What Rahl didn’t understand was what he’d done to upset the magister, but from what Puvort had said to his mother, the magister wasn’t about to reveal that.
At the end of the street, the wagon turned east, and before long they were on the High Road, heading up the long, gradual slope toward the Black Holding. Rahl wondered if that was where they were heading, but he wasn’t about to ask Puvort anything. Not a thing.
Neither the Guard nor Puvort spoke until the wagon halted in a black-walled courtyard on the south side of the Black Holding. A pair of Council Guards stepped forward as Puvort swung off the wagon.
“You’ll go with them to the waiting room,” Puvort stated.
“Yes, ser.” Rahl vaulted out of the wagon, almost slipping as his sandals skidded on a patch of fine sand on the dark gray paving stones of the courtyard. . “This way,” said one of the guards, not unkindly.
Rahl could feel Puvort’s eyes on his back as he was escorted through an open gate and along a covered walkway to a small structure with a black-slate roof. The guard opened the door.
Inside was a small chamber with two benches, one against the wall facing the door, the other to the left.
The shorter guard pointed to the wall bench.
Rahl sat down on it. One of the guards sat on the side bench, while the other stood by the door. Each guard bore a short sword and a truncheon.
Time passed slowly. Exactly how long Rahl didn’t know, but the guards changed places several times, and from the light coming through the single small window, it was close- to midday when another guard appeared. “They’re ready.”
The three escorted Rahl back outside and along the walkway to the Black Holding itself. Although the courtyard and the small building where he had waited looked old, they were almost newly built in comparison to the original structures of the Black Holding itself, which radiated age.
“In through the door,” stated the shorter guard. “Then just wait for them to summon you.”
Rahl opened the door and stepped into an oblong chamber. The two guards followed.
The room was comparatively low-ceilinged and not that large, no more than eight cubits wide and twelve in length. At the far end was a long black table, set sideways, behind which sat three magisters in black. One was a gray-haired man, another a woman who might have been his mother’s age, save that her face was unlined and her hair nearly White-blonde, and the third was Magister Puvort. Rahl hadn’t realized that Puvort was on the Council.
“This is a disciplinary session, handled by the justicing subcouncil. Bring forth the accused.”
“Step forward and stand before the magisters,” murmured the Council Guard closest to Rahl.
After a momentary hesitation, Rahl stepped forward, then inclined his head.
“You are Rahl, son of the scrivener Kian and the basketmaker Khorlya?” asked the woman.
“Yes, magistra.”
“You are accused of misusing order. What do you say to that?”
“Magistra…” Rahl paused for a moment. What could he say? “I did not even know that I had any abilities with order until Magister Puvort suggested that I might. He told me that I should consider coming here to take training from the magisters. That was less than an eightday ago. At first, that seemed impossible. I did not believe I had such abilities. Then, last sixday, he came to our house and suggested it again. In fact, he said he hoped to see me today. I talked this over with my parents, and we all agreed that I should do what the magister said, but since he said that he would be traveling until today, I waited until this morning. It did not seem that would be too long since Magister Puvort had first mentioned it. Once my chores were done, I set out…“
As simply as he could, Rahl related what had happened. He did not mention the feeling of order from the hidden magister Puvort, but otherwise, he told everything. “… and then Magister Puvort appeared. He said that I had misused order, but I was only defending myself against two men who are both older than I am, and I didn’t use order. I just used my truncheon. I wouldn’t even know how to use order.”
“Yet you broke the wrist of a man who was on the ground,” observed Puvort.
“He wasn’t going to stay there, ser,” replied Rahl, “and they both threatened me.”
“That is supposition, not fact” said Puvort mildly.
“Be that as it may,” added the gray-haired magister, “you misused order in your seduction of young Jienela, and you attempted to avoid consorting with her. You tried to avoid—”
“Ser! She’s older than I am, and Magister Puvort even said that she was as much at fault as—”
“Silence!”
Rahl decided against saying more. It was clear that Puvort had already persuaded the magisters that everything was Rahl’s doing and fault.
“… and you only decided to seek order training after it was clear that you would risk punishment or exile if you did not.”
The woman in the center looked to Puvort, then to the gray-haired magister. Then she looked back at Rahl. “The - Council has decided that you are not suited to remain on that part of Reduce under the control of the Council. You may not be suited to remain in Nylan, either, but that decision will be made by the engineers. You are hereby sentenced to removal to Nylan, and you will remain in the custody of the Council until you arrive in Nylan.” She nodded brusquely. “That is all. Remove the prisoner.”
“But…” Rahl closed his mouth. Nothing he could say would change matters.
“Very wise, young Rahl,” said Puvort quietly. “Very wise”
Rahl sat on the edge of the pallet bed. His cell was on the lower level of the keep in Land’s End. All that the cell held were the pallet, the pallet frame, a chamber bucket, and a water bucket. He’d been in the cell for close to two days, and all he’d seen were the guards when they brought him his single daily meal—a bowl of gruel. The bucket of water had to last the entire day.
The. more he thought about what had happened, the angrier he felt. The Council, or the sub-Council, hadn’t even heard a word he’d said. They’d all decided to send him to Nylan before he’d ever walked into the hearing chamber. Puvort had probably planned it all for eightdays, if not longer, just the way he’d planned to kill Khelyrt and send Fahla and Faseyn off into slavery. He’d told Rahl’s parents that Jienela was equally to blame, and then told the Council that it was all Rahl’s fault. They hadn’t even given him a chance to explain anything, or the fact that Rahl would have consorted Jienela if his parents had insisted.
What did Puvort have against him? He’d always been polite to the magister, and he’d never been discourteous, uneasy as the magister had sometimes made him feel. And why had the other magisters gone along?
After a. time in the dimness, he looked up. He thought he’d heard footsteps and sensed someone, but so far as he could tell, he was the only one in any of the six cells.
A guard walked by, glanced around, then stopped. He was a different guard from the other three he’d seen in the past day or so.
“You’re Rahl?”
“Yes.” Rahl’s response was careful.
“You got a brother named Kacet?”
“He’s my older brother. He’s at Reflin.”
“Thought so.” The guard shook his head. “You’ll be headed to Nylan tonight, right after dark.”
“After dark?”
“They don’t want folks to see when exiles leave for Nylan.”
“Are there many exiles?”
The guard laughed. “Not many go to Nylan. Maybe one every other eightday. Most get shipped straight to Austra or Candar.”
“Why is that? Do you know?”
“Simple. Folks who are chaos-touched get sent from Reduce right off. Folks who use order wrong get sent to Nylan to see if they fit there. Most don’t, they say. Some go to Lydiar, or Nordla, but-most of them get sent to Hamor.” The guard shook his head. “No one in his right mind wants to go there.”
“Why not?” Rahl had never heard anything about that, just that exile was bad.
“If you got chaos or order-abilities there—doesn’t matter which—you’re sort of a high-level slave to the emperor or one of his people. If you’re not chosen for that, you end up in the ironworks at Luba or the quarries.”
“But I didn’t do anything… not really.”
The guard laughed. “Doesn’t matter. Once the Council decides, that’s it. ‘Sides, who ever wants to admit they didn’t do quite right?”
“Everyone does something that’s not quite right now and again.”
“Don’t we all?” The guard laughed again. “But the Council decides, not you or me, young Rahl. Those that rule, they decide.”
“But… they’re supposed to do justice.”
“ The guard just shook his head. ”Best I be going.“
Rahl just watched as the man turned and left, his steps echoing in the empty corridor.
After having seen the injustice of the Council, Rahl had been thinking exile wouldn’t be that bad. But the best he could hope for in Hamor was to become a high-level slave? He didn even want to consider being a laborer in the ironworks or quarries.
That meant he had to swallow any pride he had and do whatever he could to stay in Nylan. He just had to, and at least that wouldn’t be nearly so bad as Hamor.
The closed Council wagon that carried Rahl from Land’s End did not leave the keep until well after sunset. The Guard drivers stopped periodically, and Rahl had a chance at water and to relieve himself, but no food was offered until they arrived at the keep in Reflin in late midafternoon and Rahl was placed in another cell there. Again, he found he was the only one confined.
Well after sunset, right after a Council Guard had checked on him, Rahl heard another set of steps. Even in the dim light of the single lamp on the stone wall outside his cell, he recognized the face of the Council Guard.
“Kacet!” Rahl jumped off the low pallet bed and hurried to the iron-barred door.
“Shsshhh!” Rahl’s brother raised his hand. “I’m not supposed to be here. I can’t stay long, but Drosett passed the word that you’d be coming.” Kacet glanced toward the archway to his left. “What did you do?”
“I don’t know.” Rahl shrugged tiredly. “I mean… they said I was misusing order, but I never did. I wouldn’t know how. Magister Puvort claimed I have order-abilities, but he was waiting when Jeason and Jaired attacked me. I used my truncheon to break Jaired’s arm and Jeason’s wrist, but I never used order.”
“Ah, Rahl… they just attacked you?”
“Well…” Rahl paused. “I got a little too close to their sister. They wanted me to ask for her hand—right then and there. I was supposed to see Magister Puvort first that morning…” He raced through what had happened, including his problem with Jienela and the fight with her brothers and how Puvort had appeared and what had followed. “… and I didn’t want to consort Jienela, but I would have, but no one listened to me. Puvort had me set up.”
Kacet shook his head slowly. “Puvort’s a nasty one. He sounds so good, but most of those who get exiled are because of him.”
“Why do they let him do that?”
Kacet was the one to shrug. “How are you doing? No one’s beaten you or anything?”
“No. The Guards have been all right. Not much food, but I haven’t been that hungry.”
“That’s good. Sometimes they aren’t, except that’s usually with exiles waiting for a ship. Sometimes, they get a little too friendly with the women.”
Rahl hoped that hadn’t happened to Fahla, but she was pretty, and she’d been exiled as a slave. That was something else he owed Puvort.
“I know about the food. I brought you some hard cheese and some bread.” Kacet eased a worn cloth pouch through the bars. “I’d have brought ale, but that would have been more than Captain Vorsa would allow.”
“The captain let you…”
“The captain’s a good woman. She doesn’t care for the Council that much, but she never says anything. Told me not to take too long, though.” Kacet paused. “How are Mother and Father? How did they… take it?”
“Mother was upset. She tried to point out to Puvort that
I hadn’t done anything wrong. He told her to shut up. Father had to quiet her. He was upset, but he didn’t say much. Puvort wouldn’t allow them to come to the Council meeting where they sentenced me to be sent to Nylan.“
“Bastard,” muttered Kacet.
“Don’t cross him, Kacet,” Rahl said. “He’d exile you as quick as me.”
“I can’t say as I understand, Rahl. You’re just a scrivener, barely more than an apprentice. So you got a girl with child. That happens enough. You didn’t refuse to consort her, did you?”
“We never got to that,” Rahl said. “Mother, Father, and I were going to talk to her parents later that day. After I went to see Magister Puvort.”
“Real bastard.”
A low whistle echoed from the end of the corridor.
“I’ve got to go,” Kacet said. “Sustel’s a traitor bird for the Council. Hide the food till he’s gone. Be real careful in Nylan.”
“I’ll try.”
Kacet vanished from the cell door, and Rahl hurried back and sat on the edge of the pallet bed.
From what Rahl could calculate, the Council Guard wagon came to a slow stop late on oneday—more than an eightday after the Council had sentenced him to exile in Nylan. He heard voices.