Natural Ordermage

VII

For the next two eightdays Rahl did little besides copy from Tales of the Founders and then Natural Arithmetics and Other Calculation Methods. Unbelievable as most of the tales were, they had been at least interesting. He could not say that for Natural Arithmetics.

He hadn’t even had to explain anything to Jienela about his end-day visits to Shahyla. The last eightday or so, Jienela had been in Extina. She’d been sent there to help her mother’s younger sister Joslyn. Jienela’s aunt had nearly died in childbirth, even with a black healer present.

Rahl could not say that he truly missed Jienela except for the pleasures she had afforded him, but he’d also not been able to stop by the chandlery more than a time or two, and never long enough to talk with Fahla for more than a moment, if that. Still, he had had another pleasant afternoon with Shahyla.

The last three mornings had dawned gray and drizzling, unusually so for late spring and early summer in northern Recluce, and fourday was far colder than twoday and threeday. Rahl was trying not to shiver as he worked on copying a page that held formulae and exercise problems.

“For darkness’ sake, Rahl,” snapped Kian, “go put on a heavier tunic or a jacket. You can’t keep a steady hand if you’re shivering. You young folks have no sense at all. I saw your friend Sevien coming out of the chandlery the other morning in a sleeveless tunic. His arms were near-dark blue, and yet he had the audacity to tell me he wasn’t cold. His teeth were chattering so much I barely understood a word he had to say.”

Rahl decided against trying to point out that anyone who wore a heavy winter tunic in spring, or summer, or darkness forbid, an actual jacket, would have to suffer silent ridicule in the eyes of his friends for at least an eightday, if not longer. He did set aside his pen and rise to follow his father’s order. He could always hide the tunic if his father sent him on an errand away from the shop.

When he returned to the workroom, Kian nodded. “Much more sensible. You’ll get more work done without errors, too.”

Rahl hated it when his parents talked about sensibility. He knew what was sensible, even when they didn’t, but he said nothing and went back to work.

He finished another page and started on the next.

“Frig!” Kian murmured.

“What is it?”

“There must have been something wrong with the pen point. It just snapped. That shouldn’t have happened. Hardly put any pressure on it at all.” Kian shook his head.

Rahl winced silently, wondering if that had been the pen he’d dropped in cleaning up the night before.

“Why don’t you run down to the chandlery and pick up the nibs. They should be there by now. I’d already ordered some from Kehlyrt. He’s the new factor.”

“Factor?”

“Well…he’s taken over the chandlery, but he’s adding things, goods we haven’t seen in years. Good prices, too. It’s getting more like a factorage than a chandlery.”

“Yes, ser.”

“And don’t strip off the tunic as soon as you leave the workroom.”

“No, ser.”

“I mean it, Rahl.”

“Yes, ser.” Rahl did manage to keep his voice pleasant as he cleaned his pen and set it in the holder. “Do I need silvers to pay for them?”

“Hardly,” snorted Kian. “I had to pay in advance. That goes for anything he orders from Nylan. It’s still cheaper and quicker than getting them from Lydiar or Hamor.” He frowned. “I still wonder how that broke.” He shook his head. “That nib was getting worn anyway…why I’d ordered another pair.”

Rahl stood and headed toward the door.

“Don’t take too long.”

“No, ser.”

Once outside the workroom, Rahl thought about pulling off the heavy winter tunic, but it was cold, and he could sense his father watching. With a resigned shrug, he headed down the street toward the factorage.

The cold and bitter wind blew steadily out of the northwest, driven by clouds that were almost black. Whitecaps dominated the part of the ocean Rahl could see beyond the harbor breakwater. The piers were empty of ships-a good sign that a storm was headed toward Land’s End. Rahl picked up his pace.

A light stinging rain, with droplets like ice, began to lash at him by the time he neared the harbor, and he was glad to climb the steps and enter the dim confines of the chandlery. He could sense that there was no one else besides him and Fahla there.

She stood behind the counter, a concerned expression on her face as he approached. “It’s raw outside, isn’t it?”

“It’s started to rain. The drops feel like sleet. The harbor’s empty, and the clouds to the northwest are really dark.”

“The last coaster raised sail almost at dawn. The Austrans left well before dawn. They have a better sense of weather.” After a pause, she asked, “Do you have any business today, Rahl, or are you just here to warm yourself going one way or another or to bend my ear?”

“Business. Father thought that the pen nibs he ordered might be here by now. He’s already paid for them.”

“They came late yesterday, I think. The supply wagon from Nylan usually arrives on threeday.” Fahla opened the small ledger to her right and flipped through several pages. “Yes, they did, and your father did pay for them.”

Rahl wanted to say that he didn’t like being questioned on what he’d said. He didn’t. Instead, he smiled. “Thank you. I’d like to take them.”

“Just a moment, Rahl. They’re in the racks in the back.” Fahla slipped through the open door to the storeroom.

Rahl smiled at the combination of efficiency and grace she embodied.

In moments she returned with a small pouch. “Here they are.”

“Thank you. How has your day been?”

“It’s always slow when it’s cold and rainy. Faseyn likes it because he can finish the account entries and work on his mathematical puzzles. Did you know he’s studying natural mathematics with Magistra Reya?”

Rahl didn’t even know who the magistra was. “No, I didn’t. He must be very good for her to tutor him personally.”

Fahla nodded. “Did you ever think about studying with the magisters? You’re bright enough.”

“So are you,” he pointed out.

“I’m more interested in practical things. I don’t like studying.” She laughed, ruefully. “I’d get bored doing that. I’d wager that you read every book you copy.”

“You have to.”

“That’s not what I meant. You read them all to see what they mean, and you probably even argue with the ones you think are wrong.”

“You can’t argue with a book,” Rahl said reasonably.

“You know what I mean-”

“Fahla!” A man’s voice called from the storeroom.

“That’s Father. He must need help with something.” Fahla started to turn, then stopped. “Rahl…”

“Yes?”

“I’m glad you have enough sense to wear something warm.”

He couldn’t help flushing slightly, thinking that he almost hadn’t.

“Good day, Rahl.”

“Good day, Fahla.”

As she turned, Rahl shook his head. The whole world seemed to be against his spending any time at all with Fahla. If it weren’t a customer, then it was Kehlyrt wanting something from her, and he’d forgotten to ask her if the chandlery was going to become a factorage, although that question would have just been to satisfy his own curiosity.

As Rahl stepped out of the chandlery, he saw a figure in black at the foot of the two steps leading up onto the narrow porch. Rahl would have preferred not to meet Magister Puvort, but trying to avoid the magister would have been all too obvious. He did step aside to allow the magister direct access to the door. “Good day, magister.”

Instead of heading inside, Puvort stepped onto the porch, under the eaves, and out of the still-light rain, and looked directly at Rahl. “What brings you to the chandlery? Might it be the young lady?” Puvort’s smile was meant to be cheerful, but it bothered Rahl.

“I like seeing her, ser.” Rahl didn’t dare lie, not when the magister could have told he was telling an outright falsehood, but he could tell the truth in a less damaging way. He held up the pouch. “But I was here to pick up the pen nibs my father ordered. He had work to do, and he sent me.”

“You’re very careful in what you say, aren’t you?”

“I try to be, ser.”

“That wasn’t what I meant, Rahl.” The magister’s eyes seemed to look right through the young scrivener. “You never tell an untruth, but sometimes you don’t tell the whole truth. That’s what the mages in Hamor do, you know?”

“Ser?” Rahl didn’t like the reference to Hamor.

“You might think about applying to the Council for mage training, Rahl. It’s clear that you have at least a little ability with ordermagery. You know instinctively that you shouldn’t lie, and you’re right. Lying reduces order-skills.”

Rahl didn’t know quite what to say. “I…I never thought about that.”

“You should. Right now, your skills aren’t developed enough to be that dangerous, but you’re still young. If you become more powerful, you’ll either have to have training or leave Recluce. You might have to, anyway, but training now would make your life easier. Much easier.”

“Ser…I don’t…my father…”

“That kind of training is not like school where your father has to pay. The Council would pay for it.” Puvort paused. “Of course, you wouldn’t be earning anything, either, but you should still consider it.” His eyes dropped to Rahl’s truncheon, and he nodded slightly.

“Yes, ser.”

“Do think about it, Rahl.” With another enigmatic smile, the magister stepped away from Rahl and into the chandlery.

Rahl stepped off the porch and headed southward, the wind at his back, tearing at his tunic. He had the feeling that, despite the magister’s offer, Puvort hadn’t really wanted him to consider it. Or the magister thought he wouldn’t take it.

Should he tell his father about what Puvort had said?

That didn’t seem like a good idea at all, but he couldn’t have said why, and that bothered him as much as what the magister had told him.

The wind picked up, driving the rain, which had become sleet, into his back.

Rahl walked even faster, almost at a trot. He just wanted to get home and out of the cold. Then, he’d think things over.