“Aleasya,” Rahl admitted.
“Why did you do it?”
“Because it hurt to use the blade and fight the chaos-or what I thought was chaos-and I wasn’t learning and being very good at it.”
The healer snorted. “You’re an ordermage. You’re not supposed to be that good. They just want you to be able to put up enough of a front with a blade so that you can buy time to use order. You’re supposed to learn how to handle it with the pain. Didn’t they tell you that?”
“Not exactly. Magister Zastryl said that it would be painful and that I might have to use them…” His words trailed off.
“For what?”
“To keep people off me for a short time,” Rahl admitted. Still, Zastryl hadn’t been anywhere near as clear as Deybri had been. He hadn’t told Rahl that one of the points of the exercise was to deal with the pain. Why couldn’t people be clear? He was having a hard enough time learning what he had to learn without trying to figure out what they really meant. He was more than a little tired of guessing.
Deybri shook her head. “You’ll be all right. Go over to the mess and eat-as much as you can without getting sick. Then take it easy and get a good night’s sleep. No sparring against anyone for two days. When you resume, don’t do what you just did-even if it hurts like the demon’s whiteness. You might not recover a second time.”
That worried Rahl more than anything she’d said. But, even with the worry, he was also getting angry again because he wouldn’t have gotten so close to killing himself if he hadn’t been getting incomplete answers or nonexistent answers to his questions. The magisters and magistras acted as if everything were spelled out in The Basis of Order, and whenever he tried to get an answer, he was either chastised or told to find it out himself…and then, when he had attempted to discover something on his own, they’d declared him a danger to all Nylan.
“Rahl…that’s life.”
“What?”
“You’re getting angry again because things haven’t been explained to your satisfaction. Do you think that people are going to explain everything that seems evident to them just to make you comfortable? You have the ability to think. Your problem is that, because certain skills come to you easily, you just use them without thinking about them or what they might do to you or to others.”
“Wait a moment,” he replied. “Let me put it a different way. You and all the others here are perfectly willing to explain things endlessly to those who have few abilities and take a long time to learn things. Yet you’re not willing to make a similar effort in explaining the implications of what I can do. Just because I’m able to do things, everyone seems to think that I should know what happens next.”
“That attitude is exactly why you’re being exiled,” Deybri said calmly, almost sadly. “You have enough order-talent that most ordermages would give an arm or a leg for that ability. They’ve worked for years to master and understand what they do. You can do things easily and with minimal effort, and then you complain and get angry when the magisters expect you to spend some time and effort thinking before you act. And this is another time when you got into trouble doing what you were told not to do. No…I won’t say much about it, and I will say, if asked, that you honestly didn’t understand that shields were active order-magery. It’s also the last time I’ll help you if you use one single bit of active ordermagery.” A faint, almost rueful smile appeared. “Now…go get something to eat.”
Rahl set the not-quite-finished beaker of ale on the side table and rose from the chair. “Thank you.”
As he left, he was still angry, if not at Deybri. At least she offered some explanations.
XXXI
On fiveday morning, Rahl found himself in the small study again, wondering if he was being sent off as a result of his problems with the falchiona, or if he’d made some other mistake. Tamryn sat across the table from Rahl.
“Yes, ser?” asked Rahl politely.
“I understand you had a little trouble the other day. This isn’t about that. This is about your assignment in Swartheld…”
Exile merely an assignment? Rahl had his doubts about that.
“You’ll be leaving in about an eightday,” Tamryn went on. “Until then, you’ll be working every afternoon at the Merchant Association building down in the harbor. You’ll wear the standard clerk’s attire. We’ll take a moment for you to pick that up at the wardrobing building-and a pack for your clothing and gear. From now on, you’ll wear the clerk’s garb from breakfast until you’re dismissed by Ser Varselt. He’s the managing director in Nylan.”
“Yes, ser.”
“And Aleasya and Magister Zastryl have agreed to spend a session with you every evening after meals. They did mention something about not cheating on pain.” Tamryn smiled. “There’s a price for everything, Rahl, and it’s either paid fairly when due or with interest and penalties later.”
Tamryn made it sound like order-skills were trade goods subject to usury.
“Now…head over to wardrobing. Elina’s already got your garb ready for you. Wear it while you’re with Magister Thorl as well. The association of Hamorian with the garb will help when you get to Swartheld.”
How that might be, Rahl couldn’t imagine, but he didn’t doubt Tamryn on that. “Yes, ser. Is there anything else I should know?”
“Not right now.” Tamryn stood.
So did Rahl, bowing politely to the silver-haired magister.
Tamryn left, and Rahl followed him out, then headed for the wardrobing shop.
After he picked up the garments, he hurried back to his chamber and changed, leaving the empty canvas pack on the bed. The clerk’s garb consisted of light brown trousers, darker than the khaki worn by Kysant and his staff at the eatery, a light tunic of a darker brown, with three-quarter-length sleeves, and an even lighter undertunic.
Magister Thorl only nodded in acknowledgment when Rahl slipped into his session.
Tamryn appeared, as the magisters often did, just as Rahl had finished rinsing his dishes at the mess. “We’ll take a cart down today, but you’ll have to eat more quickly-if you’re walking down there and if you expect to be there in a timely fashion.”
“Yes, ser.”
Rahl followed Tamryn to the cart that waited outside.
The magister drove, and Rahl sat on the narrow seat beside Tamryn as the cart moved downhill behind a dun mare.
“The more you can learn at the Merchant Association, the better you’ll do in Swartheld,” Tamryn observed. “It’s very different from either Land’s End or Nylan. As I’m certain Magister Thorl has indicated, the laws are far more stringent. If you break a minor law, you might get off with a flogging. If you break a major law, you’ll end up in the quarries, the ironworks, or dead. Oh…one of the major laws is a restriction on use of order-or chaos-skills unless you are registered with the mage-guards. As an outlander, you can have the talent. That’s not forbidden. Using it is unless you’re registered. Citizens of Hamor with any magely talents must register. Minor uses in one’s own dwelling don’t count. Almost all active uses in public do.”
Rahl almost swallowed. Magister Thorl had only told him to be very careful and scrupulous in obeying the laws. “Is there anything else that I’m likely to stumble into through ignorance?”
“The Hamorian Codex is based on that of Cyador.”
Rahl didn’t have the faintest idea what Tamryn meant, but before he could say so, the magister went on.
“That means that once you’re taken into custody by patrollers or by the mage-guards, you’re assumed to be guilty, and you have to prove that you’re not. That’s a very good reason not to even look like you’re breaking the laws.”