The Magic of Recluce - L. E. Modesitt [3]
Bending over, I followed his finger. The clamps were as I had placed them earlier, the smooth side, as he had taught me, matching the grain of the dark lorken wood.
“With the grain of the wood…”
“Lerris…can’t you see? This end is biting into the wood. And here…the pressure has moved the border out of position…”
Perhaps the tiniest fraction of a span, if at all, but all I had to do to correct that would be to sand the other end a bit more, and no one, except Uncle Sardit, and perhaps the furniture buyer for the Emperor of Hamor, would have ever noticed the discrepancy.
“First, you don’t force wood, Lerris. You know that. You just aren’t paying attention any more. Woodworking means working with the wood, not forcing it, not working against it.”
I stood there. What could I say?
Uncle Sardit sighed.
“Let’s go into the house, Lerris. We have some talking to do.”
I liked the sound of that even less, but I followed his example and unstrapped my leather apron and racked my tools.
We walked out the door and across the smooth pavement of the courtyard and into the room Aunt Elisabet called the parlor. I never knew why she called it the parlor. I’d asked once, but she had just smiled and said it had been a name she had picked up along the way.
A tray sat on the table. On it were two icy glasses, some slabs of fresh-baked bread, cheese, and several sliced apples. The bread was still steaming, and the aroma filled the small room.
Uncle Sardit eased himself into the chair nearest the kitchen. I took the other one. Something about the tray being ready bothered me. It bothered me a whole lot.
The soft sound of steps caused me to look up from the tabletop. Uncle Sardit put down his glass—iced fruit punch—and nodded at Aunt Elisabet. She, like father, was fair-skinned, sandy-haired, slender, and tall. Uncle Sardit was smaller and wiry, with salt-and-pepper hair and a short-cropped beard. Both of them looked guilty.
“You’re right, Lerris. We do feel guilty, perhaps because you’re Gunnar’s son.” That was Aunt Elisabet.
“But that doesn’t change anything,” added Uncle Sardit. “You still have to face the same decisions whether you’re our nephew or not.”
I took a gulp of the fruit punch to avoid answering, though I knew Aunt Elisabet would know that. She always knew. So did my father.
“Have something to eat. I’ll do some of the talking. Elisabet will fill in anything I miss.” He took a wedge of cheese and a slab of bread and chewed several bits slowly, swallowed, and finished up with another gulp of fruit punch.
“Magister Kerwin should have taught you, as he taught me, that a master or journeyman who instructs an apprentice is also responsible for determining the apprentice’s fitness for practicing the craft.”
I took some bread and cheese. Obviously, the master was responsible for the apprentice.
“What he did not tell you, or me, is that the craft-master must also determine whether the apprentice will ever be ready for practicing a craft, or whether the apprentice should be considered for dangergeld or exile.”
“Exile…”
“You see, Lerris, there is no place in Recluce for unfocused dissatisfaction,” added Aunt Elisabet. “Boredom, inability to concentrate, unwillingness to apply yourself to the fullest of your ability—these can all allow chaos a foothold in Recluce.”
“So the real question facing you, Lerris, is whether you want to take the dangergeld training, or whether you would rather just leave Recluce. Forever.”
“Just because I’m bored? Just because I put a little too much pressure on a wood clamp? For that I have to choose between exile and dangergeld?”
“No. Because your boredom reflects a deeper lack of commitment. Sloppy work on the part of someone who is doing his best is not a danger. Nor is sloppy work when the honest intent is perfection, provided, of course, that no one has to rely on the sloppy work for anything that could threaten their life if it failed.” Aunt Elisabet looked somehow taller, and there was a fire behind her eyes.
I looked away.
“Are you saying that you have honestly been happy trying to achieve