Natural Ordermage

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “They didn’t see the cutpurses,” Rahl pointed out.

  “With what you did, they probably didn’t need to show up.”

  There wasn’t much point in saying more, except that Rahl could sense order and chaos, and he hadn’t sensed either. But he could see that there was a certain value in having people think the mage-guards could be everywhere.

  “Could you make another copy of this consignment order?” asked Daelyt. “It’s from Rystinyr for three hundred stones on the Montgren.”

  “I can do that.”

  ‘ “While you’re writing it up, I’ll hurry over to Eneld’s. The director just left, and he won’t be back for a bit. You know what to do on consignments, and you have the schedule for the ships. I won’t be long. Do you have any questions?” Daelyt slipped off his stool.

  Thinking about the state of his wallet, Rahl glanced to Daelyt. “Ah… when do we get paid?”

  “Good question. At the end of the day every other sixday. The last payday was last sixday. So we get paid an eightday from tomorrow.”

  Rahl nodded. His coins might last that long, but he’d probably be reduced to the cheapest loaves that Gostof hawked.

  XLIV

  Sixday came and went, and so did sevenday, although Rahl and Daelyt had to work till almost dinner on sevenday, because the Legacy of Westwind ported, and the ship’s master didn’t have any intention of waiting until oneday to off-load and receive his cargo declarations. From Rahl’s point of view, that had been a mixed blessing because it had meant that Shyret—or the Association—had paid for both his midday meal and the evening meal, which didn’t happen on sevendays. On the other hand, he didn’t get paid extra for the half day’s work.

  When he woke on eightday morning, later than usual, he realized, again, that the day was his and that he could do as he wished. Except for one thing—he hadn’t been paid and wouldn’t be for another six days, and all he had left was a little more than one silver, and that would have to go for the bread that comprised his morning meals.

  After eating half of the loaf he’d bought the day-before on the way back from his midday meal, when he’d realized that Gostof probably wouldn’t be hawking bread on end-day, he washed up and got dressed. At least, he could walk- around, and look and study Swartheld.-In fact, he told himself, the more he learned the better off he would be, because in less than a season, he’d be on his own. He hadn’t learned anything more about how to control his order-skills, but then, he’d had little enough time, and he hadn’t read much more in The Basis of Order either. He thought for a moment, then tucked the small black-covered book inside his summer tunic. He might find a quiet place to read.

  He’d thought about writing his parents, but there was no point in it. It would be seasons before he had enough coins to pay for sending a letter to them, and anything he wrote now would have changed.

  With a shrug, he slipped the truncheon into its belt straps, left his cubby, and walked to the front entrance, where he removed the bar, and unlocked the door. After stepping outside the Merchant Association building, he relocked the front door, then turned, glancing around. Heavy shutters covered the windows of the arms shop and Eneld’s cantina across the street. Farther westward, the coppersmith’s was closed, as was the lacemaker’s.

  Where should he go?

  In the end, he turned eastward. Daelyt had mentioned that it was cooler to the east, with nicer dwellings. Even as early as it was, the day was hot and muggy, and a faint silvery haze covered the green-blue sky, washing it out. Unlike the previous mornings, he passed but a few handfuls of people as he walked two long blocks eastward, and the streets were largely deserted, without a single hawker or peddler. He glanced to his left, in the direction of the harbor, where there were a few wagons, but not that many more people.

  Abruptly, he laughed, if softly. Had he been in Nylan or Land’s End and seen the number of people he had passed, he would have thought it moderately busy. In Swartheld, he had already come to accept Daelyt’s definition of what was crowded.

  He was sweating when he reached an avenue that angled off to the northeast, but it was broad enough that the riders, wagons, and carriages headed away from the harbor took the south side, and those headed in to the harbor, the north, while the two lanes were divided by a narrow parklike strip. On each side of the parklike divider was a line of trees that resembled giant acacias, except the leaves were broader, and in the middle was a stone-paved sidewalk, shaded by the overhanging trees.

  Rahl gratefully crossed the street and took the shaded sidewalk.

  Less than two hundred cubits farther along, he saw an empty stone bench to the right and he decided to sit down mere and cool off. After wiping his forehead, he watched the part of the avenue before him, the half for the wagons heading to the harbor. Only two empty wagons passed, and then the avenue was untraveled for a time before a covered carriage passed, holding two couples. They were having an animated conversation, but Rahl couldn’t make out the words as they rode by him.

  Finally, he stood and resumed his .walk, taking his time and appreciating the shade provided by the leafy canopy of the overhanging limbs.

  He passed another bench where two older men sat, side by side, not talking. Neither looked up, nor did they move.

  Coming down the sidewalk toward him was a large-framed young woman, pushing a small wheeled carriage with a seat. In the small seat was a child, bound loosely in place by a cloth band. Rahl had never seen such a child carriage, but then, why would he have? To make it would cost coins, perhaps a gold or more, and what purpose would it have in Recluce? Then again, perhaps the wealthier merchants and factors in Nylan or Land’s End had such for their children.

  Rahl nodded politely to the woman, but she was lost in her own thoughts and did not even see his gesture.

  The small shops that had lined the avenue near the harbor had given way to small dwellings. All were in relatively good repair, with flat yellow tiles and stucco walls washed with white. They were so crowded together that the dwellings all shared the walls that surrounded their small rear courtyards, and the houses seemed to have common sidewalk. A man could climb up a corner wall and look into the courtyards of three of his neighbors. Even the poorest areas of Land’s End were not so cramped.

  Rahl kept walking.

  After another half kay or so along the avenue and the walk, he came to a boulevard branching off to his left that looked as though it might lead seaward, but it was not divided or tree-lined. Rahl decided to keep following the tree-lined median parkway, although it was beginning to rise gently. Still, the avenue was certainly cooler, and besides, he wanted to see where it went. It wasn’t as though he had anything else better to do.

  He walked another half kay or so, coming to the top of a low rise, where he could see that the avenue ended only a few hundred cubits ahead at a street perpendicular to the avenue. Where the avenue ended, of course, so did the shaded center parkway and sidewalk.

  Rahl stopped just short of the end of the avenue and looked at the cross street. On the street ahead were larger dwellings, all of at least two stories, and all set behind stone walls and gates. The roofs were all of a pale yellow tile, curved and joined, unlike the roofing on the meaner dwellings closer to the harbor, and the walls were of plaster or stucco, painted pastel shades. From the trees he could see rising behind those walls, there were gardens and courtyards surrounding the dwellings-on all sides.

  He studied the hillside behind the first line of dwellings, realizing that those farther east were higher—and far larger. Before him were more magnificent dwellings than existed in all of Reduce, he suspected.

  Someone coughed, off to his right.

  Rahl turned to see a patroller—a mage-guard, he mentally corrected himself—in khaki and black, with crimson insignia, sauntering in his direction. The mage-guard’s hand was hear the hilt of his falchiona, but he seemed relaxed as he stopped short of Rahl.

  “What are you doing here?”

 
; “I’m taking a walk, ser. I’m new in Swartheld, and I had the day off.”

  “Where do you work?”

  “I’m a clerk at the Merchant Association.”

  The patroller nodded. “Do you know where you are, young fellow?”

  “The other clerks said it was cooler on the hills to the east.”

  This time the patroller laughed. “You are from Ada, no doubt about that. This is where factors and merchants live. At least, you didn’t walk up here in rags.”

  “I was just looking for a cool and shady place. I wanted to see more of Swartheld.” Rahl smiled pleasantly. All that he said was true enough.

  “There’s a park where you could go. It’s a little west of here.” The patroller pointed back down the tree-lined avenue Rahl had walked up. “About five streets down, there’s a boulevard that heads north. To your right, toward the ocean. If you follow it, you’ll see the park. It’s a nice place. You’ll fit in there.”

  “Thank you.” Rahl turned obediently and headed back down the avenue, .following the directions, back to the boulevard he had passed earlier. This time, he turned north, walking on the sidewalk that was separated from the fronts of the dwellings by a dirt strip no more than three cubits wide. There were some houses with grass on each side of the walk between the sidewalk and the front door, but even there the grass was as much browned-out tan as green. Most houses had no grass at all in front, just dusty, hard-packed dirt. For all that, Rahl saw no trash, and no sagging, shutters or run-down dwellings.

  After several hundred cubits, he came to what he thought might be a temple or something of the sort. While the structure was only of one story, it was tall enough for two. What made it unusual, though, was the twin spires at the end away from the street. The southern spire was narrow and rose to a point that glittered in the sun, but the northern spire curled and then straightened before ending in a strange convolution of metal strips or bars that faintly resembled the female form.‘

  As he passed, he heard singing within, but could not make out the words. It had to be a temple of some sort of worshippers. He shook his head and kept walking northward, wiping the sweat from his forehead, as the sun felt more intense with every step. Then, the dwellings on the left ended, and Rahl stood at the southeastern edge of an expanse of open ground bordered on the east, south, and north by lines of dusty-leaved acacias that offered minimal shade. To the west was a low bluff, perhaps twenty or thirty cubits above the roofs and walls of the warehouses and factorages that bordered the eastern side of the harbor. Beyond the trees to the north was a jumble of dark gray and black rock, with but, occasional weeds and scrawny trees poking up from the inhospitable land.

  The park actually contained areas of worn grass, as well as three groves of loosely spaced acacias with a few tables set in the groves. The pillars supporting the battered plank tabletops were of the ubiquitous yellow brick. Away from the trees were several narrow stone walks or gameways, where teams of men, two at each end, tried to skid triangular stones closest to a small stone circle of a lighter color.

  The men were wearing simple short-sleeved shirts with soft collars, or no collars at all, and a number wore a kind of trouser Rahl hadn’t seen at all, that ended midway between the knee and ankle. Above ankle-length flowing pants, all the women wore flowing blouses that ran from wrist to neck. Only their sandaled feet and hands were uncovered, although the light fabric of their head scarves concealed nothing. Rahl looked more closely at a woman walking by, holding the hand of her small daughter. The fabric of her garments was light, and not tightly woven. In fact, in the bright sunlight, at times, he could see the outline of her figure.

  So what was the purpose of garments that covered everything, yet that occasionally revealed so much?

  Rahl eased himself into a relatively shady spot beneath the nearest tree and continued to survey what was happening. Whole families had to have arrived early to claim the shaded tables in the groves, and in several places, he could see older white-haired men playing what looked to be a form of plaques.

  Two men detached themselves from a group that looked to include several families under the nearest acacia grove and ambled toward him.

  Rahl waited, taking their measure as they neared. Neither was as tall as he was, and while the two bore belt knives, they had no other weapons. One had drooping black mustaches, and the other had a few days’ growth of beard. Both wore old and thin faded shirts, not tunics or undertunics.

  “You’re not from around here,” said the shorter and broader figure, fingering one pointed end of his mustache. “No. I live down near the harbor.”

  “You sound like you’re from Ada.”

  “I’ve only been in Swartheld for a short time.” The taller man looked at the truncheon, then at Rahl.

  “You look too pretty to be a guard, and most bravos wear blades.”

  “I work for a trading association,” countered Rahl. “They don’t like holes in possible shippers.” The shorter man laughed. “You ever use a falchiona?”

  “Enough.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “At the park?” Rahl shrugged. “What else would I do? I haven’t gotten paid that much yet.”

  “How about women?”

  Rahl laughed. “I left the one I wanted behind, and I haven’t met any here. Even if I did, why would they be interested in someone without that many coins?” As he finished speaking, he realized that what had started out as an evasion and rationalization was actually true—except that the image that had come to mind was that of Deybri.

  Deybri? The healer who had told him that the past had no hold on him?

  “You get any coins at all, and you’ll find someone interested,” replied the shorter man. “There’s always someone in Swartheld.”

  Rahl laughed. “We’ll just have to see.”

  Abruptly, the two exchanged glances.

  “Well, best of fortune, fellow,” said the shorter man.

  “Thank you.” Rahl nodded, but kept his attention on both as they stepped back carefully, and turned away. He used his order-skills to try to pick up the low murmurs as they walked across the sparse grass and dusty ground back toward the family group under the shade of the nearest grove.

  “Nice enough…”

  “Tough ones are… don’t keep that pretty a face unless…” The shorter man shook his head.

  “Mage-guards get him… ‘less he’s registered.”

  “Didn’t see it.”

  As the two moved out of earshot, Rahl frowned. What had they been looking for? Some indication that he was registered as a mage? But he wasn’t, and he’d been careful not to use any active order-magery anywhere, especially in public.

  Finally, he walked northward for almost a hundred cubits until he found a tree where it was even more shaded and comfortable enough to sit down and read. He doubted he’d learn much, but he might as well try, and his feet could use a little rest.

  XLV

  On oneday, Rahl was almost happy to get up early and sweep and polish some of the brasswork before eating and washing up. That might have been because eightday had not proved particularly pleasant or productive for Rahl, except in leaving his feet sore and his face and neck sunburned, and costing him several coppers for a fowl stick from a vendor near another parklike area farther to the south of the harbor area.

  People he’d passed on his long walk had seemed friendly enough, but like the two men in the first park, most had said a few words, then left or excused themselves. Could they sense the difference… or was it merely the Atlan accent?

  He’d stopped in several shaded places and read portions of The Basis of Order, but the book remained as useless to him as ever. Of what worldly use was a phrase like “for chaos can be said to be the wellspring of order and order the wellspring of chaos”? Or the section that said that a mage shouldn’t assume that what lay beneath was the same as what lay above or that it might be different? Anything was either the same or different. Why did the writer
even have to write something that obvious down? Reading it not only left him irritated, but often just plain angry at the unnecessary obtuseness of the words.

  Daelyt stepped into the front area of the office and glanced around. “You did the brasswork. It looks good.”

  “Thank you. How was your end-day?” Rahl suppressed his exasperation about The Basis of Order.

  “Good. Yasnela and I visited some friends. Shealyr has an old mare and a cart, and he was kind enough to let me borrow them. We had a good time, but I’ll pay for it later today.”

  Rahl let his order-senses take in Daelyt, but the clerk didn’t seem that tired or even different. Perhaps there was a shade more of the white chaos-mist around him, but Rahl wasn’t even sure about that.

  “Usually on oneday, nothing happens early, because everyone’s cleaning up and figuring out things, and then it gets rushed in the afternoon. I stopped by to see Chenaryl, but he’s still not through with the corrected cargo declaration,” said Daelyt, adding after a moment, “On the cargo off-loaded from the Westwind.” The clerk began taking blank forms from his drawers and stacking them.

  “Does the Association send those from Nylan—the forms, I mean?”

  “Mostly. Even with the shipping, it’s cheaper. Undelsor could print them, but anything we want has to come after everyone else because we represent outlanders.” Daelyt snorted. “Shyret tried to offer more, once, and he was told that was bribery, and he could be flogged for it. Locals can offer more to get their work done first, but we can’t.”

  Rahl followed Daelyt’s example and seated himself on his stool.

  “What did you do yesterday?” asked the older clerk.

  “I just walked around, tried to get a better feel for Swartheld. I think it will take time.” He paused, then went on, carefully. “I was at the park, the one up behind the harbor to the east—”

  “That’s a long walk.”

  “What else was I going to do? Anyway, I was sitting under a tree, and a bravo came up, and two men went over and talked to him, and he left. But they watched him. They were looking for something.”