“I know about the food. I brought you some hard cheese and some bread.” Kacet eased a worn cloth pouch through the bars. “I’d have brought ale, but that would have been more than Captain Vorsa would allow.”
“The captain let you…”
“The captain’s a good woman. She doesn’t care for the Council that much, but she never says anything. Told me not to take too long, though.” Kacet paused. “How are Mother and Father? How did they…take it?”
“Mother was upset. She tried to point out to Puvort that I hadn’t done anything wrong. He told her to shut up. Father had to quiet her. He was upset, but he didn’t say much. Puvort wouldn’t allow them to come to the Council meeting where they sentenced me to be sent to Nylan.”
“Bastard,” muttered Kacet.
“Don’t cross him, Kacet,” Rahl said. “He’d exile you as quick as me.”
“I can’t say as I understand, Rahl. You’re just a scrivener, barely more than an apprentice. So you got a girl with child. That happens enough. You didn’t refuse to consort her, did you?”
“We never got to that,” Rahl said. “Mother, Father, and I were going to talk to her parents later that day. After I went to see Magister Puvort.”
“Real bastard.”
A low whistle echoed from the end of the corridor.
“I’ve got to go,” Kacet said. “Sustel’s a traitor bird for the Council. Hide the food till he’s gone. Be real careful in Nylan.”
“I’ll try.”
Kacet vanished from the cell door, and Rahl hurried back and sat on the edge of the pallet bed.
Nylan
XV
From what Rahl could calculate, the Council Guard wagon came to a slow stop late on oneday-more than an eightday after the Council had sentenced him to exile in Nylan. He heard voices.
“Hallo, Council Guards. What do you have for us today? Another exile? What was the charge?”
“Misuse of order. Here are the papers.”
A long silence followed before anyone spoke again.
“You know where to take him. We’ll expect you back here shortly.”
From that Rahl decided that he and the wagon had finally arrived at the black-stone wall that separated Nylan from the rest of Recluce. With a slight lurch, the wagon moved forward.
Through the barred window in the back of the closed wagon, Rahl could only see the upper section of the wall, but he could sense that the wagon was headed down a gentle grade. Shortly, it came to another halt. After several moments, the rear door opened.
“You can get out now,” said the one of the Guards.
Rahl eased his way out and onto the stone pavement. He was stiff and sore from the long trip. He looked around. The wagon had halted on a flat paved expanse. The sun hung above the ocean to the west. Before him was a city of low buildings built on a hillside that sloped down to a harbor. Every structure seemed to have been constructed of black stone, with slate roof shingles of dark gray or black. Higher on the slope, near where Rahl stood, the houses were far enough apart that grass and trees were plentiful, giving Nylan the air of a park. To his right was a long black-stone building.
A muscular woman wearing black trousers and a short-sleeved black shirt walked toward the Council Guards. Her hair was red and short, barely longer than Rahl’s. Rahl could sense the Guards’ unease.
“Another one your Council doesn’t like?” she asked.
“Here are the papers, magistra.”
The woman radiated power, enough that she made Puvort seem puny in comparison, for all that she was a good head shorter than Rahl. She took the papers without looking at them and walked past the two Guards toward Rahl, stopping several cubits short of him. “What did you do?”
“I was charged with misuse of order, magistra.”
“I’m sure the papers say that. I’d like to know what you did.”
“Two men attacked me. I broke one man’s forearm with a truncheon and his brother’s wrist. Magister Puvort said that I misused order because I had order-abilities and had not asked the Council for training. That was even though I was on my way to make that request.”
She nodded, then read the papers. She turned to the Council Guards. “You can go. One way or another, he’s our responsibility now.”
Rahl didn’t like the words “one way or another.” He said nothing.
The two men quickly climbed onto the wagon seat.
The magistra said nothing until the wagon was headed back up the stone-paved High Road toward the gate in the black-stone wall.
“I’m Magistra Kadara. You’re Rahl?”
“Yes, magistra.”
“What haven’t you told me?”
Rahl didn’t quite know how to answer that. “About what, magistra?”
“A cautious one. Ah, well, let’s get you get washed up and set up with a room in the transient quarters, and then we’ll get you something to eat, and you can tell me what you really don’t want to say.”
As pleasant as Kadara appeared, Rahl felt that she was far more dangerous than Puvort.
“Follow me, if you will.”
Rahl didn’t see much choice.
They took a stone-paved walk that skirted the uphill side of the building to the west of where the wagon had stopped. A long oblong flower garden extended a good fifty cubits farther uphill. Ahead was a two-story stone structure with evenly spaced windows. The path led to a doorway on the downhill side. Kadara paused on the wide stone stoop.
“This building holds the transient quarters, and you’ll eventually meet-or at least see-everyone here. Right now, most of them are still at work.” Kadara opened the door and led him down the hallway to the third door. She opened it. Rahl noted that there was an inside bolt but no lock. The room was small, but still twice the size his own sleeping chamber at home had been. The bed was narrow and set against the far wall, but it was a real bed. Folded on the end were a blanket and a towel. There was a wall lamp, and a set of pegs on the wall for garments, and a writing table and a stool. The floor was polished gray stone. The large window was glassed, with inside shutters.
“All the rooms are the same. In the morning, we’ll find some clothing and boots that will fit you. Those of you on probation all wear light gray. The jakes and the wash showers are in the enclosed area just outside at the north end of the building. I’ll meet you where the wagon dropped you after you take care of things. Don’t be long.” With that, she turned and left Rahl standing in the room.
Rahl hurried, but the lower edge of the sun was touching the surface of the ocean by the time he finished washing up. He hurried to meet Magistra Kadara.
As if she had sensed him, Kadara stepped out of the building. “We’ll walk down to the mess area. It’s a little early, but they should have something for you to eat. How long were you in that wagon?”
“If I counted right, seven days. Most nights I was in a keep cell.”
“Someone must like you, or you’ve been very careful.”
Her words puzzled Rahl, because he didn’t sense any sarcasm behind them. He’d been accused of something he hadn’t done, exiled from his home, and packed off to Nylan, and she was saying that someone must have liked him?
“That amazes you?” Kadara asked.
“Yes, magistra.”
“That’s not completely surprising.” She gestured to the squarish structure ahead. “This is the eating hall, otherwise known as the mess. You get three meals a day here. They’re served at first morning bell, noon bell, and evening bell. That’s when the bells in the tower there ring.” She nodded toward a slightly taller square structure that stood on a low rise to the west of the eating hall. “If you want to eat at other times, the canteen in the corner of the mess is open from dawn to the lamps-out bell. But you don’t pay for the meals in the mess, and you do pay for anything you eat in the canteen. Is that clear?”
“Yes, magistra.” It was also clear that he’d be eating in the mess because he didn’t have a copper to his name.