L. Modesitt - Natural Ordermage

“Well…it’s a bit bland. They say it’s subtle. More fowl and rich sauces and rice grasses.”

Was any Hamorian cooking subtle? Rahl had his doubts. “I’d like to try it.”

“I thought you might.” Talanyr grinned, turning westward along the north side of the square.

Rahl could see Klemyl nodding to Rhiobyn, then hurrying northward toward a narrow lane that angled to the northeast, leaving Rhiobyn by himself. The mage-clerk walked eastward, away from Talanyr and Rahl.

“Knives! Fine knives! The finest…”

“The best in spices, peppers to burn hotter than a stove…”

Rahl hurried his steps to catch Talanyr, and the two walked to the east end of the square before turning south.

“The river park’s on the far side of the center of town, but you’ll have a chance to see the merchant establishments on the way, such as they are,” said Talanyr. “The square’s on the north end of the main street, and the park’s just a few hundred cubits beyond the south end.”

Rahl forbore to mention that he’d already seen the merchants’ shops once, if briefly.

Beyond the square, the first establishment was a tavern-The Iron Bowl-but the maroon door was closed, as were the matching shutters.

“You don’t ever want to go there,” Talanyr said.

“Oh?”

“Costly, and not worth the coins.”

Across the narrow paved street from the tavern was an apothecary, and beside it an alchemist’s. Both doors were open, and Rahl caught the faintest hint of something that smelled like a combination of mint and brimstone. The way the two shops were linked, and their identical narrow vertical windows, Rahl thought they might have the same proprietor-or have had the same builder.

As they walked, Talanyr explained.

“…basketmaker’s there…use a river reed, and they’ll actually hold water. That’s what Klemyl claims, but it might be because his consort weaves some of them…”

“…coppersmith…honest work…nothing special…”

“…cooperage…good workmanship, but he’s got a problem because there’s not much oak anywhere near here, and no spruce to speak of…”

Before that long, the two stood at the north side of a green hedge. Rahl looked at it closely, realizing that the dusky green leaves concealed a myriad of thorns, all of which looked needle-sharp and were at least as long as his index finger.

“False olive hedge,” explained Talanyr. “Some of the wealthier folk use them like walls around their grounds. The thorns can cause wound chaos if the cuts aren’t cleaned quickly.” He walked farther south along the hedge until he reached a set of brick pillars, clearly an entrance to the park beyond, an expanse of green, with brick walks and scattered broad-leaved acacias to provide shade to the tables set beneath them.

Following Talanyr into the park, seemingly empty, except for a consorted couple engaged in intimate conversation at one of the tables, Rahl glanced toward the river on the west side of the park. A low brick wall separated the greenery from the water, except for the two piers that jutted out a good twenty cubits into the grayish water of the river. Two small girls stood on the nearer pier, and each held something, a sugared pearapple, perhaps.

As he continued to follow Talanyr along the brick walk, his eyes went back to the girls. A seagull swooped down toward them, and one threw up her hand to ward off the bird, but the other, startled, jumped back, then lost her balance and tumbled into the river.

Talanyr sprinted toward the pier. At the shoreward end, he yanked off his boots and belt, flinging his cap aside, and dashed to the end of the pier, where he plunged into the water.

Rahl rushed to the end of the pier, where he saw Talanyr swimming in circles around where the girl had been. Then Talanyr vanished beneath the water himself.

What could Rahl do? He wasn’t that good a swimmer.

The other girl looked from Rahl to the river and back at Rahl.

“Go get her parents!” Rahl just hoped that Talanyr could rescue her before the parents arrived. “Tell them what happened.”

Talanyr appeared above the water, then vanished again. After a moment, he reappeared, then dived beneath the slow-moving gray water again. When he finally emerged, he had the girl in one arm.

Rahl flattened himself on the timbers of the pier and took the girl from Talanyr. He opened her mouth and struck her back, trying to force water out.

Talanyr climbed out of the water. “Let me have her.” He laid her on her stomach and turned her head to the side. Then he pressed her back. Water gushed, then oozed from her mouth. He repeated the motions several times, until no water issued forth.

“I’ve gotten the water out of her, but she’s not breathing. She’s not breathing…” Talanyr glanced up at Rahl. “Can’t you do something?”

Rahl dropped to his knees beside the dark-haired girl, turning her over. She looked so pale and fragile. He could sense the combination of chaos and order that he knew was life, but it was faint and fading. What could he do? What would Deybri have done?

He had to feel…to sense. He gently grasped her wrists, then closed his eyes. He had to give her strength…if he could.

Feel-that was what both Deybri and Taryl had emphasized…if in their own and differing ways.

Rahl tried to re-create the feeling he’d had when he’d merged himself under Taryl’s pummeling in the darkness. Slowly, everything seemed to darken around him, but he could sense a faint series of sparks, fading…fading. Gently, afraid to force anything, he touched one spark, and then another…and a third…and a fourth…

Somewhere in the process, darkness found him.

“Rahl! Wake up! You did it!”

Rahl found himself being shaken. “Oh…I’m awake.” He looked around.

A wide-eyed and round-faced woman was wrapping a blanket around the girl, who, while still wet and pale, was clearly awake and breathing. A stocky man in a clay-stained apron stood beside the pair. Tears streamed down his face.

“Ser mage-guards…how can I thank you? I have so little, but my daughter, she is everything…everything…”

Rahl shook his head. “You don’t have to give us anything.” He grinned tiredly at Talanyr. “Except maybe a towel.”

In the end, they followed the man-Kesyn the potter-and his consort, while Talanyr carried the girl, as protectively as though she had been his own daughter or younger sister. Then they sat on the shady side of a tiny courtyard, with Talanyr wearing an old blanket while his khakis baked in the sun.

“You are certain my Eysla will be well?”

“She will be well if she doesn’t fall in the river again.,” Talanyr replied. “Do you have a healer here?”

“Yes.”

“If she has a fever, take Eysla to her. Sometimes, after people have been in the water, days later, they get chaos in the chest,” said Talanyr. “There is none there now, but it could happen.”

Kesyn nodded slowly. “You are the young mage-guards, is it not so?”

“We’re mage-clerks,” replied Talanyr, “and, if we do well, we will become mage-guards.”

“You are from Atla?” Kesyn looked at Rahl.

“That is how I learned to speak,” Rahl replied. “I’m an outlander.”

Kesyn merely nodded and looked at Talanyr. “Afrit?”

“Alas, yes,” replied Talanyr mock-mournfully. “Jabuti.”

Kesyn nodded knowingly. “Wyala’s cousin’s consort’s uncle came from there, many years ago. He said that it was almost as dry as Luba. He said it was so dry that he shriveled up, and the wind blew him here.” A hearty laugh followed.

“Jabuti’s not quite that bad, except in the late summer,” replied Talanyr. “Astoy…that’s another question…”