Outcasts of Order

by L. E. Modesitt Jr

  As he rode, so many thoughts crossed his mind. Why had Barrynt attacked Emlyn when Sarysta was the problem? Or was he looking for Sarysta? What if you’d ridden at a gallop? How could you have known that Barrynt would kill Emlyn? Should you have realized how angry Barrynt was about the way Sarysta treated Halhana? What would have happened if you’d told Barrynt earlier? At least, you would have been there. But would he have waited the way he did with Johlana? Belatedly, another thought popped up. If Emlyn was so upstanding, why did he need a bodyguard close every time he left his mansion? The last thought was simpler. Let’s just hope that Naerkaal doesn’t understand what’s about to happen to Sarysta. But then, he doubted that there was any way to prove what he’d done. If he’d figured it correctly, Sarysta would be dead before he and Ryntaar reached Barrynt’s house.

  She’ll have died of grief … and that’s better than what she deserved.

  But … was that the right thing to do?

  How could he not do something, especially since Sarysta would have found a way to destroy Johlana with Barrynt dead, and when Sarysta was talking about destroying Halhana’s and Eshult’s love for each other?

  He kept riding, thoughts churning through his mind.

  LXVI

  Even before Ryntaar and Beltur headed up the side drive in the growing darkness of the winter evening, Johlana rushed down from the porch, her face drawn and pale.

  Jessyla followed her, but kept well back. Beltur wasn’t surprised. In fact, he realized he would have been surprised had Jessyla not been there. Frankyr remained at the top of the side steps, just looking at Barrynt’s body, as did Jorhan.

  “We didn’t get there soon enough,” Beltur said as he reined up. “He’d already picked up Emlyn and thrown him into the hearth. He did it so hard that it crushed Emlyn’s skull and broke his neck. Emlyn’s bodyguard had killed Barrynt before we reached the house.”

  For a long moment, Johlana said nothing. Finally, she said, “Sarysta?”

  Much as Beltur wanted to say something about what he had done, he dared not even a hint. “The guard got to Barrynt before he could do anything to Sarysta except knock her down.”

  “She’s the guiltiest of all. Emlyn … everyone was her tool.”

  “I could see that in just a few moments.”

  “Beltur did everything he could,” added Ryntaar, softly. “We rode as fast as we could on the ice.”

  “I’m so sorry,” said Beltur. What else can you say? And how can you possibly admit that if you’d told Barrynt last night…? Or would he have waited, just the way he did with Johlana?

  Johlana shook her head. “I’ve always … always worried … that someday…”

  “Where…?” Beltur really didn’t want to ask, but he also didn’t wish to assume or do something horribly wrong.

  “In the formal parlor,” replied Johlana.

  “Could I help you?” asked Jessyla.

  “If you would.”

  Jessyla nodded to Beltur, who immediately dismounted.

  Frankyr came down the steps. “I can take care of the horses.”

  “Thank you,” said Beltur, who fully intended to relieve the young man once he and Ryntaar had carried Barrynt into the house.

  In moments, Beltur and Ryntaar had Barrynt’s body off his horse and carried it up the side stairs and into the house. Jessyla and Johlana followed them.

  All told, it took more than a quint to get a table in position and to set up the formal parlor in a suitable fashion. After that, Beltur and Ryntaar slipped away, leaving the parlor and the rest of the arrangements to the two women, but by the time they reached the stable Frankyr had just about finished grooming the horses.

  When he stepped out of the stall where he’d been grooming the last horse, the one Ryntaar had ridden, Frankyr turned to Beltur. “Tell me what happened. All of it.”

  “I’ll tell you what I know. Ryntaar may want to add some things. We rode at a fast walk to Emlyn’s mansion. The streets were clear of snow but icy, and we didn’t want the horses to slip because that would have taken even more time…” Beltur gave a quick summary, then turned to Ryntaar. “Have I missed anything?”

  “Sarysta would have killed us both with a look if she could,” said Ryntaar. “Her guard tried to cut Beltur down, but his shields stopped his blade. Young Escaylt came in after a while. He was trying not to cry. She just told him not to go to pieces. She didn’t shed a single tear, and she was the cause of it all. She doesn’t even see what she did. She was talking about good taste, with her consort and Father lying dead on the study floor.”

  “She’ll get away with it. They always do,” said Frankyr.

  “Maybe not,” replied Ryntaar. “Eshult’s of age. That makes him the heir, not Sarysta.”

  “Eshult wouldn’t do anything against his mother.”

  “No … but he loves Halhana, and he won’t have to do everything his mother says any longer.”

  “We’ll see.” Frankyr’s tone was dubious.

  “We can hope,” said Beltur, as the three left the stable and walked toward the house through the deepening chill of the evening.

  He stopped in the side hall, not wanting to intrude into the formal parlor or the family parlor, which was where Frankyr and Ryntaar had apparently gone. As he stood there, he wondered whether anyone had gone to tell Halhana what had happened to her father and was trying to think about how to bring that up when Jessyla appeared.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Waiting for you and trying not to intrude.”

  “Everyone’s asking where you went. They want to hear more from you.”

  Beltur wasn’t sure he wanted to say more, but he could understand people wanting to know. “I’ll be there, in a moment. Do you know if anyone sent word to Halhana?”

  “Johlana sent Asala.”

  Asala? Then Beltur remembered she was the cook. “That’s good. I didn’t want to ask.”

  “That made sense,” added Jessyla. “If one of the family went…”

  “It would force Halhana to make a choice between her father and her consort and his father.”

  “Johlana just told Asala to say that the two had a quarrel and both were dead, and that the family was at home mourning their father, and that everyone was thinking of Halhana. Now … we need to join the others.”

  Beltur followed Jessyla into the family parlor.

  Johlana looked to Beltur. “We’ve heard what you said earlier, and Ryntaar has added some…”

  “You’d like to hear it in a less hurried fashion.”

  Johlana nodded.

  “I’ll try to tell what happened as clearly as I can, starting when we rode through the gates at Emlyn’s house. The gates were open, and there was no guard there. We rode around a circular drive to the covered entrance. Ryntaar immediately noticed his father’s mount tied to the hitching rail. I could see that the front door was ajar, and it looked a little bent on its hinges…”

  More than a glass passed before the family had heard enough and Beltur had answered all the questions that they had.

  The night was cold and clear, almost heartlessly cold, Beltur felt, as he and Jessyla walked back to their cot.

  “You were kind to tell everything, or almost everything,” said Jessyla.

  “Everything about the deaths and the councilors was what happened,” Beltur said. “There is a little bit more, but that will have to wait.” And it would, because the one thing he hadn’t mentioned was his use of order to remove the natural chaos from Sarysta. He’d have to tell Jessyla later, but if she knew now and were questioned by Naerkaal …

  “You’ve always kept your word not to hide anything from me.”

  “I will on this, too. Just not at this moment. You can judge if I was right when I do tell you.”

  Jessyla was silent for a long moment, then said, “I do have a question … two, really.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Why did Barrynt attack Emlyn and not Sarysta?”
/>   “I’ve thought about that. I think he was trying to get to Sarysta. Emlyn was likely trying to stop him. Sarysta said that Emlyn’s last words were for her to stay out of the study.”

  “That makes more sense. Why does Sarysta hate Johlana so much?”

  “I don’t know, and no one’s ever said. Did Johlana say anything when you were … laying out Barrynt?”

  “She just talked about how warm and loving he’d always been, how he’d always taken care of her and the children.”

  “She said she’d always worried, but she didn’t finish saying what she worried about.”

  “She didn’t tell me, either.”

  Beltur wondered if Barrynt had been so protective because Johlana had never been fully accepted by the wealthier traders in Axalt, but that certainly wasn’t something he could ask about. Not right now.

  They’d also have to tell Lhadoraak and Tulya about Barrynt’s murder of Emlyn and then Mhorgaan’s killing of Barrynt. Beltur just hoped that what happened wouldn’t lead to more trouble that might change the Council’s mind.

  But you weren’t anywhere near when Barrynt attacked Emlyn.

  Beltur couldn’t help but worry that the Council might not see it that way. If the councilors don’t, you’ll find out soon enough, even with the methodical way they approach everything. “If I’d only told Barrynt earlier…”

  “Do you think that would have changed anything?” asked Jessyla quietly. “Frankyr told me how Barrynt waited and then left without telling anyone. He might well have done that with you.”

  “He might … but he might not have.” How will you ever know?

  “Dear … how could you have possibly known he was that angry with Sarysta? Angry enough to try to kill her?”

  “I should have known. I saw how evil she was. Even with two men lying dead at her feet, she was glad that Barrynt was dead.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I felt it … but she looked down at Barrynt, and for an instant, she smiled.”

  Jessyla shuddered.

  LXVII

  On oneday, Beltur didn’t feel like going to the smithy, but what else was he going to do? Stay around the cot and get in everyone’s way? He certainly didn’t want to intrude on Johlana and her family, but he did take care of the stable, trying to do so as quietly as possible. Then he walked out to the smithy through a dusting of snow that fell from thin gray clouds.

  Jorhan was working on a mold when Beltur joined him by the workbench.

  “Morning, Beltur.”

  “Morning,” replied Beltur. “How are you doing this morning?” He flushed. “That’s a stupid question. Yesterday was terrible.”

  “We’ve all seen better,” replied the smith.

  “We have. What about Johlana?” Beltur imagined that she was bearing up, but with Barrynt’s death occurring so suddenly, she might not be. “And what about Halhana?”

  “I couldn’t say for sure about either. Asala said they were both in the study with the door closed. Still there when I left. Figured they might be a while, and there wasn’t much I could do.” Jorhan paused. “Ryntaar told me that they’d have the farewell on threeday night. They want you and Jessyla there.”

  That said a great deal. Most farewells were just for family, with family members taking turns tending the pyre throughout the night. “We’ll be there.”

  “Good.” Jorhan pointed to the mold. “Working on a pearapple hanging from a branch. Wasn’t sure we should do anything.”

  Beltur understood that, given that the last piece they had forged had led, if indirectly, to three deaths. “But?”

  “Johlana wanted something herself. Said she wanted a happier reminder.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Barrynt always liked pearapples.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  “Would have done a bust of him if my talents ran that way. They don’t. This’ll have to do.”

  “It’s more personal and private that way,” Beltur pointed out. “Johlana will know what it means, and it’s for her.”

  “Hadn’t thought of that.” Jorhan nodded. “Be a while before we’re ready to cast.”

  “I’ll bring in more coal.”

  “That’d be good.”

  Beltur had just finished filling the coal box near the forge when there was a knock on the smithy door, almost preemptory, and two men walked in. One wore mage blacks—Naerkaal. The other was Sarstaan. Beltur stepped forward, inclining his head. “Councilors.”

  Sarstaan gestured to the corner of the smithy farthest from the forge, then moved toward it. Beltur and Naerkaal followed.

  Beltur stopped when the councilors did. He waited without speaking.

  Sarstaan nodded to Naerkaal.

  Naerkaal’s voice was low, but firm. “We came to see you about … what happened yesterday.”

  “I truly wish I’d gotten there faster,” Beltur said. “I didn’t know what Barrynt had in mind, and I didn’t want to take my horse at a run with ice on the stone.”

  “That’s more than understandable. It’s also clear that you had nothing at all to do with either the death of Emlyn or Barrynt.”

  “No. I can’t imagine how angry Barrynt was, to have picked up Emlyn and thrown him like that. Emlyn may be … may have been a little smaller than Barrynt, but he wasn’t a small man.”

  “You haven’t heard?” asked Naerkaal.

  “Heard what?” Beltur frowned. Had something happened to Sarysta so soon? He didn’t have to work to offer an expression of puzzlement.

  “About Sarysta.”

  “What about her? I know she was angry and very contemptuous of me, Ryntaar, and Barrynt, but Ryntaar and I had nothing to do with it. I thought she understood that, no matter how much she was upset.”

  “She was upset enough to go to bed and not wake up.”

  “What?” That did surprise Beltur, if mildly. He’d thought she might either collapse shortly after he and Ryntaar left, or die a more lingering death … or possibly not die at all, but just be weak for eightdays, possibly even a season.

  “You are surprised. Possibly not as much as you might be, but given your ties to Barrynt and Johlana and your treatment by Sarysta, that’s understandable.”

  “Sarysta had a right to be harsh,” said Sarstaan coldly. “The merchant murdered her consort in cold blood.”

  “But I had nothing to do with that. I was trying to get there as fast as I dared once his family told me he was in a rage.”

  “I’m curious,” said Sarstaan coldly. “How long did it take the family to get in touch with you?”

  “I don’t know. It was soon. I do know that young Frankyr ran much of the way to our cot, while his brother was saddling the horses, and we trotted and ran back to Barrynt’s. Ryntaar had the horses waiting, and we left immediately.”

  “How did you know he ran?”

  “He was flushed and so winded he could hardly speak. He kept saying we had to hurry. I was still fastening my coat when we were on the way back.”

  Sarstaan looked to Naerkaal, who nodded. Then Sarysta’s brother said, “I can’t believe she just died.”

  “I can’t either,” said Beltur, although his reasons certainly weren’t the same as Sarstaan’s.

  Again, Naerkaal nodded, then said, “There was no sign of poison or any other form of excess chaos.”

  “You may be telling the truth, Mage, but I don’t trust you,” said Sarstaan.

  “Councilor, I understand. You don’t know much about me. At the same time, I don’t know that much about the Council. I came to Axalt in good faith, and I feel I’ve been judged and weighed on everything I’ve done. I’ve worked as a healer, and I do believe I’ve saved lives. Jorhan and I have been working to forge fine cupridium, and that’s an honest trade. I truly tried to get to Barrynt to stop him, even when I didn’t know what he had in mind—”

  “Why?” snapped Sarstaan.

  “Because I liked him. Because his family was afraid
he’d do something that would only hurt himself and his family.”

  “That’s a very honest answer, Sarstaan,” said Naerkaal.

  “I still don’t know…”

  “What else would you like to know, ser?” asked Beltur politely. “I’ve told you everything that happened.”

  “How did you come to know Barrynt?” asked Sarstaan.

  “I was working with Jorhan in Elparta, helping him cast and forge cupridium. He told me his sister was consorted to a merchant in Axalt. I only met Barrynt twice, but when he learned that we would have to give up forging cupridium in Spidlar unless all the profit we made went to a trader, he said we should come to Axalt. As I’ve told the Council, that was what we had to do.”

  “Why was he so good to you?”

  “I suspect it was because Jorhan could not have made cupridium without me, and he wanted to help the brother of his consort. He never said that, but that is what I believe.”

  The questions went on for another quint before the two councilors exchanged glances.

  Then Naerkaal straightened and said, “We appreciate your time and forthrightness, Mage. It does appear that your role in this unpleasant matter has been exactly as it appears and as everyone has said. If the Council needs to know more, we will let you know.”

  Beltur nodded in reply. Then he escorted them to the smithy door, leaving it slightly ajar as the councilors walked back toward their mounts.

  Sarstaan’s murmured words drifted back to Beltur. “… what comes when a trader consorts below himself…”

  Beltur did not fully close the door until the two had ridden away. Then he slowly walked back to the workbench.

  “What did those two councilors want with you? One of them was the mage-councilor, isn’t he?”

  “He is. That’s Naerkaal. The other one is Sarysta’s brother.”

  “What did they want?” Jorhan repeated impatiently.

  “Sarysta died in her sleep last night. They wanted to know if I knew. I didn’t. Then they went back over all the questions they asked me yesterday … and a few others.”

  “Sarysta’s dead? That bitch actually died?”

  “That’s what they said. I can’t believe two councilors would lie about that.”