L. Modesitt - Natural Ordermage

As the sun shone over the eastern hills, Rahl and Talanyr sat in the third row of the long transport wagon while its iron tires rumbled over the stone road that rose gradually from the Luba Valley toward the southern pass. At Talanyr’s urging, not that it had taken much, Rahl had agreed to accompany him to Guasyra on eightday. Rahl had certainly wanted to leave Luba and the ironworks, as much to know that he could as for any other reason, and it had been so long since anyone had wanted him to accompany them anywhere. On the other hand, he had but six coppers to his name. He tried not to think about that. At the very least, he could walk around the town and learn more about Hamor.

“The town’s south of Luba, but isn’t the Swarth River to the east?” asked Rahl.

“It is, but Guasyra sits on the north side of the Rynn. It’s a small river that runs out of the mountains and into the Swarth, but, even without the cataracts east of it, it’s not deep enough for the iron barges and the steam tugs. It’s better that way. It’s still a small town. Well…for around here. It’s still three times the size of Jabuti.”

“Is there a town where they load the iron?”

“That’s Luba. It’s just docks and loading, and it’s almost as grimy as the ironworks. It’s also ten kays farther away from the ironworks than Guasyra is, but it’s a flat road almost the whole way, and that’s easier on the drays that haul the steel. The Emperor Halmyt thought about building a canal east from the ironworks, but the high mages told him not to. He got so upset that he tried to have one of them killed, but whatever he had in mind didn’t work, and his heart stopped.”

Rahl glanced ahead. The road had begun to level out. Less than half a kay ahead, it entered a stone-walled cut between two hills of a dusky red sandstone. “And nothing happened to the mages?”

“One died, and two of them were sent to oversee the mage-guard station here. That’s what they say, but when people talk about the Triad, you never know,” Talanyr said. “One of the first things the Emperor Mythalt had to do was to find a new trio of high mages. That took a while.”

“Do they come from the mage-guards?” Rahl blotted his forehead. Even the early sun was hot in summer, and the acrid odor of the ironworks still filled his nostrils. The ironworks never shut down, not even on eightday.

“They have to, and they have to have been a mage-guard for at least ten years.”

“Does the time spent as a mage-clerk count?” asked Rahl.

“After you finish training-or for someone like you-once you’re working in a mage-guard station.”

The transport wagon rolled into the stone-walled cut in the hillside. The walls stretched upward almost fifty cubits, and the stone pavement was wide enough to accommodate two wagons side by side and ran from wall to wall, except for shallow gutters a cubit wide at the base of the walls. The sandstone blocks were all of the same size and precisely cut and finished, although weathered and worn in places. Rahl was glad for the comparative cool of the shaded defile.

“This looks old.”

“Something like three centuries, Thelsyn said.”

From one of the mage-guards in the wooden seat just before them came a murmured comment. “That’s the sort of thing he’d know.”

Talanyr grinned and shook his head.

Just after the wagon rumbled through the stone defile, Rahl could see a small valley spreading out to the south. Unlike the desolation of Luba, the greenery of grass and of trees was almost everywhere. The road began to descend, but not nearly so far as it had climbed out of the Luba valley.

“It’s…different…” Rahl hadn’t expected comparative lushness around Guasyra. He also realized that the air was clearer and smelled fresher.

“That’s why it’s good to come here when we can.”

As they descended toward the town, the wagon passed through a stand of evergreens, and over a bridge that spanned a stone canal less than three cubits wide. On both sides of the road, below the canal were orchards. Dirt lanes led from the main road to steads among the orchards, but Rahl had no idea what the fruit trees were.

“Olives,” supplied Talanyr.

At the northern edge of the town was a temple, one that, except for its smaller size, was identical to the one Rahl had seen near the park in Swartheld-a tall one-story structure with a gently peaked and tiled roof, with the dissimilar pair of spires on the end away from the road. The straight and narrow southern spire shone silvery in the morning sun, while the curled and twisted, and somehow feminine, northern spire shimmered a warmer bronze.

“What’s that?” asked Rahl quietly.

Oh…that’s a temple to Kaorda-the almighty god and goddess of both order and chaos…”

“God and goddess?” Rahl had trouble dealing with the idea of gods anyway, but the idea of one that was both order and chaos and male and female all simultaneously made it even harder. “How can he or she be both?”

“They don’t have an image-that would be blasphemous-but the Kaordists say that his face is half of unworldly beauty and half of demented passion, and that the beautiful half is male and the passionate chaotic half is female.”

“Oh…”

“I’m not sure I believe that, but it makes as much sense as the one-god believers.”

Rahl nodded dubiously, his eyes taking in the outskirts of the town, which looked to be larger than Land’s End. All the dwellings, outbuildings, as well as the shops, were constructed of the red sandstone blocks, and roofed with curved pinkish tiles

He saw women with children, and other women with laundry piled in baskets on their heads, and a youth pushing a handcart with a wooden cage filled with some sort of plumpish rodentlike animals. Two other young men were leading lambs.

“Eightday is market day-except for the Kaordists,” said Talanyr.

The wagon slowed to a stop on the north side of a square, a good two hundred cubits on a side, each side flanked by the road. The square itself was raised a cubit above the surrounding sidewalk and contained by two courses of sandstone block and paved as well. In the middle of each side was a stone ramp leading up from the street to the square. As in the market square in Nylan, the space was filled with carts and tents and booths, and the sounds of haggling and selling easily reached Rahl, as did the odor of burning wood or charcoal. He scrambled off the wagon and walked around it to rejoin Talanyr. His fingers dropped to his belt to check the truncheon, but it was firmly in place.

He noticed that none of the other mage-guards headed for the market square. “Where…” He decided not to finish the question.

“Some of them have consorts or mistresses who live here. They can’t live near the ironworks or in Luba.”

That made sense to Rahl. If he’d had either, he wouldn’t have wanted them to live near the ironworks.

“I thought we’d go through the market square first.” Talanyr grinned boyishly. “We’ll also avoid the women’s quarter-at least until you’re…more familiar…with the town. They certainly won’t hurt a mage or a mage-clerk, but…it could be costly.”

Rahl understood the unspoken message about the order-skills that had not returned-and might never. He followed Talanyr up the stone ramp to the market square.

“Who’s your friend, Talanyr?” The mage-guard who walked toward them didn’t look that much older than either of the two mage-clerks.

“Chovayt!” Talanyr turned. “I thought they were transferring you to Sylpa.”

“Not until fall. That’s when it rains all the time there.” The broad-faced mage offered a hangdog smile.

“Oh…this is Rahl. He’s new to Luba station.”