L. Modesitt - Natural Ordermage

He crossed the avenue, dashing behind an empty wagon until he was on the sidewalk on the west side. Ahead he noticed fresh boards across the front of a shop. He didn’t remember what it had been, but he could make out some of the painted lettering on the sign set into the bricks and partly covered by one of the boards.

“Fine tailoring,” he murmured.

That could have been why he hadn’t recalled it. He kept walking, past the coppersmith’s and then the cooperage.

Rahl smiled as he saw the chandlery ahead on his right.

He stepped up onto the narrow porch and smoothed his hair and tunic. He tried to ease through the chandlery door quietly because he sensed someone was already inside talking to Fahla. It didn’t do any good. A bell attached to the door rang. Still, he moved to one side, where he looked at the leather goods-a pack with wide straps, clearly used, and an old bridle, and a wide belt with loops-almost an armsman’s or a guard’s belt.

Next to the pack was a small book, one without a title on the spine. He opened it and looked at the title page, but could not read anything, except what he thought was a name: Kaorda. The book was old, and it had been written in either Hamorian or old Cyadoran, because Rahl would have been able to read High or Low Temple.

He set the slim volume down and looked sideways toward the counter behind which Fahla stood. Even from the rear, Rahl recognized Porgryn. The fuller had a voice that would have been whining without the gravelly tone.

“What’s the best cheese you’ve got for travel? Doesn’t turn green quick, you know what I mean.”

“The white hard cheese,” replied Fahla. “It won’t even turn in midsummer so long as you don’t leave it in the sun. How much would you like?”

“Don’t want it now. Might need it later. Nephew’s bringing a wagon of earth up from down south. It’s a long trip. Need to provision him on the way back.”

“The white cheese would be best. What would you like for now?”

“Ezelya said to check on needles…”

“We set some aside for her…”

Rahl waited until Porgryn turned to leave before moving away from the leather goods, stepping aside as the fuller neared. “Good day, ser.”

“Good day, fellow.”

While Porgryn’s words were pleasant, Rahl sensed that the wiry fuller had no idea who Rahl was. That bothered him, although he couldn’t say why. There was no special reason Porgryn should have known Rahl, even though Kian had made copies of several things for the fuller, and Rahl had been in the workroom.

“What can I get for you, Rahl?” asked Fahla pleasantly. Her mahogany hair was tied back with a dark blue band, leaving her forehead looking wider than when she had worn it down at Sevien’s.

“Nothing today. I had to come down to the harbor, and while I was here, I thought I’d stop.”

“I can let you have some special cheese that Faseyn found in Extina. Half a quarter wedge for two coppers. Your mother would like it.” The hint of a smile played around the corners of her lips. They were good lips, not too thin and not too protruding.

Rahl laughed. “If you were consorted, you’d still try to sell to your consort.”

“Of course.” She did smile, and that softened the intensity of her eyes-for a moment. “What are you doing down here?”

“Delivering a letter to the portmaster to go by ship to Austra.”

Fahla nodded. “Do you get paid a portion of the fee paid to the portmaster?”

“I don’t know. Father takes care of those details. We don’t do that often. Most folks can’t afford to send letters that far.”

“It’s expensive. They have a system of couriers to do that in Hamor, Father said, and it only costs three coppers to send a letter anywhere there.”

Three coppers wasn’t cheap, not to Rahl, but it was nothing compared to the two silvers Alamat had paid.

“There’s something like that in Candar, too, at least where the white wizards are in charge.”

“We really don’t need it here,” Rahl replied. “We’ve got the High Road, and you can almost always find someone to carry a letter on it.”

The bell on the chandlery door rang, and Fahla looked up. “It’s Chorkeil, Rahl. Do you need anything?”

“No, not today.” He could sense that she was already thinking what she’d say to the new arrival. “I’ll see you later.” He offered a smile, inclined his head, and turned.

“Chorkeil…We have the spikes you wanted,” Fahla began.

Rahl nodded politely to the man although he couldn’t say he knew him. Chorkeil ignored Rahl, not even giving him a glance.

The way back felt longer, although Rahl certainly didn’t dawdle.

He’d barely stepped into the workroom when his father looked up.

“That took you long enough,” Kian said mildly.

“I’m sorry, ser. There were three ships in the harbor, and it was crowded. The portmaster said the letter would go on the Suthyan trader today.” Rahl paused. “Oh, here’s the receipt.” He stepped forward, took the paper square from his wallet, and handed it to his father.

“At least, you remembered the receipt. Best get some water before you settle back into work.”

“Yes, ser.”

Kian was already absorbed back in working some sort of embellishments on parchment, perhaps a copy of one of the declarations, when Rahl returned from the outside pump and settled back onto his stool and more copying of Tales of the Founders.

Eightday dawned bright and sunny, and Rahl had a spring in his step, although it was still early morning, if well past dawn, when he made his way from the tiny chamber out to the common room for breakfast. He enjoyed the end-day because, unless his father had an urgent commission, after chores, the day was largely Rahl’s.

Lukewarm gruel, bread, and some peach conserve awaited him at the table, along with a small mug of redberry. Khorlya was finishing a basket, and Rahl could smell something baking. He settled before his modest breakfast, then looked to the other end of the table. “Baskets on an end-day? And baking?”

“Have you forgotten? You’re going to see Shahyla today. I was up early. The honey cake is almost ready.”

Rahl hadn’t exactly forgotten-more like put the thought at the back of his mind. “Oh…that’s right.”

“You could show a bit more enthusiasm, Rahl.”

“I’m still a little sleepy.” That was true enough, but not the reason.

“She’s a pretty girl, and she could use a young man like you. You’re handy and polite.”

Rahl knew that, but he just took a large spoonful of gruel to avoid saying anything. Why did they keep pushing on the consort business? Couldn’t they just let him be?

“After you finish breakfast and your chores, wash up and put on your good tunic. You’ll need to start soon to get there just after midday. It’s at least four kays, and you don’t want to hurry and arrive all sweating.”

“You told them I was coming?” That was even worse.

“I said you might when I saw Shahyla at the market on fourday. What would be the point of my baking and your walking that far if the girl didn’t happen to be there?”

“Did you say when I’d be there?”

“Just that it would probably be past midday. Now, finish eating and get on with things.” Khorlya set the basket aside and moved to the old tiled stove. “I did make another honey cake for us. You can have yours when you get back.”

“They aren’t one-god worshippers, are they?”

“I doubt anyone in Land’s End is, and they’re not single-twinners, either,” offered Kian from the doorway.

“Single-twinners?” Rahl hadn’t heard of that belief, but for him the idea of order and chaos was enough, without believing that the world was controlled by some invisible deity using strange rules.