The Magic of Recluce - L. E. Modesitt [45]
“You’re asking for…a man…a woman…someone who is perfect…”
“Didn’t I tell you we were being unfair?” asked Talryn softly. His tone was not mocking now, just soft.
I looked down at the polished surface of the table. “Are you done?”
“Not yet. I have to lay our charge upon you. It seems simple. It is not. You must travel Candar beyond the Easthorns to the Westhorns, and you must not return until you feel you are ready. You must also travel alone; that is, not in company of anyone else from Recluce.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I think I glared at Talryn.
He met my glare. “You will know what it means. Do you have any more questions?”
I had lots of them, but they were the kind I couldn’t ask. Why me? What did I ever do? Why didn’t anyone ever try to explain things? Why was everything either on faith or through experience I didn’t have? Why did they train us together and then say not to travel together? “No. None that make any difference.”
“All right.” He stood up, tired-looking, the first time I had seen him show any really human feelings. “I will not see you until you return. We wish you well, Lerris. The rest of your group is waiting. Your ship leaves shortly.”
“Now what?”
“You pick up your things and walk to the pier where the Eidolon waits.” He gestured toward the other door, also of black oak, but did not move.
I nodded. “Thank you for your frankness. I hope I can use it.”
The gray man said nothing, just watched me. So I took the hint, inclined my head, and walked away from Talryn.
Would we be traveling in the strange black Brotherhood ships that everyone ignored? Or in the hull of some Candarian duchy’s freighter? From what Talryn had said, I still didn’t know.
There was so much I didn’t know. Even Talryn had behaved as though he were bending some great rule or tradition to say what he had said. He believed it—that was for sure, and that made it a little scary. Never to use a destructive power…even in the service of good?
I shivered. My feet carried me down the long underground hallway, well enough lit by the late afternoon sun, and the green of the gardens beckoned through the overhead glass. But I still shivered.
XVI
TALRYN WAS RIGHT. Sammel, Myrten, Dorthae, Wrynn, and Krystal all stood outside, waiting. The late-afternoon westerly swished the leaves of the red oak under which they had gathered. Behind us, the dangergelders’ quarters loomed black even in the sunlight.
Sammel wore his pack and a pair of shortswords—short staves, a closer look revealed. Myrten wore no obvious weapons, nor did Dorthae. Wrynn had on her belt both a short sword and a throwing knife. A second knife was concealed in the hidden thigh-pocket of her trousers.
Krystal wore her faded blues and the blade I had bought her, although she had replaced the cheap scabbard with an older but sturdier one of hardened gray leather. She nodded at me.
I wiped my forehead and nodded back, then walked over to her.
“Talryn was hard on you,” she observed.
“I’m fine.” I really didn’t want to talk about it.
“Tamra came out looking the same way.”
“What about you?” I asked.
She didn’t giggle, just smiled gravely. “He told me I might be happier in Candar, and to weigh what I really wanted carefully.”
A cold weight settled in my guts.
“Are you all right?” As she spoke, her hand was warm on my shoulder.
“I’m fine.”
“What did Talryn tell you?” Her voice was gentle, again musical.
I shrugged. “What he told everyone, I guess. That I had to find myself for myself. Except it’s going to take a long time.”
Krystal nodded. Her fingers squeezed my shoulder, then relaxed. “You’d better get your pack.”
“Thank you.” I didn’t look at the others as I headed past Wrynn and Myrten and through the open doorway. One door was ajar—Tamra’s. I didn’t look inside.
In my former room, my things were where I had left them. The pack lay on the bed, the staff