The Magic of Recluce - L. E. Modesitt [95]
“If you wish to travel with me, you must decide on something. Because, undecided, you are a target for every free spirit, and every chaos-master, in Eastern Candar.”
“Where were they before?”
“That was before you used the staff.” Justen rolled over, and was asleep before I could find an answer.
If there was an answer. I looked at the fire for a long time. Then I checked the horses, then the fire again. Finally, I pulled my own cloak about me, determined that I could not sleep.
Once again, I was wrong.
XXVIII
THE MAN IN white sits back in the light-colored wooden rocker. His eyes flicker in concert with the flames from the fireplace, absently, as though he is unaware that his room is the sole one in the inn with its own source of heat. “What have you seen so far, lady, of the goodness of Recluce?”
She purses her lips, but says nothing.
He does not press her, instead remains waiting in the chair, as if content to let her consider his question fully.
Her eyes slowly move from his lightly-tanned face to the fire, and back again. “I have seen suffering, but that scarcely can be attributed to Recluce,” responds the woman in gray leathers, the blue scarf setting off the brilliance of her hair and the fairness of her complexion. Standing as she does by the low table, she looks taller than she is. Her eyes turn momentarily toward the other woman, who sits quietly in the ladder-backed chair to the left of the hearth.
“Have you watched the rains turn and turn again, soaking the life out of the fields? Did you see any ships bringing foodstuffs into Freetown?” His voice remains level, mild.
She considers the import of his words. “You seem to indicate that the Masters of Recluce created the suffering.”
“I would think it was obvious, lady. But perhaps you should take some more time to watch and reflect upon what you have seen.”
“I don’t think that we need to fence with words,” adds the dark-haired woman. Her voice is throaty, but businesslike. “You would like to learn how to wield your powers for good. We believe that we can help you.”
“What do you want?” asks the redhead, still looking at the man in white. “You’re not exactly offering your help out of the mere goodness of your heart.”
“I could say so, but either I would be lying or you wouldn’t believe me.” The corners of his mouth crinkle, and his eyes lighten for an instant. “You have noticed, I am certain, how reluctant the Masters of Recluce are in using their powers for good beyond the isle itself. And I am equally certain that you have asked yourself why they do not help alleviate the suffering that exists. Why do they blockade Freetown?” His arm moves languidly toward the darkness beyond the curtains. “Such blockages seldom trouble the powerful. Only the poor, and those who work, suffer the lost wages and the shortage of food.”
The redhead shifts her weight from one foot to the other, so slightly that she does not move. “You talk nicely, Master Antonin, but what have you done to help the poor? Besides ride around in a golden coach?”
“You saw me warm those who were cold, and I have fed those who hungered.”
The truth rings in each of his words like silver, and the redhead steps back. “I need to think about this.”
“By all means, but you are welcome to travel with me to see first-hand what I do to lift the suffering imposed by Recluce.”
The redhead frowns, but says nothing.
XXIX
WITH THE DAWN, Justen looked almost as young as he had when we had met at the Snug Inn, except for the dark circles under his eyes and the tiredness in his voice.
He supplied the packages; I got the water and cooked up some porridge that looked like mush but tasted more like a good corn pudding. We drank some more of the senthow tea.
Justen made no effort to hurry, and that alone told me the wizard was still exhausted.
As I rolled up