“Oh?”
“The Hamorian Codex doesn’t look at things in the same way. There are great penalties for selling shoddy goods or spoiled ones, or for misrepresenting them. But there are no penalties for things like what Shyret was doing. He was telling the Association here that a portion of the goods had spoiled, and then selling them on the side. So the Association had to take the losses…” Rahl tried to explain what had happened and why it wasn’t against Hamorian law, and how he had had no real proof of what Shyret was doing. “…and it would only have been my word against his. That was why I’d decided to see the mage-guards on oneday.” He shook his head wryly. “You’d think I’d have learned not to wait on something like that. That was how I ended up in Nylan, you know. I waited till oneday to see Magister Puvort in Land’s End.”
“There’s a fine line between when to wait and when not to,” Deybri said quietly.
That, Rahl had learned, but he wasn’t sure he could always discern when to wait and when not to. He gestured toward the lane on the east side of the road. “Your house is down there, isn’t it?”
“It is. Well…it’s not really mine. It’s Uncle Thorl’s, and I pay him rent. Healers at the training center don’t make that many coins, either.”
“Oh…I didn’t know.”
“You wouldn’t have, Rahl. I never told you.”
There was so much about her that he really didn’t know, Rahl reflected, and yet…beyond all that, there was something beyond her warmth and beauty that drew him to her. But, to say that would be so presumptuous…but would he ever have another chance to utter such words in person?
As they entered the restaurant, Rahl saw a slender graying man with his back to the entrance talking to a server. Even so, Rahl recognized him. As before, the proprietor was dressed in spotless khaki trousers and shirt, but this time his vest was chartreuse edged in silver thread.
“Kysant, I know you may not have a table,” began Rahl in Hamorian, with an apologetic smile, “but I would be most grateful…”
The proprietor turned…and froze, looking at the mage-guard uniform. After a long moment, Kysant looked from Deybri to Rahl and back to Deybri.
“He’s from Recluce, Kysant,” Deybri said softly. “He’s eaten here with Thorl, and he was exiled for a time. So they sent him back as an envoy to the magisters.”
“Would it help if I spoke Temple?” Rahl asked in that language, accompanied by a sheepish grin.
“You…startled me, ser. You…”
“Could we just have a table?” Rahl asked. “The last meal I had here was so good…”
“Oh…of course…” Kysant escorted them to a corner table, one with no one seated nearby, not that there were many in the place, not when it was still late afternoon and not an end-day. He seated Deybri.
Rahl sat across from her.
“Can I get you something to drink?” asked Kysant.
Rahl looked to Deybri. “Leshak?”
She nodded.
“Two, please.”
After the proprietor hurried away, Deybri looked to Rahl. “You scared Kysant. He saw you in that uniform, and it terrified him.”
“I think his parents must have told terrible stories about the mage-guards,” reflected Rahl. “He didn’t grow up in Hamor, from what your uncle said.”
“That’s true.” She paused, as if uncertain what to say next.
Rahl could see Kysant preparing a pitcher and two tall goblets. “Kysant will be back with our drinks before long. Why don’t you order for us both?”
“You trust me with that?” The words were accompanied with a smile.
“I’d trust you with far more than that, and you know it.”
“You do make things difficult, you know?”
Rahl wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. So he just shrugged…helplessly.
Kysant returned with a tray that held the glass pitcher of leshak and two crystal goblets, then set a goblet before each and half-filled both goblets.
“Kysant,” said Rahl with a smile, “you can tell people that your place is so good that a Hamorian mage-guard traveled all the way here to eat.”
“Ah…yes, ser. Have you decided…a light lunch…or more?”
Rahl nodded to Deybri.
“The pashtaki and kasnya for appetizers, and the cumin fowl with sweet rice, with a side of biastras…”
Rahl watched and listened. Once Kysant had left, he lifted his goblet. “To the loveliest healer in Recluce.”
Deybri actually blushed. Then she shook her head. “You’re impossible.”
“You already knew that.”
She sipped the leshak, and so did Rahl. It was better than he recalled, smooth and cool, bearing hints of pearapple, greenberries, honey, and an even tinier trace of pine.
“How did you know that I was an envoy?” he asked after several moments. “I hadn’t gotten around to telling you.”
She smiled. “You’ve changed. Once that would have been one of the first things you said.”
“It didn’t seem so important. Not now.” Rahl waited for her to go on.
“Tamryn told everyone that the Emperor had sent two envoys to Nylan, and that they were both black mage-guards. Everyone was cautioned to be most courteous.” Deybri laughed. “I had no idea you were one of them.”
“They sent me because I’m the only one who knew about the smuggling and the theft in the Nylan Merchant Association in Swartheld. That was how I ended up in the ironworks at Luba. Director Shyret dosed me with nemysa because he didn’t know I was a sort of mage…” Rahl went on to outline quickly his progression from loader to clerk to mage-clerk and finally to mage-guard. “…couldn’t have done it if Taryl had not found ways to help me regain some of my abilities, and to train some of the others.”
At that point, he stopped because Kysant arrived with a large circular platter bearing the deep-fried pashtakis and what looked to be small pastry crescents.
“Uncle Thorl doesn’t like kasnya.” Deybri picked up one of the crescents. “He thinks they’re bland, but their taste is just more subtle.”
Rahl took one and nibbled it. After a moment, he nodded. The taste was a combination of almond and other spices that he could not identify, but he enjoyed the flavor. “It’s good. I like it.”
“You’re not just saying that?”
“No. Especially with you, I wouldn’t do that.”
Rahl enjoyed the appetizers, but not so much as just looking at Deybri.
At that moment, Kysant escorted three men into the room, seating them at a round table in the corner farthest from Rahl and Deybri. One was clearly a trader, and he kept looking at Rahl, finally murmuring something to the others.
“You’ll have everyone in Nylan talking for eightdays after you’ve left,” said Deybri in a low voice.
“It might help Kysant.” Rahl didn’t really want to think about leaving.
Before he could say more, Kysant arrived with the main course—the cumin fowl and the biastras.
The fowl breasts had been cut into thin strips, then braised and laid on a bed of sticky rice. Deybri served them each several strips and rice.
Rahl found the meat tender, moist, and piquant—as well as slightly smoky and pearapple sweet. The rice carried the same flavors, with a hint of crunchiness. “I like this.”
“I’m glad.”
While Rahl was careful to wrap the spicy biastra in the thin flat bread, after a mouthful he realized that it was nowhere near as hot and spicy as he had recalled. Then he glanced across at Deybri, who had taken a cloth and was blotting her forehead.
“These are spicier,” she said, “and you’re not even noticing.” She laughed softly. “That’s another way you’ve changed. I still remember the expression on your face when you took the first bite of a biastra.”
“I’ve had to eat hot food for more than a year. Some of it wouldn’t have been edible if I’d been able to taste it.”
“Luba? That must have been awful.”
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“I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone,” Rahl said slowly, “but it wasn’t as bad as people say. The guards and overseers were more patient than you’d think. I once watched a mage-guard tell an overseer that if he didn’t take better care of his men, he’d be one of them.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if it was every bit as bad as they say,” Deybri replied. “You just learned how to handle it.”
“I suppose I did, but I only saw one or two cases where the overseers were cruel, and I wasn’t the only loader who got promoted to checker.”
“Checker?”
“A low-level clerk who keeps track of the iron shipments. That was how Taryl found me.” Rahl went on to explain, concluding, “…and I was reading about Recluce and the magisters when the rest of my memories came back, and I sent word to Taryl, and I became a clerk at the mage-guard station. As soon as I had enough coins, I wrote you.”
Deybri just nodded.
After several long moments of silence, Rahl said, “Thank you again for letting my parents know.” He managed a smile.
“You could have sent a letter to them…rather than me.”
“I could have, but I could only afford one letter,” Rahl said slowly, looking across the table into her gold-flecked brown eyes. “You told me that the past had no hold on me. That might have been true once. It’s not any longer. It hasn’t been for a long time, now.”
Deybri met his eyes without looking away. “I know.”
“And?”
“Rahl…you have come back to Nylan, and you may again…but already, you are not truly of Recluce…or even of Nylan.”
“You might be right, but why do you say that?”
“You’re different. Stronger within. I don’t mean in order, although that is also true, and it may come that you will become even more powerful in time.” She paused as Kysant arrived to take the empty plates and platters.
Rahl realized that the light had dimmed in the room because it was twilight outside. He hadn’t really paid any attention.
“Any sweets?” asked the proprietor.
“The orange cake, if you have it. Two slices,” replied Deybri.
“An excellent choice, lady.” Kysant bowed, but his eyes avoided Rahl.
Once Kysant had left, Deybri added, “I like it because it’s sweet, but not cloying.”
“And there’s no aftertaste of the rest of the meal?”
She nodded.
“I’m different now,” Rahl prompted her. “That’s what you were saying.”
“You think you love me. That’s obvious, and I can’t tell you how flattering it is to have someone as talented and handsome as you are in love with me. But…it won’t work out.”
Rahl could sense the turmoil within her. What could he say? “I’m not asking that. I’m only telling you what I feel.”
“Rahl…I told you I had to spend time as a healer in Hamor. I was in Atla. I can’t tell you how unhappy I was. I kept counting the eightdays, and I almost ran to the ship that took me back to Nylan. You…you’re strong. I’m not. I know I’m not. I’m not worthy of you.” Her eyes were bright in the dimming light of the dining chamber.
“You’re more than worthy of anyone. Not feeling comfortable in a strange land when you’re young isn’t exactly weakness. I didn’t feel at all comfortable in Swartheld for the whole time I was first there.” He offered a smile. “Besides, you feel something for me.”
“I always have.” She looked down for a moment. “That doesn’t change anything. You won’t come back to Nylan, and I can’t live in Hamor.”
“Healers are always welcome there,” he said mildly.
“I don’t feel welcome there.” Her smile was strained. “Can we leave it at that?”
“Until after the orange cake.” Rahl forced a smile.
“You don’t deceive any better than I do.” An unsteady laugh followed her words.
“I’m not trying to deceive anyone. I couldn’t come here and not tell you how I feel. The letter…I didn’t want to say too much, or not enough…” He shook his head.
“You said enough.”
“Too much?”
Deybri was the one to shake her head. “If you were an engineer here, even a stevedore on the docks, I wouldn’t hesitate a moment to consort you.”
Rahl could sense the cost of the admission. “But I’m not, and you’re not someone who can do things halfway or partway or with an ocean between us.”
“No. I can’t. I just can’t…and I hate myself for that weakness…but I can’t.”
Rahl considered her words. Her ability to recognize where she was weak was another strength, and held an honesty he had not considered.
Kysant reappeared with two small plates. “Would you like a brandy or something hot, as well?”
Rahl looked to Deybri, catching the slightest shake of her head before replying. “No, thank you.”
Neither Rahl nor Deybri said anything as they slowly ate.
“The cake is better than the khouros, I think,” Rahl said after finishing the last moist crumbs on his plate.
Deybri smiled. “I think so, too, but Uncle Thorl doesn’t. But he’s never liked oranges. That might be because his father had an orchard, and Thorl’s job was to take care of the spoiled and rotten ones.”
“I can see that might give him less liking for oranges,” replied Rahl with a laugh.
“That’s just the excuse he gives.” She paused just slightly. “He does ask if I hear from you. He said you were one of his best students, that you had the gift for languages.”
“He has the gift of teaching them.”
“He’s never asked about anyone else.”
“That’s because he’s never had another student in love with his niece,” Rahl answered lightly.
“Please…Rahl. No more. Not now.”
“For now. How is Aleasha?”
“She’s close to becoming an arms magistra, I think. Before she does, though, she’ll have to learn more about order and how it affects weapons.”
“Has she started building that house yet?”
“Not so far…”
In the end, the dinner cost three silvers, with a tip, and Rahl felt strange keeping the seven, but he’d return them to Taryl the next day.
He did offer Deybri his arm once they left the restaurant, and she took it, gently. They walked through the early evening, uphill toward her small dwelling. Rahl tried to keep his words away from what he really felt.
“…never realized how small Recluce is…almost as far from just Swartheld to Cigoerne as it is from Land’s End to Feyn…”
Deybri fell silent, and Rahl quickly went on. “I saw my first Kaordist Temple in Swartheld…all the words about twinners suddenly made sense. You know that they have twin spires, one that’s twisted and strange…and that’s the female one…”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” She shook her head.
“Men think of women as chaotic everywhere, you think?”
“In most places, from what I’ve heard and seen.”
“I don’t.”
“You’re one of the few,” she said dryly.
All too soon, they reached the low stoop before her front door.
Deybri let go of Rahl’s arm and stepped back. “I know I must be a disappointment to you. You’ve crossed an ocean and laid your heart at my feet. But…”
Rahl could sense the unshed tears as he looked at her standing before the doorway…so strong, and yet, in ways, so fragile. “Thank you for this afternoon and tonight.” What else could he say? That there would be no one else? That sounded stupid. That without her, life seemed empty. True as it felt, that was almost as bad. He swallowed, then took her hands in his hoping, that she would not mind. “You know how I feel…”
“Rahl…I can’t…I can’t do this.” Tears streamed down her face. “When will I see you again? A year from now? Five? Ten?”
He had no answer to that. Mage-guards, even senior ones, had neither the ti
me nor the coins to make personal voyages across the Eastern Ocean. And—after having seen Tamryn’s reaction to his presence—he doubted that he would ever meet the magisters’ criteria for returning permanently to Recluce. Yet…how could he leave Deybri?
He wanted to shake his head. He knew she had some feeling for him, more than just some feeling, or she would not be crying, but…
She raised her hand, and her fingers touched the side of his face and then his cheek. “I told you before…”
“You did.” His voice was ragged. “But…it didn’t help much. Not to forget you. When I was in Luba, even before I remembered who I was, I had dreams of you.” He forced a laugh, but the sound was shaky. “I kept hearing and seeing you say that the past had no hold on me, and it was so strange because you were all I could remember of the past.”
Abruptly, her arms were around him. “Hold me. Just hold me.”
He did.
In the end, that night, it was all he did, except mingle tears with her, before he finally left and walked the long and lonely way back to the Ascadya.
IV
Although Rahl took a long time to fall asleep in the small ship’s cabin he had to himself, he did not sleep well and was up close to dawn. He washed up, dressed in his everyday uniform, and made his way to the bridge, to watch as Captain Jaracyn readied the frigate for departure from Nylan. A faint mist lay on the harbor’s surface, but it ended only a cubit or so above the water, and there was no sign of fog or mist out in the Gulf of Candar west of the harbor.
As the gangway was hoisted aboard and smoke began to issue from the funnels, Rahl lifted his eyes from the ship and the piers to the black city, lit by the orangish first rays of the sun. The expanses of green between the black-stone roads and buildings seemed more vivid in the early light, and the shadows somehow both darker and more indistinct. From where he stood, he could not see Deybri’s small cottage, a dwelling he had never even entered.
He could understand how she felt. His first eightdays in Swartheld had been difficult, and they hadn’t gotten any easier for almost a year, no thanks to the magisters in both Land’s End and Nylan. In one respect, both sets of Recluce magisters were alike—they didn’t want anyone different around, and they didn’t want to change their ways.
Mage-Guard of Hamor Page 4
