Free Natural Ordermage by L. E. Modesitt Jr. Page A

and
feelings weighed on him more. She’d arrived cheerful, then almost run out the
door. How could trading with Jeranyi upset her that much? Or were she and her
family involved in more than that?
    It was probably stupid—and possibly
dangerous—but he decided to walk down to the chandlery. After all, it wasn’t
that late.
    He walked confidently through the
darkness, knowing that he could find his way better than most people because he
had a clear feeling for where things were.
    Even before he reached the chandlery, he
could sense people around it, but the shutters were closed, and no lamps
showed. Rahl had the feeling that whatever was happening was at the loading
docks hi back. He retraced his steps to the narrow alleyway beside the
alchemist’s and eased his way into the deeper gloom near the wall. His left
hand rested on the butt of the truncheon for a moment before he grasped it and
slipped it out of the leather loops. Why was he doing this?
    He had no idea, except that he was
worried about Fahla. She’d acted like she was in trouble, and she never had
done that before.
    Ahead of him he could sense two wagons
backed up to the chandlery’s loading dock. He slowed and hugged the stone wall
as he moved silently toward the wagons.
    He tried to hear the whispers.
    “… sure about this…”
    “… copied the notice… quoted it word for
word…” That was Fahla.
    “… be here in the morning…”
    “… can get to the east cove and wait.
    Rahl smelled vinegar. At least, he
thought it was vinegar, or maybe pickles.
    “… sure that’s wetted down good. Wouldn’t
want an explosion now…”
    “… vinegar and water… done solid…”
    Although Rahl was trying to catch the
words, his darkness senses registered someone moving toward him from out of the
shadows on the south side of the loading dock.
    The man felt as though he carried a
red-tinged shadow as he moved toward Rahl, except it wasn’t a shadow exactly.
Rahl lifted the truncheon.
    The man said nothing, but lunged and
thrust at Rahl with a long blade.
    Rahl near-instinctively slid/parried the
thrust, then stepped inside the blade and kneed the man in the groin while
slamming the truncheon across his temple.
    Rahl swallowed hard, because a sense of
redness—and death—washed over him, even before the man toppled onto the dusty
stones. How could one blow from a truncheon have killed a man?
    “You hear something? Where’s Hondahl?”
    Rahl backed away from the dead man and
slipped back down the alleyway as quickly and quietly as he could. He couldn’t
believe that the man was dead, and he still worried about Fahla, but he was
much more concerned about his own safety.
    He stayed close to the wall and kept
moving, as well as trying to check to see if any other guards might be nearby,
but he didn’t hear, see, or sense any.
    Only after he was well away from the
chandlery and headed back home did he consider the implications of what he had
seen and heard—and done. Somehow, Fahla and her family were tied up with the
Jeranyi traders and possibly the pirates. That was probably how they kept their
prices low. They also feared more than losing goods if they were loading wagons
in the darkness, without a single lamp lit, and had guards ready to kill
people.
    He was still holding the truncheon in his
left hand when he reached his dwelling, and he’d been looking over his shoulder
the entire way back.
    “Rahl?” called Khorlya a moment after he
closed the door.
    “Yes. I’m back.” . . “Good. Sleep well.”
    Sleep well? After everything that had
happened?
    “Good night,” he finally said as he moved
through the darkness to his own small chamber and narrow bed. He closed the
door, close as it made the room feel.
    After undressing, he lay on his pallet,
looking up into the darkness and thinking. Should he have gone to the
magisters? But how could he after having killed a man? He knew that was cause
for exile, jf not worse, even if he had been attacked.