L. Modesitt - Natural Ordermage

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?”