L. Modesitt - Colors of Chaos

“This is the only inn in Fairhaven that Father will frequent. So…we’re known here.”

“Lady Leyladin.” Cerryl wondered why the title bothered him.

“You make that sound so cold.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Lady…ser?” A thin older woman-also in the dark blue trousers and vest with the pale blue shirt-stood beside the table. “This evening, we have the special chicken breast or the tender beef over Furenk’s pasta.”

“The chicken,” said Leyladin.

“I’ll have that, too.”

“And the good red wine,” added the healer.

“The same.” Cerryl didn’t know what else to say.

The serving woman inclined her head and stepped away.

“What did Lyasa mean when she said she hoped you could talk before?” he asked after a moment of silence. “Before what?”

“Oh, Cerryl.”

“Before what?”

“Before I leave for Lydiar.”

“You just got back from Hydolar,” Cerryl said, almost peevishly.

“I probably shouldn’t have left there as soon as I did, but Gorsuch said it was clear that the Duke was much better.”

“Gorsuch? Is he the mage there?”

“He’s the mage and the Council’s representative. He promised to summon me if things changed. Now I know why he and the High Wizard wanted me back in Fairhaven.” Leyladin spread her hands, almost helplessly. “Sterol has requested that I attend Duke Estalin’s only son. The boy is weak and ill from the bloody flux and does not seem to be improving.”

“Why you?”

“I’m young and strong, devoted to Myral, and attracted to you. My father relies on the roads.”

“What does all that about you-”

“Those are all reasons why I can be trusted to go to the seaport nearest to Recluce. Good healers are scarce enough in Candar.”

“People leave…I suppose.” Cerryl still wasn’t sure why people would leave Fairhaven. The city was orderly, clean. Life was good so long as you obeyed the rules, but any land had rules. “I wish you weren’t going.”

“So do I.”

Two fluted crystal goblets appeared on the table. “Here you be. Two of the good red. That’ll be six.”

“There.” Leyladin slipped a silver onto the table before Cerryl could even reach his wallet. “I’ll take care of it.”

Four coppers reappeared on the table, but the blonde healer left them there.

“You’ll let me get the dinner?” Cerryl didn’t like relying on generosity, even Leyladin’s.

“How about half of it?”

Cerryl wasn’t sure even about that, but he nodded, then looked back into Leyladin’s green eyes.

Leyladin took a sip from the goblet. “Not bad.”

Cerryl followed her example. To him, the wine tasted excellent, better than any he’d had except for the dinner at Leyladin’s. “It tastes good, but I’ve had a long day.” He yawned.

“It’s better like this, right now. You’re so tired, anyway.”

“I’m not that tired.”

“You’re yawning, and I just got back.” Her eyes danced in the lamplight. “You’re tired of me already?”

“That’s not-” He shook his head. “You are impossible.”

“I’ve tried to let you know that. So did my father. He agreed that I was the most trouble, if you recall.”

“I seem to recall something like that.”

The server slipped a heavy gilt-rimmed pale blue china plate in front of Leyladin and then one in front of Cerryl. On each was a boned chicken breast covered in a cream sauce. Beside the chicken was a dark rice that Cerryl had never seen, also topped with the cream sauce. A second small plate contained freshly cut slices of early peaches, covered with baby mint leaves and a clear glaze. Cerryl hoped he had enough silvers in his wallet. He nodded to the server. “Thank you.”

“We hope you enjoy your dinner, ser and lady. Would you like anything else?”

Cerryl glanced at Leyladin and got the faintest of headshakes. “No, thank you.”

The server nodded and left them alone in the quiet room, so quiet that only murmurs from the main dining area drifted to them.

Leyladin cut a small bit of chicken and tasted it, then smiled. “It’s good.”

Cerryl followed her example. The spice and cream chicken, flavored with orange, trilia, and peppers, was excellent. He saw why Faltar preferred eating out of the Halls, but then he had to wonder how his blonde peer could afford such food. “I fear I could get too accustomed to this kind of food.”

“Furenk serves better than at the duke’s table in Hydolar. Much better.” The healer grimaced. “Much of the food in the mages’ Meal Hall is better than the duke’s fare.”

“That’s another reason why you shouldn’t go to Lydiar.”

“Duke Estalin serves a better table. That’s what Anya told me.”

“How did she know you were going?”

“She was with Sterol when he requested that I go.”

“Hmmmm…” Cerryl took another sip of the wine. “Do you get some sort of escort?”

“I had a full score of lancers to and from Hydolar.”

“I got ten of Eliasar’s worst when I went to Fenard.” The White mage mock-snorted. “You are definitely of greater value to the Brotherhood.”

“That was before the Council made you a full mage.”

“Now, you think, I might get a full score of the worst?”

Leyladin half-laughed, half-chuckled at Cerryl’s dry tone. “Perhaps a score and a half.”

“You are so encouraging.”

“I said I was trouble.”

For a long moment Cerryl just looked across the low lamp into the deep green eyes, letting the silence draw out.

“Cerryl? Why were you looking at me like that?”

“Because you have beautiful eyes.” Because I could fall into them and never emerge .

“Do you tell all the girls that?”

Cerryl flushed. “I’ve never told anyone that.”

“I’m sorry. I must have sounded cruel. I didn’t mean it that way.” She looked down at the goblet in her long fingers.

“There haven’t been-”

She held up a hand. “You don’t have to explain. Sometimes I forget. That’s all. How do you like the chicken? You didn’t say.”

What did she forget? That I’m not the son of a trader or a merchant? That I haven’t had mistresses and the like? “Ah…the chicken…I liked it very much. The rice, too.” He glanced down at the empty pale blue china. “And the peaches.” That plate was equally empty, and he hoped he hadn’t gulped them all down. He didn’t even really remember eating them.

“The glaze was good.”

He stifled a yawn, swallowing it and hoping Leyladin didn’t notice.

“You’re tired. I can tell that.”

“I’m fine.”

“You are tired, and you are going to walk me home. Then you are going to walk to your apartment and get a good night’s sleep before you go on duty tomorrow.” Leyladin rose, deftly leaving four silvers on the table.

“I was-”

“It’s the least I can do if you think I’m going off to abandon you.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you feel that way, and I don’t want you to.” She offered a warm smile. “Come on. I’m tired, too.”

Cerryl found himself nodding, realizing that she had been traveling for at least two days-yet she looked wonderful. He wouldn’t have appeared nearly so good. That he knew. He offered his arm as they stepped through the main dining area, now nearly filled.

“She’s the lady healer…a White mage…could be a relative…”

“…look good together, though…”

“Lady Leyladin…don’t know him…”

In the foyer, the tall man in blue bowed. “Good evening, Lady Leyladin…ser.”

Leyladin smiled and turned to the functionary. “Dassaor, this is the mage Cerryl. My father thinks most highly of him.”