“I know, but it’s still true. Black mages really don’t have that much power. People fear whites because they can use chaos to destroy things … and people. Most blacks don’t think that way, and it’s harder to use order as a weapon.” But not impossible, as Beltur well knew. “Even in Gallos, the whites need the Prefect’s golds, because chaos can’t be used to preserve or strengthen things. That means that in Spidlar, the blacks and healers need the golds of the Council and the traders.”
“Healers more than blacks.”
“I found out that you make more than most city patrollers.”
“How do they live?”
“Poorly, I’d judge.”
Jessyla turned to face Beltur directly. “What are we going to do?”
“Wait and save up silvers.” Your mother won’t let us consort any time soon, and I wouldn’t want to until we know we can afford it.
“Is everything about coins?”
“Everything that we need to live costs something, some way.”
“How can you be so calm about it?”
“Calm isn’t happy. And getting angry at the Council and all the traders won’t help.” After a pause, Beltur said quietly, “Tell me about what you’ve done in healing this eightday and how you did it. If you would.”
Jessyla looked away for several moments.
Beltur waited. He had a strong feeling that the rest of the afternoon would not be going the way he had hoped.
“Is that the way you want it to be?” she finally asked, slowly turning her head back to him.
“No. But until we have more coins, I don’t see matters changing.” He hesitated, then asked, “Am I missing something? Is there something I could be doing that I’m not?”
“I don’t want to be a matter of coins, Beltur.”
“You don’t have to tell me that. I know. It’s just that … you deserve not to be worrying about … well … everything.”
A faint smile appeared. “You’ve tried hard to make things easier. I appreciate that more than you know. But how long … how long will we be wondering whether we have enough?”
“Waiting another season or two shouldn’t change anything at all,” said Margrena from the doorway as she carried two mugs of hot cider into the front room, where she offered one to Beltur and the second to Jessyla.
“You were listening,” accused Jessyla.
“That’s sometimes part of being a mother, as I hope you’ll find out … when the time is right. I’m glad you two are talking seriously.” Margrena straightened and smiled, almost enigmatically.
“Mother…”
“Beltur,” Margrena continued, not looking at her daughter. “You can be too serious. She understands.” With that she turned and walked back into the kitchen.
Beltur looked at Jessyla, then shook his head ruefully. “You’re both right.”
Jessyla slowly smiled.
XI
When Beltur left the house on oneday, the snow was calf-deep and still falling. Wading through the snow that had not been cleared off Bakers Lane, or any streets, slowed Beltur, and it was well after seventh glass when Beltur arrived at the smithy. Surprisingly, the air didn’t feel as cold as it had on eightday.
When Beltur stepped into the smithy and closed the door, Jorhan looked up from the workbench. “Took you a little longer today.”
“None of the streets were clear. Not yet anyway.”
“They won’t be. This kind of snow could go on for more than a day.”
Beltur stamped his boots and then shook the snow off his coat before hanging it on the wooden wall peg, along with the scarf. “What do you want me to work on?”
“We’ll start with a hand mirror. It’s more elaborate than the ones we’ve done before. Once that’s done, we’ll do two candelabra, also more detailed.”
“So you can stretch out the copper?”
“Better artistry takes more time. Especially in making the molds. Right now, it’s looking like we’re going to have more time than copper.”
“Do you know why no one here will sell to you?”
“I can guess. Barrynt heard something when he was here. Someone told him that a trader named Alizant had discovered how valuable cupridium is. This Alizant declared that he was going to be the one who did all the trading in cupridium in Elparta. Before long, he’ll send someone to suggest we sell to him at half what we’re getting. Maybe less. He might wait until we’ve run through the copper Barrynt sent.”
Beltur swallowed. “That might be my fault.”
“How could it be your fault? Do you know this Alizant?”
“No. But one of the undercaptains I served with was Alizant’s youngest son. He was surprised to know how much a cupridium blade would bring. I had no idea…”
“Is he still an undercaptain? Or is he now a trader with his father?”
“He was killed in one of the battles along the river. He must have told his father or one of his brothers before he died. I’m sorry. I didn’t think that…” Beltur shook his head.
“There’s no sense blaming yourself. This Alizant or another trader would have gotten around to trying to force us to work through him sooner or later.”
“It wouldn’t have been quite so soon.”
“That ice already froze. Besides, there isn’t that much copper anywhere in Elparta at the moment, and with winter closing in, there likely won’t be any more soon. We might as well get to work on the mirror. The mold’s just about ready.”
Beltur moved to the bellows. How could you have known that Alizant would do that? After a moment, he wanted to shake his head. After what you’ve seen about the traders, you should have realized that was bound to happen. But it would have happened later if you hadn’t told Zandyr. Possibly seasons later, after Jorhan and Beltur had forged and sold more blades, platters, and mirrors … and earned more silvers.
Three glasses later, after Beltur had finished setting the order/chaos web in the two candelabra, Jorhan went to the smithy door, opened it, and looked out before closing it and walking back to where Beltur stood beside the workbench. “The snow’s close to knee-deep. The way it’s falling, you ought to be heading back to your place.” The smith handed over a silver. “The same as before? The rest when I sell them?”
“That’s fine.” Beltur paused. “When do you want me next?”
“Snow will be deep tomorrow.”
“I’ll still have City Patrol duty on threeday. What about fourday?”
“Fiveday might be better,” said Jorhan slowly. “Could be a long winter.”
Beltur nodded. “Then I’ll be here on fiveday.”
“Unless we get more snow, and it’s waist-deep. Not likely this early, but it could happen.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Beltur walked to where his coat and scarf hung and donned them. With a parting nod to the smith, he opened the door and stepped out into the fast-falling snow, closing the door behind him and walking down the lane. The snow crunched under his boots, and he realized that it was colder, much colder, than it had been early that morning.
He kept moving, glad for both the scarf and the gloves. When he reached the road, he saw that a rider had passed by recently, and he immediately followed in the horse’s tracks, although the snow was still calf-deep there, as opposed to knee-deep. When he finally reached the northeast gate and entered the city, he was glad to see that half of the east wall street had been shoveled or swept sometime earlier, but not within the last glass or so, since the snow was ankle-deep. That made walking easier. For the next five blocks, the snow on the right side of the street became less and less deep. Peering through the snow, he finally saw why. A block or so ahead of him, men with broad shovels were at work clearing the snow and piling it on the west side of the street.
At the next cross lane, Beltur turned west and walked through the much deeper snow to Bakers Lane, where he turned north. By the time he reached Crossed Lane and the bakery, his legs were feeling tired.
He’d no more entered the ho
use and closed the door behind himself when Margrena appeared. Beltur just looked for a moment before he said, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong here, or with Jessyla. Meldryn said he thought you’d be back early with this snow. I’m glad you are. Lhadoraak’s daughter Taelya’s taken a sudden turn for the worse.”
“I thought Athaal and your sister—”
“So did I, but she’s gotten weaker and so tired she can hardly move. There’s no sign of any flux, and she doesn’t have a fever. Meldryn and I thought you might be able to sense more than we can. Felsyn has a fever, and he’s not doing well, either. So he can’t help. You’re the only one we could think of.”
“Athaal told me what you were able to do with Claudyt’s grandson,” added Meldryn as he entered the front hall from the corridor that led to the bakery. “I told Lhadoraak I thought you should come with me and Margrena.”
“Didn’t you and Athaal and Grenara help her before?”
Meldryn shook his head. “Athaal did it all, along with Grenara. I couldn’t do what Athaal did, and Grenara no longer has the touch needed. Athaal told me you had even greater ability than he did in sensing and manipulating small bits of order and chaos.”
“What about Jessyla?” Beltur looked to Margrena.
“She’ll be a better healer than I am in time, but she’s too impatient, and…”
Beltur just kept looking at Margrena.
“She’s likely to be too rash, especially…”
“If I’m there?” asked Beltur.
“I didn’t say that.”
“But it might have occurred to you.”
“We need to go, before the snow gets any deeper,” said Meldryn.
“This is serious, then, if it can’t wait,” suggested Beltur.
“I fear that.” Margrena reached for the threadbare brown wool coat on the peg between Beltur’s and Meldryn’s.
In moments, all three were walking north on Crossed Lane.
Beltur couldn’t help but worry about what might be wrong with Taelya, and he wished he’d been able to spend more time with Margrena and Jessyla doing healing. “Can you tell me any more about Taelya?”
“No,” replied Margrena. “That’s the problem. You’ll see.”
All in all, it took them almost a quarter glass of trudging through the snow to cover some five blocks before Meldryn gestured and said, “The door with the black lintel.”
Lhadoraak’s dwelling was a two-story structure even narrower than Grenara’s house, Beltur thought. Even the front window to the right of the door seemed smaller.
Almost as soon as Meldryn knocked, the door opened.
Lhadoraak gestured for the three to enter, then quickly closed the door. “Tulya and I appreciate all of you coming, especially in this weather.” He smiled warmly, if almost apologetically. He was actually a few digits taller than Beltur, something that Beltur hadn’t really noticed before, possibly because the blond mage was more slender.
“Where is Taelya?” asked Margrena as she took off her coat.
“In the parlor, in front of the hearth. She started shivering after you left.”
While the house was cool, it wasn’t frigid, not even as cold as Grenara’s dwelling had been on eightday. Since the wall pegs were all taken, Beltur laid his coat on the small bench just inside the door, then followed the others down the hallway really too tight for two people abreast at the same time.
Lhadoraak stopped just short of the archway into the parlor and beckoned to the sandy-haired woman standing to one side of the bench in front of the hearth. She immediately walked to the archway, cramped as it was with the other four standing there.
“Dear,” began Lhadoraak, “this is Beltur. Margrena thought he might be able to help.”
Tulya inclined her head to Beltur. “I’m pleased to meet you. I’ve heard much about you.”
Beltur nodded in return. “Can you tell me how you both noticed the change in Taelya?”
“She’s getting weaker by the day,” said Tulya in a low voice, “and she’s not quite herself. I can’t explain it, but she’s not.”
“That’s why I started trying to sense if there was something wrong with her order/chaos balance,” added Lhadoraak. “It’s balanced, but it’s lower than it has been.”
“The way it was before?” asked Meldryn.
“It might be lower,” said Lhadoraak.
“How old is Taelya?” Beltur asked.
“She’s seven,” replied Lhadoraak.
“She’s small for her age,” added Tulya quickly.
Beltur looked past Tulya to where Taelya sat on the bench facing the hearth, seemingly indifferent to the adults in the archway. From what Beltur could see and sense, Taelya was blond and fine-featured, like her father. Unlike him, or her mother, she appeared tiny, far smaller than Beltur felt she should be. And she should have turned and shown some interest in the adults talking in the hallway. “I should meet her, then.” Beltur really didn’t know what else to say, not until he got closer to her and could sense—or not sense—something.
Tulya offered a discomfited smile. “I suppose you should.” She turned and walked toward the bench.
Beltur followed, but stopped short of the bench, studying the small girl.
“Taelya, this is Beltur. He was one of the mages who saved your father in the last battle.”
Beltur smiled at Taelya.
The girl did not smile back.
Beltur could see the dark circles under her eyes, green eyes that were not bloodshot, but almost dull, in a way. He immediately reached out to sense what he could about her. The overall pattern of order and chaos appeared balanced, as her father had said. At first, Beltur sensed nothing that seemed odd, but he had the feeling that he was missing something. He kept searching, concentrating on her head. There he found a pinpoint of something different, a tiny almost crystal-like bit of order, surrounding a larger, but somehow compressed, bit of chaos. Focusing his concentration more tightly, he could sense that chaos wasn’t wound chaos or outside free chaos, but the healthy chaos manifested by all living things. He’d never sensed anything like order confining healthy chaos before. There was also the hint of a link or a filament that led him to another, identical order/chaos structure. He tried to sense deeper, this time concentrating on the order containment. In moments, he realized that the tiny structures were more like shields, and that the scores of them throughout Taelya’s small body were all connected by fine filaments, and the combination of the miniature shields around chaos reminded him of the way in which he used order and chaos in the casting and forging of cupridium.
If those order structures are capturing or containing healthy chaos … that might be why she’s so weak. Beltur almost shook his head, but did not. Instead, he turned to Tulya. “Hold still for a moment, please.”
Seeing the frown on Lhadoraak’s face, he added, “I want to compare something.” After studying Tulya with his senses, and then Margrena, he was convinced that the almost imperceptible shields and filaments were unique to Taelya. He looked back to the girl, who by all rights should have been far taller than she was. “Do you feel more tired than you used to?”
Taelya nodded.
“Did this happen just in the last few days?”
“I think so.”
Beltur just stood there. If he tried to explain in detail, would any of the others even believe him?
“Can you do anything?” asked Margrena.
Beltur turned and walked back into the hallway. The other adults followed. Once the four were gathered facing him, he said, “Some of her own order is choking off her healthy chaos. It’s keeping her from growing, I think.”
Tulya’s look was of incomprehension, while Margrena and Lhadoraak frowned.
Meldryn nodded slowly. “I can’t sense that, but it would make sense.” He looked to Lhadoraak. “Beltur can sense order and chaos in the tiniest amounts, even smaller bits than Athaal could.”
“Can you do anything a
bout it?” Tulya finally asked.
“I can try.”
“That doesn’t…” began Lhadoraak, breaking off his words as he looked at Margrena. “What do you think?”
“She’ll continue to get worse if something isn’t done. It should be done soon.”
After several moments, the other four adults looked at Beltur.
“I think I can undo the order locks in her body. At least some of them. That should help, but I don’t know that it will. I’ve never done anything like that before.”
“Has anyone?” asked Lhadoraak.
“Beltur did something like that before,” said Meldryn. “With Claudyt’s grandson. It worked.”
Beltur decided against mentioning that he hadn’t been able to undo all the damage caused by the brain chaos.
“How…?” began Lhadoraak.
“Taelya should be lying down, and I’ll need to sit down on something close to her. It might take a little while.” That was a guess on Beltur’s part, but he remembered passing out after dealing with Claudyt’s grandson.
“You don’t need to be alone with her?” asked Tulya, warily.
Beltur almost laughed. “No. It would be better if everyone’s with us. You could even hold her, if you want.”
In a few moments, Taelya was stretched out on the padded parlor bench, her head on her mother’s lap. Beltur sat on a straight-backed chair beside her.
“Will this hurt?” asked Taelya.
“It shouldn’t,” replied Beltur, hoping that would be so.
He immediately concentrated on the first and largest mini-shield, the one seemingly at the back of her head, trying to figure out the easiest way to unlock it. He tried manipulating a tiny bit of free order. But the tiny shield just incorporated the new order and tightened its grip on the healthy chaos. Nor did using a bit of his own healthy chaos work. Finally, he used two bits of free chaos linked to one bit of free order … and the shield dissolved. From what Beltur could tell, all three bits vanished, and the order bits in the mini-shield dispersed back into the area around where the tiny shield had been, as did the healthy chaos.
Then came the tedious work of tracing down each of the tiny shields in Taelya’s body. After more than three score, Beltur lost count. When he finished, his eyes were burning and his skull was throbbing.
Outcasts of Order Page 12
