Outcasts of Order

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Keeping the patroller’s advice in mind, Beltur left Laevoyt and made his way across the carts and stalls near Patrol Street to the point more than halfway across the square where snow was still piled before slipping into a concealment and moving back westward across the produce carts. He briefly sensed a flash of transitory chaos, but there was only that hint of possible trouble for the next few quints.

  Just after the ten strokes of midday rang out on the chimes, Beltur felt a definite quick wash of chaos from near the table that was both selling and buying small items of jewelry. He immediately moved, still under a concealment, toward the site of the chaos. Unlike the chaos associated with lifters and cutpurses, that which he’d sensed didn’t flicker, but remained around one figure standing several paces back, that of a woman, but there were two figures close together. Belatedly, Beltur realized that he was sensing a woman holding a child, and he released the concealment.

  The woman seemed to be looking at a table set to one side of the jewelry vendor and did not even see him appear, although the vendor at the jewelry table offered a surprised expression.

  As he moved closer, Beltur could see that the young woman was looking at the few remaining acorn cakes set on the other table. He could also sense a swirling of chaos, chaos that was something else. More like despair.

  He turned directly toward the young woman. While he was certainly no expert on infants, he thought the child, wrapped in a small but heavy blanket that had been patched more than a few times, with only its face visible, was likely less than three seasons old. The mother wore a thin and worn cloak, and while the day was far warmer than most had been recently, Beltur doubted that the cloak provided enough warmth. Her face was thin, dark circles under slightly reddened eyes.

  “Have you eaten much lately?” he asked gently.

  She shuddered, as if she hadn’t even noticed him approach, and her eyes widened as she took in his visor cap and medallion. “I haven’t done anything, ser.”

  “I know that,” Beltur replied. “I asked if you’d eaten lately. Please don’t lie to me.”

  Her eyes dropped. “No, ser.”

  Beltur looked at the acorn cake seller. “Are the cakes still three for a copper?”

  “Two coppers for five, ser.”

  Beltur eased two coppers from his belt wallet and handed them to the vendor. “These are for her.” As the vendor wrapped the cakes in a thin paper, Beltur noticed that there were six cakes in the stack, and he murmured, “Thank you.”

  “Thank you, ser,” replied the older woman.

  Beltur handed the cakes to the young woman, who looked at him unbelievingly. “Please find some shelter and eat.”

  Tears seeped from the corners of her eyes as she took the package one-handed. “We … we’ve been so hungry…”

  “I could tell.”

  “Thank you, ser.” Then she turned and hurried off, almost as if fleeing and believing that the small stack of acorn cakes would vanish if she remained.

  “She’s been standing here, looking for almost a quint,” the vendor said. “I thought she might faint.”

  “You were kind to add an extra,” Beltur said.

  “You could tell she wasn’t a thief, couldn’t you?”

  Beltur nodded. “She’s the kind who can’t even beg.” At least not with words. He offered a smile to the vendor and moved on, wondering about mother and child, but he never caught another glimpse of them for the rest of the time he patrolled the square.

  He was still thinking about her, and the chaos of desperation that had surrounded her, even after he’d signed out and as he walked through the afternoon light along Bakers Lane, back toward the house. He hadn’t told Laevoyt what he’d done, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell anyone, because he wondered if he’d done too little, even as he considered that he couldn’t keep feeding and supporting the young woman. And, if he told anyone, that wouldn’t really be right, either, because, in a way, he’d be boasting. No … it was better to leave the strange encounter unmentioned.

  Once he reached the house, he had barely stepped inside when Meldryn appeared in the archway leading to the parlor.

  “The mage-councilor’s here to see us,” said Meldryn, adding in a much lower voice, “You mostly, I’d guess.”

  “Did he say why?” murmured Beltur.

  Meldryn shook his head.

  When Meldryn and Beltur returned to the parlor, Cohndar did not rise from the padded bench where he sat, but inclined his head in a perfunctory manner to Beltur. “As Meldryn might have told you, Beltur, I’m visiting all the blacks in Elparta. One reason for this is to tell you that the Council has passed a proclamation establishing a mage council in each of the three largest cities in Spidlar. I’m particularly pleased about this because I’ve been working for a long time to better the conditions for all blacks. The second reason is that the Council has issued a proclamation changing the laws affecting trade and magery.”

  Meldryn sat in his favorite chair, saying nothing, while Beltur took the straight-backed chair, turned it to face Cohndar, and seated himself. “Changing the laws affecting magery? I have to admit I didn’t know that there were any laws, except the ones requiring mages to serve with the City Patrol.”

  “That was in fact the only one directly affecting only mages,” replied Cohndar smoothly, “but, as you know, the attempted invasion by the Prefect of Gallos and his white wizards greatly alarmed the Council. As a result, the councilors decided that certain changes needed to be made to assure that Spidlaria, and particularly Elparta, remain free of the white influence and that chaos is kept away, chaos in all forms, not just that employed by white wizards in the field.”

  Beltur managed a concerned frown, not difficult because he was concerned, if not in precisely the fashion in which he hoped Cohndar would interpret the expression. “I wasn’t aware that there has been any difficulty with chaos in Elparta. Is this something that has happened elsewhere in Spidlar?”

  “I can’t speak to that, only to the action that the Council has taken.”

  More like won’t speak to it.

  “What is this action that the Council has taken?” asked Meldryn.

  “I’m glad you asked.” Cohndar smiled. “The Council has issued a proclamation that requires all goods manufactured using magery to be sold to users through a trader. The trader is required to have such items inspected by a representative of the Mages’ Council to make certain that no harmful chaos is in those items. The proclamation applies to all goods sold in Spidlar on or after the first day of Winter.”

  “Manufactured using magery?” Meldryn said musingly. “I certainly don’t use magery in baking bread, pies, or pastries.”

  “Your baked goods wouldn’t be covered by that proclamation,” replied Cohndar, turning his head toward Beltur. “It’s aimed more at objects made of metal, possibly wood, other more … tangible … items that could easily incorporate chaos without anyone except a mage being any the wiser.”

  Beltur managed a nod, before saying, “I can see the concern. I don’t think anyone would like uncontained chaos floating around, and I can see the possible need for inspection by knowledgeable mages. What I don’t understand is why the Council required the items to be sold to users by a trader.”

  “You’d have to take that up with the Council, Beltur. I’m certainly not privy as to why the councilors decide how they want something accomplished. I can only surmise that they felt that doing it that way would be more certain.”

  “It does make some things more certain,” said Meldryn, “like sending the word that the Council has the power to restrict who can sell what to whom. That seems to me to be a disturbing precedent.”

  Cohndar shrugged. “As we know, the Council will do what the Council will do. It always has. Anyway, as I said earlier, I’m just the messenger. I didn’t make the new law. I just want to make certain that all the blacks in Elparta are aware of it.” He smiled faintly. “Sometimes, tradesmen have a habit of not passing o
n what they know.”

  “I suppose that’s possible,” said Beltur flatly. “Even mages have been known not to do that.”

  Cohndar stiffened just slightly, then added, “You should also know that the penalty for failing to comply is ten golds per item, in addition to a fifty-gold penalty.”

  “That seems rather steep,” observed Meldryn. “Most crafters don’t have that many golds. Certainly, most mages don’t.”

  “Then the crafter or the mage would have to be indentured until the fines are paid.”

  “Most would likely leave Elparta before submitting to that.”

  “Trying to evade a significant indenture can require execution,” Cohndar said mildly. “Surely, you should be aware of that, Meldryn.”

  “That’s never been invoked in years.”

  “Only because people are sensible.” Cohndar rose, smiling cheerfully. “That’s all I came to do, and I must be heading out to finish informing others.”

  “We certainly wouldn’t want to keep you,” said Meldryn politely, also standing. “I’ll see you out.”

  Beltur stood, but did not accompany the two to the entry foyer. He just waited until he heard the front door close and Meldryn returned to the parlor before asking, “What do you think?”

  “He didn’t come up with the idea, but he certainly came up with the idea of the Mages’ Council gaining control over what magery can and cannot be used for.”

  “He’s looking more and more like the black version of Wyath,” said Beltur. “Especially when he suggested that if I tried to avoid the proclamation, I’d face indentured slavery or a death sentence. Waensyn must really hate me.”

  “A season ago, I would have disputed that, but not now. He’s also thinking about gaining more power. Did you catch his implied threat? He said my baked goods wouldn’t be covered by that proclamation.”

  “Suggesting that he could get such a proclamation if you cause him trouble.”

  “That’s the way I heard it. I knew he was slimy, but this…” The gray-bearded mage shook his head.

  “Part of it has to be Waensyn’s influence.”

  “That may be, but Cohndar doesn’t have to take bad advice.”

  Beltur had to agree with that. “I don’t see anyone except Lhadoraak taking exception to the proclamation.”

  “Oh, there will be a few others, but they won’t speak up. They never do, and some like Caradyn and Osarus have been wanting a mages’ group with power for years.”

  “I can see that mages need more power,” said Beltur, “but it seems like every time someone sets up something like it, it immediately gets used for something that’s not particularly good.”

  “That’s because the people who want power the most are the ones who should be granted it the least.” Meldryn snorted. “We might as well have dinner. I need to get the taste of slime out of my mouth.”

  Beltur nodded and accompanied Meldryn to the kitchen. Slavery or death for wanting to sell cupridium without going through a trader?

  XXII

  On fourday morning, Beltur was at the smithy well before seventh glass.

  “Thought you might come early,” called out Jorhan as Beltur hung his coat on the wall peg. “I’m already heating the mold for a sabre. After that, we’ll move on to daggers.”

  Beltur walked toward the forge. “We had a visitor yesterday afternoon. Cohndar. You might recall him. He was the one who came here with Councilor Jhaldrak.”

  “Sleazy type, as I recall. What did he want?”

  “He’s now the representative of the Mages’ Council, and he wanted to make clear everything in the proclamation you showed me twoday.”

  “Between him and that Trader Alizant, seems like they want to squeeze every copper from us.”

  Beltur shook his head. “Alizant wants us to forge cupridium. He’ll offer a deal, more than you’d make as a coppersmith but a lot less than you’re making now. Cohndar doesn’t want me to make anything. He even said I’d get indentured slavery if I didn’t comply.”

  “This have anything to do with your healer girl?”

  “Just about everything.” Beltur went on to explain about Waensyn.

  When Beltur had finished, the smith shook his head. “World’d be a better place without some folks.”

  “I’m beginning to agree with you.”

  “Won’t change anything. I’ve got the sledge almost ready. Hontyl’s looking for a likely mount for me. Says he’s going to be looking at a new lot. Want me to have him look for you?”

  “Right now … I don’t feel I can leave.”

  “Take her with you.”

  If it were only that easy. “There’s her mother, and her aunt, and they’re not ready for us to consort, and taking her without their permission…” Beltur shook his head. “When do you think you’ll be leaving?”

  “I’d like to leave now, but we’ve got another four or five days of casting, and it’ll take that much time for all the fullering, hardening, polishing, and finishing … maybe more.” Jorhan paused. “Any time you want to change your mind, you’re welcome to come with me … and bring your healer.”

  “I appreciate the offer. I wish I could take you up on it.” Beltur managed a smile. “We’d better get to work. I wouldn’t want to be the one delaying you.”

  All through the day, Beltur tried to keep his mind on the work at hand. He managed that, for the most part, except when he stopped to eat his loaf or drink some of Jorhan’s ale, and then his thoughts turned to Jessyla … and how Cohndar and Waensyn had done so much to complicate both his life and Jessyla’s. Then he forced himself back to work.

  At half past third glass, Beltur left the smithy, with another silver in his wallet, walking quickly. The afternoon was pleasant by comparison to the weather of the past two eightdays, although Beltur certainly wouldn’t have called it that a year earlier. So very much has changed.

  After he passed through the southeast city gate, he took the east wall street to Crossed Lane and turned west. Before that long he was knocking on Lhadoraak’s door.

  The mage opened it. “I thought it might be you.” Lhadoraak stepped back to allow Beltur inside, then closed the door behind him.

  “Did Cohndar come and visit you?” Beltur stripped off his coat and scarf.

  “He did, but Tulya kept Taelya upstairs,” replied Lhadoraak. “She just told her that we were talking black mage matters and that the two of them needed to stay away. So far as I could tell, there wasn’t any free chaos in the parlor. Taelya’s been following your advice.”

  “That’s good.” Beltur breathed a little more easily, but he still worried. “Until yesterday, I had no idea he’d be visiting all the blacks.”

  “Why did he bother?” Lhadoraak frowned. “None of us—”

  “Except me,” replied Beltur wryly. “Trader Alizant wants to get a big cut out of what Jorhan and I are forging, and that fit right in with what Cohndar and Waensyn want.”

  “But how?” After only a moment, Lhadoraak’s mouth opened. “I can’t believe … he’d really do that? Just to…”

  “To keep me coinless and make Waensyn seem like a better match for Jessyla? It appears that would be one of the results of the Council’s action. I can’t believe he didn’t know that from the beginning, since he was the one who pushed Jhaldrak into visiting Jorhan’s smithy to see if we were really forging cupridium.”

  “He did that?”

  “Before the invasion.” Beltur was surprised that Lhadoraak didn’t know, but, upon reflection, he realized that there was no reason the other mage would have known. “Didn’t he also talk some about the need to keep chaos at bay?”

  “He’s always talked about that. He’s been repeating that for years. That wasn’t new.”

  “You didn’t know Taelya was a white, then.”

  “You don’t think he’d really exile her? Does he know about her, do you think?”

  “No. If he did, he would have been more direct, now that he has the Council and
all the traders behind him. But he did take a dig at Meldryn. He pointed out that the present proclamation wouldn’t affect Meldryn’s bakery.”

  “Cohndar said that?”

  “Almost word for word.”

  Lhadoraak shook his head. “I don’t like the way this is going. Not at all.”

  You don’t like it? How do you think I feel? “I don’t either, but I can’t think of a way around it at the moment.” Except leaving Elparta and doing that with winter coming on isn’t exactly something I’d want to try, especially if it means leaving Jessyla to Waensyn’s slimy hands. “It’s even more important that I work with Taelya now.”

  Lhadoraak nodded, then raised his voice. “Taelya, it’s time for your work with Beltur.” He turned back to Beltur. “I need to talk this over with Tulya while you’re working with Taelya.”

  “It would be good to know what she thinks.” For several reasons.

  Lhadoraak nodded, then turned and smiled as Taelya came down the narrow staircase.

  Beltur studied her, then said, “Much better. You’ve kept the two kinds of chaos separated.” Then he grinned. “Did you just do that, or have you been doing it all along?”

  Taelya offered an embarrassed smile. “Ah … I just did. But I have been doing it at times every day.”

  Beltur could sense the truth of her words. “That’s good. It’s gotten easier, hasn’t it?”

  “Yes, ser.”

  He motioned toward the parlor, then followed her. She sat on the bench, and he took the same straight-backed chair he’d used before, positioning it to face her before sitting down. “We’re going to work more on shields today.”

  “I’ve been practicing shields. I can hold a much larger one now.”

  “Let me see.”

  Taelya scrunched up her face slightly, concentrating, and presented a circular “knitted” shield almost three yards across.

  “Why did you make it a circle?” asked Beltur.

  “Because I could tie the loose strands of order and chaos together better that way. Mother gave me the idea. I asked her about how she did it with knitting. I thought I knew, but she helped.”