L. Modesitt - Natural Ordermage

“Mostly. I had trouble with the higher mathematics book and the Philosophies of Candar. ”

Kadara laughed again. “Most would.”

The questions seemed to go on and on. Rahl could tell that it had taken a while because the mess area had filled up with people eating, then mostly emptied out. While several people had looked in his direction, none had approached him or the mage, as if they knew what was happening and not to interfere.

Finally, when the light outside had faded into late twilight, Kadara looked straight at Rahl. “You’re going to have a hard time here in Nylan. I can tell you that. I can’t promise that you’ll stay here, and if you do, you won’t be a scrivener, but we do have a need for translators and printers. Usually, people with some order-skills who work with words can pick up other languages quickly. We’ll start you with Hamorian, and then, if you have a talent for it, with the finer points of High Nordlan. That is, if you’re willing to work.”

“I’ve always worked, magistra.” Rahl was willing to work at whatever it took not to be exiled to Hamor.

“For at least the next three or four eightdays, you’ll be expected to study order and languages in the mornings, and work in the print shop and wherever Magister Sebenet needs help in the afternoons.”

“The print shop?”

“Oh…we have a printing press. It makes multiple copies of books. The typesetting is harder than writing, but once it’s set, we can print as many copies as we need.”

Rahl could only wonder at how his mother’s friend Eldonya had known, or from whom she had heard what she had said about scriveners no longer being needed. “Is this…machine…new?”

“No. Not really. It’s something else that the Council of Recluce would prefer we hadn’t developed.” Kadara smiled. “Now…one last thing. You’ve danced around it, but never really explained why those two men attacked you.”

Rahl swallowed. “They claimed that I had gotten their sister with child, and they wanted me to go with them at that very moment to ask her father for her hand. My parents and I had planned to go later that morning, after I had seen Magister Puvort…” Rahl repeated all the events of that morning.

“Did you get her with child?”

“I didn’t see how I could have, but I did sleep with her. Not many times, and it was her idea, and she is several years older.”

“Would you have taken her as consort?”

“If I had had to,” he admitted.

“Did you want to?”

“No.”

“At least, you’re mostly honest.”

Mostly? Rahl thought he’d been more honest than anyone else in his position would have been.

“I’m going to repeat a few simple rules, Rahl. First, and it may seem obvious, but some people don’t understand, you are not to go through the wall gate. We could care less, but the Council cares a great deal, and there is an outpost of Council Guards less than half a kay to the north. If they capture you and discover you’re an exile, your life is forfeit on the spot. Second, you will obey any magister. You can question how to do something, but not whether to do it. Third, you are to realize that only if you fit within Nylan can you remain here permanently.”

“If you decide I do not fit, what will happen?”

“You will be exiled, although you will be given training and information about where you will be exiled. We’re far less cruel with those we exile.”

Rahl had his doubts. Exile was exile.

“Do you have any other questions?”

“Do you meet every exile?”

“Darkness, no. I’m the duty mage. Whoever has the duty takes care of exiles. Yesterday, it was Tamryn, and tomorrow it will be Leyla. It’s not that much of a problem. We don’t get that many exiles.”

Rahl couldn’t help but frown.

“It’s simple. If someone is chaos-tinged they get exiled immediately from here or from the north because we don’t take someone with chaos in their blood. Likewise, we don’t take anyone who has killed someone or anyone who has committed a premeditated offense. That doesn’t leave that many.” Kadara looked squarely at Rahl. “You’re very lucky not to have been exiled directly. You have promise, but you have this tendency to want things to go your way, regardless of what it costs others. That’s very close to chaos.”

He hadn’t meant to kill the smuggler, and didn’t everyone want things to go their way? What was wrong with that? She wasn’t suggesting that Rahl couldn’t have things go his way if there happened to be any costs to anyone else, was she? It certainly sounded that way. Rahl was getting the feeling that Kadara didn’t care that much for him, and she was sounding a lot like Magister Puvort. Still…the last thing he wanted was to be shipped off to Hamor.

“I have a lot to learn.” That was certainly safe to say, and honest as well.

“That you do.” Kadara sighed. “I just hope you can.” Then she stood. “You can wander around and meet people after you take care of your dishes.” She gestured at the handful of people around the hall. “Or you can walk the grounds. I’d suggest you stay close to the buildings you know until you’re more familiar with Nylan. You’re expected to be in your room-or at least in the transient quarters-shortly after the lamps-out bell. That will be the next bell you’ll hear. It won’t be for a while yet. In the morning, wait here after you eat, and Leyla will find you and get you some proper clothes and boots.”

With a brief smile and a nod, the magistra turned and walked from the hall.

Rahl just stood stock-still for a moment, then carried his platter and mug to the corner and dipped them in the rinsing buckets and racked them.

He turned and took several steps, then stopped, wondering exactly what he should do next.

A muscular young man, perhaps a year or two older than Rahl, walked over. “You’re new, aren’t you? I’m Khalyt.”

Rahl could sense the other’s charm, a charm fueled by order. He forced a smile. “I’m Rahl. Are you from Nylan?”

Khalyt shook his head. “I’m from Feyn. That’s where Brede came from.”

Rahl had no idea who Brede was.

“Brede was the one who saved Dorrin and made Nylan possible. Kadara’s named after his consort.” Khalyt shrugged. “Not many people know that.”

“What do you do here?”

“Work and study, the same as anyone else, the same as you’ll do. I’m studying to be an engine designer. They say that the engines on the black ships can’t be improved, but anything can be made better. Have they told you what you’ll be doing?”

“Studying languages.”

Khalyt shook his head. “Better you than me.” He turned as a petite young woman approached. “This is Meryssa. Meryssa, this is Rahl.”

Meryssa’s short black hair glistened almost with a light of its own. Her black eyes fixed on Rahl. She smiled politely. “Welcome to Nylan, home of the dedicated, dispossessed, and distressed.”

“Which are you?” replied Rahl.

“All three. Most of us are. Recluce doesn’t want us, and the rest of the world would only enslave us. So we become very dedicated to avoid further dispossession and distress. If we can. You’ll see.”

Rahl was afraid he might. “Work hard and well or see the world?”

“That’s the way it is. The magisters don’t put it quite that way,” replied Meryssa.

“You’re giving him a bad impression.” Khalyt looked to Rahl and offered a smile, one short of falsity and not quite ingratiating, but barely. “She’s so direct it can be unsettling.”

“That’s true.” Meryssa continued to study Rahl. “I work at it.”

He thought he sensed something-sadness, perhaps-behind her bright black eyes. “What are you studying?”