The Magic of Recluce - L. E. Modesitt [32]
Even though it was but a few days past midsummer, the grass remained crisp and green, the air clean, and the nights cool—the result of the Eastern Current, according to Sammel.
I hadn’t thought much about it, not until Magistra Trehonna started in with her maps and lectures on geography, and how the placement of mountains and currents affected weather. Then she got into how geography determined where cities and towns were, and why places like Fenard, the capital of Gallos, sat on the edge of the hills leading to Westhorns because the higher elevation made the city more defensible and the two small rivers provided power for the mills. The only interesting bit was how the imposition of order and chaos at what she called critical nodes could change whole weather patterns.
That partly explained why some of the Brotherhood ships patrolled certain segments of the northern waters. But her lectures were like everything else—a piece of knowledge here, another one there, and a whole lot of boring repetition in the middle.
So I sat with my back against a small red oak and watched the puffy clouds in the eastern skies begin to darken from white into a pinkish-gray. Just because, I tried to see if I could discover the patterns behind the clouds, trying to look beyond their surfaces.
Again, I could see the faint heat-shadow-like images I had seen around the strange Brotherhood ships, but the ones in the clouds were natural. How I could tell the difference, I didn’t know. But I did. After a while, my eyes began to ache. So I closed them and began to listen.
There were other dangergeld groups around. We met in the quarters and sometimes talked over dinner. They weren’t much different, except they looked to be in better shape, and they all seemed distant. Friendly, understanding, but distant.
Two of them were seated on a bench on the other side of the hedge. Their voices carried.
“…Brysta, that’s what they say…”
“At least it’s not Hamor…”
“Take Hamor over Candar…home of the chaos-masters…Emperor of Hamor likes some order…”
Cassius had mentioned that Candar was the most chaotic of the major continents. Tamra said that was because it was closest to Recluce, and there had to be balance. Cassius frowned, but hadn’t corrected her. That meant she’d been right.
So what else was new. From Frven in Candar, the chaos-wizards had ruled most of the world—until they’d created a new sun in the sky and melted most of the capital’s buildings and people like wax. Although that had been generations ago, the people probably hadn’t changed that much.
“Could I join you?”
I almost jumped, opening my eyes with a start.
The musical voice belonged to Krystal.
“Sure…I’m not certain I’m much company.”
“That makes two of us.” She tucked her feet under her and settled down with a cubit of grass between us, shrugging her shoulders as if to loosen her faded blue tunic. The long hair was bound up with silvered cords. When she wasn’t giggling or fiddling with her hair I enjoyed watching her. She was as graceful as Tamra, but without the arrogance, and behind the giggles I suspected there was more strength than either of us knew.
Thimmmmm…The chime from the temple echoed once, calling those of the Brotherhood who wished to join the evening meditation. I wasn’t about to, and I’d noticed that Magister Cassius never did either.
Krystal did not move, but the two men on the bench on the far side of the hedge left.
“They’re probably going to give thanks for being sent to Brysta, instead of Candar.” The words popped out of my mouth.
“Where do you think we’ll be sent?”
“Candar,” I opined.
“You’re usually right…I mean, about facts…” She looked down at the grass.
I straightened into a sitting position and stopped leaning against the oak. Both tree and ground were hard. The clouds above the eastern horizon showed gray, and the breeze from the west picked up, ruffling my hair. A hint of trilia tickled my nose, bittersweet orange.
“What will happen to us?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. It seems like we’re a strange lot,