L. Modesitt - Natural Ordermage

“I haven’t seen you before.” The servingwoman was fully dressed from wrist and ankle to neck, but the dark blue fabric was thin enough that at times, as she moved, it clung closely to her well-shaped body. She didn’t look much older than Rahl, but there was a hardness about her. Whether she was indentured or a slave, Rahl couldn’t tell, only that he doubted he could trust her.

“I haven’t been here before. What might be good for a meal?”

“Our burhka is the best in Swartheld, but if you like fish, the curried whitefish with quinoa is also good. The spiced langostinos with mint-cumin butter are tasty. We also have marinated goat skewers with cheesed lacers.”

Rahl was getting tired of food he couldn’t taste for all the spices. “Tell me more about the skewers.”

“An excellent choice, ser. The meat is from choice young goats and has been marinated for days in a mixture of olive oil and spices. It is grilled with sweet peppers and onions. It is six coppers.”

“What do you have to drink to go with it?”

“The dry red wine from the Nebatan Hills. That is three coppers a goblet.”

Almost a silver for a single meal? Rahl refrained from shaking his head. He hadn’t had much experience in expensive dining. It could have been that the meal he’d been treated to in Nylan by Magister Thorl had been that expensive, if not more so, but he hadn’t had to pay for it, and that did make a difference. “I’ll try the skewers and that wine.”

“Very good.” The server nodded and slipped away.

Rahl looked around the dining area. The three men had clearly lost interest in him, as had the older man with the younger woman. The apparent sisters were both sipping their wine, as if they had looked away moments before. With some concentration, he could make out the couple at the darkened corner table-a man and a woman, and the woman continued to wear a filmy scarf. They were absorbed in each other and talking in low and intense voices.

“Here is your wine, ser.”

Rahl glanced up at the girl. “Thank you.”

“You sound like you’re from Atla…but you’re not, are you?” The serving girl smiled warmly, and not entirely falsely.

“No. I was born a long way from there and here. What about you?”

“I’m from Sendyn, but there’s not much there.” Her hand brushed Rahl’s wrist as she reached across and straightened the three-pronged narrow fork. “Swartheld is more interesting. Don’t you think so?”

“I work a lot,” Rahl confessed. “I don’t know much except about the harbor and the trading areas.”

“You a mage for one of the traders?”

How could he answer that? After a moment, he laughed. “If you have any talent at all with order or chaos, you have to register as a mage. That doesn’t mean you really are one. I work for the Nylan Merchant Association.”

“Oh…do you know Chenaryl? He eats here sometimes.”

“He was the one who said I should come here.”

Her hand brushed his shoulder as she stepped back. “It shouldn’t be too long before your skewers are ready. I’ll make sure they’re just right.”

Rahl nodded, then took a sip of the wine. It wasn’t sweet, and it wasn’t bitter, and it went down easily.

The serving girl hadn’t seemed terribly concerned or upset about the mention of the Association, and Rahl had been led to believe that people in other lands were wary of anything connected with Recluce. Was her lack of unease due to her familiarity with Chenaryl? That suggested that the warehouse supervisor frequented Hakkyl’s more than just “sometimes.” It also suggested that Chenaryl could afford a silver a meal without trouble, and that concerned Rahl, because it supported his feeling that golds were being diverted.

Again, he surveyed the other diners, but all seemed to have forgotten or dismissed him, even the pair of sisters.

Before long, the server returned with a large platter on which were four lines of meat, each interspersed with chunks of green and orange peppers and purple onions. On one end was a lattice of thin fried potato strips covered with a drizzling of three cheeses of differing colors.

“You’ll like this,” she announced.

Rahl smiled politely and turned to the food. He was hungry.

He had to admit that the cubes of marinated goat were excellent, as were the cheesed lacers, with the combination of mild and pungent, and heavy and light cheeses on the thin and crisp-fried potatoes. The wine tasted better with the food. He’d barely finished the last mouthful when the girl returned.

“Would you like some sweets?”

“No, thank you.” He’d already spent more than he should have.

“How did you like it?”

“Very good. Goat fixed like that is definitely better than mutton or lamb.”

“Dalsym can fix the skewers with chicken, but they’re better with goat. You don’t have many goats in Recluce, do you?”

“Very few, except in a few mountain places where no one lives. They’re hard on the grass, and they’ll eat saplings and shoots, and that hurts the land.”

“You know a lot about that. Were you a herder once?”

Rahl shook his head. “I knew some.”

“Were you one of those exiles?”

“No. People who are exiled directly don’t get positions with the Merchant Association.” That was shading matters, but it was far safer.

“Will you run it someday, do you think?”

“I don’t know that I want to spend my life that way,” Rahl replied, “but that’s something that I’ll just have to see about. What about you?”

“I’ve got another three years. Then, I’ll see about working full wage.” She smiled at Rahl. “Unless someone wants to consort, but he’d have to be handsome and wealthy. As handsome as you.”

Rahl managed to keep a pleasant smile on his face. “As pretty as you are, you might not have to work at all.”

She laughed softly, and for a moment, the hardness left her face. “You’re kind. I’m Thanyra.” She smiled again. “You can ask for me whenever you come. It’s nice to serve someone who isn’t old enough to be my uncle.”

“That’s good to know.” Rahl returned the smile.

In the end, he left a silver and a copper. He hoped that Thanyra got to keep the extra two coppers. She’d worked hard enough for them.

The greeter nodded almost indifferently as Rahl left.

The guard outside-the same one as when he’d entered-offered a cheerful, “Good evening, ser.”

“The same to you.”

Outside, the misty fog had lifted, and the early evening was almost uncomfortably warm and damp. The infrequent sound of hoofs on stone echoed out over a low insect chorus. Rahl had no more than walked away from Hakkyl’s and crossed the street, following the avenue, than he sensed the two men waiting around the corner of the building ahead to his right, lurking in the alleyway. He pivoted, deciding to head back the other way suggested by the mage-guard earlier, when another man walked down the side street from the south toward him.

Rahl could sense chaos-forces building, and his hand went to the truncheon as he tried to strengthen his order shields.

Whhst!

The white chaos-flame flared around him, but his shields held. The chaos-bolt didn’t seem as strong as those of the mage-guards he had met, but he didn’t want to see if the man could do worse. Rahl pulled out the truncheon and sprinted toward the chaos-wielder.

Another chaos-flare enveloped him, harmlessly.

The small squat man turned to run.

WHHSSTT! Ashes and flame swirled and then began to settle.

Rahl stopped in his tracks and began to search for another white wizard.

The mage-guard he had met earlier appeared, standing next to the wall of the building, smiling. “I thought you might come back for an early dinner. Hakkyl makes a little extra this way, but we’ve never been able to prove it.”