that point, Barrynt walked into the parlor. “Are you still reading that book?”

  “I thought I should. I don’t know much about Relyn, and parts of it are very interesting.” Beltur tried to mentally note where he was, then closed the book and stood, immediately replacing the volume in the bookcase. “It looks like it’s been in your family for some time and been read often.”

  “My mother insisted we each read it. I haven’t opened it since then. Johlana read some of it after we were consorted.”

  “Then you have brothers or sisters?”

  “Not any longer. My brother Ryntaar went to sea. He was killed when pirates from Hydlen attacked his ship. His consort and son were with him.”

  “Oh … I’m sorry.”

  “That’s all right. You didn’t know, and it was a long time ago.” After a pause, Barrynt went on. “That’s another reason I don’t read it. Ryntaar kept telling me that order would protect him. Never seemed to me that it works that way.” The merchant offered a crooked smile. “Didn’t work that well for you, it seems.”

  Beltur shrugged. “Order and chaos are part of the world. I’ve used order, and it certainly helped to get us here safely. Neither order nor chaos caused our problems in Elparta. Greedy people did.”

  Barrynt laughed. “I think we’re saying the same thing.”

  “Most likely.”

  “Rohan will meet us at the cot a quint or so after fourth glass. Will your consort be here by then?”

  “She should be … unless someone is badly hurt just before she leaves.”

  “That’s not likely in winter. Most accidents happen in the morning or at night. There’s not much theft or burgling at night in winter.” Barrynt smiled. “Houses are shuttered tight against the cold.”

  Jessyla arrived in the side foyer just before fourth glass. Beltur and Barrynt were waiting.

  “How was your day?” asked Beltur.

  “Mostly quiet. The young man you and Herrara saved…”

  “Is he all right … I mean, is he getting better?”

  “He’s not getting worse. Herrara says that tomorrow will tell.”

  Barrynt cleared his throat loudly.

  “Oh … do we need to go right now?” asked Jessyla.

  “The man with the cot is going to meet us there in the next quint,” explained Beltur.

  “It will take a little while. It’s about half a kay from here,” said Barrynt. “To the northeast.”

  After the two men had donned their coats, Barrynt opened the door and stepped outside.

  Beltur gestured for Jessyla to precede him, then followed, closing the door firmly. A gust of wind whipped the end of Beltur’s scarf loose, and he had to tuck the end inside his coat.

  “Looks like another storm,” said Barrynt. “It won’t be a northeaster, though. The sky’s too light for that.”

  “You can tell just from that?” asked Jessyla.

  “After a while.”

  “Tell us more about this cot.” Jessyla looked at the merchant.

  “It’s a cozy little place,” said Barrynt. “The rent’s not bad, either.”

  “What does ‘not bad’ mean?” asked Jessyla, even before Beltur could.

  “Four coppers an eightday.”

  “Almost half a silver?”

  “It’s cheap at the price. I’ve seen smaller places go for more.”

  “How about larger places going for less?” asked Beltur cheerfully, even as he was continuing to get the impression, copper by copper, that it cost more to live in Axalt than it had in either Elparta or Fenard.

  “That’s possible,” returned Barrynt, equally cheerfully, “if you want to live kays out of town lugging water from a spring you have to chop through the ice to get to.”

  Beltur decided not to offer another quip. “We do have one other problem…”

  “Your horses?” asked Barrynt. “I’d thought about that. If you want to keep cleaning the stables the way you have been, you can keep them there. You pay for your share of the hay and feed.” The merchant grinned. “I can get it cheaper than you could.”

  “We’d appreciate th
at,” Beltur said.

  “In return,” added Barrynt, pausing and letting the silence draw out.

  Beltur managed to look interested but not wince.

  “We’d like to be able to call on your healing talents if we need to. Johlana’s not all that fond of the healing house.”

  “We can do that,” said Jessyla.

  “Just down this side lane, now.”

  The lane—or the cleared part of it—was narrow, only a little more than three yards wide, but the paving stones were evenly set, Beltur noticed. A two-story dwelling stood on the corner, and a man in a gray coat stood waiting at the end of the cleared walk from the front door to the lane proper.

  “There’s Rohan. He lives there. The cot is next door to his house.”

  Beltur looked toward the small squarish dwelling, slightly more than ten yards on a side, with possibly five yards between it and the low stone walls to the north and south, walls that protruded less than half a yard above the snow that was almost a yard deep. The dark brown shutters were fastened tight, and the front door matched the shutters.

  “Rohan! This is Mage Beltur and his consort Jessyla. They’re both healers.”

  The wiry man stepped forward. “Pleasure to meet you.” He paused, looking at Beltur. “A mage and a healer?”

  Beltur smiled. “Both. It’s a long story.”

  “Sometime, I’d like to hear it.” Rohan began to walk toward the cot, gesturing as he did. “It’s small, but it’s snug, and it’s neat. Comes with a couple of benches, a kitchen table and sideboard, and a bedstead.”

  “We have a decent mattress and some linens and towels you can have,” added Barrynt. “More than we’ll ever use.”

  Rohan walked to the door and opened it, gesturing for the others to enter.

  Beltur and Barrynt stepped to the side to allow Jessyla to go first. Beltur followed her.

  The door opened into a front room, essentially the parlor, perhaps five yards on a side, with a hearth set in the middle of the rear wall. An archway to the right of the stone wall that held the chimney led into the kitchen. The floor was made of wide planks that were comparatively and surprisingly level and largely without deep scratches or gouges. The only piece of furniture in the front room was a backed bench that had seen better days, but looked sturdy enough. Four stout wooden pegs were set in the wall just to the right of the door, and two modest and shuttered windows were evenly spaced in the front wall. There was only a tiny high side window, also shuttered, in the outside wall on the left side of the room. As with all the dwellings Beltur had seen, every window appeared to have outer and inner shutters, a necessity in winter, he suspected.

  The kitchen was about two yards wider than the front room, and had three doors: a rear door; a door leading back to the bedroom, which was to the right of the front room, but entered from the kitchen; and a door to the washroom and jakes. The kitchen table was large and solid, and less battered than either the bench or the sideboard bench that accompanied it. The hearth, which was open on both sides—the front room and the kitchen—had two iron brackets that could be swiveled over the fire.

  Rohan pointed to a small hinged door in the wall, perhaps fifteen digits square, between the shuttered rear window and the rear door. “That’s for waste water. Just water. No slops of any sort. You pay the Council if you clog the standpipe. Sewer port is down the alley to the left about ten yards.”

  Beltur looked at the shutters, noticing that they admitted some light through small openings, possibly cracks. Jessyla inspected the sideboard, opening the hinged doors to reveal three shelves. She closed the sideboard doors.

  “You won’t find anything near this good for anything close to this rent,” said Barrynt.

  “That’s because you’re a black and she’s a healer,” added Rohan.

  “It is very neat,” said Jessyla politely, before heading into the bedroom.

  Beltur followed her into a chamber that was also sparsely furnished, with just a side table, a stool, and a bedstead, although it was large enough for two and looked sturdy. He looked at Jessyla as she walked to the bedstead and looked it over, then checked the inside shutters on the single front window and then on the small side window.

  “What do you think?” asked Barrynt.

  “It’s more than large enough for us,” replied Jessyla. “It might be too large, since we have little enough to put in it.”

  Barrynt smiled. “I think we can be helping there, and you’ll be helping us as well.”

  Beltur didn’t hide his puzzlement.

  “The storeroom in the stable is filled with furniture. I can barely close the door, and there are some good pieces there … well, let’s just say that, good as they are, it would be best if you had them.”

  Beltur could tell that Barrynt truly meant those words. But why would that be so? Then he remembered what Jorhan had told him—that Barrynt had been a widower. Those are pieces with either painful memories or links to his first consort, pieces he doesn’t want to sell or destroy … but why wouldn’t they go to his children? Because of Johlana?

  Beltur couldn’t tell, but what was clear was that Barrynt was being honest.

  “I can’t tell you how kind that is,” said Jessyla softly. “I really can’t.”

  “Then you’ll take the place?” asked Rohan.

  “We will,” said Jessyla before Beltur could say a word.

  “That’s a good choice,” said Barrynt. “You won’t regret it.”

  “I’m sure we won’t,” said Jessyla.

  “There’s a deposit of two silvers,” Rohan pointed out. “And the rent’s due every five eightdays, two silvers, twice a season, in advance.”

  “Then that’s four silvers,” said Beltur, “before we move in.”

  “That’d be right.”

  “If they pay now,” said Barrynt, “supposing you let them have this eightday. It will take them a few days to gather everything they need.”

  Rohan cocked his head questioningly.

  “You won’t be getting any better tenants, and likely not any sooner at this time of year,” said Barrynt with a smile.

  “I suppose I could do that. That’d mean the rent’d be due on oneday of the seventh eightday of winter.” Rohan frowned. “How about four and a half silvers for everything, and that pays the rent through winter, and the next payment’s due on the first day of spring?”

  Beltur had to calculate for a moment, but he thought that amounted to a savings of almost a silver over the winter, and he and Jessyla certainly didn’t want to wear out their welcome with Barrynt. “That sounds fair enough.” He reached for his belt wallet.

  “But you fix anything that’s not their fault,” said Barrynt. “Roof, walls, leaks in the standpipes.”

  “Be a poor landlord if I didn’t, and you know what the Council thinks of that,” replied Rohan, with a touch of testiness in his voice.

  “I know that, but they’re not from Axalt, and they don’t,” said Barrynt cheerfully.

  “Best they know,” agreed Rohan.

  Beltur handed over the four silvers and five coppers and received a large heavy key in return.

  “Clearing the walks is your responsibility, and I’ll bring over a shovel for you in a bit. It’s not likely to snow in the next day.”

  “A pleasure dealing with you, Rohan,” declared Barrynt.

  “All around, it looks to fit everyone,” agreed the landlord. “And seeing the cot is in good hands, I need to be off.” He nodded and left the bedchamber.

  In moments, the front door opened and closed.

  “He seemed to be in a hurry,” said Jessyla.

  “He’s likely headed to the Council House to register you as his tenants.”

  “Register us as tenants?” asked Beltur. “Does it have to be done that quickly?”

  “No,” replied Barrynt, “but he’s responsible for clearing the walks and making sure nothing’s left in the lane in front of the cot until you’re registered. He’s likely b
een paying to have the walks cleared.”

  “And once we’re registered, he’ll only have to pay half as much?”

  “That would be my thought,” agreed the merchant. “We should head back to the house and talk to Johlana about where we can help you. That’s besides the spare furniture. She’ll leave me to deal with what’s in the stable storeroom.”

  Beltur was careful to lock both front and rear doors before they left.

  Although Barrynt set a quick pace heading back, Jessyla walked a trace more slowly. For a moment, Beltur wondered if she didn’t feel well, but then realized she wanted space between them and the merchant.

  Finally, she said, quietly, “He really wants us to have that furniture. When I said he was being kind, there was a sadness…”

  “I think that’s because it might have been his first consort’s. Jorhan told me she died in childbirth and that Barrynt was a forlorn man, and that Johlana was the only one who could cheer him up.” That wasn’t exactly what Jorhan had said, but it was certainly what he’d implied.

  “He didn’t have any children with his first consort?”

  “Jorhan said he didn’t.”

  “All of that makes sense. Poor man. Maybe our taking some of it will help with that old sadness.” She frowned. “I don’t see why Johlana has let him keep furniture that was his first consort’s. I wouldn’t have.”

  “Grenara is living in the house once occupied by another consort before her.”

  “Auntie didn’t have any choice.”

  “Maybe, for reasons we don’t know, Johlana doesn’t.”

  “That’s awful! It makes me very glad you weren’t consorted before.”

  “I’m too young for that,” said Beltur with a grin.

  “Beltur…” She shook her head.

  Beltur could tell that she wasn’t even remotely close to feeling as displeased as she’d tried to sound.

  When they reached the house, took off their coats and scarves, and finally entered the parlor, Johlana turned from where she had been talking with her consort, smiling happily. “Barrynt tells me that you’ve found a place, and that it’s not too far away. That’s wonderful. For us as well. There’s so much furniture in the stable that’s been going to waste. It should have been put to good use long ago.”