The Magic of Recluce - L. E. Modesitt [43]
“…the greatest strength of chaos is its ability to thwart complexity…”
“Is that why most nations don’t use much steam machinery?” Tamra smiled brightly once again.
Wrynn snorted audibly.
I tried to relax. Theory was fine, but I for one was getting very tired both of Tamra’s phoniness, and of Magister Lennett’s enthusiasm for explaining the obvious and avoiding the explanations behind the obvious. What was order magic? How did it strengthen internal bonds? Why did no one admit to practicing it? For that matter, how did chaos-magic work?
Magister Lennett kept asking questions, and I began to think about Candar, about what I would have to do, and what I might face there.
XV
FROM THE BEGINNING—or at least it had seemed that way to me—we had been destined for Candar. But understanding that, and finding out that we would actually be leaving Recluce, were two entirely different things.
We all waited in the same room where we had first gathered after entering Nylan. This time, each of us went in to see Talryn separately.
The dark oak-paneled walls seemed even gloomier the second time around, and the pictures of the two masters on the wall seemed to have a more knowing look to them, almost as if they had a secret they weren’t about to share.
I knew that was nonsense, but when I looked at the man in black I wanted to shiver. I didn’t look at the woman. She reminded me of Tamra, for all that there was no physical resemblance.
Sammel went in, and he didn’t come out. I presumed that he left through the other doorway. Then Talryn called for Dorthae, followed by Wrynn and Myrten. Krystal and Tamra each sat on a bench. Krystal sat on the edge, ready to stand up in an instant. I understood.
I wasn’t about to sit anywhere. I still didn’t know much more than when I had arrived early in the summer, although I was in better shape and knew enough about half-a-dozen weapons to get myself into real trouble.
What I didn’t know was why I was being sent from Recluce. Oh, they’d all explained how I was a danger to the order of our wonderful island nation. But not one had explained exactly why.
“Krystal…” Talryn waited by the half-open black oak door.
Krystal stood up slowly.
“Good luck,” I said softly.
She gave me a faint smile, then a shrug.
Talryn’s face remained professionally cheerful, like that of a dedicated executioner.
Click.
Tamra glanced up at me from the bench. Unlike Krystal, she was almost casual, half-draped along the dark wood. The sharp blue of her scarf and the brightness of her hair made her seem somehow out of place in the somber setting of the anteroom. “Fond of older women?”
“No. Just like women.” I was so damned tired of her edges. She didn’t want to understand anything, just to use it. “Particularly women who don’t mind admitting that they’re women.”
“Oh…the submissive kind.”
I shook my head, not bothering to look at her. “Good as you are, Tamra, Krystal could cut you into little pieces. That’s not submissive, not by chaos or by order. Krystal is my friend. That was the way she wanted it.”
“So you’re the submissive one, then.” She half-smiled, stretching out on the bench, cat-like.
I didn’t bother answering. Tamra would twist…use…anything I said. Instead I studied the stone underfoot, trying to touch the patterns of its existence, trying to trace out the hidden breaks in the stone. According to Magister Lennett, all materials had patterns. The wood I understood, and, were I ever to work it again, that understanding would allow me to craft more finely than most journeymen. The heavier materials—like slate, marble, granite, iron—were tougher.
The stone floors in Nylan were different. All the stone used by the Brotherhood was different. The hidden breaks weren’t there, and each paving stone seemed complete by itself, yet fitted into a larger pattern. Worked metal felt that way, but not most stone.
“Tamra.” Talryn merely announced her name.
As she sat up, rather abruptly, I thought about looking up