Natural Ordermage by L. E. Modesitt Page A

Bradeon’s holding. Before long, he could see Shahyla standing on the porch, waiting for him, but this time, she left the porch and strode down the path to meet him. As she passed the geese, they stopped their hissing. She was graceful enough, he noted, but in a muscular fashion. She was clearly a herder.
    “I hoped you’d come today.” Shahyla smiled warmly.
    Rahl handed her the basket. “It’s more practical—brinn and sage.”
    “That’s wonderful! I’ve never had the knack of growing brinn, and there’s never enough sage for the sausage. Father will be very pleased.” She laughed ruefully. “I think Semmelt would have preferred another honey cake or the apple bread you brought last time. He ate most of them.”
    They turned and walked back up to the house and onto the shaded porch.
    “Would you like some ale?”
    “Yes, please.”
    Rahl settled himself on the bench while Shahyla took the basket inside. Within moments, she returned carrying two of the tankard mugs. She handed one to Rahl, then settled onto the bench beside him.
    “I’m glad you came. It’s so nice to have something special to look forward to at the end of the eightday.”
    “So am I.” Rahl was halfway surprised to realize that he meant the words. “How are you doing?”
    She offered a half-smile and a shrug. “There’s always more to be done than we can do. It took longer than he’d thought for Father to replace the broken pipes to the troughs. We lost a calf to a flux, and we had to pay a healer to check the others. She found one other with it, and we put it in a separate pen. Semmelt isn’t sure whether it will live.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    She smiled. “Usually, it’s best when nothing happens.”
    Rahl considered that for a moment, then nodded. He hadn’t thought of things that way, but most happenings that were interesting weren’t all that good. His experiences of the past eightday were good examples.
    “Has anything interesting happened in Land’s End?” she asked. “We’re always so busy here that sometimes it’s days before we find out things.”
    “Well… the Council issued a declaration forbidding trade with Jerans and Jeranyi merchants and goods.
    That’s because of the pirates. They closed down the chandlery—“
    “Old Hostalyn’s place? They closed it?”
    “Kehlyrt—he’s a trader from the south—bought it from Hostalyn.”
    “Oh… was that why the redheaded woman was there? I thought she was maybe a niece or something and that he’d been ill.” Shahyla absently pressed the side of her thumb against her left eye to still the twitching.
    “No, he’s a widower, and his son and daughter help him… or they did. No one seems to know why the Council shut it down and posted guards. Oh, and then the Council Guards carted off Balmor because he did something. I was coming out of the alchemist’s when that happened, and he kept saying he hadn’t done anything.” Rahl took another swallow of the full-bodied ale. He did like it better than the watered ale he sometimes got at home.
    Shahyla frowned. “I didn’t know Balmor that well, but he never seemed like he’d do something wrong. All that sounds like the Council is worried about something.”
    “And…” he’d wondered about saying anything, but decided to anyway, “I’m probably going to have to take some training with the magisters.”
    “That’s wonderful! Will you be a mage, then?”
    Rahl shook his head. “Magister Puvort says that I have a little talent with order and that, unless I learn about it, I could get myself in difficulty.”
    “Puvort?” Shahyla’s face clouded. “Semmelt says he’s trouble, that he’s always looking for the worst in folks.”
    Rahl was glad that someone else felt that way, but he only nodded. “I’ve wondered about that, but he finally came to the house on sixday. I’m supposed to see him tomorrow.”
    “Be careful.”
    “I’ll be as careful as I can.”
    Abruptly, she stood. “You’re