L. Modesitt - Natural Ordermage

“You’re saying I caused the thief to attack me? I caused it?” Rahl couldn’t believe that.

“Not directly. Not in the way you’re saying. Let me give you an analogy. Let us say you have a coal stove, and you need to add more coal, but when you open the door to the fire chamber to shovel in the coal, there’s a hidden string from your coal scoop to a pitcher of lamp oil in the rafters overhead, and the oil runs down the string all at once into the stove. What will happen?”

“You’ll get a flare-up in fire, I suppose.”

“Well…that’s sort of the way you’re going about things right now. You have a hidden order string that attracts chaos because you aren’t aware of that tie, and every time you use your order-skills you’re risking some sort of fire. Now…you’re potentially a powerful mage, and your shields are strong enough that most of us can’t sense what you’re about to do until you do. Frankly, we’d rather not get burned in your fires. Do you think you’d want to if you were in my position?”

“So what am I supposed to do ?”

“Learn Hamorian, read The Basis of Order, and learn more about arms and how they’re used. Every time you use order-skills, try to feel how you’re doing things. You might even try to figure out other ways to do things, even if they’re not as easy, because that will help you understand.”

Rahl understood that Leyla was trying to help him, but what she said didn’t seem all that useful or practical. Besides, he’d already been trying some of that, and while it helped some, he hadn’t had any great insights from what he’d tried.

“Now…you can join Magister Thorl. I’ll meet you at the weapons center after you see the healers. It’s the square building about two hundred cubits west of the infirmary.”

Rahl left the study half-understanding and half-angry. Why couldn’t anyone explain anything clearly? Leyla had explained why he was a problem, but she hadn’t given him any solid advice or suggestions except to consider what he was doing. People had been doing that for years, and Rahl hadn’t found such advice to be particularly helpful. It was just an easy way of making sure it was his fault whenever anything went wrong.

Magister Thorl did offer a smile when Rahl appeared, and both Coraza and Yanyla ran to greet him.

“Mes amias!” Rahl declared.

“Ista tuo de ceriolo…”

Rahl caught most of what Coraza was saying and smiled.

He felt far more cheerful when he left Thorl for dinner in the mess. He wasn’t even upset when Anitra joined him at his table.

“Sokol said you killed a thief in the market on sevenday. That true?”

“He tried to knife me because I stopped him from stealing a vendor’s cashbox.”

“He was Hydlenese. They’re all thieves. Even their traders are thieves.”

Rahl nodded and kept eating, listening and occasionally making a remark or two.

After he finished and rinsed his platter and mug, he made his way to the infirmary. He had to sit and wait a while before Deybri appeared.

“Good afternoon, Rahl,” said Deybri. She hadn’t been the duty healer on eightday. That had been an older man-Natran. “How’s the arm?”

“Sore, but not quite as stiff.”

“Let’s take a look.” She didn’t actually remove the dressing but merely let her fingers rest on his skin above and below the cloth. “Another few days, and you won’t need the dressing. We’ll give you some ointment to put on it. That will keep it from itching and keep the scarring from being too bad.”

“Is that all?”

“For today. You’re fine. I have some others who aren’t.” She smiled, then turned, heading toward the long wards to the rear of the building.

Rahl felt vaguely let down as he left the infirmary and followed the walk westward toward the squarish building where Leyla had said she would meet him.

She stood just outside. “How’s the arm?”

“Deybri says the dressing will come off in a few days.” He paused. “Can I get another summer tunic…or do I have to wait until I have enough coppers to pay for a replacement?”

Leyla laughed. “Just stop by the wardrobing building and tell them I said it was all right. You probably saved us more coins than the tunic cost.”

“Ah…?”

“If the thief had escaped, people would have lost coins. If he’d been captured, he would have had to appear before a justicer, and he would have had to be fed for a day or two. All of that costs. Even quick justice isn’t free.”

Rahl understood. He just hadn’t thought of it in that way.

The weapons hall was a long building, and most of it was just open space between walls with areas for practicing. In some places, there were mats on the floor. In other areas, the stone was covered loosely with sand. In one section was what looked to be part of a ship’s deck.

Leyla led him into one of the few separate rooms, in which there were long rows of plain wooden tables. There, the man who bowed to Leyla wore black, but trousers and a shirt that were neither tight nor loose-fitting, but somewhere in between. He also held a slight aura of order.

“Rahl, this is Magister Zastryl.”

“Magister.” Rahl bowed slightly.

“If you would, Rahl,” said Zastryl, “I’d like you to walk up and down the tables and pick the weapon that feels the most comfortable. Not the one you think would be best, but the one that feels that way.” He gestured toward the tables. “It doesn’t matter whether you know how to use it…you’ll learn.”

Rahl could sense that every weapon had somehow been infused with something. To him, some even held the reddish white that had to be a form of chaos. He slowly walked along the nearest table. He could have played games with Zastryl, and picked up one of the blades or a long knife, but Leyla, standing on one side, would have caught that. He suspected that was one reason she was there. He looked up and smiled at her.

She did not return the smile.

In the end he was honest. There was no reason not to be. He brought both a truncheon and a staff to the armsmaster. “I can’t decide. I might be favoring the truncheon because I’ve used it, but I don’t think so.”

Zastryl looked to Leyla.

She nodded. “There’s no discernible difference.”

“That’s interesting,” noted Zastryl, looking at Leyla.

“Until later,” she said, turning and leaving the narrow chamber.

“Since you have a sore arm, and you know something about the truncheon,” Zastryl began, “we’ll start with the staff. Later, you’ll get the basics of handling a blade, mainly defense, and a dagger.” He turned and walked out of the weapons room and into the main area, expecting Rahl to follow.

Rahl did.

Zastryl stopped at one of the racks on the wall, from which he removed two dark wooden staffs. Both were heavily padded on the ends.

On one side of the large chamber, Rahl noticed two solid-looking men in olive black uniforms he hadn’t seen before. Both of them were looking at him.

Zastryl followed his gaze. “Naval marines. We train them, too, and make them go through refresher courses periodically.” After a moment, he raised his voice. “Khaesyn, Stendyl! You aren’t sparring when you’re looking.” He turned back to Rahl. “If you don’t concentrate, the padding won’t help much. Let’s start with your feet…”

Rahl was sweating heavily by the time Zastryl dismissed him in late afternoon. He was also exhausted although he’d never actually crossed staffs with the arms magister, just practiced moves and footwork, time after time.

Leyla was waiting for him when he finished the session.

“You were considering picking up one of the blades just to confound everyone, weren’t you?” she asked.