Natural Ordermage

VIII

Rahl was still working his way through the tedious mathematics text on fiveday afternoon when Kian came hurrying in with a small sheet of paper and a stack of larger and heavier paper posterboards.

“We’ve got a commission from the Council, but it has to be finished before sunset today. Put aside the textbook. You’ll have to help.”

“What is it?” Rahl asked, not that it mattered to him, except that anything would have been less tedious than the page before him. Despite what Fahla had wagered, he hadn’t really read much of the mathematics text, except for the obvious matters like how to calculate areas and volumes, and simple formulae.

More important from his point of view was that a good commission from the Council meant his father would be in a better mood when Rahl said he was going to Sevien’s house after supper.

“Here. You can read the words while I work the spacing and letter size for the posterboards.” Kian handed the thinner, smaller sheet to his son, adding, “They must have gone to every scrivener in Recluce to get these done.”

Whatever the paper said, then, it had to be important. Rahl read it, although he had to struggle in places because the writing was both hurried and cramped. When he finished, his eyes went back to the opening lines.

The Council of Recluce has determined that the frequency and severity of piracy has increased significantly and that such piracy has been largely undertaken by Jeranyi vessels. With the failure of the ruler of Jerans to abate such reprehensible acts…

…all in Recluce are hereby notified that any and all trade and commerce with any vessel bearing a Jeranyi flag or crewed by Jeranyi or owned by Jeranyi is hereby forbidden. Purchase of goods from Jerans is also prohibited, and any merchant or factor holding such goods must dispose of them within an eightday of the date of this notice-or turn them over to the Council for partial compensation. Any trader or merchant from Jerans is to leave Recluce within an eightday of the date of this notice. All who fail to do so may have all goods and coins confiscated, at the determination of a justicer appointed by the Council…

After a moment, he looked toward Kian. “What good will this do? Why don’t they just go out and destroy the pirates?”

“The oceans are vast, and Recluce has but few ships compared to the size of those oceans…” began Kian.

“-and the ships that can catch and destroy the pirates belong to the engineers in Nylan, and they don’t want to spend their time chasing pirates?”

Kian shook his head. “It’s not that simple. They’ve caught and sunk a score of pirate vessels, or so I’ve heard, but some of the pirates fly different flags in every port they enter and change the names on their ships. The important part is the expulsion of the traders. Factors, merchants, and traders account for far more coins than do the pirates, especially those who work with the pirates and sell their plunder.”

“The Council wants the traders to put pressure on the Duke of Jerans to stop the piracy,” Rahl suggested.

“He’s an autarch, I think. Or maybe a consul who theoretically pledges allegiance to Sarronnyn. But they have that in mind. What will happen is that our factors and traders will trade more with those they know and trust and less with those they don’t. They won’t like it, but the magisters will come back and ask them, and if they lie, they’ll be exiled as well.”

“What if they’re honestly mistaken?”

“Then they’ll be warned and watched more closely.”

Rahl wondered what that would do to Fahla and her family.

“Now…I’ll make the first one, and you can use that as a model,” Kian began.

Rahl watched and waited, then began on a third copy while Kian started a second one.

Neither spoke much as the afternoon waned.

When Rahl finished his last copy, the sun was low in the sky, low but still not close to twilight. Kian waited for the posterboards to dry because the heavier stock absorbed more ink.

“Ten fair copies in an afternoon, with the Council embellishments! A good day’s work. A good day’s work,” repeated Kian, before turning to Rahl. “You can start cleaning up. But check the new batch of ink first.”

“Yes, ser.” Rahl stretched and then headed for the door.

Kian’s request to check the ink was as close to a compliment as Rahl was likely to get, because it meant Kian had no complaints about Rahl’s latest work. But then, reflected Rahl, his hand was as good as his father’s. Also, because he could feel what was happening, his inks usually turned out better than his father’s, not that he was going to say that. He just wished at times his father would recognize it.

Outside in the mild air that had followed the storm earlier in the eightday, Rahl couldn’t help but think about what Magister Puvort had said. The more he thought about it, the more it felt like a trap. Yet, at some point, Puvort might mention it to Rahl’s parents. He would need to tell them, but at the right time.

Rahl used his order-sense to help the melding and mixing of the oak galls, the bit of added iron-brimstone, and the tree gum. When he’d been younger, he’d wondered why his parents didn’t see when some things didn’t go together. They’d just looked at him blankly, and, after a very short time, he had stopped asking.

He closed the shed door carefully and went back to the pump and washstones to clean up. By the time he had finished and walked back into the house, his father and mother were seated at the table. Supper was simple-bread, cheese, and a leftover soup/stew that had been reheated more times than it should have been.

Still, it was after sunset before he left the house. In the dimness he passed the orchard. Someone was there, waiting. Jienela?

“Rahl…” The whisper came from the trees beyond the orchard wall.

He walked to the wall and leaned against it, as if waiting. Even if Quelerya saw him, what could she say to his mother? That he was leaning against the wall? “What is it?”

“I…I needed to talk to you, but you never came.”

“I didn’t know you were back.” He’d suspected that she might be…but he hadn’t actually known, and he really hadn’t wanted to go looking for Jienela, not with his parents’ disapproval and constant comments. Besides, Fahla made Jienela look…well, dull. Sweet and pretty, but dull. Even Shahyla had more spark than Jienela.

“I’ve been back since twoday.” There was a pause. “I’ve missed you.”

He could sense her sadness…and longing. “I’ve missed you.” What else could he say? “Jienela…my father’s gotten really strict.”

“He’s always been strict. That’s why you’ve had to sneak out to see me. That’s what you told me. Can’t you come back later, when it’s darker?”

“I can’t. He and Mother found out about us. Quelerya’s been watching, and she told Mother.”

“You knew they wouldn’t like it, but…”

He could sense a swallowed sob.

“Father’s forbidden me to see you. If he gets really angry, he could throw me out.”

“He…he wouldn’t do that…”

“Why do you think Kacet is in the Council Guards? He started out as an apprentice scrivener, too, but he crossed Father too often, and Father told him that he wouldn’t put up with it any longer.” That much was true, but Kacet had been the one to make the decision. He’d left on his own. Still…

In the silence broken only by the whisper of the breeze through the leaves of the apple and pearapple trees, Rahl could sense dismay and sadness…and something else. What that other feeling was, he couldn’t determine.

“For a while, at least, I don’t dare try to sneak in to see you,” he finally said. “I’ll have to see how things go.”

“Please try…you have to try, Rahl. You have to…” Then the sobs became louder.

“I’ll see…”

“Please…”

Rahl looked around. There was someone on the porch at Alamat’s. “I need to go. Someone at Alamat’s is looking this way.”

He straightened up and began to walk toward the weaver’s. He waved to Alamat as he passed the porch, but the elderly weaver did not look up. Rahl didn’t see anyone else for the rest of the walk to Sevien’s.

Sevien opened the door even before Rahl reached it. “Come on in.”

Rahl stepped inside. Except for Sevien and himself, no one was there. “Where is everyone?”

“Oh…Mother and Delthea are over at Selstak’s. They’re all working on a consorting quilt for Coerlyne. She deserves it, even if Jaired doesn’t. Father went down to the tavern to play plaques with some of his friends.” After a moment, Sevien went on. “You know Jienela’s back?”

“I just found out.” Rahl offered a sour smile, one that mirrored his own mixed feelings. “My parents are pushing me to ask for Shahyla’s hand.”

“They want you to become a…herder?”

“They haven’t said that. Not in so many words, but Mother keeps talking about the machines the engineers are building that will make books by the score and how no one will need scriveners anymore.”

“The Council won’t let them, will they?”

“They can stop the machines from being used outside of Nylan, but how would they stop the books? Are they going to inspect every book coming out of Nylan-or on every ship porting in Land’s End? And if people get books that cost less, why would they pay Father or me more for the same book?”

“You sound like Faseyn,” replied Sevien. “He’s always talking about how what things cost affects the world.”

“What do you think of him?” Rahl asked.

“He’s all right. He likes doing the accounts at the chandlery. Columns and columns of numbers, and he likes keeping track of them. Fahla showed me.”

Rahl forced a polite smile. “When I’ve been there, she’s the only one in the shop.”

“Most times, she is. That’s what she told me.”

Rahl liked Sevien, but he was also interested in Fahla, and he needed to avoid mentioning Shahyla to Fahla. All that meant he’d have to be careful. Very careful.

There was a knock on the door, and Sevien bounded to open it. “Fahla!”

Rahl watched closely, but the redhead merely smiled and nodded politely to Sevien as she stepped inside.

“Faseyn said he didn’t feel like coming tonight when I couldn’t promise redberry pie.” Fahla laughed, then turned to Rahl. “Were the pen nibs satisfactory?”

Rahl laughed in return. “Father didn’t complain, and if there’s anything in the slightest wrong, he will.” Because she was so indifferent to anything except trade, at least with him, he asked, “Have you heard about the Council order?”

“No. Why would I? How do you know?” A faint curiosity lay behind her words.

“While you two are talking about the Council,” Sevien said, “I’ll get some redberry juice. There’s enough for the three of us, anyway.”

“It’s about trade,” Rahl explained, “and the Jeranyi pirates. Because, I’d guess, of all the piracy, the Council is forbidding all trade with Jerans and Jeranyi merchants, and all of them have to leave Recluce within the eightday, and all merchants and factors have to sell anything from Jerans within the eightday or turn it over to the Council…”

As he finished explaining, Rahl could sense a growing tension in Fahla.

“How do you know this?” Her voice was almost playful but with a tightness behind it. “Is it true or just what you heard somewhere?”

“I had to make four copies of the notice this afternoon. After that many copies, you do remember what something said. The effective date is tomorrow.”

Fahla’s lips tightened. Then she stepped back, and called, “Sevien, I have to go.”

“You just came,” the young potter protested.

“I…forgot…something.” Fahla hurried toward the door, then opened it. “Good night, Sevien, Rahl.” With a wave, she was gone.

Sevien strode over to Rahl. “What did you say to her? She was happy until you two talked.”

“I just told her about the newest Council edict. We worked all afternoon copying it. It was about trade, and how the Council is forbidding trade with Jerans because of the pirates.” Rahl glanced toward the door, still slightly ajar. “She was worried. I wonder if her father’s been trading with the Jeranyi, or even with the pirates.”

“Father says he has good prices, better than the other factors.” Sevien looked at Rahl. “Did you have to tell her?”

“I thought she’d want to know. Besides, all she ever talks to me about is goods and trade, and things like that.”

“That’s all she ever says to me, either,” Sevien retorted. “But what I say doesn’t make her run off.”

“I’m sorry, Sevien.” He was, but he was also worried about Fahla. She was always so sure of herself, and when she’d hurried off, she hadn’t been that way at all, not inside. “I think I’d better go.”

“You…”

“I’ll see you later.” Rahl offered a smile, then hurried out, closing the door behind him.

Once outside, he started home.

As he passed the wall to the orchard, he couldn’t help but worry about Jienela. She’d been upset as well, but he hadn’t promised her anything, and she’d been the one who’d encouraged him. Besides, she’d wanted him to do what he had.

Fahla’s abrupt change in attitude and feelings weighed on him more. She’d arrived cheerful, then almost run out the door. How could trading with Jeranyi upset her that much? Or were she and her family involved in more than that?

It was probably stupid-and possibly dangerous-but he decided to walk down to the chandlery. After all, it wasn’t that late.

He walked confidently through the darkness, knowing that he could find his way better than most people because he had a clear feeling for where things were.

Even before he reached the chandlery, he could sense people around it, but the shutters were closed, and no lamps showed. Rahl had the feeling that whatever was happening was at the loading docks in back. He retraced his steps to the narrow alleyway beside the alchemist’s and eased his way into the deeper gloom near the wall. His left hand rested on the butt of the truncheon for a moment before he grasped it and slipped it out of the leather loops.

Why was he doing this?

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, if 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.