Natural Ordermage by L. E. Modesitt

and returned to the bench. “Your stomach’s not growling.”
    “No… and it thanks you. So do I.” Rahl touched her wrist gently—and briefly.
    “What sort of books do you copy?”
    “All kinds,” he replied. “I’ve been working on Tales of the Founders.”
    “Can you tell me about it?”
    “I may not remember everything, but I’ll try.” Rahl took another swallow of ale, then cleared his throat. “Creslin was the son of the Marshal of Westwind…”
    He told Shahyla the first two tales he’d copied and was about to start the third when the door opened.
    “Ah… it’d be young Rahl, sure as I’m standing here.”
    Rahl turned at the rough voice to see Bradeon coming through the doorway, barefoot. “Later, when you have time, Shahyla, if you’d be washing off my boots,” Bradeon went oh. “Semmelt’s still over at the spring.
    Another of those clay pipes feeding the field troughs cracked. Made ah awful mess. Some of the cows ripped up the grass there. Take all summer to grow back.“ The herder shook his head.
    Belatedly, Rahl eased to his feet.
    Bradeon glanced out the small window toward the west, then back to his daughter. The sun was well past mid-afternoon. “I’d be thinking…”
    “I know, Father.” Shahyla rose, then turned to Rahl. “Thank you for coming.” She looked to Bradeon. “He brought us a honey cake.”
    The herder inclined his head. “Much obliged. Semmelt’ll be even more obliged.” Bradeon settled into the chair at the other end of the table, turning it sidewise so that he could rest his feet on the bench.
    “I’d best get to what needs to be done,” Shahyla said. “I’m so glad you came.” She smiled broadly, revealing perfect, even teeth. “We’re not that far from town, but we don’t get that many folks coming out.” Her left eye twitched several times.
    Rahl tried not to look at that, but just smiled. “It was a pleasure. I’m the one who’s glad to have come. I really liked the ale and the cheese.”
    He followed Shahyla out onto the porch.
    She stopped. “You’ll have to come more.”
    “I’d like that.” He squeezed her hand gently, then released it before smiling at her one last time and heading down the steps toward the lane.
    A hundred cubits down the lane, he turned. She was still on the porch. He waved. She waved back.
    As he walked back along the lane, then along the High Road, Rahl considered the day. Shahyla was nice, if no-nonsense, and better-looking and smarter than he’d recalled. She was also interested in him. On the other hand, the gelding knife had bothered him. No, it had more than bothered him. It had disturbed him, so evil had it felt.
    Still… there was no harm in visiting Shahyla. Jienela might not like it, but he hadn’t exactly promised her anything, and he could always tell her that his parents had insisted. That certainly was true.
    His feet were more than a little sore when he finally stepped into his own house to find his parents eating supper at the table.
    “How did it go?” asked Khorlya.
    “She’s sweet, and she’s a good person.”
    “Is that all you can say?” asked Kian.
    Rahl forced a smile, glad that his father could not sense his thoughts. “I’ll have to see her more often, ser. She’s not the kind to say yes after a visit or two.” He turned to Khorlya. “She really liked the basket. She could tell it was . one of your best.”
    “That’s good. Tell us what happened.”
    Rahl laughed genially and settled himself at the table.
    “I got there, and Shahyla brought me some ale Bradeon had made. It’s very good. We talked for a while, and then she insisted on getting me some of their cheese and bread. Then Bradeon came in, and he’d been replacing pipes that fed water troughs, and Semmelt was still doing that. I had to go then, because she had to get to her afternoon chores. She works hard” He looked toward the kitchen worktable.
    “Yes, Rahl,” Khorlya said. “There’s honey cake left