“You also have the strongest shields I’ve ever sensed. Yet you are a fugitive from two lands.”
“I didn’t have those shields when the Prefect’s men and white mages were after me, and they weren’t as strong as they are now until I’d worked with Athaal, a mage in Elparta.”
“Could he not have interceded for you?”
“He was killed in the invasion by the Prefect’s white mages, as were several others.”
“Without Beltur, the Spidlarian forces might well have lost,” interjected Lhadoraak. “He also saved me and others.”
“Yet you fled Spidlar?”
“You’ve heard what I said before.”
Naerkaal offered a sardonic smile. “Yes, I have.” He turned to Lhadoraak, who stood beside the chair closest to the door. “Your daughter and consort are here?”
“They’re in the kitchen.”
“Before I talk with them, I have a few questions for you.” Naerkaal walked to the chair on the far side of the bench and seated himself.
Lhadoraak sat on the bench, and Beltur took the other chair.
“I take it that your daughter has some tendencies toward the white, since even the traders of Spidlar would likely not go so far as to commit a total fabrication. Do you agree?”
“Not totally,” replied Lhadoraak. “They would fabricate anything that served their ends. Taelya does have tendencies toward the white, but she is far from being anything close to a mage.”
“Why do you think they exiled her, and not you? I’d like a complete answer, not the partial one you offered the Council.”
“I’ll do the best I can, ser. I don’t think I know all the reasons the Council may have had. When Beltur and Jessyla left Elparta, none of the mages knew anything about Taelya. Oh, they knew I had a daughter. I doubt any even knew her name. But when Cohndar and Waensyn disappeared, none of the mages wanted to select a successor until they knew that the two were really gone.”
“Did you know they were dead?”
“No, not until Beltur told me after we arrived in Axalt.”
Naerkaal nodded. “Then what?”
“After an eightday or so, Caradyn acted as head of the Mages’ Council in Elparta. It took several eightdays after that before the mages agreed on him and for the Traders’ Council to approve him. Once he was confirmed by the Council, he began to visit every black in Elparta, asking each of us about Beltur and Jessyla, and whether we’d known anything about the disappearance of Cohndar and Waensyn.”
“No one did that earlier?”
“There were questions, and certainly suspicions that Beltur had something to do with their disappearance. But there was the troubling problem that the guard accompanying Cohndar and Waensyn to Jorhan’s smithy was dismissed and told that the two mages had the situation well in hand.”
Naerkaal turned his eyes on Beltur. “Is that true?”
“Yes. That was when I realized that they wanted to kill me.”
“Did they say anything to that effect?”
“That I’d be fortunate to survive as an indentured slave, or words to that effect.”
“What did you do then?”
“As I told you. I put containments around them both and held them.”
Naerkaal nodded again and looked back to Lhadoraak. “And you knew nothing of anything about this except what the guard said? Until you came to Axalt, that is?”
“I heard from Meldryn—he’s the baker with whom Beltur lived—that Beltur had stopped by the bakery with Jessyla and said that they were leaving because Cohndar planned to charge him with chaos-wielding and would either indenture him for life or have the Council execute him.”
“Interesting choice of words,” mused Naerkaal, turning back to Beltur. “That suggests you’d already killed them.”
“They were dead within a quint of the time they dismissed the Council guard.”
“Lhadoraak, how soon did this … Caradyn … visit your house?”
“Within a day of the time his appointment was confirmed by the Council.”
“Hmmm. What did he ask you?”
“Some of the same questions you did. If I knew where Beltur was, if I knew what happened to Cohndar.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That Beltur was likely in Axalt with Jessyla, because that was what Meldryn had told me, and that I had no knowledge of what happened to Cohndar and Waensyn, but that it was certainly possible that Beltur had done something to them—but that he never would have attacked them unless they attacked first.”
“Do you know that for a fact?”
“Yes.”
Once more Naerkaal nodded. “Your presence in Elparta might have proved embarrassing, then?”
A look of surprise appeared on Lhadoraak’s face. “Embarrassing?”
“You’re clearly a very honest man. You’re not a strong enough black to be able to shield a lie. The fact that you know that Beltur is the kind that never attacks first would sully the reputation of Cohndar, and by extension, that of the Mages’ Council. Yet … exiling you would call attention to you directly. I think it’s time for me to meet your daughter and consort.”
“Tulya, Taelya! Please join us,” called Lhadoraak, rising from the bench.
“Is anyone else in the house?” asked Naerkaal.
“No, today is one of Jessyla’s days to work at the healing house.”
“I’d almost forgotten that you’re a skilled healer as well. That lends a certain credence to your friend’s point that you tend to react rather than attack.” Naerkaal stood.
Seeing as he was the only one seated, so did Beltur.
As Tulya and Taelya entered the front room, Lhadoraak gestured to the bench. “The three of us can share.”
Beltur felt Naerkaal’s gentle and quick sensing of Taelya, but waited to see what the mage-councilor would do.
Surprisingly, Naerkaal turned to Beltur. “You’d throw one of those confinements around me if I tried anything against her, wouldn’t you?”
“I hadn’t thought about it, but, yes, most likely I would.”
The councilor offered a soft laugh, then turned to Taelya. “Young woman, do you know why I’m here?”
“Yes, ser. You want to see me. You want to know if I’m a mage. I’m not. Not yet.”
“Fairly said. Can you light a fire?”
“No, ser. I can light a candle.”
“Would you show me?”
“I’ll have to get her one from the kitchen,” said Tulya, rising.
“Please do.”
In moments, Tulya returned with a short traveling candle and set it on the hearth before Taelya.
“Try to light it,” said Naerkaal.
Taelya concentrated, using a point of free chaos confined by order. The candle flared into flame.
Beltur could sense Naerkaal’s surprise.
“Can you do anything else, like throw chaos bolts?”
“Oh, no, ser. Beltur won’t let me try that. He says I have to have shields before I work with lots of chaos.”
Naerkaal turned to Beltur. “You’ve been teaching her?”
“I asked him to,” interjected Lhadoraak. “He was the only one who knew anything about chaos. He was raised by his uncle who was a white mage.”
“But you’re clearly a black.”
Beltur could see he was going to have to explain. “I grew up in Gallos. My parents died when I was quite young…” He went on to give a summary of how he had ended up in Elparta.
“I see,” said Naerkaal, “but how did you end up teaching Taelya?”
“She was ill. She was almost dying,” interjected Lhadoraak. “Beltur was the only one who realized she was order-bound.”
“Order-bound?”
“Her natural chaos was so constrained by bands of order that she couldn’t grow, and she was slowly dying.”
“I’ve heard of that, but never seen it. Have you run across this before?”
“Just one other time.”
“Loosened some of the bands and removed some, just enough that she was in balance.”
“You can … Of course, you’re a healer as well.” After a moment, Naerkaal addressed Taelya again. “What else can you do?”
“I still have to work to keep my own chaos separate from the free chaos.”
Again, Naerkaal turned to Beltur, inquiringly.
“The reason, I believe, that whites die so much younger than blacks is that they mix free chaos with their body’s natural chaos and that they don’t handle free chaos with order. The free chaos corrupts their system after time. Taelya already had problems, and I didn’t want her to compound them with bad technique.”
“I see.” The councilor returned his attention to Taelya. “What else can you do?”
“I’m working on getting better shields.”
“Can you put up a shield for me?”
Taelya looked to Beltur, who nodded, and then concentrated. After several moments, she had a shield around herself, not a strong one, but one that might have stopped a single sharp blow from a blade or a staff.
Naerkaal order-probed the shield gently, but it held.
Perspiration began to appear on Taelya’s forehead as she continued to hold the shield.
“Oh, you can lower it now. Can you do anything else?”
“No, ser. Beltur says I have to work on getting stronger shields.”
The councilor was silent for several moments, finally saying, “Taelya, I need a few moments with your father.”
Tulya rose and took her daughter’s hand. “We’ll get you something to eat.”
Once Tulya and Taelya were in the kitchen, Naerkaal studied Beltur for several moments. “She’s very, very strong for her age. You’ve also been very careful with her. I would expect no less from a mage-healer, but so often expectations are not met.”
“Do you have any other questions?” asked Lhadoraak.
Naerkaal shook his head. “You all have been more forthcoming than I could have expected.”
“Do you have any idea about what the Council will do?” pressed Lhadoraak.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss what the Council might or might not do. That would be premature and unwise.”
“Even to discuss what the possibilities are?” asked Tulya, from where she stood at the door to the kitchen.
“Even that,” replied Naerkaal, rising from the chair. “This … situation … is without precedent. With no precedent, it would be most unwise for me to offer anything beyond saying that the Council will consider everything carefully.”
“Might I ask what makes it unprecedented?” asked Beltur, also standing.
“You may ask,” replied Naerkaal, “but what makes it unprecedented bears on what the Council must decide, and I cannot and should not infringe on the responsibilities of the Council.”
A diplomatic way of saying you aren’t about to tell us. Beltur managed a polite smile, then moved toward the door. “We do appreciate your thoroughness in considering the matter.”
As he donned his black wool coat and black leather gloves, Naerkaal said, “The Council would have it no other way. We’ve observed the results of hasty decisions elsewhere. Seldom are the results good for anyone.”
“I’ve seen that also. That’s why I appreciate thoroughness.” Beltur opened the door.
“You appear to be most thorough, Beltur, and that is unusual at your age.” Naerkaal nodded. “We will see the four of you at fourth glass next sixday when the Council decides the matter. Good day.” He smiled pleasantly, then stepped out through the open door, not looking back as he walked toward the street.
Immediately after the door closed, Tulya asked, “What do you think?”
“I think he doesn’t want to make us suffer, but there’s something in the laws that’s a problem.” Lhadoraak looked to Beltur. “Do you know what that might be?”
“The only thing that I’ve heard is that white mages aren’t permitted to stay in Axalt. Taelya’s certainly not a mage.”
“Yet,” replied Lhadoraak.
“He seemed sympathetic,” ventured Tulya.
“If he is, he’ll have to persuade the Council without seeming sympathetic,” replied Beltur. “That’s hard.”
“What do we do now?” asked Lhadoraak.
“Wait,” replied Beltur. None of them knew any of the councilors, or anyone of power in Axalt, and contacting anyone now would only make matters worse. Herrara had done what she could, either out of self-interest or kindness, if not both, and while Barrynt was a prosperous merchant, from what Beltur had observed, he wasn’t one of the more powerful merchants or traders, unlike Emlyn and Sarysta, who clearly looked down on Barrynt, or at least Johlana.
Rather than just sit and wait, Beltur decided he should head back to the stable and take out the other two horses. Neither had gotten as much exercise as they should have, and he could ride one and lead the other. Besides, that would keep his mind off the councilors and what they might do.
LXI
On eightday morning another fine snow was drifting down across Axalt, but less than a digit had accumulated when Beltur left to tend the stable, and the snow was not that much deeper when he left the stable for the healing house. Once he arrived there, he took off his coat and scarf and immediately made his way to Herrara’s study.
She looked up from the ledger in which she was entering numbers and returned the pen to its stand before asking, “Do you want to tell me what happened at your meeting with the Council?”
Beltur told her quickly, with a slight emphasis on Taelya, then looked at the head healer. “Did Naerkaal share any of that with you?”
“He only said that you were likely more talented and more dangerous than you seemed. I told him I’d already gleaned that. I told him I didn’t think you were the type to attack anyone, unless you or those you care for were threatened. I also told him that Axalt would lose a great deal if you and your consort were forced to leave.”
“Did he respond to that?”
“He said that he respected my judgment more than many members of the Council might. He also wanted to know just how good a healer you and your consort were. I told him the truth—that you both had things to learn, but that you were better than many healers and that you could do healing I’d never seen done before.” Herrara paused, then asked, “Do you know what the Council plans?”
“They’ll talk it over this eightday, and let us know on sixday, at fourth glass. So I’ll have to leave a little early then.”
“We’ll hope for the best.” After the slightest of hesitations, she said, “You’d best start with the gambler. He’s been complaining about his hands … among other things. Elisa says he’s been difficult.”
“Difficult” could mean quite a number of things, none of them good. “Oh?”
“He’d have roving hands, if not worse, except that he can’t use them, and his language is more than flirtatious.”
“One of those.” Beltur shook his head, then picked up a basket of supplies before heading up the stairs to the chamber that held Klaznyt, announcing, “Good morning,” as he walked in.
“I see that the healer sent for you,” said Klaznyt sourly from where he was propped up in the bed with his splinted hands resting on his abdomen.
“She told me to look in on you, and that your hands hurt more.”
“How could they be otherwise?”
“They couldn’t be, not after what happened.” Beltur walked over to the bed and began to use his senses to search for wound chaos. Despite what Klaznyt said, while there were still some small areas of chaos, one of which was definitely yellowish red, some of the others had either shrunk or not grown. Beltur set to work, and this time was able to remove all of the wound chaos, at least all that he could sense.
“That makes my hands and fingers hot.”
“They’ll cool in a bit.”
“They hurt more.”
“That pain s
hould fade before long.”
“You have answers for everything, don’t you, Mage?”
“Hardly,” replied Beltur. “Just about some things in magery and healing.”
“You don’t like me very much, do you?”
“I don’t know you well enough to like you or dislike you,” lied Beltur. “I’ve heard that you’ve been difficult with the healer-in-training. That’s something I don’t like.”
“I was only teasing, maybe flirting a little. What’s a man to do when he can’t do much?”
“She didn’t take it as teasing. Neither did the head healer. If they don’t, neither do I.”
“You’ve still got that staff up your backside.”
“And you’ve got a lot of broken fingers,” said Beltur pleasantly. “We could just send you off, if you’re not comfortable here.”
“Don’t make threats you can’t carry out, Mage.”
“I could,” replied Beltur. “Or I could do worse, but you’re not worth the bother. I was just suggesting you might think over things a bit more.”
“Have you done worse?”
Beltur just smiled pleasantly. “I wouldn’t worry about that. You need to worry about letting your fingers heal and what you’ll do after that.” He turned, glad that he hadn’t answered the question, because one answer would have been a lie, and the other taken as a boast.
His next stop was Wurfael’s room, where he was surprised to find the young timberman sitting on the side of the bed with what had to be a peg leg and the padding and leather harness to strap it in place. “It looks as though you’re coming along.”
“It’s going to take some getting used to. It hurts like demon fire after even a little while. Healer Herrara said I should only wear it for a little while at a time, right now. She said once everything heals, in a season or so, I should be able to get one with a boot attached.”
“She’d know about that.” Beltur wondered how Herrara had arranged for the peg leg, and if that was part of what the healing house did.
Before he could say more, Elisa appeared. “She needs you in the surgery.”
“I’ll be back later,” Beltur said before turning to the young healer-in-training. “I’m on my way.” He hurried out of the room and down the stairs. The first thing he saw when he entered the surgery was a woman in dark gray standing by the surgery table, and a younger woman, barely more than a girl, sitting there.
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