Outcasts of Order

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “But she’ll be a white,” protested Lhadoraak.

  “I understand how you feel.” Beltur took another swallow of cider, thinking about how he could make Lhadoraak understand.

  “A white … in Spidlar,” emphasized Lhadoraak.

  “My uncle was a white,” Beltur said slowly. “He tried to raise me as a white. I was likely the weakest white wizard in all of Gallos, if even that. It wasn’t until Jessyla suggested that handling chaos with order might be better—because Athaal had said something about it—that I began to improve. Before long, it was clear that I was really a black. I only survived because I began to strengthen what I was, not what my uncle wanted me to be. Athaal once told me that going against one’s nature was a certain way to destruction.” Athaal hadn’t put it nearly that bluntly, but that had certainly been the thrust of his words to Beltur.

  “But … white?” The anguish in Lhadoraak’s voice tore at Beltur.

  “White doesn’t mean evil,” said Meldryn calmly. “Both Athaal and Margrena knew Beltur’s uncle. They both said that he was a good man. He helped Margrena and Jessyla to leave Gallos, and he sacrificed his life standing up against the Prefect and saving Beltur. People like to give nasty names to those who are different, even a little different. Beltur likely did more than any other black to save Elparta from the Gallosians, and yet Cohndar and Waensyn are still denigrating him. Trying to make Taelya into something she is not may well destroy her.”

  “What can we do? You make it sound like…”

  “Let Beltur work with her,” suggested Meldryn.

  Lhadoraak looked to Meldryn questioningly.

  “He knows more than I do about these things, and, if she’s like most children, she’ll learn better from someone besides her parents. You can certainly observe. Discreetly, of course.”

  Lhadoraak turned to Beltur. “Could you? Would you?”

  “I’d be happy to help her all I can.” Not only for your sake, and Tulya’s, but for Athaal’s. “But I’ll have to have your word that you’ll allow Taelya to be what she must be in order to survive. From what you say, she could be a white, or she might be more gray.”

  “Gray?” Lhadoraak winced.

  “Trying to make her what she is not will destroy her, sooner or later.” Beltur felt the repetition was more than necessary.

  “When…?” Lhadoraak finally said.

  “I could start tomorrow … a little after midday.”

  “Would you?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Lhadoraak took a last swallow of the cider, set the mug on the table without it making a sound, and then stood, slowly and deliberately. His face was bleak. “You don’t think there’s any chance she might still turn out black?”

  “At this point,” replied Beltur carefully, as he stood, “I don’t know what she is. I know what worries you. I’ll know more once I work with her, and so will you.”

  A quick wry smile appeared on Lhadoraak’s face, then vanished. “You sound like Athaal.”

  “I’m me, but if I have to sound like anyone, I’d choose Athaal.”

  “Even that sounds like him,” offered Meldryn.

  Beltur walked with Lhadoraak from the kitchen to the front door, then waited as the blond mage donned his coat and scarf.

  Meldryn appeared a few moments later.

  “Tulya and I will be interested to see what you think.”

  “So will I,” replied Beltur cheerfully. “But now’s not the time to worry. She’s still young, and there’s time to sort it all out.”

  “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be there,” Beltur said again.

  Lhadoraak turned to Meldryn. “Thank you. Your advice has always been good.” Then he opened the door and left without looking back.

  After Beltur closed the door, Meldryn said, “He’s more worried than he’s saying.”

  “I know. Do you think it’s just Taelya?”

  “You’ll have to see.” Meldryn paused, then added, “You know that whites don’t live nearly as long as blacks?”

  “I know that, but most whites don’t use order in the right way. They mingle their natural chaos with free chaos. The same sort of thing may be true of blacks. Margrena pointed out that in healing, the problem is that a healer’s natural order works far better for most healing than free order, and using too much natural order can kill a healer. That suggests that there’s also a danger for blacks in not keeping their natural order mostly separate from free order.”

  “I’ve never heard anyone put it that way, not even Athaal.”

  “You miss him.”

  “More than I’ll ever say. Or could say.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Beltur … you have nothing to be sorry about. You did all you could, and almost died yourself trying to save him—unlike those who express no remorse, or unfelt sorrow, and on whom the guilt for his death and those of others should rest.”

  “I can still feel sorry for his loss and yours.” Beltur managed a wistful smile. “Is there any of that hot cider left?”

  Meldryn shook his head. “I appreciate the effort … and, yes, there is, and we both could use it.”

  Beltur could agree with that.

  XVIII

  As Beltur promised, he arrived at Lhadoraak and Tulya’s door at two quints past noon on eightday.

  Tulya opened the door and immediately stepped back, motioning for Beltur to enter. “Thank you so much for coming. We’ve been so worried.”

  “It’s the least I could do … and if Jessyla and Athaal hadn’t helped me to discover what I was, I wouldn’t be here.”

  “Jessyla?”

  “She told me something Athaal had told her, and that got me started. Athaal helped me the rest of the way. Now … let’s see to Taelya.”

  “She’s in the parlor.”

  Taelya was seated on a parlor bench in front of the hearth, reading, or nervously pretending to read, Beltur suspected.

  Lhadoraak rose from his chair as Beltur entered. “Good afternoon, Beltur. You’re punctual, I have to say.” He glanced past Beltur to Tulya, who was motioning her consort to join her and leave the parlor, then turned to his daughter. “Taelya, Beltur is here, and he’s going to try to help you become a better mage, like I told you. Your mother and I will be in the kitchen.”

  Taelya set down the book she had not been reading. “I’ll be fine, Father.”

  Lhadoraak nodded to Beltur, saying, “Let us know when you’re done.”

  “I will.” Beltur picked up a straight-backed chair and set it at an angle to Taelya, then seated himself and studied Taelya. He could see that she was definitely taller, even seated, and her growth was noticeable only some two eightdays after Beltur had removed the order shields that had confined her natural chaos. The free chaos that swirled around her was certainly the mark of a white, but there was more than a little free order there as well. But why hadn’t Lhadoraak said anything sooner? He had to have sensed and known it long before yesterday. Because he’d hoped she’d outgrow being a white?

  “Are you going to try to make me a black?” asked Taelya calmly.

  “No. I’m here to make you better at whatever you really are. If you don’t learn the proper way of how to handle order and chaos, you’ll end up killing yourself or dying young.” Or younger than necessary.

  “Father said you were raised as a white. You don’t look that way now. You’re almost as dark as Father.”

  “Do you see that with your eyes?”

  Taelya frowned. “Not exactly. There’s a mist around you.”

  “Good. What about the mist around you?”

  Taelya paused.

  “Hold out your hand. Try to look at it in the same way that you look at me.”

  “It doesn’t look any different.”

  Beltur thought a moment, then managed to draw together a small point of free chaos from that which surrounded Taelya, positioning it above his outstretched hand. “What am I holding?” />
  “Nothing.”

  “Look again.”

  Taelya wrinkled her forehead. “There’s a misty white ball. But it’s really not there.”

  “That’s free chaos. I drew it from the chaos that surrounds you. Now look around your own hand.”

  “Oh…” After a moment, she said, “Is that how I look to you?”

  “The mist around you is grayish white. You’ve collected both free order and free chaos.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “Right now, it’s not bad or good. It’s what other mages will see or sense. Or healers.” He paused, then asked, “How do you feel?”

  “Better than I have in a long time.” Taelya smiled. “Much better.”

  “That’s good. Very good. Your father said that you could light lamps.”

  “I can do it sometimes.”

  Beltur nodded. “Can you get a candle? We’ll use it for practice.”

  “I can already do that.”

  Beltur looked at her.

  “Sometimes,” Taelya added.

  “Go find a candle. What’s important isn’t just being able to do things, but how you do them. That’s important in everything, but it’s especially important in magery. We’re going to work on that.”

  “You sound like Mother.”

  “Your mother is a sensible woman. I hope you’ll be one as well.”

  “I’ll get a candle. Can it be an old little one?”

  “It can. In fact, that would be better.”

  Taelya bounded to her feet and for several steps, then slowed to a more decorous walk as she left the parlor headed for the kitchen.

  In moments, she returned with a small squat tannish candle, with a stubby blackened wick barely protruding from the melted and remelted wax in the middle. The candle sat on a chipped ivory-colored plate barely a handspan wide.

  “Put it on the side table. Then sit down on the bench facing the candle.”

  Taelya seated herself.

  “Now … try to light the candle.”

  “I thought you were going to teach me a different way.”

  “I have to see what you’re doing to know which way will work better for you.”

  Taelya looked hard at the candle, squeezing her face into an intent frown.

  Beltur could sense the thin line of chaos from her to the candle as the unseen white mist around the candle strengthened into a white point. Finally, the tip of the wick glimmered and then showed a point of flame that slowly grew.

  “There!” declared Taelya with satisfaction.

  “Do you feel like you’re reaching out to the candle wick?”

  “Sort of. Should I be doing something else?”

  “I’d like you to try something totally different for a moment.” Beltur stood and moved his chair closer to the bench, then sat down. “Concentrate on what’s above my hand.” He created a small point of order there.

  “There’s a black point there. That’s order, isn’t it?”

  “It is. Now, I’m going to move it halfway between us.”

  “I can feel that.”

  “Good. I want you to make a point of white chaos close to it—a very tiny point.” Beltur watched as a line of chaos drifted from Taelya. “No. Don’t reach out. Try just to think about that little point of chaos hanging there in the air beside the point of order. Concentrate on that point, just a tiny point of chaos there.”

  Suddenly, there was a point of chaos there.

  “I did it!”

  But the point of chaos dissolved in Taelya’s enthusiasm.

  “Oh…”

  Beltur smiled warmly. “That’s all right. You showed you can do it. Tell me. Why did your chaos point vanish?”

  “Ah … I stopped concentrating?”

  “That’s half of it. Now … has your father told you what chaos is?”

  “It’s a kind of power all jumbled up…”

  “That’s right. Chaos doesn’t like to be concentrated or confined. Or captured. It wants to escape. Chaos mages get their power from concentrating chaos, either with order or more chaos, and holding it tight, and then forcing that concentrated chaos to go somewhere else. When they stop holding it tight, the power comes from its expanding and escaping.” That was a simplified explanation, but one that was basically accurate on the fundamental level.

  “So when I stopped concentrating, it escaped?”

  “Exactly. That’s why you need to keep concentrating and follow my instructions. Make another tiny point of chaos close to my point of order.” Beltur waited until Taelya had her tiny focused point of chaos, then said, “Move it toward the point of order. Keep moving it until they touch.” As she did, he watched. Just before they touched, he placed a containment around them.

  Whsst! A small flame flared up, then vanished.

  “Oh!”

  “That’s what happens when pure concentrated order and chaos meet. If we’d done that right over the candlewick it would still be burning.” Beltur grinned. “That is not the best way to light a candle. We’ll get to that in a bit. Now … this time, I’m going to provide the chaos, and you’re going to concentrate a tiny bit of order. It will likely be harder, but you need to do it.”

  “Why do I need to do both?”

  “That’s a good question. You already know the answer. You just don’t know that you know it.”

  Taelya frowned. “I do?”

  “Let’s say you turn out to be a white, and you want to throw a chaos bolt. How do you get the chaos to stay together?” Beltur waited.

  “Order?”

  “That’s right. Using order is much easier. The problem is that some whites never learn this. They just keep cramming more and more chaos together. That works, but it has a very high cost. You could do this as well, but all that free chaos around you all the time starts to unravel the order in your body. That’s why strong whites who don’t use enough order to channel their power all die very young … or make mistakes that can kill them.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Because my uncle trained me as a white, and I wasn’t one. But it allowed me to learn to use both.”

  “Blacks don’t have that problem, do they?”

  “They have a different problem. If they don’t keep free order and chaos away from their body, they have different problems.” Beltur wanted to skip over that, because what he thought was only a guess. “Either way, a mage, and it’s clear you’re a beginning mage, needs to keep order and chaos from being too close, especially chaos. Now … try to sense the order and chaos swirling around you…” Beltur waited for several moments. “Move the darker white next to you, then put the order outside that, and the bright misty white outside the black.” He just watched as Taelya struggled.

  “It doesn’t want to stay there.”

  “Just watch what I do. If it hurts, tell me immediately.” Beltur didn’t think it would, but he’d never tried what he was about to do with anyone besides himself. Gently, as gently as he could, he linked loosely the swirling bits of black mist into a cloud that separated the slightly darker natural chaos of Taelya’s body from the larger mist of free chaos.

  Taelya sat there, rigidly, as if fearing something would hurt.

  “That’s it,” Beltur finally said. “Can you sense the differences?”

  “I don’t feel that different.”

  “I meant in the order and chaos around you.”

  “Oh … they’re in a sort of pattern.”

  “Did you see how I linked the order?”

  “I saw…”

  “All right. I’m going to put a mist of order a yard away from you, and I want you to try to link the mist together the way I did.”

  Almost a glass passed before Taelya could finally repeat the linkages, and her forehead was damp.

  “Good!” declared Beltur.

  “You never did show me how to light a candle.” Taelya’s voice had a trace of resentment.

  “It should be easy for you now. Just use the blac
k order to move some white free chaos around the candlewick. It shouldn’t take much. Squeeze the chaos with the order.”

  A flame almost five digits long flared up from the candle.

  “Oh!!!”

  Beltur grinned. “You see? If you do it right, it takes very little. Try again.” Beltur snuffed out the candle with order.

  The third time, Taelya lit the candle with just the right amount of chaos. “That is easier.”

  “That’s why it’s important to learn the right way to do things.”

  “Can I show Father?”

  “Of course. I think we’ve done enough for today. You’re going to feel very tired in a little while.” Beltur raised his voice. “Lhadoraak, Tulya, your daughter wants to show you a few things.” He used order to snuff out the candle once more.

  The moment Lhadoraak walked into the parlor, his mouth dropped open. “What … how…?”

  “I showed Taelya how to keep free chaos and order from interfering with her own natural order and chaos. That way, she’ll be able to use both without hurting herself.”

  Tulya frowned.

  “She’s at least part white,” Beltur said. “I can’t change that, but using order to handle chaos will not only make her stronger, but healthier.” He turned to Taelya. “You can light the candle now.”

  The candle appeared to light instantly.

  “Now, put it out.”

  Taelya did.

  “You can see how little effort that took,” Beltur said. “We worked on getting her to use order to control chaos.”

  Lhadoraak glanced at Tulya.

  Tulya nodded and turned to her daughter. “You’ve been working hard. Would you like some bread and jam?”

  “Could I?”

  “Yes, but don’t forget to thank Beltur.”

  Taelya turned to Beltur. “Thank you, ser.” She inclined her head.

  “You’re welcome. Next time, we’ll work on some new magely things.”

  “I’d like that.” With a smile Taelya turned and accompanied her mother to the kitchen.