Outcasts of Order

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Beltur took a moment to slide the golds into the slots hidden in his belt and the silvers into his belt wallet.

  Even with Frankyr’s assistance, it was close to fifth glass by the time the three had the mounts tied up outside the cot, and they began to load their gear in place. Another three quints passed, and the sky over the mountains to the east was lightening when Beltur said, “We need to mount up. Now.” Then he turned to Frankyr. “Here’s the key to the cot. Thank you for everything.”

  “I’m glad I could help, ser.”

  Beltur and the others slowly rode away from the cot, heading toward the square and the Traders’ Bowl. As they rode past Johlana’s, Beltur saw someone standing on the side porch watching, but he wasn’t certain who it might have been.

  “How big is this group of traders?” asked Jessyla. “Do you know?”

  “It can’t be that big. Two or three traders and their wagons, I’d guess.”

  As they neared the square and the inn, Beltur could sense several men, horses, and what seemed to be three high-wheeled wagons outside the inn. As he neared the group, he rode forward, looking for Jhotyl. He found the fur trader inspecting the second high-wheeled wagon. While Beltur waited for Jhotyl to finish the inspection, he noticed a long board with one end curved upward fastened to the side of the wagon. To turn the wagon into a sledge of sorts in case of snow? In that case, there had to be another of the boards fastened to the other side.

  Beltur tried to sense the far side of the wagon and thought he could make out something similar, but stopped trying when Jhotyl looked up.

  “You all here?”

  “We’re here and ready to ride. Where do you want us? Front, back, or middle?”

  “One of you mages up front with me, the other in the rear with Mheltyn. The rest of your party one place or the other. Up to you.”

  “We’ll start out with me and Jessyla up front and Lhadoraak in the rear. We’ll switch positions on and off.” Depending on how Lhadoraak and his family ride and what you sense. “The three wagons and how many other riders?”

  “Just me. Paastar’ll be driving his own wagon, and me and Mheltyn. Mheltyn, he’ll switch driving the wagons or walk. Thought Camoros was going to join us, but he’s waiting for something from Kleth, and the black angels only know when that’ll show up. Like to get close to Corumtal before the spring rains start.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “Two days to the east wall, another four, maybe five from there to Corumtal. That’s if we don’t get heavy snow or rain.”

  “And from Corumtal to Rytel?”

  “Depends on the river, and who’s got a flatboat handy. If we have to take the road, rather than the river, it’s more than an eightday.” Jhotyl frowned. “You don’t seem like you’ve done much traveling.”

  “Not going east. I’ve traveled from Fenard to Elparta, from Elparta to Axalt. Going west, I’ve traveled from Fenard into Analeria as far as a place called Kasiera. That’s where the nomad raiders are, and we fought off several attacks there and then on the way to Paalsyra. We also ran into brigands on the way from Elparta to Axalt.”

  “How close is Kasiera to the Westhorns?”

  “You could see them from there, but Kasiera is farther west, much farther west than Fenard. The Westhorns curve west south of Fenard.”

  “What were you doing there?”

  “Carrying out the Prefect’s orders. That was before he and his whites killed my uncle and tried to kill me. Also, we never got paid for doing what he wanted, either.”

  “Very few people have much good to say about the Prefect. If what happened to you is usual, I can see why.”

  “What is the Viscount like?”

  “I’ll tell you later. We’ll have plenty of time for that. Right now, we need to head out.”

  Beltur nodded. “I’ll get Lhadoraak in position. Ten yards back of the rear wagon?”

  “No closer than five and no more than fifteen.”

  “We’ll keep that in mind.” Beltur turned Slowpoke and rode back toward where the others waited.

  LXXXVI

  The ride from Axalt to the midpoint way station on threeday was moderately long and colder than Beltur had anticipated. Taelya did well but Tulya, Beltur could tell, was miserable for most of the ride. Beltur himself was tired by the time he dismounted, because he’d been sensing both what was in front of the traders and what was behind, although most of what he sensed beyond the road happened to be red deer, and an occasional mountain cat that seemed to be stalking and, in one instance, killing the deer.

  The way station was better than any of those in Spidlar, with solid stone walls and a slate roof. The floors of both the wayfarers’ space and the stable were stone, and there was an ample supply of wood, as well as a pipe from a spring whose water was like liquid ice. The space for travelers consisted of nooks against the wall, all open to the central fireplace and chimneyed hearth. The food supplied by Jhotyl was cold sliced mutton, bread, and cheese, along with slices of pickled pearapples.

  Beltur ended up sleeping with most of his blankets and bedroll under him, given that the raised “beds” in the nooks were solid stone, but he was so tired he didn’t mind it much.

  While Beltur and Jessyla were a little stiff on fourday morning, both Lhadoraak and Tulya were so stiff they had trouble moving. Taelya was fine. Breakfast was bread and cheese.

  Jhotyl explained that by saying, “We’ll get hot food tonight at the inn at the east wall. Might not be all that tasty, but it will be hot.”

  Beltur nodded, rather than admit that he hadn’t known there was an inn there.

  Once again Beltur not only saddled Slowpoke and Jessyla’s horse, as well as reloaded the mule and spare mount, but also watched, and offered pointers, as Lhadoraak saddled the mounts that he and his family were riding.

  The group was on the road again shortly after sixth glass, moving eastward and gradually upward through a canyon that seemingly narrowed with each kay. After a glass or so, although the sky above was a bright green-blue, shadows still cloaked the road, and the air was cold enough that the ice in the stone gutters alongside the road remained largely unmelted.

  Beltur glanced ahead at the empty road, then to the right at the streambed that had dwindled almost into nothingness, before saying quietly to Jessyla, riding beside him, “I can see why no one worries about brigands on this part of the ride. They can’t approach except by the road, and there’s nowhere to go except to Axalt or the east wall.”

  “Couldn’t they block the road in both directions?”

  “They could, but where would they go? Also, they’d lose the advantage of numbers.” What Beltur didn’t point out was that Axalt could easily block the road and hold off invaders with a comparatively small force—possibly another reason why it had never been conquered.

  As Beltur and Jessyla rode another three kays up a comparatively gentle incline, the canyon walls seemed to get shorter and shorter, except that was an illusion, because the rocky walls remained the same height as the road rose to meet them. After another several kays of riding, Beltur could see that the road leveled out where it passed through a rocky swale between two tall peaks.

  “We’re nearing the top of the pass,” called Jhotyl from behind them. “We’ll stop where it’s flat to rest the horses before we start down. This is the coldest part of the journey. Even the eastern wall is warmer than Axalt.”

  “Is that because it’s lower?”

  “It is somewhat lower, but the farther the wind blows over the mountains, the colder it becomes, and most of the winds come from the northeast, not from the west or northwest.”

  With each step that Slowpoke carried Beltur toward the flatter area between the peaks, the wind strengthened. By the time Jhotyl called a halt, a brisk wind was scouring the heat out of the travelers. Beltur dismounted and tied Slowpoke to the lead wagon, then walked back to the rear where he found Lhadoraak standing beside his mount, stretching his legs.

&n
bsp; “How are you doing?”

  “I’m wondering how you survived all the riding you’ve done.”

  “You’ll get used to it. My legs were raw the first time I rode a lot. How’s Taelya?”

  “Better than either of us.” Lhadoraak’s words were wry. “How is Jessyla doing?”

  “She’s a bit sore.” So was Beltur, but he clearly wasn’t suffering as much as Lhadoraak and Tulya were. “Jhotyl says that the first part of the trip is the hardest.”

  “That’s some small consolation.”

  “If we survive it,” added Tulya.

  “It’s also warmer east of the pass.”

  “So it will take us twice as long to freeze?” asked Tulya sardonically.

  “Something like that. I just wanted to let you both know that.”

  “Thank you,” said Lhadoraak.

  Beltur turned and walked back to where Jessyla stood beside her mount, stretching her arms and alternating lifting her knees.

  “How is Tulya?”

  “Cold, unhappy, and sore, I’d say. She wasn’t even cheered much by the idea that it will be warmer as we get closer to the eastern wall.”

  “She’s never liked the cold. That’s one reason why she was more than happy to do the cooking. She could stay close to the hearth and still be useful.”

  “The good thing might be that anywhere we go likely won’t be as cold as Axalt.”

  “There’s Westwind,” pointed out Jessyla with a smile.

  “You know we’re not going there. They’d never let two black mages who are male remain there anyway.” Beltur smiled. She’d said that just to tease him, knowing he’d feel it necessary to explain.

  The ride down from the top of the pass was slower than the climb had been, and colder, because the road on the eastern side wound back and forth across an exposed field of boulders for a good six kays before it finally descended into another canyon, one more valley-like than the canyon on the west side of the pass. Once they were out of the wind and riding along a stretch flanked by pines and spruces that had lost their snow cover, Beltur definitely felt less chilled.

  It was close to fifth glass when he rode around a wide sweeping curve in the road and saw the east wall, a structure as high as the western wall, but almost half again as long. As with the western wall, there was but a single well-fortified gate, but there were several structures of considerable size set against the wall and constructed of the same gray stone. Smoke rose from a number of chimneys into a sky that had become covered with thin and high gray clouds.

  “The stable is the building on the right side of the gate,” said Jhotyl from where he rode directly behind but between Beltur and Jessyla. “The first building on the left is for the tariff inspectors, and the inn is the next one north of the inspectors’ building. The guard quarters are the last building on the left. We must stop and inform the tariff inspectors before we can use either the stable or the inn.”

  “Must you pay them before using the stable or inn?”

  “No. We must report what we have, but we do not pay until just before we go through the gates. An inspector from Axalt and one from Certis will both go over what we report. We make one payment. What goes to which land depends on the goods.”

  “How highly do they tariff ermine pelts?”

  “I have the Viscount’s marque. Certis will not tariff the pelts. Axalt makes traders pay five silvers even if nothing is subject to tariff.”

  “How do they know…” Beltur broke off the question and asked instead, “Do they inspect everything everyone carries?”

  “Usually, they do not, just wagons and large packs. But they can if they wish.”

  Beltur nodded.

  Another two quints passed before Beltur and the others reined up outside the small graystone building of the tariff inspectors.

  “Just wait here.” Jhotyl dismounted and then tied his mount to the lead wagon, before walking toward the building carrying what looked to be several sheets of paper in a roll.

  Several moments later, Paastar followed Jhotyl into the building. He also carried a rolled sheet of paper.

  A good half quint, if not longer, passed before Jhotyl and Paastar emerged from the smaller stone building, accompanied by two men, one wearing the dark gray uniform of Axalt and another wearing a differently cut green coat and brown trousers, suggesting that he represented the Viscount of Certis.

  The Certan inspector looked to Jhotyl. “We still need to inspect the wagons.”

  “You’ve seen the Viscount’s marque.”

  “It is only for pelts, trader.”

  “That’s all that’s in the wagons, except for personal things, food, and fodder.”

  “We must look.”

  “Look all you want, but if you damage the pelts, His Mightiness won’t be pleased.”

  “We will be most careful.”

  Jhotyl did not snort until the inspector was inside the first wagon.

  Over the next quint, the inspectors looked through all three wagons, referring again and again to the sheet of paper each carried.

  In the end, they returned to the lead wagon, where the Certan inspector asked Jhotyl, “What about the pack mule?”

  “That belongs to the mages.” Jhotyl gestured toward Beltur.

  In turn, the Certan looked up to Beltur, still mounted. “What’s in the bundles on the mule, Mage?”

  “Personal goods, inspector. Blankets, clothing, a few cooking pieces, some bedding…”

  “That seems … strange.”

  “We’re leaving Axalt. It’s far too cold for the health of the other mage and his daughter, and Axalt has little need of us.”

  The inspector looked at Beltur for a long moment, then at Jessyla. “Is what the mage says true?”

  “It is, inspector.”

  The Certan turned his eyes back to Jhotyl. “Then that takes care of everything but payment when you pass through the gates.”

  In moments, the two inspectors were gone.

  Jhotyl gestured toward the stable, then untied and walked his mount toward the entrance, saying to Beltur as he did, “We pay separately for the stable and the inn.”

  As soon as Jhotyl approached the stable doors, they opened and two stableboys hurried out, followed by a graying ostler. In the end, the stable was much like the one at the way station, except that the stone-walled stalls had wooden doors, and mangers for fodder, as well as stableboys and ostlers. Hay was provided for the cost of the stall, two coppers a night, but grain was extra.

  Once the horses were settled, Beltur and his party followed Jhotyl to the inn, lugging their gear—except for the packs on the mule and spare mount, which were kept, for an extra copper, in a locked storage room in the stable.

  “What do rooms cost?” asked Beltur as they neared the door to the inn.

  “They’re small but more comfortable than most. Five coppers a room for each night for the smallest rooms.”

  Beltur winced. In his experience, rooms had cost around three coppers a night. “Is fare that much more costly also?”

  “Not for the fare, but for ale or lager.”

  A clerk stood waiting behind a counter just beyond the entry foyer of the inn.

  “I’ll need a large and a small room. Just for tonight,” said Jhotyl. “Next to each other.”

  “That will be a silver and a copper, ser.”

  When Jhotyl finished paying, and Mheltyn and the other two teamsters joined him, the four headed down the corridor away from the entry.

  “How many rooms, ser?”

  “Two. A small will suffice for two, will it not?”

  “Yes, ser. That will be a silver.”

  Beltur handed over a single silver, and received two keys, each with a different image, one with a pinecone, and the other with a mountain columbine.

  “The image on the key and the room are the same. Both rooms are on the next level. The stairs are past the public room. When you return the key, you get a token to give the ostler.”
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br />   Meaning you don’t get your horses without relinquishing the key. “Thank you.”

  Beltur handed the pinecone key to Lhadoraak.

  “You shouldn’t—”

  “We’ll talk about it at dinner,” said Beltur quietly, turning and heading down the hallway.

  Some ten yards farther along, they passed the public room, less than a third filled, but a space that could seat possibly four score easily, and walked another fifteen yards before they came to the wide wooden steps and started up. The room with the pinecone carved into the door was the second from the top of the steps on the next level.

  Lhadoraak stopped and turned to Beltur.

  Before he could speak, Beltur said, “We’ll meet you in the public room in about a quint.”

  “In the public room, then,” agreed the older mage.

  The columbine room was four doors farther along. Beltur unlocked the door with the large and heavy key, then motioned for Jessyla to enter.

  She did and, once inside, set down the heavy duffel with relief.

  Beltur closed the door, walked several steps past Jessyla before lowering his own duffel to the worn but clean wide plank floor, and looked around the room. The small window was double-shuttered, with wall pegs for clothing and a side table with one straight-backed chair. On the table were a washbasin and a pitcher. Beltur looked into the pitcher, which was empty. “We’ll have to carry up water.”

  “We have a quint. You told Lhadoraak that.”

  Beltur glanced to the far corner of the room, which held a chamber pot, then to the bed, large enough for two without crowding. He leaned over and pressed down on the mattress, then tried to sense if it held vermin. He didn’t sense any.

  “The mattress is hay and horsehair with lots of marigold leaves and petals. Marigolds kill most vermin,” said Jessyla, who had obviously felt his sensing. “It’s not a bad mattress.”

  “That’s good,” said Beltur with a smile.