Read Online Magi'I of Cyador by L. E. Modesitt Jr. - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: L. E. Modesitt Jr.
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through the squared open archway of the Clan-less Traders' building and is out of the wind, Lorn can feel his face begin to thaw. Despite the near-abandoned look of the plaza from outside, within the building is filled with figures in blue, as well as some in red, or green, or white. None seem to mark the passage of the enumerator Lorn emulates, at least not beyond an occasional frown, as he takes the wide central stairs at the back of the covered central hall flanked by balconies that rises all three stories.
Ryalth's trading place is little more than a cubby with two doors swung wide at the back of the third level, so far into the northeast corner that only the balcony railings can be seen from her doors. The redhead sits behind a true desk with drawers, an antique of battered and time-darkened white oak, writing in what appears to be a ledger.
As Lorn steps through the open doors, he clears his throat, and with a hint of a smile, asks, "Lady Trader?"
"Yes?" Ryalth looks up and her mouth opens, then closes.
Lorn steps forward until his trousers brush the edge of the desk. "I wished to see you, honored trader." His smile is both tentative and guileless.
"You shouldn't be here-not at this time of day. Enumerators' times are either first thing in the morning or close to the close," Ryalth murmurs, then adds more loudly, "I would that you had come at a more appropriate time, young ser."
"I won't be able to do that," Lorn whispers. "I'll be leaving Cyad tomorrow or the next day, from what I've overheard, and there's nothing I can do about it, and I couldn't have come to see you once they told me." He cocks his head inquisitively, and says in a normal voice. "I apologize, honored trader, but I was nearby, and thought I would not be presuming too much. I do apologize."
"You're leaving-Like that?" she murmurs. "Why?"
"Because I'm not a dedicated enough believer for the senior Magi'i, and I'm either leaving, or I'll be found dead in a chaos transfer accident." His voice is low. "I care for you... and I wanted to let you know. If I wait until it's official, then I couldn't tell you." Ryalth shakes her head ruefully.
He slips a purse into her hand. "Business. I'll be back, one way or another, and I couldn't take these. I wouldn't have them without you. Use them as you can." He offers a warm smile.
"A purse? Like that, and you expect me to wait for you? As if I were bought and paid for like... cotton?"
"No." Lorn meets her eyes. "I care for you, well beyond our shared interests." He swallows and shrugs. "I can't ask you much... not with what's happening. But if you'd wait... at least a bit."
"I'd have to. Then... we'll see." Ryalth laughs softly, not quite bitterly. "But you have to take the book and read it... all of it."
"You're sure? I could be gone for years."
"Then... it's even more important. Read it." Her words are half choked, half hissed. "I will."
"Promise?"
"Promise." He reaches out and squeezes her hand, then lets his hand fall away as he hears footsteps in the open arched corridor.
"I appreciate your interest, but there won't be anything where I can use you for at least another eightday," Ryalth says firmly, although her eyes are bright.
"I see. I will check with you then."
"During enumerators' times, if you would," Ryalth adds. Lorn can see the brightness in her eyes, and feels the same in his own. He swallows. "Yes... Lady Trader."
Then he turns, letting his shoulders droop, a gesture not totally of pretense, and walks dejectedly down the corridor toward the plaza overlooking the white harbor.
As he leaves the plaza, he can feel the chill of his father's chaos glass surveying him, but he has already done what must be done, and he doubts that Kien'elth will pry further. He hopes for that, at least.
XIII
Even the Emperors of the Land of Eternal Light embody the elements of paradox that infuse and suffuse Cyador....
Most paradoxical is the treatment of the memory of the Emperor Alyiakal.
Ryalth's trading place is little more than a cubby with two doors swung wide at the back of the third level, so far into the northeast corner that only the balcony railings can be seen from her doors. The redhead sits behind a true desk with drawers, an antique of battered and time-darkened white oak, writing in what appears to be a ledger.
As Lorn steps through the open doors, he clears his throat, and with a hint of a smile, asks, "Lady Trader?"
"Yes?" Ryalth looks up and her mouth opens, then closes.
Lorn steps forward until his trousers brush the edge of the desk. "I wished to see you, honored trader." His smile is both tentative and guileless.
"You shouldn't be here-not at this time of day. Enumerators' times are either first thing in the morning or close to the close," Ryalth murmurs, then adds more loudly, "I would that you had come at a more appropriate time, young ser."
"I won't be able to do that," Lorn whispers. "I'll be leaving Cyad tomorrow or the next day, from what I've overheard, and there's nothing I can do about it, and I couldn't have come to see you once they told me." He cocks his head inquisitively, and says in a normal voice. "I apologize, honored trader, but I was nearby, and thought I would not be presuming too much. I do apologize."
"You're leaving-Like that?" she murmurs. "Why?"
"Because I'm not a dedicated enough believer for the senior Magi'i, and I'm either leaving, or I'll be found dead in a chaos transfer accident." His voice is low. "I care for you... and I wanted to let you know. If I wait until it's official, then I couldn't tell you." Ryalth shakes her head ruefully.
He slips a purse into her hand. "Business. I'll be back, one way or another, and I couldn't take these. I wouldn't have them without you. Use them as you can." He offers a warm smile.
"A purse? Like that, and you expect me to wait for you? As if I were bought and paid for like... cotton?"
"No." Lorn meets her eyes. "I care for you, well beyond our shared interests." He swallows and shrugs. "I can't ask you much... not with what's happening. But if you'd wait... at least a bit."
"I'd have to. Then... we'll see." Ryalth laughs softly, not quite bitterly. "But you have to take the book and read it... all of it."
"You're sure? I could be gone for years."
"Then... it's even more important. Read it." Her words are half choked, half hissed. "I will."
"Promise?"
"Promise." He reaches out and squeezes her hand, then lets his hand fall away as he hears footsteps in the open arched corridor.
"I appreciate your interest, but there won't be anything where I can use you for at least another eightday," Ryalth says firmly, although her eyes are bright.
"I see. I will check with you then."
"During enumerators' times, if you would," Ryalth adds. Lorn can see the brightness in her eyes, and feels the same in his own. He swallows. "Yes... Lady Trader."
Then he turns, letting his shoulders droop, a gesture not totally of pretense, and walks dejectedly down the corridor toward the plaza overlooking the white harbor.
As he leaves the plaza, he can feel the chill of his father's chaos glass surveying him, but he has already done what must be done, and he doubts that Kien'elth will pry further. He hopes for that, at least.
XIII
Even the Emperors of the Land of Eternal Light embody the elements of paradox that infuse and suffuse Cyador....
Most paradoxical is the treatment of the memory of the Emperor Alyiakal.
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