The Magic of Recluce by L. E. Modesitt Jr. Page A

too much chaos unless properly designed and handled, and how it generated too much concentrated heat. Steamships could handle the heat because of the conductivity of the ocean and their relative isolation from other chaos-sources.
    Whheeeepppp…
    Another full net lifted away, and the gregarious loadmaster, or whatever else she was, stepped back toward me.
    â€œWhat do you think of Nylan?”
    â€œDon’t know what to think. I just got here today.” I pointed to the tractor. “That seems contrary to the magisters’ teaching.”
    Caron grinned. She looked younger—say about Tamra’s age—when she smiled. “It only seems that way. If you consider the alternatives in order theory, the number of bodies required to lift that cubage, it works out about even. Plus, the fact that we can operate them without the usual catastrophes scares the hell out of the outlanders.”
    Whhhhhheeeeepppp…
    Scares the hell out of the outlanders? For all of her direct speech, the woman still didn’t really explain things. I watched as she single-handedly lifted a bulky crate into the net. Up on the steamer, two long-haired, bearded crewmen gawked at the ease with which the woman handled the heavy cargo.
    Whhheeepppp…
    â€œAnyway,” she continued, not even breathing hard, and as if she had never left, “loading them like this gets the point across.”
    â€œWhat point?”
    â€œThat they’d better not mess with the Brotherhood, or Recluce. What else?”
    I shook my head.
    â€œThink about it, young fellow. Sorry I can’t talk longer, but the crates coming up are going to take all my effort. Good luck!”
    She was back at the third cart, the fourth and fifth carts since emptied of their crates.
    Wheeepppp…
    I was the one shaking my head as I walked back toward the harbor wall from which the piers protruded. The wall stood another three cubits above the pier surface, not really a defensive bulwark, but a physical barrier that declared to the sailors on the ships that Nylan was foreign territory.
    At the end of the second pier a long schooner was tied, flying the ensign of Hamor from the rear staff. Two armed guards stood by the plank to the ship, half-turned to face each other. From their posture it was clear they were not guarding the ship against Recluce, but discouraging unplanned crew departures.
    I strolled toward the third pier, slowing as I saw that the guard booth was manned. Tied to the pier were three long and low shapes that had to be ships, but ships like none I had ever seen.
    They were totally of black steel, with no masts, and only a low black superstructure beginning a third of the way back from the bow. Their bows were raked and sharp, somehow sharklike. Each flew a single ensign from the jackstaff—a solid black flag.
    How I had missed them earlier I didn’t know, except I could see what looked to be heat waves surrounding each.
    I shivered, even in the warm afternoon sunlight. Yes, the Brotherhood had ways to protect Recluce.
    â€œYoung fellow, this pier is closed.” The guard in the booth wasn’t that much older than I was, but he wore what was clearly a black uniform, and I could sense, rather than see, the sword and club.
    I just shrugged and turned away, looking down the pier again at the three strange ships. The guard watched me with a puzzled look on his face.
    Wasn’t I supposed to see the ships? Had the heat waves been a shield of some sort?
    I glanced around the grassy space on the other side of the harbor walk. A scattering of people sat on the few benches. Down opposite the fourth pier, a meat vendor was selling sandwiches or something to the crew of the square-rigger that was tied up.
    No one even glanced at the closed third pier. Shaking my head again, I began to walk back toward the market and toward my quarters, with more questions and fewer answers than when I had started.
    The bell was chiming as I