L. Modesitt - Natural Ordermage

Rahl understood that the question was almost rhetorical. “I thought about it. I decided there wasn’t much point to it.”

“Could you have picked up one of the razor-edged blades?”

“Yes, magistra.” It would have been hard, but he could have.

She nodded. “We need to have a talk, Rahl. A very serious talk.” She looked toward the mess. “It won’t be that long.”

Rahl waited.

“It’s early to tell, but you may be one of those mages who can handle a certain amount of disorder and chaos. This is both desirable and undesirable. It is desirable from your point of view because it makes you less vulnerable to chaos-attacks. It is undesirable because you will attract even more free chaos than a practicing pure black ordermage. In your case, this could prove dangerous or fatal if you do not attempt to learn more about how you use order.” She paused. “Believe it or not, I understand your frustration. You are looking for guidance on how to use order. There’s one problem with that. Order-use cannot be taught. It remains an art that can only be learned by each mage on an individual basis. No two mages use order in precisely the same way. That is one reason why The Basis of Order provides only observations and statements about how order and chaos appear in the world and what the results of balanced or unbalanced use may be.”

“But…magistra, in a way, that is true of everything. When I was learning to be a scrivener, my father could not take the pen and move my hand, but he could show me what the letters looked like. He could show me the best way to hold the pen.”

“True,” Leyla acknowledged. “Now…what if you could not see the letters he wrote on the page, and he could not see those you wrote? And the only way in which he could determine how well you copied was by how well someone else read what you wrote? That’s not a perfect analogy, but it should give you an idea of the difference. When you attempt to manipulate order, I can tell that you are doing it. I can tell that you have done it, and I can view the results, but because the means by which you do so are within you, I cannot see or sense what techniques you use.”

Rahl was silent, thinking over what she had said.

“Until you can describe and feel what you are doing with order and how you are doing it,” she went on, “we cannot offer ways in which you might improve your skills.”

“But I don’t really know how.”

“Exactly. And if you can’t say how you are doing it, how do you expect us to offer advice on what techniques might be useful when we cannot see or sense how you do what you are doing?”

Rahl didn’t have an answer to her question, but he still felt that the magisters were being singularly unhelpful.

“Think about it, Rahl. I’ll see you on fourday.”

Rahl watched as she took the walk northward. After a moment, he started toward the mess. He was hungry…and irritated, if not as angry as he had been.

Surprisingly, the entire eightday and more passed smoothly for Rahl. Part of that was because he did not meet with any of the magisters or magistras. He did keep reading The Basis of Order, and he found it helped a little to keep in mind what Leyla had said. He tried to understand the book more as just a statement about the world and how order and chaos fit into it, rather than seeking direct answers about how to do something. He also decided to avoid the harbor for a while.

He enjoyed the additional time spent in learning Hamorian, perhaps because he was beginning to be able to talk in complete sentences, if short ones, and because he could instantly tell whether he was saying things correctly.

On sixday, close to two eightdays after his encounter with the Hydlenese thief, he stepped out of Magister Thorl’s Hamorian class and headed to get something to eat. Despite the breeze and the light summer tunic, even walking from the one building to the mess left him perspiring. As he stepped into the slightly cooler mess, he blotted his forehead. Then he made his way to the serving table.

Fried fish again. As well as it was prepared, he was getting tired of the fish, and the boiled early potatoes weren’t exactly a favorite, either, but with only three coppers to his name, he couldn’t exactly afford to be choosy. He filled his platter and mug and stepped away from the serving tables.

“Rahl!”

At the sound of Deybri’s voice, Rahl turned. The healer was sitting alone at one end of a table that had three others at the far end. She motioned for him to join her. With a smile, he carried his platter and mug over and sat down opposite her.

“I haven’t seen you in a while.” He saw the circles under her eyes and sensed her tiredness. “You look like you’ve been working hard.”

“We’ve been busy. A Spidlarian ship had a boiler explosion.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not, but I’d rather not talk about it now. How is your training with the staff coming?”

“Well enough. I hadn’t realized how effective it can be against someone with a blade.”

At that moment, an attractive young woman, a good ten years younger than Deybri, passed the table. She made an effort not to look in Rahl’s direction.

Deybri laughed. “A little obvious.”

“About what?”

“Looking at you while trying not to.”

Rahl couldn’t help but be somewhat flattered but didn’t want to say so. He just shrugged.

“Don’t pretend that you don’t know you’re good-looking.”

“I hadn’t thought about that.”

She smiled. “That means you know it. People who are handsome and know it never have to question whether they are.”

Because her words were so good-natured and the feeling behind them so open, Rahl didn’t bother to hide the wince. He even laughed. “That might be, but I still hadn’t thought about it.”

“You’re too much of a pretty boy,” Deybri added. “Especially now that you’re putting on more muscle from your arms training.”

“Did you mean that as an insult?” Rahl had not sensed any hostility, but more a feeling of amusement from the woman.

“No. If it weren’t for the complications-and that I’m exhausted at the moment-I’d be interested in taking you into my bed, but I’m a forever person. Besides that, I don’t want a child right now, and I don’t have the order-skills to keep from having one, not with you, and you don’t know enough yet to do it either.”

“But…” Rahl was confounded by the warmth and honesty of her words, and the sudden confusion within Deybri. He finally said, “I barely know anything.”

“That’s the problem. You have great order strength, but not much discipline.”

Rahl sighed. “Deybri…how do I get that discipline? The magisters don’t tell me much except to read The Basis of Order and think about what I do before I do it. I don’t even know how I can do what little I can do. And I’ve been trying to puzzle that out.”

Deybri nodded. “That’s a problem. I can only suggest a few things. You can probably see well at night, can’t you? Well, try finding your way around with your eyes closed or with a blindfold, then think about the difference between seeing and feeling your way. You also might try sensing how everything around you is put together.” She paused. “You have a little time before you have to go to arms training, don’t you?”

“A little.”

“Come with me to the infirmary. I think you’ll be able to learn something there, too. You might be able to help me as well.”

Rahl hurriedly finished his fish and potatoes, then swallowed the last of the ale. After rinsing off his platter, he walked with Deybri toward the infirmary.