The Magic of Recluce (11 page)

T
ALRYN WAS RIGHT
. Sammel, Myrten, Dorthae, Wrynn, and Krystal all stood outside, waiting. The late-afternoon westerly swished the leaves of the red oak under which they had gathered. Behind us, the dangergelders' quarters loomed black even in the sunlight.

Sammel wore his pack and a pair of shortswords—short staves, a closer look revealed. Myrten wore no obvious weapons, nor did Dorthae. Wrynn had on her belt both a short sword and a throwing knife. A second knife was concealed in the hidden thigh-pocket of her trousers.

Krystal wore her faded blues and the blade I had bought her, although she had replaced the cheap scabbard with an older but sturdier one of hardened gray leather. She nodded at me.

I wiped my forehead and nodded back, then walked over to her.

“Talryn was hard on you,” she observed.

“I'm fine.” I really didn't want to talk about it.

“Tamra came out looking the same way.”

“What about you?” I asked.

She didn't giggle, just smiled gravely. “He told me I might be happier in Candar, and to weigh what I really wanted carefully.”

A cold weight settled in my guts.

“Are you all right?” As she spoke, her hand was warm on my shoulder.

“I'm fine.”

“What did Talryn tell you?” Her voice was gentle, again musical.

I shrugged. “What he told everyone, I guess. That I had to find myself for myself. Except it's going to take a long time.”

Krystal nodded. Her fingers squeezed my shoulder, then relaxed. “You'd better get your pack.”

“Thank you.” I didn't look at the others as I headed past Wrynn and Myrten and through the open doorway. One door was ajar—Tamra's. I didn't look inside.

In my former room, my things were where I had left them. The pack lay on the bed, the staff beside it, along with the knife—not that I expected to use the knife for anything besides cutting brush, meat, and other non-intelligent objects. My heavy cloak was rolled into the top of the pack. With the knife on my belt, I slung the pack half over my shoulder and picked up the staff. The door I left open as I left—a minor protest against the order of the Brotherhood.

Tamra had left her door open as well.

By the time I stepped outside—my feet moving from the smooth stones of the interior hall to the heavier, weathered, paving-stones of the walkway that would eventually lead to the harbor—everyone was waiting.

Waiting with Tamra and the rest was a woman I had not seen.

“My name is Isolde,” she announced. “I will be your guide from here to Freetown.” Her hair was silver-blond, cut squarely across the back of her neck, and her eyes were dark gray. She wore a faded green one-piece coverall and black boots. At her belt were a pair of knives, one on each hip. The belt was wide, of black leather with a triangular silver buckle. “The
Eidolon
is a Nordlan half-steamer registered out of Brysta. We have two cabins, which shouldn't be that much of a problem since Freetown isn't much more than a day and a half under normal conditions…”

Problem? Why would two cabins be a problem? I glanced over at Tamra, but the redhead was staring at the ground, ignoring Isolde and me. Even from nearly ten cubits away, I could see Tamra's fingers were white from how tightly they gripped her staff.

“…make the transition easier, we have an inn in Freetown where you will all stay, assuming you wish to, tomorrow night. Once we reach the inn—it's only a short walk from the harbor—you'll receive a last briefing on the current conditions in Candar. Things like which provinces or duchies to avoid, and why.

“Two days from now, you'll be on your own. Any questions?”

“
…Uhhhhmmmm?
” coughed Myrten. “Who pays the passage costs?”

“Those have been taken care of by the Brotherhood. So have your meals and lodging at the Travelers' Rest. After that, all expenses are yours.” Isolde glanced around the group, looking for other questions.

“Why are we going on a Nordlan ship?” Wrynn's voice seemed to silence even the breeze.

“Why not?” Isolde's tone was amused. “The
Eidolon
is headed where you are going, and it's a lot cheaper than sending a Brotherhood ship on a special run.”

“It also tells the world that Recluce is harsh enough to throw out its own.” As she spoke, Tamra barely glanced toward Isolde.

The brittleness of Tamra's voice surprised me, as did its ragged sound. Was this the confident woman who had thrashed me so soundly with the staff in our initial sparring? The woman who understood order theory better than Magister Lennett?

“That is also partly true. By your actions or beliefs, you have chosen not to accept Recluce. Until you do, you are from Recluce, but not of Recluce.”

I almost shivered. Isolde's matter-of-fact tone was more chilling than any of old Kerwin's lectures had been. No threats, no scare tactics—just a statement. Unless you believe, you don't belong.

Tamra glanced up from the grass, and I tried to catch her eyes. No wonder she was upset. All the excellence in the world didn't matter, only what she couldn't bring herself to accept. The redhead looked away, back toward the harbor.

“If there are no other questions, let's be on our way.”

Slinging my pack onto both shoulders, I straightened, ready to leave. Sammel and Dorthae stood on each side of Isolde. Myrten picked up his pack.

Without another word, Isolde left, leading us straight down the main walkway, straight through a market square largely deserted, except for a pie vendor who was closing up and a sailor from somewhere stretched out on a table, sleeping.

The
Eidolon
, moored at pier number one, the one closest to the sea, carried one square-rigged mast and whatever they called a sloop's mast. A mizzenmast, I thought. Amidships, between the masts, were two paddle wheels, one on each side. A black stack, slashed with a diagonal green stripe, ran up between the masts as well. The sails were furled on the masts.

“Hello, the
Eidolon
!” called Isolde.

“Hallo…the pier…” A tall blond man waved vaguely.

Isolde didn't bother to call again, but walked up the steeply-inclined gangplank, leaving us to follow.

I followed right after her. Waiting wouldn't solve anything.

“Stand right over there,” ordered our guide, pointing to a clear space of deck to the right of where the ship's officer waited.

I followed her directions and positioned myself by the railing. A quick glance toward Nylan reassured me that I could still see the market square, though most of the tables and booths had been deserted even before we had passed by on our way to the harbor.

“…eight passengers, as agreed with Captain Heroulk…” Isolde started right in with the mate on duty, a man with a short blond beard and a sleeveless shirt that revealed heavily-muscled and bronzed arms.

At first, as I stood by the rail, I could smell nothing except a lingering scent of something—salt, soap, varnish. The deck was clean, aside from several coils of heavy rope by the foot of the masts. The railing, as my fingers brushed it, felt faintly tacky, and glistened as though recently varnished.

Two sailors stopped their work on a windlass, or something like it, to survey the group that had trooped on board.

“Witches, the whole lot…” observed the older, a wiry man with salt-and-pepper hair.

Clank
. His hammer knocked the handle loose from the assembly.

“…see if you can pry loose that broken edge…”

“The ship seems clean enough, if small,” noted Myrten, stepping up next to me.

“Small?”

“Haven't you seen the Hamorian freighters? Some of them are nearly three hundred cubits long.”

I shrugged, not really having thought about it.

“Good thing it's only a day and a half. I'd hate to go to Hamor on this. That would take nearly two eight-days.”

Tamra stood by herself further down the rail toward the bow. I walked away from Myrten and stood next to her. She said nothing, just looked up at the black wall overlooking the harbor area, much as I had first looked at that same wall, wondering how it could look so insignificant from behind and so imposing from the waterfront.

“Are you all right?” I tried to keep my voice low.

“Does it matter?” She sounded tired.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

I didn't know what to say. “…Because.”

She didn't say anything. She just kept looking from the harbor wall to the hill wall and back again.

After a while, I eased away, thinking she wanted to be alone.

“Oh…sorry…” In backing up, I backed into Wrynn.

“Since it's only you, Lerris…”

I
thought
she was joking, but held up my free right hand, since I was still holding on to my staff with my left. “I apologize.”

“We'll accept,” added Krystal with a soft smile. She didn't giggle.

“All right!” interrupted Isolde. “Let's get your gear stowed. Follow us.”

Wrynn shrugged. Krystal and I both shrugged back. All three of us followed Isolde and another officer—the officers were all taller than the crew, and had yellow collars on their sleeveless shirts—aft and down a narrow wooden staircase. The sailors all called it a ladder.

“I'll bunk with Sammel, Lerris, and Myrten,” announced Isolde. “We'll take the first cabin.”

Myrten's face went blank, as did Dorthae's. I thought Wrynn and Krystal nodded, but couldn't see for sure in the dimly-lit passageway.

The cabin was the size of a large pantry with four built-in bunks, two on each side, one above the other. Each bunk had a thin pallet covered with a faded linen sheet and a folded brown blanket—no other covers. The floor space between the bunks was less than three cubits. A single porthole graced the outboard side, opposite the door.

Two lockers fitted side-by-side under each lower bunk.

Isolde threw her pack on the top outboard bunk. “Lerris, you're the most agile. Why don't you take the other top bunk?”

Since it wasn't really a question, I put my pack up on the other top bunk.

“You can use the lockers. No one on the ship will steal anything.” She glanced at me. “Please leave the staff on your bunk until we land.”

Always the staff. I tucked it next to the pallet, then squeezed my pack into one of the lockers. Sammel eased his smaller pack into the other one.

Myrten was shaking his head as he knelt to get into the other locker.

“Is it all right if we go back on deck?” I asked.

“Of course. Just stay out of the crew's way.”

So I went back up the ladder.

Whufff…whuff…
Through the timbers I could feel the steam engine, as if the ship had come alive. A helmsman stood at the wheel on the bridge, flanked by a silvered and weathered man I took to be the captain, since his entire shirt was yellow.

“Lines aboard!”

“Lines aboard, sir!”

Clang!

“Pressure on the boilers! Stand by for paddles.”

Thwap…splat…thwap…
Slowly, ever so slowly, the paddles began to turn as the
Eidolon
eased off the pier.

I nearly tiptoed to the rail to watch the
Eidolon
's departure.

Tamra stood by the same point on the rail as when I had left her. She must have gone below because both her staff and pack were absent, but her posture was the same.

With its black slate roofs, black streets, and black walls lit by the low western sun, and with the grass hidden behind walls, Nylan looked more than ever like a brooding fortress rising from the sea. Nothing reflected the reddish near-setting sun, except the water itself. In a way, the scene reminded me of one I'd seen in one of my father's history books—the White City of Frven, under the chaos-masters. But Frven had been all white, and it had perished. Nylan endured, its black order stolidly guarding Recluce.

A shimmer of distorted air caught the corner of my eye, and I turned my head to see one of the long and mastless black boats of the Brotherhood trailing the
Eidolon
. A single narrow turret gun bore on the Nordlan ship, shifting slightly as the Brotherhood ship easily drew up and took station on the
Eidolon
's stern.

“You do that so easily.” Tamra's voice was pitched to me, barely carrying the three cubits between us.

“Do what?”

“See the unseen.”

I shrugged. “I never thought whether it was easy or hard. I just looked. It
is
a strange-looking ship, though.”

“It's not really fair, you know.” The redhead's voice was expressionless, so expressionless that I felt colder than the sea breeze whipping through my tunic should have made me feel. “They don't care how hard you try. They don't care how much you learn. They don't care.”

I edged closer. “The Brotherhood, you mean?”

“They don't love. You're the child of one of the high temple masters. You don't swallow their beliefs, and they throw you out younger than anyone else.”

High temple master—my
father?

The Brotherhood ship increased its speed and veered toward the right, pulling up beside the
Eidolon
. The impression of order and power pounded at me from more than a hundred cubits away.

“You don't even know, do you? Is that fair?”

“No. But they don't go by what's fair, Tamra. It's already pretty clear to me that they go by what works. If we get in the way…then we go.”

She turned to me, and her face was white. “You agree with that?” Each word was evenly spaced, dropping like a hammer on a forge.

I wanted to step back, but the ship lurched, and, instead, I grabbed the railing. The
Eidolon
had passed the breakwater, and the waves were higher.