Free Havenstar by Glenda Larke Page B

vehemence. The scarlet tassels on his brightly
coloured hat danced in emphasis. ‘Child, child, remember to whom
you speak. You must find your own place within the Order of the
Stability. Every person has his place, and every place is important
in the pattern of stability. You just have to find yours.’
    ‘I don’t
really have all that much choice, do I? No profession is open to me
because my father’s is not available to women and my mother had
none that could be passed on to a daughter, save that of a married
woman.’
    ‘You would not
want to do anything that would encourage instability or disorder by
deviating from your ancestral lines, would you?’ he asked gently.
‘The safety of us all depends on the obedience to the Rule of every
individual. And perhaps you have more choice than you know. If a
cloistered life does not interest you, then perhaps you should give
thought to joining the Knighten’s Ordering. That also is open to
one such as you.’
    She gaped,
speechless. ‘Chantor,’ she said at last, all her irritation
vanishing in her surprise, ‘can I have heard you aright? Me? A chantist holy Knighte?’
    ‘Sometimes
those children who give us the most trouble are those for whom the
Maker has the greatest plans,’ he said simply. She was sure they
could not have been his words; he was parroting another. ‘A
Knight—male or female—has to have a character stronger than the
ordinary. A female Knighte must be a woman who does not fit the
normal mould of womanhood.’
    She
interrupted. ‘Chantor, a Knighte must also be a woman of great
piety, ready to dedicate her life to Chantry and the fighting of
Chaos, the keeping of Order. Isn’t there twenty years of training
and study and kinesis and piety before a Knighte emerges from her
novitiate and can begin her roving life? I heard once that of every
thousand men and women who enter training, only one emerges fit to
wear the knighten symbol.’
    ‘An
exaggeration. I believe there are at the moment one woman and ten
male Knights. Eleven if you count Knight Edion of Galman.’ Knight
Edion, she knew, had been a man of great learning, revered for his
scholarship and wisdom as much as for his charity. He had
disappeared inside the Unstable ten or more years earlier. There
had been an outrageous rumour hinting he had joined forces with the
Unmaker, becoming his personal assistant. Others said the opposite:
he was actually fighting Lord Carasma in eternal battle somewhere
or other. The most persistent rumour was that he’d settled for a
hermit’s life somewhere in the Unstable, the most pernicious as far
as Chantry was concerned was that he had been murdered by some of
the more conservative of the sixteen Hedrin—the chantors of
Chantry’s ruling body, the Sanhedrin—because they thought he was
preaching heresy.
    All of that
mattered little to her. Knights may have lived wandering unorthodox
lives of adventure, at least after their training, but the price
was far too high for her. ‘I’d fail the first week of training!’
she said. And still be condemned to twenty years of toil, trying
to attain the unattainable.
    He shrugged,
obviously privately agreeing with her. ‘If the Maker wants you, you
will feel the call.’
    She thought
with annoyance, He’s been told to look for suitable candidates,
and he’s decided it’s one way of ridding the village of me. The one
person who did not ‘fit the normal mould of womankind.’ Someone who
disturbed his sense of Order. She smiled sweetly. ‘I’ll think
about it. And doubtless, if it is my destiny, the Maker will tell
me.’
    The smile he
gave back was uncertain. He did not know whether she mocked
him.
     
    ~~~~~~~
     
    Gradually, as
the summer days lengthened, there was less work to do on mapmaking
and Thirl was away from the shop more. Keris welcomed his absence.
Sometimes, when there was no sign of customers and her mother was
napping, she would take the trompleri map out of its hiding place
and pore