Outcasts of Order

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  When he finished, he just waited.

  “He’s suggesting that you had something to do with Sarysta’s death,” asked Lhadoraak, “and because of that…?”

  “He suggested that because of the unknown nature of Sarysta’s death, as time goes by there will be more and more rumors about a mage-healer who was present and close to Barrynt, and who owed a great deal to Barrynt,” replied Beltur, “and that Councilor Sarstaan will eventually take action against me and Jessyla.”

  “That’s not fair,” declared Taelya.

  “Dear,” said Tulya firmly.

  “It’s still not fair,” murmured the girl almost under her breath.

  “It is what it is,” Beltur pointed out. “There are also the hints about Taelya, but if Jessyla and I leave Axalt, it will be some years…”

  Tulya shook her head. “The three of you are much stronger together.”

  “We don’t have to decide this today,” Lhadoraak said. “According to you, Naerkaal as much as said that no one was going to do much, if they do anything, until well after winter. I think the Council is being unduly harsh, Naerkaal especially. He, of all people, should understand.”

  “Naerkaal understands,” replied Beltur.

  “He was sad,” affirmed Taelya.

  Lhadoraak glanced at his daughter in surprise.

  “He was, Father.”

  “Naerkaal’s only one councilor out of eleven,” added Beltur, “and there are few mages in Axalt. There might not be another. I’ve never heard another one being mentioned. There’s also one other thing Naerkaal said. I kept wondering why he’s been so careful in what he asked. I knew that Lhadoraak, Jessyla, or I could have sensed another mage around, and we haven’t, but because of the questions Sarstaan raised and the way Naerkaal phrased what he said, I had the thought that a strong healer, like Herrara, could sense truths and falsehoods on the Council. So I asked Naerkaal. He told me that Sarstaan has a strong healer who attends all the public Council meetings.”

  Jessyla’s mouth opened for a moment. “That’s why … She can likely tell if anyone’s lying or if Naerkaal fully shields himself.”

  Tulya frowned.

  “That means that Naerkaal has to be very careful,” Jessyla added. “It also means that Sarstaan has far greater power than just one councilor out of eleven.”

  “None of this is right,” protested Lhadoraak.

  “Councils have a way of doing what they wish,” Beltur said.

  “Dear,” interjected Tulya firmly, “we never planned to come to Axalt in the first place. From what you said a long time back and from what the councilor said, Montgren might be a much nicer place. It can’t be any colder. Beltur and Jessyla have much more to lose than we do.”

  Lhadoraak paused for several moments before saying, “You’re right. I hadn’t thought about that.” He offered a wry expression. “I just don’t like being told what to do. Even quietly and indirectly.”

  “None of us do,” said Jessyla. “But it’s better than having white mages chasing us with chaos bolts or blacks trying to kill Beltur and turn me over to Waensyn. Or your being forced out of Spidlar in less than an eightday.”

  Tulya nodded.

  Beltur could tell that she wasn’t totally displeased with the idea of leaving Axalt, but then, she’d never wanted to come in the first place.

  “We might as well get dinner ready,” said Tulya. “We do have time to think it over.”

  Beltur managed to stifle a wry smile. Tulya had already decided.

  At dinner, both Beltur and Jessyla avoided any more talk about Naerkaal and the Council, and Jessyla talked about what had happened at the healing house, while Lhadoraak briefly described what he’d been doing for the cabinetmaker.

  Once Beltur and Jessyla were alone in their bedchamber, getting ready for bed, Beltur turned to her. “You know … all of this is my doing.”

  “You’ve always tried to do what’s right.”

  “I don’t know about that. Sometimes, it was what I had to do to stay alive.”

  “Dear … if you don’t stay alive, you’re not around to do what’s right. There are at least five people who are alive who’d be dead without your skills as a healer. Taelya would be dying, if she weren’t already dead. What else could you have done in Elparta?”

  “Not much, not without losing you.”

  “Am I worth it?”

  “Absolutely!” Beltur’s smile faded. “About what’s happened here, what do you really think?”

  “I felt that the way things happened when we came to Axalt was almost too good to be true,” said Jessyla quietly. “It was.”

  “If I hadn’t—”

  Jessyla put her index finger across his lips. “Not a word. I know. You don’t have to say it. If Sarysta hadn’t died, she would have destroyed both Johlana and Halhana … and Ryntaar and Frankyr, if she could have. Eshult’s not as strong as his mother, and with her gone, he’ll listen more to Halhana. Frankyr will definitely need Eshult, because Ryntaar doesn’t want to stay in Axalt, and Eshult will find he needs Frankyr. In the end, life will be better for both families.”

  “Do you know this?”

  Jessyla smiled, not quite mischievously. “It’s best not to ask a woman how she knows what she knows.”

  Not wanting to dispute that, Beltur said, “Then I won’t.”

  “Good.” Her arms went around his neck.

  LXXII

  When Beltur reached the healing house on eightday morning, he took off his coat and scarf and walked into Herrara’s study. She wasn’t there. He picked up a basket, debating whether to wait for her, or head for the welcoming room to see if she needed any help.

  At that moment, she walked in and said, “Good morning.”

  “Good morning. I was hoping you’d be here.”

  “Where else would I be?” Herrara offered an amused smile.

  “I thought you’d like to know. Yesterday Councilor Naerkaal stopped by the house.”

  Herrara merely nodded.

  “He suggested, very indirectly, that my contacts with Barrynt and his family, as well as my proximity to Sarysta on the afternoon before her death, would slowly change from a misty miasma into shadowy murmurs, and eventually worse, unless Jessyla and I removed the source of such rumors from Axalt.” Beltur paused, waiting.

  “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

  “Naerkaal believes he’s right. Is he?”

  “If Naerkaal even hinted that, he’s correct.”

  “You suspected something like this, didn’t you?”

  Herrara nodded. “You’re both young and very able, and your presence has already had an effect. Some of that will last long after your departure. That’s if you choose to leave.”

  “But should we?”

  “That’s your decision, not mine. You both make my life much easier. You’ve saved lives and limbs I likely couldn’t have. You both could work here for the rest of your lives. Or you could work with Jorhan and become comfortable. Physically and financially, anyway.”

  Beltur understood what she wasn’t saying. “Like Johlana, you mean?”

  “More so. She’s a woman who consorted a prosperous merchant. She’s very capable, but not powerful, and her consort was thought to keep her in her place. You can’t and won’t do that for Jessyla, and she wouldn’t for you. You’re both anything but traditional. All people, but especially those in Axalt, resent young people who are capable and powerful.”

  “If we’re so powerful, why are we being pushed out of lands?”

  “From what I understand from Jessyla, you weren’t at all powerful when you fled Gallos. You were more powerful when you left Spidlar, but I doubt you knew just how powerful you were. You’re strong enough to stay here, but once Lhadoraak’s daughter is known as a white witch, it may take all the power and capability you have. There will be greater and greater opposition. It could turn into open conflict. You’re the most powerful mage in all Axalt, but do you want to force your presence ont
o a city whose ways and traditions are not yours? It will take force, you know? Axalt is very resistant to change. That’s both its strength and its weakness.”

  “I’m getting the feeling that who and what Jessyla and I are won’t likely fit easily into any land. Can you honestly tell me that’s not so?”

  “No, I can’t. Neither of you fit in Gallos or Spidlar. You don’t fit here, and likely never will. I do believe there’s a place for everyone, if you can find or make it.”

  Beltur raised his eyebrows. “That doesn’t happen often.”

  “Relyn made his place here. The dark angels made their place in Westwind. Saryn made her place in Sarronnyn. The druids made their place in the Great Forest.”

  “We’re scarcely that powerful,” demurred Beltur.

  “Neither were they when they started.” Herrara shrugged. “Much as Naerkaal can suggest, the Council can’t force you out. Not now, especially. It’s your decision, not theirs.”

  “We’ll need to think about it.”

  “I’m glad for both of you that you phrased it that way.” After a quick smile, she added, “You won’t have to check on Wurfael. He left yesterday.”

  “What about the two old men?”

  “The one with the broken arm is gone. Once his arm was set, he went to his daughter’s cot. The other one … I’ll be able to keep him for another few days.”

  “Klaznyt’s still complaining?”

  “He’s been behaving himself.”

  “That might be because he’s realized he needs as much time here as he can get.”

  “It also might be because he’s finally realized who and what you are.”

  “I’d like to think it reflects his better nature,” said Beltur wryly.

  Herrara just smiled and said, “You might check on him.”

  Beltur left the study and headed up the stairs.

  The rest of the eightday at the healing house was quiet, and Beltur left almost exactly at fourth glass, heading for Johlana’s house. He’d told Jessyla not to expect him until around fifth glass because he felt he needed to talk to both Jorhan and Johlana as soon as possible.

  When he reached the house and knocked, Frankyr opened the door.

  “Good afternoon, ser.”

  “The same to you, Frankyr. I’d like to talk to Jorhan. Is he here?”

  “He’s in the parlor with Mother, ser. You can go right in.”

  “I wouldn’t want to interrupt them.”

  “I’m sure they’d want to see you,” insisted Frankyr.

  Beltur wasn’t certain of that, although he doubted either Jorhan or Johlana would say anything or turn him away. “I’ll try not to be long.”

  “You never overstay, ser.”

  Beltur appreciated the words, even if they were a form of flattery. He hung his coat and scarf on one of the pegs.

  “That’s a different tunic, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, that’s because Healer Herrara thought I should have a tunic that showed I was both a mage and a healer.”

  “That was a good idea.”

  Beltur nodded and then made his way to the parlor. “I hope I’m not intruding…”

  “You never intrude, Beltur,” said Johlana warmly.

  “Hardly ever, anyway,” added Jorhan, with the hint of a smile.

  “I see you’re wearing that new tunic.”

  “You seem to know about it.”

  “Herrara asked me about how wide the sleeve bands should be. That was several eightdays ago.”

  “Then you knew about it long before I did.”

  “She usually does,” said Jorhan.

  “I wouldn’t be here, except something else has come up. Councilor Naerkaal paid me a visit late yesterday.”

  “Now what?” asked Jorhan, his voice turning gruff.

  Johlana frowned.

  “Some members of the Council have hinted that I had a close relationship with Barrynt … and that Barrynt’s and Emlyn’s deaths came rather soon after Jessyla and I arrived in Axalt.” Beltur was elaborating on what Naerkaal had hinted, but he really didn’t want to get into some of the other hints. “Sarstaan is also concerned that I was one of the last people to see Sarysta alive.”

  “What does all that mean?” asked Jorhan.

  “He’s suggesting that it might be best that Jessyla and I leave Axalt sometime after winter lifts. Otherwise, the gossip and rumors could get very ugly. He didn’t quite say that, but the implication was there.”

  “I’m sure it was,” replied Johlana. “Sarstaan is a councilor, and he’s influential. Barrynt worried about him.”

  “What about the smithing?” asked Jorhan.

  “Naerkaal made it very clear that, if I stayed, over time you’d have trouble getting copper and tin.”

  “This Council doesn’t sound much better than the bastards in Spidlar.”

  “They’re not trying to kill us,” Beltur said dryly. “It might be that I can suggest to Naerkaal that, as part of Jessyla and my agreeing to leave, you get copper and tin now. That way we could forge quite a few pieces in the next eightdays.”

  “If it weren’t for Johlana, I’d think about coming with you.” Jorhan paused. “Where are you thinking about going?”

  “We won’t want to stay in Certis, and we’ll need to avoid Jellico. We’ll likely try Montgren. If that doesn’t work out, I really don’t know. We’ll find a way to send word where we end up.”

  “You’re going to let them push you out?” asked Johlana.

  “I had a talk with Herrara about it,” Beltur said. “She pointed out that no one could force us to leave, but that it would get uglier as time passed. Then there’s the problem of Taelya. She will be a white mage. That won’t set well over time, either, and Lhadoraak and Tulya never really wanted to come here. Axalt was the only place they could safely reach in time.” He turned directly to Johlana. “Somehow … I feel as though our presence has disrupted your entire life.”

  Johlana shook her head. “Barrynt and I were having problems with Emlyn and Sarysta long before you and Jorhan arrived. Both of you didn’t have any choice, and Barrynt and I invited you.” A sad smile crossed her face. “Sometimes, things just have to be what they are. Halhana and Eshult will be much happier this way. Likely, so will Ryntaar and Frankyr. In the late spring, Ryntaar wants to go back and take over Jorhan’s lands. He’ll do well there. He and Frankyr have planned to build a warehouse there so that they’ll be able to handle more trade.”

  “What about you?” asked Beltur.

  “I’m here,” declared Jorhan.

  “Emlyn and Sarysta weren’t without enemies,” added Johlana. “Things will settle down. Tradition is good for smoothing things over.” Her face brightened. “Halhana and Eshult are coming to dinner in a while. She said that you made things easier with what you told Eshult.”

  “I just told him what happened.”

  “No one else did, especially not Sarstaan.”

  “He wasn’t there,” Beltur pointed out.

  “He wouldn’t have wanted to say anything that reflected badly on Sarysta. He wouldn’t want to admit she was the cause of everything.”

  Beltur just nodded. He hadn’t said that, although he’d suspected it. He’d only pointed out certain facts and how Barrynt might have felt. After several moments, he said, “I didn’t have anything else to tell you, but I felt you both ought to know how Naerkaal and the Council feel about what happened.”

  “Think about it for a while,” said Jorhan.

  “We’ve thought about it, and we’ll keep thinking about it. But if it doesn’t look like matters will change…”

  Johlana nodded slowly.

  Beltur stood. “I hope you have a good dinner with Eshult and Halhana.”

  “I’m sure we will,” declared Jorhan.

  Beltur managed a pleasant smile as he left the family parlor. Are you rushing into something you’ll regret? Or will waiting too long just make matters worse?

  As he walked back toward
the cot, he felt slightly numb, and not from the cold, or the light snow that had begun to filter out of the gray clouds that hung over Axalt. What Herrara had said made sense, unhappily, and if he could persuade Naerkaal to allow Jorhan to purchase more copper, he and the smith could at least forge a few more blades and other items to make Jorhan more comfortable for a while.

  Even with that thought, Beltur still felt that somehow, he hadn’t handled matters as well as he could have … and likely still wasn’t.

  LXXIII

  After finishing his stable chores on oneday, Beltur headed for the Council building, hoping to find Naerkaal there or, if not, someone who could tell him where the mage-councilor might be. All he could find was a single bored-looking guard sitting on a stool outside the Council chamber.

  “I’m looking for Mage-Councilor Naerkaal.”

  “None of the councilors are here on oneday.”

  “I can see that. Would you happen to know where Councilor Naerkaal might be.”

  “In his shop, I’d guess.”

  “Where is his shop?”

  “It’s a block north and east of the square.”

  “What kind of shop is it?”

  “He’s a scrivener. I know that. A bookshop? Whatever scriveners sell, I guess.”

  With that information, Beltur went looking. More than a quint later, he discovered the small shop south and west of the square. The sign on the outside just proclaimed SCRIVENER without any elaboration.

  He opened the door and stepped inside, looking at the rows of books set neatly in shelves on the side wall away from the door.

  Naerkaal looked up from where he sat behind the wide copy desk. “I thought I might see you one of these days.”

  “I hadn’t thought of you as a scrivener.”

  “Why not? As you’ve already discovered, magery doesn’t bring in many silvers, and I don’t have your ability as a healer. Most mages don’t. Besides, I happen to like books.” Naerkaal gestured to the chair beside the desk.

  Beltur seated himself. “We’ve talked over the question of the shadows. How real are those shadows?”

  “How real? You’d know that better than I would. Certain people, beginning with Sarstaan, think they’re very real. He will try to make them more real for reasons I’m certain you understand.”