Natural Ordermage (29 page)

Rahl stood, then just looked for a moment. The truncheon was of lorken, the hard black wood that resisted even black iron and steel, with a black-iron band just below the swordlike haft. Simple as it looked, Rahl could tell that the workmanship was outstanding.

“Go ahead. Take it. It’s yours.”

Rahl wanted more than anything to grasp it. “How can I? It’s too good for me. I couldn’t…”

Aleasya smiled. “You have to. We had it made for you. Hamor is no place for an unarmed person.”

Finally, Rahl took the weapon, turning it in his hand. “Thank you. I can’t tell you… how much… this means.”

Aleasya beamed.

Rahl could tell she was pleased.

Then the smile faded. “Zastryl asked me to tell you something else. He said it was important, and that you should know it. First, don’t forget to take your copy of
The Basis of Order
.”

“I won’t.” Even though he was often doubtful of the book’s usefulness, Rahl had no intention of leaving it behind.

“Second, any references to a staff in the book also apply to truncheons. The book doesn’t say that, but they do. He said that it could be very important to you in times to come, but not yet, probably not for a year or so.”

Rahl wondered why the armsmaster would have emphasized
The Basis of Order
, but he respected Zastryl. If Zastryl had said that, then it was important. He’d have to reread the book on the voyage to see if he could discover exactly why Zastryl had sent the message. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Abruptly, Aleasya stepped forward and hugged him. ‘Take-care.“ She stepped back and was gone.

Rahl stood there, holding the truncheon and sensing belatedly the concern she had expressed. Why hadn’t he noticed that before? Or was it something that had only become real to her once she’d heard he was leaving? Yet… much as he appreciated the warmth and the hug, he wished it had come from Deybri… who had told him that the past had no hold on him.

He sat down slowly, setting the truncheon on the bench beside him. He looked at it once again before turning back to his platter. He finished his breakfast quickly, then belted the truncheon in place before making his way back to his quarters, where the canvas pack holding his few belongings waited.

After taking a last look around the chamber, he picked up the pack, shrugged and left, closing the door behind him. Outside, the sun beat down through a clear green-blue sky, promising another hot day. As he crossed the grounds, none of the magisters or magistras appeared to wish him well, and that irritated him, but he turned downhill. He wasn’t about to go looking for them.

Before reaching the piers, he stopped at the Merchant Association to say good-bye.

Varselt was actually out in the front talking to Wulff.

“… be especially careful these days in listing the declared value on goods coming out of Biehl and Jera…” He turned, and his eyes fixed on the pack Rahl carried. “Come to say good-bye?”

“Yes, ser. I’ve been told to report to the
Legacy of Diev
this morning.”

‘That you have. That you have. Give my regards to Captain Liedra and my thanks to the magisters for your efforts here.“ Varselt’s jowls flexed as his head bobbed up and down. ”I’d wager you’ll be doing a fine job for Shyret in Swartheld as well. Now… best you be on your way and not keep the captain waiting.“

“I wont, and thank you for the training, ser.” Rahl nodded. He could tell Varselt had other matters on his mind

As he stepped outside, he could hear the few words from Gorot.

“… poor bastard…”

He almost nodded, but managed a wry smile as he headed for the piers. It might have been his imagination, but he thought that the harbor was more crowded than usual, with several ships at each of the piers, and parts of the avenue beside the seawall with carts, wagons, sailors, and tradespeople.

The Legacy of Diev
was tied up at the long pier closest to the market square. She was broad-beamed compared to the Nordlan vessel moored inshore of the
Diev
and on the opposite side. The
Diev’s
hull was of dark oak, and she had paddle wheels mounted aft of midships on both sides. The paddle-wheel housings were dark green, as were the painted surfaces of the ship above the main deck. She had two full masts for sail plus the bowsprit.

Rahl hesitated short of the gangway, then squared his shoulders and walked up onto the main deck.

A sailor wearing a short green vest over a gray shirt and trousers that were almost white turned from where he had been watching the cargo crane and stepped forward. His broad and square face was clean-shaven and weathered. “Welcome to the
Diev
. Who are you looking for?”

“I’m Rahl. I’m supposed to report to Captain Liedra.”

“News to me. I’m Gresyrd, bosun’s mate. Captain didn’t mention it.”

“I’m being sent as a clerk to Swartheld. I think I’m supposed to help the purser, though.”

“There was something about that. No problem. Captain’s up on the bridge deck.” Gresyrd turned. “Borlye! Watch the hoist and the quarterdeck for a bit.”

“Yes, Boats,” replied a lanky but muscular woman.

Gresyrd gestured to the narrow steps to his right. “Up this ladder.” He clambered up, expecting Rahl to follow.

Rahl did,

Captain Liedra stood on the forward edge of the bridge deck, beside the pilothouse, watching the crane that lowered pallets in a cargo net into the forward hold.

“Captain?” asked the Boatswain’s Mate. “You’ve got a clerk here.”

The captain turned. She was a wiry yet muscular woman, who wore a short-waisted green coat with black braid on the cuffs over a plain gray shirt. Her jet-black hair was shot with streaks of brilliant white, both set off by a tanned and slightly weathered angular face. Her eyes were a piercing green. “I’m expecting him. I’ll-take it from here.”

“Yes, ser.” Gresyrd nodded, then turned and hurried back down the ladder.

Liedra studied Rahl for a moment before speaking, her eyes taking in the canvas pack. “So you’re the one headed to Swartheld. Almost too much of a pretty boy. You handle arms?” Her eyes dropped to the truncheon at his belt.

“Yes, Captain. I’m better with a truncheon or a staff, but I know something about a blade. I’d rather not use one, though.”

“You’re one of those blacks who might be a mage, then?”

“So I’ve been told. I’ve also been told that I have a great deal to learn.”

“Don’t we all?” Liedra laughed, a quiet sound that bore amusement. “Might as well get started. You’ll be acting as the purser’s assistant on this leg. You know something about the forms and procedures?”

“Something. I’ve been working in the Merchants’ Association for the past eightday or so, and I was trained as a scrivener.” Rahl added quickly, “Ser Varselt asked me to convey his best to you, ser.”

“He would.” She shook her head. “A scrivener. Ought to be able to read your writing, then. That’s an advantage. You know anything about ships?”

“Nothing, ser. This is the first one I’ve been on.”

“Been aboard,” Liedra corrected him. “You’ll learn. The
Diev
was built to carry cargo on the Nylan-Hamor run, but we also have four passenger cabins and a steward, and most inns we’re full up. There’s a spare bunk in the steward’s space. That’ll be yours. We’ll drop your gear there.” She walked swiftly to the ladder on the side away from the pier, swung herself around one-handed, and was on the main deck before Rahl actually had his hand on the ladder rail.

“Lively now!”

“Rahl scrambled down after her, following her through a hatch and down a narrow passageway.

“Mates’ cabins here. Crew forward in the focs. Steward’s cubby’s the last.” She held open a narrow door.

There was less than two cubits clearance between the bulkhead and the bottom bunk. The top bunk was a half cubit narrower than the one on the bottom. Above the foot of the upper bunk was a narrow shelf with netting running from it to the overhead.

Liedra pointed to the netted area. “That’s where your gear should go. Just leave the pack on the upper bunk for now. Make sure it’s stowed before” we leave port.“

Rahl eased past her and swung the pack onto the bunk, then followed the captain back down the passage and out into the bright summer sun that made the ship every bit as hot as the pier and far warmer than the training center had been up on the breeze-swept hillside.

A short and blocky man sat on a stool just aft of the open cargo hatch. “The last net! How many kegs of Feyn indigo?”

“Fifteen, ser.”

“… makes sixty altogether…

Liedra waited until the man had jotted something down on the paper fastened to an oblong of polished wood, a portable writing surface. “Purser?”

“Captain… we’re going to be short on the dyes from what they promised…

“We can sell what we have.” She gestured. “Rahl, this is Galsyn. He’s the purser. Galsyn, this is Rahl. He-‘s being sent to Swartheld as a clerk there for the Merchant Association, but he’s your assistant for this leg.” Liedra smiled. “He can make clean copies of your forms and do whatever else you need along those lines. Teach him what you can. The more the clerks know, the easier it is for us.” She offered a brisk nod, turned, and headed back across the deck to the ladder.

“Rahl, is it?”

“Yes, ser.”

“If I call out things, can you write them down?”

“Yes, ser. There might be some special words I can’t spell right.”

“For on-loading that doesn’t matter so long as it’s close, and you’ll learn them when we do the final manifest.” Galsyn stood and pointed to the stool. “Sit.”

Rahl sat.

Galsyn handed him the writing board and the marker. “Just list what I call out underneath the last entry. When you run out of space, start a new sheet.” He turned and gestured. “Let’s get that net moving!”

Rahl watched as the crane swung another load from the wagon on the pier toward the open cargo hold. Galsyn stepped forward slightly, his eyes traveling from the net to the hold and back to the net “Easy now… those are amphorae.”

Rahl waited to write down whatever the purser said. He just hoped he understood it all.

From the moment Rahl took over the marker and writing board on oneday, he jotted down, in the best hand he could, not only the cargo in the nets and pallets, as Galsyn called the items out, but what seemed to be even more in the way of notes. With a short break for the midday meal, they worked until sunset. Then, after supper, Galsyn went over what Rahl had written and spelled out the corrections and terms.

Twoday was more of the same, until midafternoon, when all the outbound cargo had been loaded, the last of the wagons had left the pier, and the crew was battening down the hatches.

Smoke began to rise from the twin stacks just aft of the pilothouse, and the acrid odor of burning coal drifted across the ship.

Rahl watched as Gresyfd’s deck crew took in the gangway and, swung that section of the wooden railing back into place.

“Single up!” came the order from the bridge.

Before long, the midships paddle wheels began to turn, with a dull, slapping
thwup, thwup.

Rahl stood at the railing, just aft of the bowsprit, as the
Diev
backed down and away from, the pier, out into the harbor. Then the paddle wheels stopped for a moment, and a dull thump shivered through the ship before the paddle wheels resumed turning, this time in the opposite direction, now carrying the ship forward and westward toward the channel between the outer breakwaters.

Rahl turned, first to the westernmost piers, but they were empty, and there was no order-haze across them- Did the black ships spend most of their time at sea?

He looked back at the buildings of the harbor, and the black-stone dwellings with their dark slate roofs, rising gradually up the hill, interspersed with trees and greenery.

“Rahl!” called the purser.

Rahl turned slightly to see Galsyn gesturing.

“Now that everything’s on board and stowed, we need to get to work on the manifest for this leg. We can use the long table in the mess. That’s the one the passengers usually eat at.”

“Yes, ser.” Rahl glanced back once more at the black-stone piers and the black-slate-roofed buildings on the hillside above the harbor structures. He thought he could seethe training center, but he wasn’t certain. He wondered if he would ever see Nylan or Reduce again, or if Deybri had been right.

He also had to ask himself if he would ever see his parents.

“Rahl!”

“Yes, ser.” He walked toward Galsyn.

The paddle wheels were silent, and the boilers were cold as the
Diev
flew southwest under full sail. Even at noon in late summer, the spray off the bow was chill at those times when the ship nosed through the heavier swells.

Rahl stood by the railing just aft of the bowsprit, watching a seabird circle up, then dive for a meal. In a bit, once the steward cleaned the ship’s mess, he’d have to meet Galsyn there to continue working on the cargo declaration for what was to be off-loaded at Swartheld. He would have preferred to spar with Mienfryd, the ship’s champion, dour, as the man usually was. Rahl found that he could hold his own with the truncheon and not get too badly bruised with the practice wands—so long as he concentrated on defense. But it would have been far more painful if the wands had not been wooden.