The Magic of Recluce - L. E. Modesitt [0]
Exile—or a quest that might take his life…
“So where do I go?”
“You’re sure?” asked Uncle Sardit, his mouth full.
“What choice is there? I either get plunked down on a boat to somewhere as an exile, knowing nothing, or I try to learn as much as I can before doing something that at least gives me some chance of making a decision.”
“I think that’s the right choice for you,” said Aunt Elisabet, “but it’s not quite that simple.”
After finishing my bread and cheese in the strained atmosphere of the house, I went back to my quarters over the shop and began to pack. Uncle Sardit said he would keep the chair and the few other pieces until I returned.
He didn’t mention the fact that few dangergelders returned. Neither did I.
* * *
Tor books by L. E. Modesitt, Jr.
The Green Progression (with Bruce Scott Levinson)
The Magic of Recluce
THE ECOLITAN MATTER
The Ecologic Envoy
The Ecolitan Operation
The Ecologic Secession
THE FOREVER HERO
Dawn for a Distant Earth
Silent Warrior
In Endless Twilight
THE MAGIC OF RECLUCE
L.E. Modesitt, Jr.
A TOM DOHERTY ASSOCIATES BOOK
NEW YORK
For
Bob Muir,
Clay Hunt,
and Walter Rosenberry.
Too belated an appreciation,
but real for all the delay.
Contents
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXII
Chapter XXIII
Chapter XXIV
Chapter XXV
Chapter XXVI
Chapter XXVII
Chapter XXVIII
Chapter XXIX
Chapter XXX
Chapter XXXI
Chapter XXXII
Chapter XXXIII
Chapter XXXIV
Chapter XXXV
Chapter XXXVI
Chapter XXXVII
Chapter XXXVIII
Chapter XXXIX
Chapter XL
Chapter XLI
Chapter XLII
Chapter XLIII
Chapter XLIV
Chapter XLV
Chapter XLVI
Chapter XLVII
Chapter XLVIII
Chapter XLIX
Chapter L
Chapter LI
Chapter LII
Chapter LIII
Chapter LIV
Chapter LV
Chapter LVI
Chapter LVII
Chapter LVIII
Chapter LIX
Chapter LX
Chapter LXI
Chapter LXII
Chapter LXIII
Chapter LXIV
Chapter LXV
Chapter LXVI
THE MAGIC OF RECLUCE
I
GROWING UP, I always wondered why everything in Wandernaught seemed so dull. Not that I minded the perfectly baked bread routinely produced by my father or by Aunt Elisabet, and I certainly enjoyed the intricately carved toys and other gifts that Uncle Sardit miraculously presented on my birthday or on the High Holidays.
Perfection, especially for a youngster learning about it from cheerfully sober adults, has a price. Mine was boredom, scarcely novel for a young man in the middle of his second decade. But boredom leads to trouble, even when things are designed to be as perfect as possible. Of course, the perfection and striving for perfection that marked the island, though some would term Recluce a smallish continent, had a reason. A good reason, but one hardly acceptable to a restless young man.
“Perfection, Lerris,” my father repeated time after time, “is the price we pay for the good life. Perfection keeps destruction away and provides a safe harbor for the good.”
“But why? And how?” Those were always my questions.
Finally, shortly after I finished the minimum formal schooling, in my case at fifteen, my mother entered the discussion.
“Lerris, there are two fundamental forces in life, and in nature. Creation and destruction. Creation is order. We attempt to maintain it—”
“You sound just like Magister Kerwin…‘Order is all that keeps chaos at bay…because evil and chaos are so closely linked, one should avoid all but the most necessary acts of destruction…’ I know perfection is important. I know it. I know it! And I know it! But why does it have to be so flaming boring?”
She shrugged. “Order is not boring. You are bored with order.” She looked at my father. “Since you are bored with us, and since you are not quite ready for the possibility of undertaking the dangergeld, how would you like to spend a year or so learning about woodworking with your Uncle Sardit?”
“Donara?