"L. E. Modesitt - Recluce 10 - The Magic of Recluce" - читать интересную книгу автора (Modesitt L E)

return until you have completed the charge laid upon you.
"If you choose exile, you will leave. You cannot return except with the permission of the
masters. While not unheard-of, such permission is rarely given."
"Just because I'm bored? Just because I'm young and haven't settled down? Just because my
woodwork isn't perfect?"
"No. It has nothing to do with youth." Aunt Elisabet sighed. "Last year, the masters exiled
five crafters twice your age, and close to a dozen people in their third and fourth decade
undertook the dangergeld."
"You're serious, aren't you?"
"Yes."
I could tell she was. Uncle Sardit, for all his statements about doing the talking, hadn't said
a word in explanation. I was getting a very strange feeling about Aunt Elisabet, that she was a


file:///F|/rah/L.%20E.%20Modesitt/Modesitt,%20...luse%2010%20-%20The%20Magic%20Of%20Recluse.txt (4 of 216) [5/22/03 12:48:16 AM]
 file:///F|/rah/L.%20E.%20Modesitt/Modesitt,%20L%20E%20-%20Recluse%2010%20-%20The%20Magic%20Of%20Recluse.txt

great deal more than a holder.
"So where do I go?"
"You're sure?" asked Uncle Sardit, his mouth full.
"What choice is there? I either get plunked down on a boat to somewhere as an exile, knowing
nothing, or I try to learn as much as I can before doing something that at least gives me some
chance of making a decision."
"I think that's the right choice for you," said Aunt Elisabet, "but it's not quite that
simple."
After finishing my bread and cheese in the strained atmosphere of the house, I went back to my
quarters over the shop and began to pack. Uncle Sardit said he would keep the chair and the few
other pieces until I returned.
He didn't mention the fact that few dangergelders returned. Neither did I.


III

LIKE A LOT of things in Recluce, my transition from apprentice to student dangergelder just
happened. Or that's the way it seemed.
For the next few days after my rather ponderous and serious conversation with Aunt Elisabet and
Uncle Sardit, I continued to help out around the carpentry shop. Uncle Sardit now asked me to
rough-shape cornices, or rough-cut panels, rather than telling me to. And Koldar just shook his
head, as if I were truly crazy.
He shook it so convincingly that I began to wonder myself.
Then I'd hear Uncle Sardit muttering about the inexact fit of two mitered corners, or the
failure of two grains to match perfectly. Or I'd watch him redo a small decoration that no one
would see on the underside of a table because of a minute imperfection.
Those brought back the real reason why I couldn't stay as his apprentice-the boring requirement
for absolute perfection. I had better things to do with my life than worry about whether the grain
patterns on two sides of a table or panel matched perfectly. Or whether a corner miter was a
precise forty-five degrees.
Perhaps it suited Koldar, and perhaps it kept the incursions of chaos at bay, but it was
boring.
Woodworking might have been better than pottery, but when you came right down to it, both were