“I’m going to put pressure on it again, and we’ll see how strong you’ve made it.”
“I’m ready.”
Beltur created a probe, really a narrow shield containment, and first pressed it against the center of the shield, then probed various parts. While he could have broken through her shield, what was important was that the shield was equally strong everywhere, and that impressed him. “You’ve done a good job there. Now, I want you to try making a slightly different kind of shield.”
“Isn’t mine good enough?”
“It’s the best one I’ve ever seen from someone as young as you are, and better than some of the older mages.” Only one, but Taelya didn’t have to know that. “But we need to look at different ways of making shields so that you learn how to make and hold the strongest shield you possibly can. Just like different yards and yarn patterns in knitting have different strengths.” Beltur hoped that was so. He’d observed very little knitting.
“There are some that are stronger. Most are about the same.”
“That’s true of shields as well, but you’re going to need the strongest shield you can hold.”
“Because I’m a white?”
“Yes. Anyone who’s different needs to be as good as they can be.”
“Father says you’re like that.”
He did? “I think that’s why he and your mother decided I might be able to help you.”
“He said that, too.”
“I want you to make a small shield, about the size of the one you did on twoday. Then I’ll tell you what I want you to try.”
Beltur waited until Taelya had a small circular shield, one invisible to the eye, but very present to his senses, then said, “I’d like you to try to make a special knot where the order and chaos threads cross, with chaos in the center, surrounded by order.”
“That sounds hard.”
“Most things that are strong take more effort and skill.”
Even with Beltur’s help and suggestions, it took almost two quints before Taelya could create the first knot, and by the time she did, he was wondering if he’d asked too much.
“There!”
Beltur smiled. “I’m going to probe it.”
The order/chaos knot held, even against more pressure than Beltur had used before.
“I can feel that. It hurts a little.”
Beltur released the pressure. “That’s what it feels like when your shields aren’t quite strong enough and another mage or an arrow or a sword hits them. It’s very good that you can sense that, though. And your knot is much stronger than the rest of your shield. If you work on putting more of those knots in your shields, they’ll be much stronger.”
Beltur could see and sense that Taelya was getting tired. “You can let go now.”
She released the shield and took a deep breath.
“You’re doing very well,” Beltur said. “I think that’s enough for this afternoon. But if you keep practicing the way you have been, you’ll be able to shield yourself on all sides before too long.”
“How long is before too long?”
Beltur grinned. “All I’ll say is that you’ll have good shields at a much younger age than I did.”
“Or I did,” added Lhadoraak as he stepped into the parlor, adding, “I heard you say that you were through for the afternoon.” He turned to his daughter. “You need to eat. Your mother has something for you in the kitchen.”
Once Taelya was well away, Lhadoraak looked at Beltur. “You’re either very good, or she comes by magery naturally.”
“I had to learn it all the hard way,” replied Beltur. “A lot of things I tried didn’t work. So I have an idea of what’s more likely to work. But she has strong natural abilities, and it’s a good thing we’re working with her. She’s strong enough to burn herself out young by using too much chaos. That’s why she needs to keep the free chaos separate.”
“I’ve never heard about doing that before. Is that something you were taught in Fenard?”
“No. I wasn’t taught it. I learned that from observing, and I observed a lot, because I was terrible at handling chaos in the way most whites did. That was because I was always a black and didn’t know it.”
“We’re fortunate you were.”
“So am I.”
Lhadoraak moistened his lips, then finally said, “Tulya thinks we should think about moving to Suthya in the spring.”
“She does? Why not Axalt? It’s closer.”
“It’s too close, and it’s even colder than Elparta. Besides, we could go by flatboat to Spidlaria, and then by ship to Armat. If Suthya doesn’t work out … well, it’s not too far to Sarronnyn. Maybe you should think about coming with us.”
“I’ve thought about leaving, but…”
“There’s Jessyla,” said Lhadoraak.
Beltur nodded. “Whether she’ll agree to consort me or not, I can’t leave her here. Not with Waensyn scheming to get her. And Cohndar backing him.”
“Have you asked her? Or at least talked to her?”
“I haven’t had a chance. This all came up so quickly.”
“I’d suggest you go from here to Grenara’s and talk to both Jessyla and her mother.” Lhadoraak gestured toward the front door.
“Late on sixday?” asked Beltur.
“We’ll be here. So will Taelya.”
Seemingly in moments, Beltur was outside and walking toward the healers’ house.
Margrena was the one who opened the door when he reached Grenara’s. “Beltur?”
“I have some news, and I need to talk to both you and Jessyla, preferably not with Grenara in earshot.”
“Grenara’s resting upstairs. Come on in. I’ll get Jessyla.”
By the time Beltur had his coat and scarf off, Margrena and Jessyla were in the front room, sitting on the bench. Beltur took the straight-backed chair. “Cohndar came to see Meldryn and me late yesterday afternoon. He’s visiting all the blacks in Elparta personally to tell them about a new Council proclamation. Have you heard about it?”
“No.” Margrena frowned.
“The Council has decreed that, in the interests of combating chaos, anything that is made through the use of magery must be sold through a trader, and that trader must obtain the approval of the Mage-Councilor of Elparta that the item contains no harmful chaos.” Beltur waited.
After a moment, Jessyla spoke. “That’s about cupridium, isn’t it? What does that mean for you?”
“It means a lot of things. First, anything Jorhan and I forge will have to be sold through a trader…” Beltur went on to explain everything, including Jorhan’s decision to leave Elparta and Cohndar’s emphasis on indentured slavery.
“Cohndar’s a sick old man,” declared Jessyla. “Especially to say that.” She paused. “What does this Trader Alizant have against you?”
“He doesn’t have anything against me. He just sees a way to make more silvers. That means we’ll make less, or we would if Jorhan stayed here, but he’s had enough. The other thing is that Cohndar and probably Waensyn have decided to use this as a way to gain greater control over the blacks here in Elparta. Last night, he even said that, at present, Meldryn’s bread and pastries didn’t require approval of the Mages’ Council.”
“A veiled threat,” said Margrena.
“He also talked a lot about keeping chaos at bay … and Lhadoraak’s daughter Taelya is definitely a white. She looks as though she might be a very strong white. Lhadoraak and Tulya are very worried.”
“They should be,” declared Margrena.
“What about you?” asked Jessyla. “What are you going to do?”
“I’ve saved enough to live on for a while.”
“That’s not a decision,” said Jessyla.
Beltur looked directly at her. “I have a problem, and you know very well what it happens to be.”
“You’re making me the problem?”
Beltur sighed. “No. The problem is mine. It’s going to be hard to make a living here in Elpart
a, especially with Cohndar and Waensyn trying to make it more and more difficult. At the same time, I don’t want to leave you.”
Jessyla looked to her mother. “We should just get consorted and move to Axalt.”
“You don’t have to decide that this moment,” replied Margrena. “We need to think this over.” She turned to Beltur. “I know you can tell who’s trustworthy, but do you know anyone in Axalt besides Jorhan and this merchant?”
“I don’t, and that’s part of the problem as well. I just didn’t want you both surprised, because everyone will likely know about the proclamation in a few days. I probably should have told you earlier. I’d heard some rumors about what the trader was trying, but until the proclamation came out … there wasn’t anything solid.”
Margrena nodded. “Now we know, and we’ll have to think about it.”
“You’re not to tell Auntie,” said Jessyla firmly. “If you do, I’ll leave.”
“You’re too young to consort.”
“Most girls my age are already consorted. That wasn’t what I meant. I could live at the Council Healing House, just like Saendya does.”
“That’s no life for a young woman.”
“That’s your choice,” countered Jessyla.
“She’ll find out before long, within days. Waensyn or Cohndar will tell her,” pointed out Margrena.
“That’s the way she should find out.”
Margrena looked to Beltur. “You’re not saying anything. Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to be the cause of a rift between you two, or between Jessyla and me, or between you and me.”
Both women looked at Beltur, the same annoyed expression on each face.
“What is that supposed to mean?” demanded Jessyla.
“I love you. That means I want the best for you. It’s not the best for you if you’re living in miserable conditions. It’s not the best for you if you and your mother are at odds. I don’t believe it’s best for you if you’re forced into consorting anyone before you want to, me or anyone else, but certainly not Waensyn. It’s not best for your mother or you if she’s at odds with her sister.”
“That’s just an excuse for not deciding,” declared Jessyla.
“That may be,” said Margrena, “but he’s right. Think about it. Think about where Beltur was after his uncle was killed.”
“He was with us.”
“No. Before that. He couldn’t go home. He had no family left to turn to. Life is hard enough. Life without friends and family is even harder.” Margrena’s voice softened. “Your aunt understands that. When her consort died, she had no one.”
“She had you.”
“I was a country away, and you’d just been born. As I’ve told you, I couldn’t leave Fenard then.”
Beltur had the definite feeling that was not a matter for him to ask about, at least not at the moment.
“You don’t want us to leave her now, do you?”
“You and Beltur may have to leave, but you shouldn’t rush it, especially with winter coming on.”
Jessyla’s expression softened. “You mean that, don’t you?”
Margrena nodded.
“Can I be the one to tell Auntie, then?”
“You may. I reserve the right to add anything you leave out.” Margrena turned to Beltur. “You could stay for supper.”
The way the invitation was phrased, Beltur knew what his response needed to be. “Thank you. You’re very kind, but I didn’t tell Meldryn about the latest with Taelya and Jorhan, and I’m going to be much later than he expects as it is.”
“You’ll come on eightday … or sooner?” asked Jessyla.
“I will.”
“Good.” She stepped forward and hugged him tightly, murmuring in his ear, “I’m so glad now.”
“So am I,” he murmured back, even if he hadn’t expected to get an answer from Margrena in the way they had.
All too soon, Beltur was back out in the cold, although it was warmer than most evenings had been for some time.
He did hurry, but as soon as he entered the house, Meldryn was halfway to the door even before Beltur had his coat off.
“I was a bit concerned. You’re late,” said Meldryn. “What happened?”
“It took a while at Lhadoraak’s. I’m working on shields with Taelya. She’s definitely got more ability with chaos, but I’m getting her to use order to keep free chaos from her as much as possible.”
“Doesn’t that restrict her?”
Beltur shook his head. “She can still use chaos, but the order makes her stronger. Also, using order and chaos that way won’t make her as vulnerable to order attacks. Her shields are stronger than mine were at her age.”
“That’s because you’re teaching her.”
“Athaal could have done it.”
Meldryn shook his head. “He didn’t have the experience with chaos that you have.”
“Jorhan’s more determined than ever to leave as soon as he can. Lhadoraak’s worried about Cohndar, especially about his wanting to keep chaos at bay. He’s thinking they’ll have to leave Spidlar, possibly for Suthya in the spring.”
“He should worry. So should you.”
“Then I went to talk to Jessyla and Margrena.”
“You should have done that earlier.”
“I know, but I told them that Cohndar had visited us last night, and I had to work today.”
“That’s true, if not the whole truth. We need to eat before things dry up in the hearth oven. You can tell me the rest while we eat.”
“There’s a lot to tell.”
“You’ll manage.”
Beltur smiled at Meldryn’s dry tone, and followed the older mage down the hall and into the kitchen.
XXIII
Fiveday dawned clear and seemingly colder than fourday—or at least Beltur thought his room was colder as he washed up, shaved, and dressed. He heard a pounding on the door as he came downstairs to fix breakfast, but by the time he’d reached the bottom of the stairs, Meldryn was opening the door to Laranya, who held a still figure in her arms.
Spots of ice dotted the front of her thin and shabby coat, and for a moment Beltur puzzled over the ice spots, until he saw Laranya’s reddened eyes, and he realized that the ice spots were tears that had frozen to her coat. Meldryn had already taken Nykail from his mother and carried him toward the parlor.
“Nykail … he barely moves. Only you can help. Do something, please,” pleaded Laranya as Meldryn eased the frail-looking figure onto the padded bench in the parlor, stretching him out on his back.
“When did this happen?” asked Meldryn.
“He has been weak for the last eightday. He has always been weak when it is cold and the snow falls. But not like this.” Laranya stood on one side of the bench, her eyes darting from Meldryn to Nykail and back again.
Beltur let his senses range over the boy. It’s almost like Taelya. That was his first thought, but the more he studied Nykail, the more he saw that, unlike order compressing chaos, in the boy’s case, somehow order knots or lattices were tied together throughout Nykail’s body, and those linkages were compressing both natural order and natural chaos.
Meldryn looked to Beltur, questioningly.
“I can try.”
Meldryn turned to Laranya. “Beltur has been working with the healers. He is both a healer and a mage.”
“Do what you can,” pleaded the distraught mother.
Beltur moved the straight-backed chair next to Nykail, then looked to Meldryn. “I’ll need some ale.”
Meldryn nodded.
“Ale?” asked Laranya. “Ale will not help.”
“The ale is for Beltur,” said Meldryn. “He hasn’t eaten this morning, and it will help him.”
Beltur continued to trace the links and connections of the dark web, both marveling and being appalled at how deadly too much order could be within the body, while at the same time wondering what had caused the linkages to form in the first place. He was s
till studying the order bindings when Meldryn returned, holding a mug and a chunk of bread.
“Here you are.”
Beltur ate the bread and drank about half the ale before setting the mug on the side table. Then he gently probed one of the larger knots of order. More order isn’t going to help. After several moments, he eased the smallest bit of free chaos into the knot. Part, but not all, of the knot dissolved. He added a bit more, and the knot vanished. The problem was that there were close to a score of the large knots, and scores more of the smaller ones. Beltur really didn’t like using chaos inside someone’s body, and attacking the small ones would require less free chaos. But the big order knots are the problem … and if you work on them … that isn’t going to be easy on Nykail.
But if he didn’t …
Beltur took a long and deep breath and concentrated on the next large order knot or node.
After he’d eliminated almost half the knots, he could sense that Nykail was warmer, and he couldn’t help but wonder about that. Unfortunately, the order strings linking the smaller knots to the remaining large knots still remained. That meant he had to do more or what he’d already done wouldn’t be enough, because Nykail’s natural chaos level was still far too low.
Even before he dissolved the last of the large order knots, the order strings linking them to the smaller knots were vanishing. His eyes were burning when he finally looked up, realizing that Nykail was warming up all too quickly.
“What did you do? He’s burning up! He’s burning up!”
Beltur did not answer, struggling as he was to keep the boy’s natural chaos, so long repressed, from overreacting and turning into a truly killing fever.
“Sometimes a fever is good for a short time,” said Meldryn. “Haven’t you said that all too often Nykail was so cold you feared for his life?”
“But he’s burning.”
“Cold cloths will help,” Beltur said abruptly. “If we can get him through the next quint, he’ll be much, much better.”
Meldryn hurried off, returning with damp cold cloths almost instantly.
All in all, it took more than a few applications of those cold cloths, especially on Nykail’s head and wrists, over almost two quints before the boy’s fever began to subside. Another quint passed before the boy stirred, and then struggled into a sitting position.
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