Natural Ordermage by L. E. Modesitt Jr. Page A

Bradeon’s holding. Before long, he could see
Shahyla standing on the porch, waiting for him, but this time, she left the
porch and strode down the path to meet him. As she passed the geese, they
stopped their hissing. She was graceful enough, he noted, but in a muscular
fashion. She was clearly a herder.
    “I hoped you’d come today.” Shahyla
smiled warmly.
    Rahl handed her the basket. “It’s more
practical—brinn and sage.”
    “That’s wonderful! I’ve never had the
knack of growing brinn, and there’s never enough sage for the sausage. Father
will be very pleased.” She laughed ruefully. “I think Semmelt would have
preferred another honey cake or the apple bread you brought last time. He ate
most of them.”
    They turned and walked back up to the
house and onto the shaded porch.
    “Would you like some ale?”
    “Yes, please.”
    Rahl settled himself on the bench while
Shahyla took the basket inside. Within moments, she returned carrying two of
the tankard mugs. She handed one to Rahl, then settled onto the bench beside
him.
    “I’m glad you came. It’s so nice to have
something special to look forward to at the end of the eightday.”
    “So am I.” Rahl was halfway surprised to
realize that he meant the words. “How are you doing?”
    She offered a half-smile and a shrug.
“There’s always more to be done than we can do. It took longer than he’d
thought for Father to replace the broken pipes to the troughs. We lost a calf
to a flux, and we had to pay a healer to check the others. She found one other
with it, and we put it in a separate pen. Semmelt isn’t sure whether it will
live.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    She smiled. “Usually, it’s best when
nothing happens.”
    Rahl considered that for a moment, then
nodded. He hadn’t thought of things that way, but most happenings that were
interesting weren’t all that good. His experiences of the past eightday were
good examples.
    “Has anything interesting happened in Land’s End?” she asked. “We’re always so busy here that sometimes it’s days before we find
out things.”
    “Well… the Council issued a declaration
forbidding trade with Jerans and Jeranyi merchants and goods.
    That’s because of the pirates. They
closed down the chandlery—“
    “Old Hostalyn’s place? They closed it?”
    “Kehlyrt—he’s a trader from the
south—bought it from Hostalyn.”
    “Oh… was that why the redheaded woman was
there? I thought she was maybe a niece or something and that he’d been ill.”
Shahyla absently pressed the side of her thumb against her left eye to still
the twitching.
    “No, he’s a widower, and his son and
daughter help him… or they did. No one seems to know why the Council shut it
down and posted guards. Oh, and then the Council Guards carted off Balmor
because he did something. I was coming out of the alchemist’s when that
happened, and he kept saying he hadn’t done anything.” Rahl took another
swallow of the full-bodied ale. He did like it better than the watered ale he
sometimes got at home.
    Shahyla frowned. “I didn’t know Balmor
that well, but he never seemed like he’d do something wrong. All that sounds
like the Council is worried about something.”
    “And…” he’d wondered about saying
anything, but decided to anyway, “I’m probably going to have to take some
training with the magisters.”
    “That’s wonderful! Will you be a mage,
then?”
    Rahl shook his head. “Magister Puvort
says that I have a little talent with order and that, unless I learn about it,
I could get myself in difficulty.”
    “Puvort?” Shahyla’s face clouded.
“Semmelt says he’s trouble, that he’s always looking for the worst in folks.”
    Rahl was glad that someone else felt that
way, but he only nodded. “I’ve wondered about that, but he finally came to the
house on sixday. I’m supposed to see him tomorrow.”
    “Be careful.”
    “I’ll be as careful as I can.”
    Abruptly, she stood. “You’re