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

crossed the grass toward the dining hall, and the blisters on my feet were burning.

IX
    M AGISTER C ASSIUS WAS black. I don’t mean he wore black. His skin was a blue-black that glistened in the sun or the shadow. His short curly hair was black, and his eyes were black. Squarish, he stood more than four cubits, like a heroic black-oak carving. The only things light about him were the whites of his eyes. He did have a sense of humor, of sorts.
    â€œDo you favor suicide or murder, Lerris?” His deep voice rumbled.
    â€œWhat…huh?” Once again, he had caught me with my thoughts elsewhere, wondering, this time, about how the cliffs I could see through the open window had ever been made so black and so sheer. After all, just like old Magister Kerwin, he was pounding on and on about the basis of order.
    â€œI asked you whether you favored suicide or murder?”
    Krystal, sitting cross-legged on her pillow, suppressed another giggle. She had on the blue smock-like tunic and trousers, with sandals. And she still looked dusty, but that was because her clothes, pressed and clean as they were, had been washed so often the blue had faded away in spots.
    Tamra continued to look at Cassius as if he were an insect under study. Over the gray tunic she had draped a vivid green scarf. Each day the scarf changed, but not the clothes. Either that, or she had a bunch of gray tunics and trousers.
    Sammel looked from the Magister to me and back, then sighed.
    I wondered how I would escape this time. “Neither…” I finally answered. “Both are very disorderly.”
    From the corner of my eye, I could see how Tamra shook her head.
    Cassius almost sighed—almost, perhaps, the most fallible gesture I had seen from the Brotherhood. Then he continued. “We were speaking about order, a topic all of you have been exposed to since your birth. Unfortunately, for various reasons, such as Lerris’s boredom, Tamra’s equation of order with male dominance, Sammel’s compassion for those unable to accept order, Krystal’s unwillingness to concentrate, and Wrynn’s contempt for weakness…none of you can accept order as the basis for a society.”
    I grinned, not really caring if I had been a target with the others, as I watched his gentle barbs bring the group alert. But I wondered why he had not said anything about Myrten.
    Cassius turned and jabbed the short black wand he carried at me. “Lerris, you find order boring. Tell us why. Stand up. You can walk around and take as long as you want.”
    I eased off the brown leather pillow and stretched, conscious that even Tamra was looking toward me. I ignored her, or tried to. I didn’t like being studied like a bug under a magnifying glass.
    â€œOrder is boring. Everything is the same. Every day in Recluce people get up and do the same things. They do them as perfectly as possible for as long as possible. Then they die. If that’s not meaningless and boring, I don’t know what is.”
    Wrynn nodded, as did Myrten, but Tamra’s ice-blue eyes were hooded. Krystal suppressed a musical giggle and wound her long black hair around her fingers, letting the tips brush her feet as she watched from her cross-legged position.
    I didn’t know what else to say. After all, what I’d said was obvious. So I stood there. No one else added anything.
    â€œLerris, suppose, for the sake of discussion, there is a kingdom somewhere in this universe—”
    â€œUniverse?”
    â€œSorry. Just imagine another world. One where people have all the children they want, without order, without rule. One where every generation, for no apparent reason, all the kingdoms go to war. The young men wear their armor and carry their weapons, and one-fifth of them die. Some kingdoms win, and some lose, but the only real result of the wars is that the weapons become more terrible and more effective.
    â€œMore children are born; more