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didn t want to be exiled.
Another memory came back to him, of the night when he had enjoyed his
first and still the best Hamorian dinner with Thorl and Deybri. She had
deflected his attempt to enter her house with words about his need to know
what he felt with his whole being. He could still see her standing there, her
eyes warm and welcoming, yet. sad, saying,  I can t make promises for you.
Deybri& why did she continue to haunt him? There was no way he ever could
return to Nylan, and it would be eightdays yet before he could accumulate
enough coins even to send a single letter.
He closed his eyes even more tightly, not that it was necessary in the
darkness. After a moment, he forced a long and slow deep breath, trying to
relax, and yet to sense each item in the room separately.
When he had finished the exercise, he was less than satisfied. He could make
out the beds easily, and the wardrobes, and the foot chests, but the smaller
things were blurs, and once they had not been.
For all of his recent efforts, all that he had regained of his previous skills
was the ability to feel the presence of strong order- or chaos-skills and the
ability to sense what surrounded him without using his eyes. He could not even
find the order-chaos links that he had twisted to explode the black wall, nor
could he create even the weakest of order shields. He could not find the
slightest bit of free order or concentrate it or move it.
And all of that& he had once done so easily, so effortlessly.
All that he had known was lost to him, and he was struggling just to master
enough order to qualify as the lowest of mage-guards in one of the least
desirable stations in Hamor.
He could feel the tears of rage and frustration seeping out of the corners of
his closed eyes.
Why had it come to this? Why?
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LXXVII
For Rahl, the next eightday was filled with more of what had gone
before copying reports, accompanying mage-guards on their rounds and duties,
studying the Codex and his own copy of the Manual and answering Taryl s
questions, and sparring with Khaill and, occasionally, other mage-guards. Upon
occasion, Taryl would watch the sparring. More often he did not.
Late on sevenday afternoon, as Rahl left the exercise room after a series of
sparring bouts with Khaill, Davyl, and Chynl, he found Taryl outside in the
corridor, clearly waiting for him. The mage-guard carried a small satchel.
 Ser?
 You re the best with a truncheon in Luba. Even Khaill admits it, Taryl said
mildly.  You re better than most with a falchiona for a time.
 Thank you, ser, but& that is hard for me to accept. Rahl wiped the sweat
from his forehead, wondering what Taryl wanted.
 Why is that so hard? You ve obviously practiced for years.
 There must be others& 
Taryl laughed.  There are. Some of the blades at Cigoerne would cut you up if
you used a falchiona against them, but you re close to holding your own with
the truncheon against anyone. He paused.  You realize that you re using your
order-senses in the sparring& 
 Not at first&  Rahl paused.  I mean, they re not there when I begin& and
they re really still not there. I can t think about it at all, or they re
gone.
 How are you coming in regaining your control of your order-senses otherwise?
 I can sense order and chaos now and again, and sometimes I can find my way
without seeing. It comes and goes.
The thin-faced mage nodded.  I m not surprised. You ve got order-energies
wound in and around you so tightly that I m surprised you can walk. Most mages
would die for the amount of order that clusters around you.
 Then why can t I use them? Rahl barely managed to keep from snapping.
 Let s take a walk& outside, where no one else is around. Taryl turned and
headed toward the door at the end of the corridor.
For a moment, Rahl stood there. Was this going to be another meaningless and
useless lecture, like so many he d listened to over the past year? Would Taryl
be just like the magisters after all? He hoped not as he hurried to follow the
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