Natural Ordermage (9 page)

He had no idea, except that he was worried about Fahla. She’d acted like she was in trouble, and she never had done that before.

Ahead of him he could sense two wagons backed up to the chandlery’s loading dock. He slowed and hugged the stone wall as he moved silently toward the wagons.

He tried to hear the whispers.

“… sure about this…”

“… copied the notice… quoted it word for word…” That was Fahla.

“… be here in the morning…”

“… can get to the east cove and wait.

Rahl smelled vinegar. At least, he thought it was vinegar, or maybe pickles.

“… sure that’s wetted down good. Wouldn’t want an explosion now…”

“… vinegar and water… done solid…”

Although Rahl was trying to catch the words, his darkness senses registered someone moving toward him from out of the shadows on the south side of the loading dock.

The man felt as though he carried a red-tinged shadow as he moved toward Rahl, except it wasn’t a shadow exactly. Rahl lifted the truncheon.

The man said nothing, but lunged and thrust at Rahl with a long blade.

Rahl near-instinctively slid/parried the thrust, then stepped inside the blade and kneed the man in the groin while slamming the truncheon across his temple.

Rahl swallowed hard, because a sense of redness—and death—washed over him, even before the man toppled onto the dusty stones. How could one blow from a truncheon have killed a man?

“You hear something? Where’s Hondahl?”

Rahl backed away from the dead man and slipped back down the alleyway as quickly and quietly as he could. He couldn’t believe that the man was dead, and he still worried about Fahla, but he was much more concerned about his own safety.

He stayed close to the wall and kept moving, as well as trying to check to see if any other guards might be nearby, but he didn’t hear, see, or sense any.

Only after he was well away from the chandlery and headed back home did he consider the implications of what he had seen and heard—and done. Somehow, Fahla and her family were tied up with the Jeranyi traders and possibly the pirates. That was probably how they kept their prices low. They also feared more than losing goods if they were loading wagons in the darkness, without a single lamp lit, and had guards ready to kill people.

He was still holding the truncheon in his left hand when he reached his dwelling, and he’d been looking over his shoulder the entire way back.

“Rahl?” called Khorlya a moment after he closed the door.

“Yes. I’m back.” . . “Good. Sleep well.”

Sleep well? After everything that had happened?

“Good night,” he finally said as he moved through the darkness to his own small chamber and narrow bed. He closed the door, close as it made the room feel.

After undressing, he lay on his pallet, looking up into the darkness and thinking. Should he have gone to the magisters? But how could he after having killed a man? He knew that was cause for exile, jf not worse, even if he had been attacked. But he’d been attacked because he was where he shouldn’t have been after he’d probably revealed something he shouldn’t have to someone who was guilty.

But… he hadn’t known that. He hadn’t even realized that Fahla was guilty until after he’d seen her face at Sevien’s. And then what could he have done? He shook his head.

Rahl had finally managed some sleep on fiveday night, after persuading himself that he really hadn’t done wrong. He’d only been trying to defend himself against someone who’d wanted to kill him. But he had wondered about the reddish white shadow around the bravo, something that he’d felt, but not seen. Even after getting some sleep, he’d felt tired when Kian had wakened him on sixday.

Then his father had insisted on sparring before breakfast.

Rahl had taken another bruise or two. He had to admit that his father was good with the truncheon, and he probably owed his life to his father’s training, but he wasn’t about to tell him—not for a long time, if ever.

While Kian washed up, Rahl oiled the scarred area of the truncheon where he’d slipped the attacker’s blade, then studied the wood. The scar wasn’t that noticeable, unless he looked, very closely. Then he washed up, finished dressing, had breakfast, and headed to the workroom.

There he laid out the mathematics text. He was almost finished, with just a few pages left to copy. As he settled in, Kian appeared with a broad smile.‘

“You’re almost finished, aren’t you?”

“Yes, ser.”

“Good. I’ll be able to start binding it on oneday, and you can take over the copying of the Philosophies of Candar.”

Rahl thought that might be even worse than Natural Arithmetics.

“I need to finish the frontispiece, though, and I’d like you to hurry down to Clyndal’s to pick up a book from him. I’m not sure if it’s properly a book, but his nephew’s been apprenticing with him, and Clyndal’s grown fond of the fellow, and he wants to give him a copy of his formulae so that he can set up his own alchemy shop in Lydkler. ” There isn’t one there, and it’s probably one of the few towns of any size in Reduce that doesn’t have one.“

Rahl stood. “I can do that.” It would also give him a chance to see what had happened around the chandlery.

He did slip the truncheon back into his belt loops before he left the workroom, turning it so that the scarred side was against his trousers, not that anyone was likely to notice or comment on a scrape on a truncheon.

The sky was a hazy greenish blue, and the stillness of the air made the morning seem warmer than it probably was as he headed down the street toward the center of Land’s End. The avenue seemed more deserted than normal, and usually it was more crowded on sixday.

As Rahl neared Clyndal’s shop, just south of the chandlery, he could see two Council Guards standing post on the porch of the chandlery. The shutters remained closed, and the front door was chained shut. Rahl couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to Fahla and Faseyn, although he wasn’t about to ask the Guards.

He opened the door to the alchemy shop and stepped inside. The air smelled of all sorts of odors that shifted as he stepped toward the counter set directly facing the door, less than four cubits back. Clyndal turned from the workbench and moved to the counter. His face was lined, and his gray hair thin. His water green eyes smiled with his mouth. “Young Rahl, I thought your father might send you. What I have here is in a leather folder, but if he could copy it, and then bind both, I’d be much obliged. I’d pay for the extra binding, you understand. He said a plain binding would be a gold.”

“I can’t offer a price, ser,” Rahl said with a smile. “Not when he’s already talked with you.”

“Smart son.” Clyndal handed the stained thick leather folder to Rahl. “Be most careful.”

“That I will, ser.” Rahl paused, then asked, “I see that the chandlery is locked and guarded…”

“Aye. The magisters came with the Council Guards late last night. The magisters left, but the Guards have remained. I’ve heard not a word as to why, but…”

Rahl waited.

“… I’ve been wondering about their prices. Hostalyn was a tight man, but he never wanted to charge two coppers when one or one and a split would do. This Kehlyrt, he charged even less, and I’d be wondering where he got his goods, especially after the Council notice.”

“About the Jeranyi and the pirates?”

“Exactly my thought, young Rahl. Exactly my thought.”

“What did they do with the factor and his family?”

“Heard that he was a widower, but what happened to him and the girl and boy… you’d have to be asking the magisters. The place was like as to now when the sun rose this morning.”

“I suppose we’ll find out in time,” observed Rahl, offering a pleasant expression he didn’t feel. He lifted the heavy folder. “We’ll get this back to you, with both books bound, as soon as we can.”

“That’d be good. You don’t know as your father wants any more of the good iron-brimstone, would you?”

“I’d judge he will in another eightday.”

“I’ll make sure to have some.”

The door opened behind Rahl. He turned to see Hyelsen entering.

“Clyndal! Has that shipment of cuprite arrived yet?”

“No, ser. I’m expecting the wagon any day.”

“We need that to. soak the planks and timbers for the next one. Without that, the oak’s just food for the shipworms.”

“I know that, ser, but it comes from Worrak, and I can’t make ‘em sail any faster.”

“Good day, portmaster.” Rahl nodded politely.

“Good day, Rahl.” Hyelsen. turned back to the alchemist. “It’s not good to be waiting. We ordered in plenty of time…”

As Rahl stepped out of the alchemy shop, he looked toward the harbor. The chandlery remained closed, with the same pair of Council Guards posted on the porch, but farther on, Rahl saw a Guard wagon outside the coppersmith’s.

As he watched, two burly Guards marched out a slender figure and set him on the rear bench seat, then shackled him there. The coppersmith followed, just standing there, watching, his shoulders slumped. Even from where he stood close to two hundred cubits away, Rahl sensed the anger walled away—anger and sad acceptance. He could also hear the prisoner’s protests.

“I didn’t do anything… I didn’t! It’s all wrong! I didn’t do anything.”

“Tell it to the magisters, fellow!”

“I didn’t…”

The Guard driving the wagon flicked the leads, and the wagon moved toward Rahl. He just stood and watched as the three Guards rode past. As the wagon came by Rahl, he recognized the prisoner—Balmor.

“… I didn’t do anything wrong… I was just helping Da with the forge…”

At those words, Rahl looked more closely at Balmor. For the first time, he could sense the reddish white around the young man—the same kind of shadow that he had sensed around the man who had tried to kill him the night before. It had to be the aura of chaos. He’d read and heard about it, but he hadn’t thought about its being on Reduce. Was that why the Council had closed the chandlery? Because Kehlyrt had been using chaos?

Rahl frowned. He was certain he would have sensed something on Fahla. He’d watched her closely enough.

After a moment longer, he turned and began to walk back up the avenue toward the southern section of Land’s End and home, carefully carrying the heavy leather folder,

He couldn’t help but wonder what was happening. He didn’t recall anything like the chandlery being shut . down or people being dragged off by Council Guards. Or had he just not seen what had happened?

He still worried about Fahla. . and even about why Jienela had been so upset. He’d been careful not to promise anything to Jienela, very careful, but it was clear by her actions that she thought he had, and that could be a problem.

He walked quickly, and it was still close to midmorning when he stepped back into the workroom.

“Did you get it?” asked Kian. “You took a while.”

“It’s all loose, but he wants them ”bound, too.“ Rahl held up the folder. ”The magisters shut down the chandlery. It’s chained shut, and they have guards posted. I was leaving Clyndal’s, and Council Guards from the keep were dragging Balmor away. He kept saying that he didn’t do anything wrong.“

“Balmor? Balmor…”

“He’s Fherl’s oldest. I remember him from lessons when we were younger.”

“Dragging him away?” Kian frowned.

“Well… really, they shackled him to a seat on one of their wagons and drove off with him. He kept saying that he didn’t do anything except help his da with the forge.” Rahl suspected that had somehow involved chaos, but saying that directly might reveal too much about his own abilities.

“Must have been using chaos.” Kian shook his head. “The magisters don’t like that at all. Did Clyndal know anything about the chandlery?”

“I asked, but he just said that the magisters arid Council Guards came in the night. He didn’t know why, but he thought they might be involved with the Jeranyi.” Rahl carried the leather folder across the room and handed it to his father.

“Thank you. Some folks never learn. You just don’t cross the magisters.” Kian set the folder on the narrow table that held work yet to be copied. At the moment, the folder lay there alone. “You need to finish up with the arithmetics book.”

Rahl settled himself back before his copying table and opened the mathematics text to the next-to-last page.

He finished that page before dinner, and then the last page in early afternoon. After he stretched and checked the ink, he came back to find Kian setting another book on the copy-stand.

“The Philosophies of Candar. You can start with the text… here.”

“Yes, ser.”

While he copied, Rahl still couldn’t help but worry about Fahla. The magisters wouldn’t have executed her, would they?

As the afternoon was coming to a close, and the sun hung just over the low mountains to the west of Land’s End, mere was a knock on the workroom door.

“Rahl…”

“I’ll get it.” Rahl got up and headed on to the door. - Magister Puvort stood there.