Outcasts of Order

by L. E. Modesitt Jr

  “We came with a trader from Hydlen. He wanted a mage who could shield him from brigands,” said Lhadoraak.

  “We still had to pay him,” added Tulya. “Besides Lhadoraak’s stopping the brigands.”

  Lhadoraak smiled. “I just asked at the chandlery. The chandler knew who you were and where to find you. You’ve been there a great deal, I understand.”

  “It takes a lot to set up even a small place like this,” Beltur said, still stunned at the appearance of the three. His eyes and senses went to Taelya. He almost nodded. The white aura was all too evident, and he had the feeling she hadn’t been practicing shielding herself, especially keeping her natural order and chaos separate.

  Taelya did not meet his eyes.

  “You can stay with us,” declared Jessyla. “We don’t have much space, but we’ll work it out. We’ll have to share a bit with supper tonight, and it likely won’t be ready for another glass. We didn’t plan on company, but we do have plenty of ale.” She looked directly at Beltur.

  He immediately headed to the kitchen, where he poured two mugs of ale and carried them back to Lhadoraak and Tulya, seated with Taelya on the bench facing the hearth. “We don’t have much else right now … except water.”

  “Taelya can have a third of a mug.” Tulya looked to her daughter. “That’s all. If you’re really thirsty you can also have water.”

  “We do have plenty of water,” said Jessyla. “Beltur bought a kitchen cistern.”

  Beltur slipped off to the kitchen and then returned with a third of a mug of ale, which he handed to Taelya. “Here you are.”

  “Thank you, ser.” The girl took it, her eyes dropping quickly from Beltur.

  Jessyla added more wood to the hearth, then said, “You three just sit here and warm up while Beltur and I make some additions to supper.”

  “Can’t I help?” asked Tulya.

  “Not right now,” replied Jessyla.

  “Just get warm,” added Beltur.

  Once he and Jessyla were in the kitchen, she murmured, “It must have been awful for them. They left with almost nothing.”

  Beltur decided not to point out that neither he nor Jessyla had been able to bring much. Except you had someone who invited you, and you had golds.

  “It’s hard to believe that Caradyn and the Council could be so cruel. Taelya’s no danger to anyone.”

  “Neither were you … until they forced you to act in self-defense. Enough of that now. What else can we fix?”

  “Skillet bread is easy and doesn’t take that long. There are some fowl thighs and wings that I can turn into a sort of hash with the two potatoes we have left.”

  While the three travelers rested and warmed themselves in the front room, Beltur threw together the skillet bread and the makeshift chicken hash, then fried them both up, while Jessyla removed the drying laundry to the bedchamber before setting up the small table for five, and then returning to the front room to check on their company.

  Before all that long, all five were seated in the kitchen, eating.

  “This is so thoughtful of you,” declared Tulya.

  “It’s what friends do for friends,” declared Jessyla. “You can stay here until we can find a place where you can settle in, unless you just want to rest until you head for someplace else.” She paused. “I wrote Mother. Do you know if she got my letter?”

  “Meldryn said she’d gotten a letter from you and that you were safe and working as a healer. That’s all he told us.”

  Beltur could sense Jessyla’s relief. “That’s good. Very good.” He looked at his consort. “You don’t have to worry about her not knowing.”

  “I still worry.” Jessyla looked to Lhadoraak. “I’m sorry. I interrupted you. I just wanted to know about Mother. You didn’t say what you were going to do.”

  “We really don’t know,” admitted Lhadoraak. “We had to leave so quickly. They only gave us an eightday.”

  “That’s all?” asked Jessyla, her voice rising.

  “That was all,” replied Lhadoraak. “There was a Council decree.”

  “What about your house, all your things…?” asked Beltur.

  “We were only renting the house. We never had enough golds…”

  “To buy one,” finished Tulya.

  “I liked that house,” murmured Taelya.

  “All our furnishings are either with Meldryn or in a storeroom owned by a relative of Mharkyn,” added the blond mage. “We told Meldryn to sell what’s in the storeroom as he can, when he can.”

  “How is he doing?” asked Beltur.

  “He says the bakery is doing as well as it ever has in winter, and, so far, he hasn’t had to deal any more with the Council or the Mages’ Council.”

  “That sounds like he’s worried.”

  “This bread is crumbly,” said Taelya.

  “Just eat the crumbs,” said Tulya quietly.

  “Anyone who’s not in solidly with Caradyn should worry,” said Lhadoraak. “Caradyn’s claiming that you killed Cohndar and Waensyn.”

  “If he did,” injected Jessyla, “it’s only what they deserved. Cohndar was trying to get the Council to kill Beltur so Waensyn could consort me. As if I’d ever have consorted that sleazy, greasy, slimy, little excuse for a mage.”

  “He is that,” said Tulya dryly. “Or was.”

  “Did you have anything to do with it?” asked Lhadoraak.

  Beltur saw no point in dissembling. Both Lhadoraak and Tulya would be able to tell unless he totally shielded himself, and that would convey the same message in a different and even less favorable way. “They sent away the Council guard and attacked me in Jorhan’s smithy. Jorhan killed Cohndar, and I took care of Waensyn.”

  “How could Jorhan…?”

  “I stripped Cohndar’s shields, but I couldn’t do more while I was struggling with Waensyn. Cohndar forgot about Jorhan, and Jorhan took a smithing hammer to Cohndar’s skull. Once Cohndar was out of the way, I put a total confinement around Waensyn.”

  Lhadoraak winced.

  “What else could he have done?” asked Tulya.

  Taelya’s eyes widened.

  “You’re not to talk of this except to anyone here,” said Tulya. “Ever. Is that clear? Very clear?”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “How did all of them get that way?” Lhadoraak shook his head.

  “They were always that way,” declared Tulya. “You just didn’t want to see it. Beltur not only saved you, he saved Elparta. Yet they immediately tried to destroy his smithing with Jorhan, and then him.”

  “And take away the woman who loves him,” added Jessyla.

  “Beltur was never a threat to them,” protested Lhadoraak. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Ambition and hunger for power can make men very stupid,” said Beltur. “I saw that in Gallos. Uncle wasn’t a danger to the Prefect or anyone, but the Prefect had him killed, and that sent me to Elparta.”

  “And sending you to Elparta doomed his invasion,” finished Jessyla.

  “Well … I don’t think the blacks of Elparta or the Council will attack Axalt over me,” said Beltur. “What would be the point? The blacks wanted me gone, and I’m gone. Waensyn wanted Jessyla, and he’s gone. Caradyn wanted power and control, and he’s got it.”

  “Except for one thing,” said Lhadoraak slowly. “Caradyn knows you’re more powerful than he is, and you’re in Axalt, and Axalt’s not that far from Elparta.”

  “How does he even know where I am?”

  “We knew. There’s also that letter from Jessyla. Sooner or later, he’ll find out.”

  “He won’t go to war over Beltur,” said Jessyla.

  “Most likely not,” agreed Lhadoraak. “But he’ll try to find some way to force you from Axalt so that you’re even farther away.”

  “I don’t doubt his motives, but how could he do that? Axalt isn’t about to throw me out because the traders or some black mages in Spidlar demand it.”

  “That’s true enough,
” replied Lhadoraak, “but he’ll find a way if he can.”

  “Enough of that,” said Tulya. “That’s something we can’t do anything about. This fowl pie is good.”

  “Not as good as Meldryn’s, but far better than what I cooked before I learned from him.”

  “I like the mashed-up fowl,” added Taelya.

  “Good,” replied Tulya. “Eat as much as you like.”

  “Did you have any trouble with the guards at the border wall?” asked Beltur.

  “Some. They wanted to know why a black mage and his family were coming to Axalt in the dead of winter. I told them my family’s lives were in danger because the Council thought we were associated with a black mage who’d fled Elparta.” Lhadoraak shook his head. “I didn’t know what else to say, and I didn’t want to mention Taelya or lie outright, because I didn’t know how Axalt and the Relynists feel about whites.”

  “That was probably for the best,” said Beltur. “I don’t know, either. It hasn’t come up. For now, I wouldn’t mention it.”

  “It was for the best,” added Tulya. “One of the guards remembered you. He said it was sad when blacks chased their own out and that it reminded him of the stories about Relyn.”

  Beltur couldn’t help but think about Jorhan’s forebear, and an amused smile crossed his face. “There’s a mention of Jorhan’s ancestor in The Wisdom of Relyn—that’s a book about Relyn…” Beltur went on to briefly tell the story, ending with, “And it appears that no one in Axalt even knew about it, but that’s because Johlana didn’t even know.”

  “Johlana?”

  Beltur realized that neither he nor Jessyla had even mentioned the couple that had done so much for them. “Johlana is Jorhan’s sister. She’s consorted to Barrynt, and he’s the one who said we were welcome in Axalt. They actually gave us all of the furnishings.”

  “You’ve managed so well in such a short time,” declared Tulya.

  “That’s all due to them. The furniture came from their storeroom,” said Jessyla. “And all of the crockery and linens. It doesn’t all match, but it’s good, and we’d have almost nothing without them. Barrynt even found this cot. We’re renting it, but things will get better in the spring. Beltur and I are both working at the healing house, and we’ll get paid more then.”

  “Beltur, too?” asked Tulya. “I thought he was working with a smith.”

  “He’s doing both,” replied Jessyla. “He’s always had some healing abilities. He was examined by the head healer. She found that he was qualified as a healer.”

  Lhadoraak and Tulya exchanged glances.

  “You really are a healer, too?” asked Taelya.

  “Yes, he is,” replied Jessyla. “After we finish eating, we’ll work out things for you to sleep in the front room. We do have some extra blankets, and there’s the bench pad…”

  “We do have some blankets,” Tulya said. “Are you sure…?”

  “You’re not going out in the cold,” declared Jessyla.

  And you’re going to need every silver you have. Beltur wasn’t about to say that, although he doubted that the couple had all that many.

  “There’s no way we can thank you,” said Lhadoraak.

  “You don’t have to,” replied Beltur.

  Later, after everyone was settled, and Beltur and Jessyla lay side by side in their bed, she turned to him, her voice low. “How could the Council have been so cruel? How could they? Taelya’s barely seven.”

  “But that may be part of it. She’s incredibly strong for a mage that young, and the blacks in Spidlar have this unreasoning fear of whites.”

  “But she’s Spidlarian, and her parents are, too. I don’t understand people sometimes.”

  “Neither do I.” Except that wasn’t quite true. Beltur could see exactly what people did and how they justified it; he just didn’t understand how they could deceive themselves so much.

  But haven’t you done the same?

  He stiffened slightly at that thought.

  LIV

  The only ingredients Beltur and Jessyla had sufficient to feed five people for breakfast turned out to be an oat porridge and a few pieces of egg toast with a drizzling of not quite bitter berry syrup.

  Before Beltur left for the stable and the healing house, he slipped Jessyla four silvers, with the words, “Get what you can at the market square and the chandlery … or anywhere else.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” she mouthed back.

  Beltur could also see that they’d need more ale before all that long if Lhadoraak and Tulya remained with them.

  As he walked toward Barrynt’s stable, he couldn’t help wondering how long he and Jessyla could help Lhadoraak. You have enough to support two families for almost a year … if you’re very, very, careful. But that was if nothing went wrong. And things always go wrong at the worst times.

  Once at the stable, he found himself murmuring to Slowpoke as he curried the big gelding. “… how did we get into this … never really wanted to leave Fenard … just tried to do the best I could…” Abruptly, he shook his head. What he was saying was what his uncle would have called self-pity. He smiled sardonically, recalling just what Kaerylt had said more than once.

  “You want to have a pity party, boy, you’ll be the only one there. Nobody cares. There’s no sense wasting words on self-pity. No sense at all.”

  For some reason, remembering those words made him feel better, and he stroked the gelding’s neck. “We’ll work it out.”

  Slowpoke whuffed. Beltur would have liked to have thought the gelding agreed, but he just might have wanted more hay, which Beltur gave him.

  When Beltur reached the healing house, Herrara hurried him into the welcoming room, where he immediately had to deal with a boy with bruises and a broken arm. He just nodded at the woman’s story, knowing that it was largely a fabrication to cover up abuse. At least, that was Beltur’s suspicion, since the woman was also bruised, although her injuries weren’t visible, but they were recent enough that Beltur could sense the residual chaos.

  Yuareff’s arm had almost no residual wound chaos, and he was comparatively cheerful, but Beltur was still worrying when he entered Wurfael’s ground-floor chamber.

  “Good morning.”

  Wurfael looked up from where he was propped up in the bed, but did not speak.

  “I’d like to look at your leg.”

  “What’s left of it. I’m not stopping you, Mage.”

  Beltur managed not to sigh. He’d been afraid of Wurfael’s reaction. Rather than respond, he let his senses range over the leg and the stump. Finally, he said, “Your leg’s healing well.”

  “Good for it.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  “Some. Not as much.”

  Beltur noticed the wooden crutches in the corner. “How are you coming with those?”

  “I can get around here. They’ll be useless outside.”

  “Not on cleared walks and streets, I wouldn’t think. Besides, they’re only for a while. Once you get a peg leg, you ought to be able to get around with a cane.”

  “So everyone can look at the cripple?”

  “You’re still a strong man, Wurfael, and you’ve got good hands. You could be good at a lot of things. You know woods. What about working with them?”

  “I don’t know them like that.” The young man’s voice was sullen.

  “You likely know them better than you think.” Beltur paused, then added, “It can’t hurt to think about who you know and what you know that could prove useful.” He reached out and touched Wurfael’s shoulder, offering the slightest bit of free order with a little warmth behind it.

  The young timberman looked up, surprised.

  “I think you can do it,” said Beltur with a smile, before turning and leaving the room.

  The rest of the day at the healing house was more routine, changing dressings, making up dressings, and dealing with small wounds and ailments, usually of poorer folk who lacked basic supplies.

  B
eltur left a quint early, with Herrara’s permission, and hurried back to the cot. From there, he and Lhadoraak walked swiftly to Barrynt’s factorage.

  As they neared the factorage, a two-story structure some fifteen yards wide, and more than twenty deep, Beltur realized that he’d never actually been inside. Every time he’d come, he’d met Barrynt at the doorway or just outside. In fact, he’d never actually read the signboard, which proclaimed MOUNTAIN FACTORAGE. Beltur thought that slightly odd, because most signboards had the name of the town or city or the owner, or, in the case of inns or public houses, a greater indication of what goods or services were available.

  Ryntaar appeared as they stepped inside. “Mage…” He frowned slightly as he took in Lhadoraak’s black coat and trousers. “Or mages?”

  “Lhadoraak’s also a black mage from Elparta. Is your father available?”

  “He’s in back, ser.”

  “Thank you.”

  Beltur did indeed find Barrynt standing beside a tall open cabinet containing bolts of cloth, each in its own separate section. Several bolts were of black wool.

  The merchant looked preoccupied as he studied the cabinet, and a faint haze of chaos swirled around him. Abruptly, he looked up, startled. “Beltur … what can I do for you?”

  “You’ve done more than enough for me. This is Lhadoraak. He’s another black mage from Elparta. He and his consort and their daughter arrived late yesterday. They’re staying with us until they can find a place … and until Lhadoraak can find some sort of work.”

  “I see. I think I do, anyway.” Barrynt frowned, then addressed Lhadoraak. “Welcome to Axalt, although I’m not quite sure I understand why you’d leave Elparta in winter and come to a place where you know almost no one.” Barrynt’s voice was mild, slightly concerned.

  “The Council insisted that we leave, because they decided that I was not the kind of mage they wanted in Elparta. They insisted that my family accompany me.”

  “That doesn’t tell me why.”

  “The Council seems to believe that anyone close to Beltur and Jorhan may be tainted. Beltur saved my life and that of my daughter. The Council believes those acts tainted us both.”