L. Modesitt - Natural Ordermage

“Just a little one,” Rahl replied, taking a slender sliver of dried pearapple. “Thank you.”

“My thanks to you, young man.”

“I just did what I could.” Rahl felt a little embarrassed.

“Would that more did,” murmured someone.

After slowly eating the dried pearapple, Rahl eased away, looking at the variety of wares spread on the tables. He saw carved wooden boxes; brass lamps of various sizes and styles; lacework; hand tools, including chisels, hammers, mallets, planes, augers, and others; platters out of hammered brass; and even bright shimmersilk scarves, guarded by two large armsmen.

Rahl still sensed the reddish whiteness, now in the corner of the market square to his right. Had the two thieves hidden there? He moved away back toward the left, stopping briefly to admire a fine vest of black linen, trimmed in crimson.

Then, he turned and began to move down a line of collapsible booths that seemed to hold more artistic goods-small carved stone figures, decorative breadboards meant to be hung rather than used, pewter tankards-and several stalls with glassware. Ahead were what looked to be decorative woodworks and ivory.

Rahl could hear voices, if barely, from somewhere behind one of the vendor’s tents to his left, about where he sensed the reddish white.

“Burned my leg, he did…he’s the one.”

“…leave him alone…”

“…no mage…put a knife in him…”

Rahl slipped behind an angular man in soiled blue, probably a foreign sailor, then past a heavier man in richer brown, who stood before a table bearing figures carved from bone or ivory.

From nowhere, the man in blue appeared, darting toward Rahl with a shimmering blade enshrouded in reddish white.

Rahl darted to one side and grabbed what looked to be a carved wooden truncheon from the seller’s table. He jerked sideways, but the knife slashed across his upper right arm. The cloth of the tunic caught the blade for a moment, slowing the thief.

Rahl attacked, kneeing the man in the groin and slamming the makeshift truncheon across the side of his forehead. What Rahl had thought was a truncheon snapped into pieces that flew everywhere.

The thief dropped to the ground. He did not move.

Rahl just looked at the fallen figure for a moment, then at the slash in his tunic and the blood staining the cloth.

“Murder! Thief…!”

“He attacked the boy! I saw it.”

Two patrollers appeared from nowhere, then two more. One of them produced cloth and bound Rahl’s wound. Another summoned a cart, and the body of the dead thief was removed.

A magister Rahl had never seen arrived with a fifth patroller.

Then the questioning began-and Rahl never had gotten to look at the wharf that held the black ships.

The questions by the patrollers and the magister lasted until well into midafternoon, when another junior magister appeared with a wagon and drove Rahl and the older magister back up the long, inclined road to the training center. Then Rahl had to sit alone on a bench outside the study while the older magister talked to Kadara behind the closed door.

Rahl was not looking forward to meeting with her, although he had no real idea what else he could have done-except let the thief steal the cashbox and escape, and that would have felt very wrong. He continued to sit on the bench, shifting his weight from time to time and occasionally standing to stretch his legs.

Finally, the hard-faced magister who had questioned him stepped out of the study. “You’ll need to talk to Magistra Kadara.” With a perfunctory nod, he turned and left the building.

Kadara was waiting in the study. Rahl closed the door and seated himself at the table opposite her.

She looked at Rahl. “The first time you go to the harbor, and what happens? You come back with patrollers.” Her eyes went to his bloody sleeve and the dressing beneath the rent tunic.

“The patroller said that you tripped a thief and recovered a woman’s cashbox. Is that true?”

“Yes, magistra. There were two of them, and I was about to warn her, but they acted before I could say anything.”

“Two of them?” Kadara did not seem surprised, but was seeking something, Rahl felt.

“One was distracting her by haggling…”

Kadara nodded. “That’s one way they work. Then what happened?”

“She gave me a small piece of dried fruit. I would have bought some, except I don’t have any coins. Then I was walking through the rest of the market, and I heard someone say that I was the one. I didn’t want to get into another fight. That didn’t seem like a good idea, and I tried to slip away, but the man in blue came after me with a knife, and there was nowhere to go. I grabbed for something to block the knife. I thought it was just a smooth piece of wood, and I parried the knife and hit him across the temple. I kneed him as well. He didn’t get up. I didn’t realize I’d hit him that hard. I still don’t see how I could have.”

“You didn’t.” Kadara sighed.

For the moment, Rahl realized that she actually looked as though she cared.

“He was off one of the Hydlenese ships, and he was…what you might call chaos-driven. You’re at least a low-level order focus. When you hit him with that ivory, you destroyed all the chaos in him, and that included what he needed to live.”

Rahl didn’t know what to say, not really. “I didn’t have that in mind, magistra. I was just trying to defend myself.”

She nodded brusquely. “We know. The patrollers checked with everyone. The thief never should have been allowed off the pier, but those things happen. He might even have avoided the pier guards. No one’s going to be upset about his death, and the training center will pay the vendor for the broken ivory. The larger question is what to do about you.”

Rahl gave a start, then winced. His arm was sore. But why was he once more a question? He’d tried to avoid trouble. He truly had.

“Rahl…in some ways…let’s just say that you present a particular problem, and a very serious one for both Nylan and for yourself. Most mages show some trace of their talent early, but you didn’t. Your talent appeared strong and late, and that meant you didn’t get the training you should have when you should have. You’re also stubborn. Most mages are. We’re going to have to rethink your training. I don’t want to say more right now, not until I talk things over with the others.” Kadara paused. “Have you been to the infirmary? Do you know where it is?”

“No, magistra.” Rahl took a deep breath.

“It’s on the hillside above the bell tower-” She broke off and looked at Rahl. “I’d better go with you, and you’re going to need something to eat before we get there.” She stood.

Rahl was truly confused. Was this the Kadara who had lectured him that very morning?

During the entire walk to the canteen, since the mess was not serving, Kadara kept watching Rahl, and she even sat him at a table and got him a bowl of maize chowder with chunks of ham, some dark bread, and a mug of ale.

He had to admit that he’d been slightly dizzy before he ate, and that he felt steadier after he finished the last of the chowder.

Kadara studied him. “You’ve got more color, but I still want Deybri to take a look at you and that wound. She’s the duty healer today. Have you met her?”

Rahl nodded. “I met her at dinner.”

“Good. No one needs any more surprises.” Kadara gestured toward the door that led outside from the canteen.

Rahl followed her out, then northward on the walk beside the building that held both the mess and the canteen. The next walk to the left brought them past the bell tower, where they walked up a low rise to another small building.