Natural Ordermage

XIII

Rahl sat on the edge of the pallet bed. His cell was on the lower level of the keep in Land’s End. All that the cell held were the pallet, the pallet frame, a chamber bucket, and a water bucket. He’d been in the cell for close to two days, and all he’d seen were the guards when they brought him his single daily meal-a bowl of gruel. The bucket of water had to last the entire day.

The more he thought about what had happened, the angrier he felt. The Council, or the sub-Council, hadn’t even heard a word he’d said. They’d all decided to send him to Nylan before he’d ever walked into the hearing chamber. Puvort had probably planned it all for eightdays, if not longer, just the way he’d planned to kill Khelyrt and send Fahla and Faseyn off into slavery. He’d told Rahl’s parents that Jienela was equally to blame, and then told the Council that it was all Rahl’s fault. They hadn’t even given him a chance to explain anything, or the fact that Rahl would have consorted Jienela if his parents had insisted.

What did Puvort have against him? He’d always been polite to the magister, and he’d never been discourteous, uneasy as the magister had sometimes made him feel. And why had the other magisters gone along?

After a time in the dimness, he looked up. He thought he’d heard footsteps and sensed someone, but so far as he could tell, he was the only one in any of the six cells.

A guard walked by, glanced around, then stopped. He was a different guard from the other three he’d seen in the past day or so.

“You’re Rahl?”

“Yes.” Rahl’s response was careful.

“You got a brother named Kacet?”

“He’s my older brother. He’s at Reflin.”

“Thought so.” The guard shook his head. “You’ll be headed to Nylan tonight, right after dark.”

“After dark?”

“They don’t want folks to see when exiles leave for Nylan.”

“Are there many exiles?”

The guard laughed. “Not many go to Nylan. Maybe one every other eightday. Most get shipped straight to Austra or Candar.”

“Why is that? Do you know?”

“Simple. Folks who are chaos-touched get sent from Recluce right off. Folks who use order wrong get sent to Nylan to see if they fit there. Most don’t, they say. Some go to Lydiar, or Nordla, but most of them get sent to Hamor.” The guard shook his head. “No one in his right mind wants to go there.”

“Why not?” Rahl had never heard anything about that, just that exile was bad.

“If you got chaos or order-abilities there-doesn’t matter which-you’re sort of a high-level slave to the emperor or one of his people. If you’re not chosen for that, you end up in the ironworks at Luba or the quarries.”

“But I didn’t do anything…not really.”

The guard laughed. “Doesn’t matter. Once the Council decides, that’s it. ’Sides, who ever wants to admit they didn’t do quite right?”

“Everyone does something that’s not quite right now and again.”

“Don’t we all?” The guard laughed again. “But the Council decides, not you or me, young Rahl. Those that rule, they decide.”

“But…they’re supposed to do justice.”

The guard just shook his head. “Best I be going.”

Rahl just watched as the man turned and left, his steps echoing in the empty corridor.

After having seen the injustice of the Council, Rahl had been thinking exile wouldn’t be that bad. But the best he could hope for in Hamor was to become a high-level slave? He didn’t even want to consider being a laborer in the ironworks or quarries.

That meant he had to swallow any pride he had and do whatever he could to stay in Nylan. He just had to, and at least that wouldn’t be nearly so bad as Hamor.