L. Modesitt - Colors of Chaos

“How is Estalin’s son?”

“He’s fine, for now. He’ll need healers all his life, at times. He’s not that strong.”

“I’m glad you could leave.”

“I don’t know as I could. I told Sedelos that there was nothing to be gained by my staying and that he could summon me were I needed. I knew you were coming home, and I wanted to see you.”

“Sterol is High Wizard now.”

“Anya is the one to watch.”

“I know.” Cerryl refrained from repeating Anya’s words about children.

“We can talk about the Guild tomorrow.” Leyladin paused. “Can you stay…here?”

“For now,” he said.

“I meant at night.”

“Yes.” He grinned in the dimness. “I’m glad you want me to.”

“You really can?”

“Kinowin almost ordered me to. He said my nights were free and he expected me not to waste them in the Halls.”

“He said more than that.”

Cerryl nodded. “He said a mage’s days were too short.”

Leyladin’s arms were around him. “They can’t be. They can’t be. You can’t be like Myral and Kinowin. You have to use more order and less chaos. You can’t leave me. I won’t let you.”

His eyes misted, and for a time he held her in the growing darkness of the front room.

“I meant it,” she finally whispered.

“I know. You’ll have to help.”

“Any help you need.”

He tightened his embrace, then brushed her lips with his.

“Bringing the flowers…that was sweet. Thank you.”

Silently Cerryl thanked Kinowin.

“And thank Kinowin for me, too.” Her dark green eyes danced, brighter than any lamp, as she reached for his hand to lead him to a silk-hung bedchamber-one he had but seen in a glass.

CERRYL STEPPED INTO his quarters at the back of the rear Hall. He sniffed. The scent of trilia and sandalwood was faint but unmistakable. What had Anya been seeking?

He cast his senses across the small room, the space he used only for work in the days since Leyladin had returned from Lydiar, but could detect no concentration of chaos or even of order. He shook his head. Perhaps for the first time in his life, he truly had no secrets, and the redhead clearly thought he did.

He closed the door and sat at the desk, studying the screeing glass for a moment before concentrating on finding the smith and his vessel. When the silver mists cleared, the glass showed Dorrin’s ship anchored in a rough bay off a low and marshy point of land. Where?

Cerryl scratched the back of his head, then tried again.

It took Cerryl most of the remainder of the morning to discover that the Black ship lay off the southwestern tip of the isle of Recluce, nowhere near even a town. There were several tents and what looked to be several dwellings or structures under construction.

He tightened his lips. What exactly the ship’s movement meant he didn’t know, but Kinowin needed to know as well. Perhaps the overmage might have some ideas. If the smith and his followers were building a town or another port…

Cerryl pursed his lips, finding it hard to believe that the smith had done so much so quickly. Then, this Dorrin had helped destroy half the forces sent into Spidlar, killed Jeslek, built an engine that moved a ship against the wind, and escaped the blockade. What was building a town in a few days compared to that?

Letting the image fade, Cerryl massaged his neck and forehead before heading to see Kinowin. It was almost noon by the time he stepped into Kinowin’s room amid the gathering of purple hangings.

“You have a disturbed look.” Kinowin touched the purple blotch on his cheek, almost absently.

“The smith has moved his ship to the southern end of the accursed isle.”

“Away from Land’s End. Some might say that is well.”

“It lies at anchor in a small bay. There are tents on the land and the beginnings of buildings.”

“A town for him and his followers, you think?” Kinowin smiled faintly.

“I would guess so, but it is too early to tell.”

“Then it is too early for me to tell the High Wizard aught except that the ship has been moved. One should not disturb His Mightiness with mere speculation.”

Cerryl raised his eyebrows at the heavy irony in the overmage’s voice. “Speculation.”

“Ah, yes, speculation.” Kinowin made a sound halfway between a laugh and a snort, and for a moment he looked cadaverous. “I suggested to the High Wizard that this vessel might prove useful for trade, and he suggested that he had little time to worry about what might be when he was gathering a force to break the latest Duke of Hydlen to reign.”

“The latest?” How many have there been in the last few years?

“Another cousin. Afabar, I believe. He is from Asula, one of the ancient towns that claims the purest line of descent. He also has the support of the traders of Worrak, Pyrdya, and Renklaar. There are few traders of coins outside of those cities.”

“He refuses-the new duke-to pay tariffs?”

“He has not said anything-by messenger, by scroll, or in any other fashion. Fairhaven does not exist for him. You recall Derka?” Kinowin leaned back in the chair.

“He went back to Hydolar.”

“The Council made him mage adviser, but he declined and vanished-quickly-and they sent Elsinot.”

“The new duke killed him somehow?”

“How did you guess?”

“Mountain cats don’t lose their claws,” Cerryl said dryly.

“So Sterol does not wish to deal with mere speculation at the moment.” Kinowin’s mouth quirked. “I will tell him that the ship moved and that you will watch closely. I will also tell him you are out inspecting the gates this afternoon. I suggest you do so, and that after you do, you make your presence known to one of the gate mages.”

Cerryl nodded. “I should give Sterol no excuses and no offense.”

“Not until you must.”

“Also…Anya’s been in my quarters when I’ve been gone.”

“That surprises me even less than the movement of the smith’s vessel.”

“I should ignore her but leave nothing that I would not wish Sterol to see?”

“You understand, Cerryl. Unfortunately, that is the way matters will be for a time. After you eat, be on your way. I will be meeting with the High Wizard in the early afternoon.” Kinowin grinned. “Did she like the flowers?”

Cerryl flushed. “She did.” Then he grinned. “And she said to thank you also.”

“Hang to her, Cerryl. She is worth all those in the White Tower, this old overmage included. Consider yourself fortunate, and waste no days…or nights.”

Cerryl flushed even more brightly.

“Go.” Kinowin laughed gently. “I’ll not tariff you more.”

CERRYL STUDIED THE empty Avenue, his eyes flicking around the square. Despite the infrequent street lamps, the whitened granite of the Avenue held and reflected enough light, even at midnight, that Cerryl’s borrowed mount had no difficulty in making her way from the Artisans’ Square up the narrower Way of the Lesser Artisans. The shops of the first crafters were as he had recalled, including the old potter’s, but the one that had held the weaver’s shop-where he had first seen Pattera-that now held yet another potter, if the emblem over the door were true.

He guided the mare down the alleyway- past all the sewer catches -toward the rear gate to Tellis’s house. Outside the courtyard, Cerryl sat in the saddle, then fingered the leather pouch-a small handful of golds, but a few golds were all he had. Not all by any means, but you have other debts to pay, and now is not when you should be poor again, either . Self-deception? Probably .