He’d debated many closings to the letter, but finally had written, “With all gratitude and affection.” He hadn’t wanted to be overly demonstrative, but neither had he wished to be matter-of-fact. He thought of Deybri every evening in the darkness. He did worry that he might just be thinking of her because he’d met no one else, and because, in such circumstances, absence did make the heart pine. Yet he thought it was more than that, but how could he know?
Finally, he folded the letter and slipped it into the standard envelope for Hamorian post. Then he made his way to the station’s duty desk.
“Ser?” he said politely.
“Yes,” replied Rymaen, the mage-guard holding the duty until after breakfast.
“I’d like to post this letter.” Rahl extended the envelope.
“To Recluce? That’s a far piece,” observed Rymaen. “Let me see…that’s three silvers and a copper for delivery in Nylan. Be four and two for Land’s End.”
Rahl handed over the coins.
“You must have saved every coin you could. She must be special.”
Rahl laughed. “I did, and she is, but she’s a healer, and she can get word to my family.”
“You don’t sound like an outlander, not at all.”
“I’ve been here a while, but I learned from a scholar of Atla.”
Rymaen nodded. “It’ll go on the down-barge this afternoon.”
“Thank you.” Rahl turned and headed for the mess, where he was one of the first there. Since the breakfast foods were set out on large platters on a serving table, he helped himself, poured a mug of ale, and made his way to the juniors’ table.
He’d only taken a bite or two when Rhiobyn dropped into the seat across from him, shaking his head. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?” Rahl had no idea what Rhiobyn meant.
“Sit down for report after report, copying each one without mistakes, without errors. After two or three reports, I want to blast something with chaos, or take a blade to it. And now, Thelsyn is telling me that, if I don’t improve, I’ll never be more than a clerk. I’m not a clerk, and that’s not where my talents lie.” Rhiobyn began to eat the battered egg toast, quickly and with precise rapid bites.
Rahl shrugged, and his shoulders twinged only slightly. “I was trained as a scrivener. That makes some of it easier. I also remember what it was like to be a loader. I’d much rather copy reports.”
“Yes…I can see that when you’ve been lower-born and had to work drudge, copying would seem far easier, but don’t you want more?” Rhiobyn didn’t even look at Rahl as he took a swallow from his mug.
Rahl’s immediate reaction to the other’s unthinking condescension was anger, but he forced himself to take a sip of his ale before speaking.
“Don’t you?” persisted Rhiobyn.
“Of course I do,” Rahl said evenly. “But I need to be more careful than you. Being a lowborn outlander requires more patience, because I have neither family nor wealth nor position upon which I can call.”
“Oh…I hadn’t thought of that. Not really.” Rhiobyn frowned. “It must make matters terribly difficult.”
“Not any more than for you,” interjected Talanyr, settling into the chair beside Rahl and setting his platter and mug down. “It must be terribly difficult for you to evaluate matters in the longer run, since family, wealth, and position have so sheltered you from such considerations.”
Rahl barely managed to keep from choking, even as he admired Talanyr’s quick wit.
Rhiobyn looked startled. Then his face hardened. “You never did have much appreciation for the finer things in life, Talanyr.”
“What are the finer things in life?” Rahl managed.
“They’re…” Rhiobyn stopped and looked at Rahl. “Are you that naïve? Or are you trying to be witty like Talanyr?”
“I couldn’t be witty in that fashion if I tried, not at your level,” Rahl replied, ignoring the sense of hidden amusement from Talanyr. “I wanted to know what you thought the finer things in life might be.”
“Exquisite music, such as performed by the Emperor’s orchestra; fine wines, such as those of Phaleria; beautiful women, such as those of Cigoerne or Ilyra…”
“I thought as much.” Talanyr nodded.
Rhiobyn took the last bite of his toast and ale and stood. “I hope you both have a day filled with what you seem to enjoy.” He nodded and turned.
Rahl took another mouthful before speaking. “He really believes all that. Couldn’t he sense what you were doing?”
“No. Most chaos types can’t. Unless they have their chaos under total control, it keeps them from sensing what people feel. They can detect order and chaos, but not less obvious things. That’s one place where order-skills are an advantage.” Talanyr grinned. “You’ll notice that ordermages have prettier girls and more devoted consorts.”
At that moment, Taryl rose from the men’s table and walked toward Rahl and Talanyr.
“I see you two have been agitating the young chaos-mage. Exactly what did you say to him?” Taryl’s eyebrows rose in inquiry.
“He was asking me why I didn’t seem interested in the finer things in life, ser,” answered Rahl, “and I asked him what those might be.”
Taryl smiled faintly. “How are your bruises?”
“Healing, ser. The soreness is mostly gone.”
“Good. If you’re going to bait your chaos colleagues, you’ll need some more training. Meet me at the duty desk with your truncheon shortly. I haven’t finished eating, but I won’t be long.”
“Yes, ser.”
As Taryl turned away, Rahl wished he hadn’t joined in the verbal sparring with Rhiobyn. Taryl hadn’t seemed particularly upset, but…the last training session had been incredibly painful.
“He’s not upset with you,” Talanyr said quietly.
“He doesn’t have to be for the results to be uncomfortable.”
Talanyr chuckled. “True enough.”
Rahl gulped down the last of his breakfast, then rose. “Have a good day copying.”
“I almost wish I were doing whatever you’ll be doing.” Talanyr grinned. “Almost.”
Rahl shook his head, then hurried toward his chamber. At least, he no longer had to worry about his meal dishes, as he had as a loader and checker. He reclaimed his truncheon and made his way back to the duty desk.
“Rahl…” said Rymaen. “Your letter’s on the first wagon to the piers. It might even make the morning barge.”
“Oh…thank you, ser.”
“Just thought you’d like to know.”
Rahl continued to wait by the duty desk, but when Taryl walked toward him, the mage-guard was accompanied by Khaill as well, and the arms trainer carried a practice falchiona, while Taryl carried a dark truncheon.
“Shall we go?” asked Taryl.
Rahl followed the two mage-guards out to the waiting wagon. Taryl sat with Rahl in the second seat, while Khaill sat in the seat behind the driver. No one spoke for a time after the wagon pulled away from the station building and headed toward the ironworks. The morning, like all the summer days in Luba, or so it seemed, was already hot and hazy, and light winds swirled grit from everywhere around those in the wagon. Rahl had to blot his eyes several times before they were off the lower section of the mesa road.
When they turned westward, past the coking furnaces, Rahl finally turned to Taryl. “Might I ask where we’re going, ser?”
“To one of the mill buildings. It’s a good area to practice certain things and learn about what can happen.”
Inside, Rahl stiffened. He just hoped this session wouldn’t be as painful as the last. Before he could ask more, the angular mage-guard had turned to look at the road ahead. Rahl could sense from Taryl’s action and the coolness that surrounded him that he was to ask no more questions.
When the wagon stopped before the same mill in which Rahl had followed Dymat through his inspections, Khaill did not get off the wagon but turned to Taryl. “I’ll wait outside until you need me.”
Taryl nodded, then gestured for Rahl to follow him along the stone causeway into the mill.
As Rahl walked beside the mage-guard, he looked around, but did not see either of the massive steam tugs, but when he stepped inside the large open portal, he glimpsed the one on the south side of the mill, a good quarter kay away and moving slowly westward.