The Magic of Recluce - L. E. Modesitt [57]
“Sligo, north of here, has suffered unseasonable weather, including early snowfalls, and food is getting scarce…”
I couldn’t help yawning, but I managed to stifle it without it being too obvious. Krystal frowned, though.
“…safe to travel in either Gallos or Kyphros, but not from one to the other because of the increasing skirmishes along their borders…”
Finally, she looked around the room. “You have had enough lectures—”
I agreed with that wholeheartedly and hoped she wouldn’t be using that as a lever for yet another one. I was hungry.
“—And I won’t be adding to them—much.”
I almost groaned.
“But there is one last thing to consider. Those outside Recluce refer to their world, the rest of the world, as the ‘real world’. Candar will become your real world. If you die here, and some of you may die, you will die, permanently. But Recluce is also a real world, in many ways more solid than Candar. You have to decide which world is real for you. Which reality, with all its rules—whether they are the rules of order, or the mixed and changing rules of order competing with chaos—will be yours.”
She gestured toward the archway through which a serving boy brought a tray heaped with dishes. “Here is supper. Afterwards, you may sleep in the rooms upstairs, or not, as you please. There will be fruit and pastries here in the morning. You may leave when you please, but you will all be out of the inn before sunset tomorrow. Those of you leaving Freetown should not wait until the last minute. Someone is always robbed that way. Given the current mood of the duke, I would not recommend staying in Freetown, but that is indeed your choice, the first of many.”
Abruptly, she stopped, then pulled out her chair, and sat. The plates came down upon the checked cloth, and the innkeeper, appearing from nowhere, briskly set a glass before each of us.
“Wine or redberry?”
“Wine,” answered Tamra.
“Redberry…”
“Redberry…”
“Wine…”
“Redberry,” I answered, in turn, watching as the liquid nearly filled the heavy tumbler, then smiling as Myrten speared three chunks of steaming meat with a knife and deftly transferred them to his plate.
We were all hungry, even Isolde, and little enough was said until later, when Tamra sipped from her tumbler, then asked brightly, “What will happen to the Duke of Freetown?”
Isolde looked up from her plate at Tamra. Her face was expressionless even as she smiled. “Why…whatever will be, will be.”
“That’s not exactly an answer,” pressed Tamra.
“No. It is true and polite, and I will be happy to discuss the matter with you in much greater depth once you return from your dangergeld—assuming you choose to return and do not find Recluce too confining.” Isolde returned to cutting a sliver of buffalo from the slice upon her plate.
Tamra glared, while the black magistra ignored the redhead’s impatience. I couldn’t help smiling.
“You’re amused?” mouthed Krystal.
After wiping the grin from my face, I answered, trying to keep my voice low enough that it would not be heard over the pleasantries being exchanged by Sammel and Dorthae. “Tamra has trouble when people don’t manipulate easily.”
“Don’t we all?”
I shrugged. Krystal was probably right, but Tamra’s whole attitude was to insist she was right and that the world should recognize it.
“Good luck to you all.” Isolde’s quiet tone stilled the small room. “From this point on, you are all on your own. I hope to see you again, but that is your choice.” She nodded, turned, and walked out, the heels of her boots echoing faintly on the hardwood floor as she crossed the empty main dining room.
“…abrupt…”
“…typical of the masters…”
Rather than say anything, I gulped a mouthful of redberry juice, then waited, looking to see who stayed and who left, except that the table quieted, and we all ended