Outcasts of Order

by L. E. Modesitt Jr

  “That’s not surprising with the beating he took. Without you, I might not have been able to save what I did. Have you told him that he lost the end of one little finger?”

  “No. I didn’t mention it.”

  “He’ll begin to notice it in the next few days when the swelling and pain are less.”

  “He’s fortunate to keep what he did.”

  “His kind won’t think so. His hands will be stiff and likely hurt some of the time for the rest of his days.”

  The rest of the day at the healing house was without event, and Beltur left at two quints past third glass, not wanting to have to hurry the way he had the previous sixday. This time, he was the first to arrive at the Council building, and Jessyla was the second, followed closely by Lhadoraak, Tulya, and Taelya.

  Beltur almost wanted to ask if everyone was ready to deal with the Council. Instead, he just said, “Shall we go in?”

  Lhadoraak nodded and led the way. Beltur and Jessyla followed the other three inside.

  The guard outside the door, once more, made them wait for close to half a quint, until the chimes outside struck fourth glass. Then he slipped into the chamber, returning almost immediately and gesturing for them to enter.

  As the five walked toward the front of the Council chamber, Beltur noticed immediately that Naerkaal remained in the center of the councilors seated at the long table.

  Once the five stood before the Council, Naerkaal’s eyes scanned the group, lingering a moment on Jessyla, who stood at the end beside Beltur. “I see that all of you are here. That’s good.” After several long moments, he continued. “As I have told you, and as the Council has reaffirmed, the situation that the presence of you five in Axalt presents is unusual. In fact, it is so unusual that it is unprecedented.” He paused and said again, “Unprecedented.”

  Beltur and the others waited.

  “You, Mage Beltur, are not only one of the most powerful mages to arrive in Axalt during the tenure of any of the members of this Council, but you are also a healer, able to do feats that only a few healers can do, despite your comparative youth. Yet you also can work with a smith to forge cupridium. Despite all these skills, you were forced to flee Spidlar.” Naerkaal’s lips almost formed a quick smile. “That may well have been because of the skill and beauty of your consort, who is also a talented healer.” He moistened his lip, then went on. “Mage Lhadoraak, your situation is even more puzzling. You are a strong, but not overpowering black mage. Your consort is neither mage nor healer. Yet you have a daughter who most definitely bears the traits and abilities that will doubtless lead to her being a white mage. At the age of seven, she stands condemned and exiled for what she might become. Do any of you dispute what I have set forth?”

  “No, ser,” replied Beltur and Jessyla, while Lhadoraak shook his head, as did Taelya. Tulya continued to look straight ahead, at no one.

  “The Traders’ Council of Spidlar has declared that, in effect, two of you have used chaos in a fashion contrary to the laws of that land. After due consideration, the Council of Axalt has rejected that finding, with certain observations and conditions…”

  Beltur did not quite hold his breath, waiting to see exactly what those observations and conditions might be.

  “Before I state those conditions,” declared Naerkaal, “I must state, so that you understand fully, the law of Axalt with regard to chaos and its use. As the great Relyn said, one must accept chaos in its natural form, for chaos in that form is found in all nature. What Axalt cannot accept is the use of chaos to coerce, destroy, or otherwise cause harm to any person, any livestock or domestic animal, or to any structure or crop. Such a use defines a white mage, and no mage so defined can remain in Axalt for more than an eightday, or, in winter, until the roads are clear and safe enough for that mage to depart.” He paused again. “Is that clear to each of you? All of you, except Taelya, please answer individually.” Naerkaal nodded to Lhadoraak.

  “It is clear, Councilor.”

  “Yes, Councilor,” said Tulya, followed by Beltur and then Jessyla.

  Naerkaal leaned forward and looked at Taelya, speaking firmly, but gently, “Taelya … you are not to use your abilities as a handler of chaos to threaten or harm anyone or anything. Will you promise that you will not harm anyone or anything?”

  “Yes, ser. I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Thank you.”

  Naerkaal straightened and cleared his throat. “It is the finding that the five of you are allowed to remain within Axalt so long as you abide by its laws and the conditions governing the use of chaos.”

  Beltur found that he was still releasing, if slowly, the breath he thought he had not held, but he still managed to say, “Honored councilors, we thank you for the thoughtful and thorough consideration you have given to our unusual situation, and we deeply appreciate your efforts.”

  “My daughter and I thank you also,” added Lhadoraak.

  “This meeting of the Council is hereby closed.” Naerkaal actually smiled, if briefly. “You all may go.”

  Jessyla led the way outside.

  Once the five stood facing the market square, now completely deserted, Lhadoraak shook his head. “I don’t believe it. They were actually fair.” He looked to Beltur. “Did you think it would come out this way?”

  “I didn’t know. I knew they were worried about it, but … I’m just glad it turned out the way it did.”

  “Can we stay here, then?” asked Taelya.

  “Yes, we can, dear,” answered Tulya.

  “So long as we’re good,” Beltur said.

  “So long as we’re good,” agreed Lhadoraak cheerfully.

  “I think we should go home and have dinner,” suggested Tulya.

  Beltur nodded, as did Jessyla.

  The five set out, into a light but chill wind more out of the east than the north, which left Beltur wondering if it was a forewarning of a northeaster, except usually the wind warmed, comparatively, before a northeaster.

  Some moments later, as they walked away from the square, Beltur looked to Jessyla. “On the way back to the cot, I should stop briefly and let Jorhan and Johlana know what the Council decided. I’m sure they’re concerned.” If for different reasons. “I won’t be long.”

  “That would be a good idea,” replied Jessyla. “It will take us a little time to get dinner ready, anyway.”

  As they neared Barrynt’s mansion, Beltur walked ahead and then strode up the side drive and the steps. When he knocked at the door, Ryntaar was the one to open it.

  “Is Jorhan or your father here? I thought I should tell them about what happened at the Council meeting.”

  “Ah … Father’s not seeing anyone right now, but Uncle Jorhan’s around somewhere. If you’d come in and wait here in the hall…”

  “That would be fine. I won’t be long, but I thought everyone should know.” Beltur stepped into the side hall.

  “I’ll get Uncle.” Ryntaar immediately hurried away.

  Beltur frowned. The young man seemed preoccupied. He didn’t even ask what the Council decided. That seemed odd.

  Several moments later, Jorhan appeared, also looking concerned.

  Beltur could sense from the swirled mix of chaos and order around the smith that he also was perturbed or concerned. “Are you all right?”

  “Oh, I’m fine. Barrynt’s in one of his moods. He won’t say why. He never does.” Jorhan snorted. “Even I can tell that it has something to do with Sarysta and Halhana. Now, how did things go with the Council?”

  “They decided we all could stay in Axalt,” replied Beltur, adding dryly, “so long as we don’t use chaos to coerce or harm anyone or anything.”

  “That’s wonderful! I was worried…”

  “So were we, but I have to say that, this time, it appears that all the Council’s insistence on thoroughness and following procedures worked for us.”

  “About time that it did. About time.”

  Beltur thought he heard, or more likely
sensed, muffled words from the parlor, loud enough that Beltur could hear some of them, if barely …

  “… that bitch Sarysta…”

  “Beltur … we can talk more about this tomorrow. You’ll be there?”

  “I will.”

  “Good.” Jorhan opened the side door. “Until then.”

  Beltur felt he had no choice but to leave, but, as he hurried down the steps and lengthened his stride, he wondered just what Sarysta had done to set Barrynt off. From what he’d seen, Barrynt didn’t anger easily. But then he recalled Sarysta’s snide comments about Johlana, the single time he’d met her, and the cruel coldness behind them.

  He shook his head. There are so many things you don’t know about people. He smiled ruefully. You really didn’t understand how much Uncle cared until he was gone.

  He blinked away the tearing in his eyes and kept walking.

  LXIII

  As he walked to the smithy on sevenday, a day slightly warmer than those previous, but still far colder than anything he’d experienced before coming to Axalt, Beltur couldn’t help but think over the preoccupation and concern shown by both Jorhan and Ryntaar the day before. Clearly, something had upset the merchant, and upset him enough to concern Jorhan, and Beltur had never seen Jorhan that disconcerted. Angry, yes, but not disconcerted.

  Once he’d reached the smithy and taken off his coat, Beltur made his way to the workbench near the forge where Jorhan was working on a mold.

  “It’s another decorative box.”

  “Both you and Ryntaar seemed very disconcerted last night,” Beltur offered, not wanting to ask bluntly what had happened, but hoping that Jorhan would explain.

  “Barrynt was in one of his moods. Worse than usual. Really angry. I told you I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side.”

  “It doesn’t seem like he’s the type to hurt people,” said Beltur.

  “Johlana says he’s never hurt anyone in the family. He’s very protective of his family. Once he threw a fellow in the river for being rude to her.”

  “Was this something that Eshult did?”

  “Demon stars, no. That boy might have despicable parents, but he does his best for Halhana. Trouble is that he’s trying not to displease them. No … from what I heard, Halhana had said that she and Eshult were coming for dinner on eightday. Then, she said that they couldn’t come because something had come up with Eshult’s parents. This was the third or fourth time it happened, and Johlana was upset.” Jorhan shook his head. “Barrynt usually gets stone-faced. This time, he was yelling about how manipulative Sarysta was, how hurtful she was. He was shouting about how Emlyn indulged Sarysta’s every whim.”

  “Sarysta sounds spoiled.”

  “They’re all snobs. Emlyn might as well be a trader in Elparta. Same selfish pride. Doesn’t help that Sarysta’s brother is just as wealthy, and he’s on the Council.”

  Beltur couldn’t help but wonder if that had helped or hurt as far as he and Lhadoraak were concerned—or if they were considered so insignificant that the brother hadn’t even known about any connection.

  “How was Barrynt this morning?”

  “Pleasant enough. Quiet, though.”

  Beltur decided not to pursue that matter. “How is this mold different?”

  “Longer and narrower. Thought I’d try ferns, rather than rosebuds.”

  Beltur nodded, then looked at the forge. There was already enough coal there that he didn’t need to add any more.

  “I’ll be ready to start the melt in just a bit. Wouldn’t hurt if you brought in more coal for the firebox.”

  “I’ll take care of that.”

  By a quint after second glass, there was nothing else for Beltur to do, and he left the smithy. There was little point in his staying because he wasn’t getting paid for his time, and whatever he earned from his share depended on what might be sold in the eightdays after spring-turn. Selling a piece or two before then, from those displayed in Barrynt’s factorage, was possible, but hardly likely.

  Because he was finished early and Jessyla was at the healing house, Beltur decided to walk by the square just to see if there might be anything he could buy there … and possibly also stop by the chandlery.

  He was almost to the square when he saw a coach drawn up beside the shop next to the chandlery, with the driver standing beside the horses. He looked more closely at the black coach with silver trim that looked somehow familiar. Black and silver? Beltur eased into the shadows of the next building and drew a concealment around himself. That way anyone looking would have thought he just walked the other way.

  Then he moved swiftly as he dared toward the coach, hoping to get there before whoever was shopping finished. He wasn’t certain what he might discover, but after what Jorhan had said, Beltur couldn’t help being curious. As he neared the coach and the driver, he could sense that there was one person in the coach, likely a man. Emlyn? Eshult?

  The man’s order/chaos levels suggested someone older, and that most likely was Emlyn, possibly waiting for Sarysta. Beltur slipped up beside the coach, its side door slightly ajar, taking a position far enough back that Sarysta, or whoever Emlyn was waiting for, could enter without bumping into Beltur in his concealment.

  Almost half a quint passed before a woman left the shop and walked swiftly to the coach, carrying a package of some sort.

  Emlyn leaned forward and pushed the door open. “That took a while.”

  “Don’t provoke me, Emlyn. I’m still furious. That business with the mirror. I can’t have that sheepherder’s brat Johlana interfering with Eshult’s happiness. She’s already created too much misery.” Sarysta leaned into the coach and set the package on the rear-facing seat.

  “It’s only a mirror. Who’ll see it?”

  “I know it’s there. It simply doesn’t go with the décor.” Sarysta eased herself into the coach. “Besides, it’s the principle.”

  “You mean that Johlana commissioned something of taste—”

  “It’s an awful silver copper color, and before long she’ll be changing everything that I spent so long doing for Eshult. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

  Beltur winced, not only at the falsely sweet tone, but at the veiled and menacing hints behind the words, hints he was certain he was not imagining.

  “He loves her. Why are you making—”

  “He only thinks he loves her, dear. I’m sure he’ll see. I’m only thinking about Eshult…”

  The rest of Sarysta’s words were lost to Beltur as she shut the coach door firmly. He stepped back, half stunned by Sarysta’s words.

  He was still standing several moments later. Finally, he turned and began to make his way back toward the cot. He did stop at the next alleyway to duck into the shadows and lift the concealment before continuing, his thoughts still on the brief interchange he’d overheard.

  Johlana creating misery? Somehow, he couldn’t see that.

  Beltur was still mulling it all over when he returned to the cot just after third glass, where he found Tulya giving Taelya lessons in reading and spelling at the kitchen table.

  Taelya looked up immediately from the small chalkboard in front of her.

  Tulya turned. “Lhadoraak’s out talking to the owner of a sawmill. He was hoping there might be work there come spring. We’re just about finished with today’s lesson.”

  “Do we have to do more, Mother?”

  Tulya smiled. “Well … you could do mage lessons with Beltur.”

  “If you’re not too tired,” added Beltur.

  “I’m not too tired. Can we start now?”

  “In the front room,” said Tulya. “That way, I can start dinner.”

  Taelya almost bounced out of her chair on her way into the living room.

  “Best of fortune,” offered Tulya in a low voice. “She still gets restive when she has to correct her mistakes.”

  “That’s like most of us. We just don’t say anything. Children more often do.”

  Beltur walke
d back to the front room, where Tulya sat on the bench, and settled into the chair farthest from the door. “I thought we might work on your shields first. Then, we’ll see about whether you can use chaos to light some kindling. That’s harder than lighting a candle.” It was also another step toward teaching Taelya how to handle larger amounts of chaos on the way to her learning how to create and use chaos bolts … but a step that Beltur intended would teach Taelya how to do that in a way that kept free chaos well controlled by order and, if necessary, natural chaos.

  That control was going to be absolutely necessary, given what the Council had declared … and especially what Naerkaal had not said.

  Beltur smiled. “First, raise the best shield that you can.”

  LXIV

  Beltur wasn’t about to discuss what he’d overheard until he and Jessyla were alone, and it was well after eighth glass before he closed the door to their bedroom.

  “What is it, dear?” Jessyla immediately asked. “You’ve been very quiet. Something’s bothering you. Is it something with Jorhan? Or the Council?”

  “Neither. We finished early at the smithy, and I thought I’d walk to the square before heading home…” When Beltur finished telling her what he’d heard, he asked, “What do you think?”

  “She said it just like that?”

  “It was even worse. I can’t even imitate the false-sweet tone. And I’ve never sensed anyone so cold … well, except maybe Waensyn.”

  “She’s that bad?”

  “If you could have heard her.”

  “I believe you.” Jessyla frowned. “But how could Johlana have created this misery that Sarysta was talking about?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that. More than a little. Do you think that Sarysta was related to Barrynt’s first consort? That wouldn’t be something anyone would talk about.”

  “No,” mused Jessyla. “They wouldn’t. That might explain the furniture, but Johlana had nothing to do with his first consort. She didn’t even know Barrynt then. And if it happened that way, why wouldn’t Sarysta be angry at Barrynt, not Johlana?”