L. Modesitt - Colors of Chaos

“Would I be telling you that now?” Tyldar laughed softly. He removed an oblong rock from the wall and reached into the opening, apparently releasing a catch or lever, because a section of stones swung open.

“Clever there.”

“Old trick-put rocks from the tailings from the worked-out coal mines there and no mage, Black or White, can tell what’s there. Said they hid Black healers there in the Days of Fire.”

Cerryl frowned. Days of Fire? He’d never run across that before. It wasn’t in any of the histories.

“Here you be.” The chandler pushed the wall back into place with his hip, then set the quarter wedge on the narrow table.

“You think those Whites’ll ever leave?” The buyer extended a silver.

“Thank you. When they run out of mages, they might. Some folk are saying they haven’t got that many. The latest one-he’s pretty young.”

“He figured out Reylerk quick enough.”

“Luck…had to be.” The chandler glanced toward the door.

“Well, best be out of here.”

“Check the street.”

The lamp was covered, and the man who had bought the cheese cracked the shutters. “Clear-like.”

“Be off, then.”

Cerryl nearly tripped on the boots of the man he followed but stepped back into the shadows.

The buyer glanced around. “Darkness…swore…” He shook his head, then began to walk quickly away from the harbor.

Standing in the shadows, Cerryl frowned. He could have the lancers seize the merchandise, but what good would that do? He couldn’t track down everyone who sold goods secretly. Besides, what he needed was for them to be sold in public, so that there would be a clear trail of goods on which the tariffs could be levied and collected.

Finally, he nodded, then began to walk down the street toward his second observation-the basket maker’s two blocks north.

LYASA AND HISER stood on the other side of the desk.

Cerryl stood behind it because there was but a single chair opposite him. “As I told Lyasa earlier, Hiser, the traders are trying to keep us from collecting tariffs by pretending no trading is taking place. Most everything is done at night.”

Hiser scratched his head. “Can’t say as it makes sense to me. Some folk won’t go out at night. Sooner or later mages like you will find out.”

Cerryl shrugged. “I’m going to try something. In some of the places, I know where they’ve hidden their goods. We’re going to make them buy and sell in the light of day.”

Hiser raised his eyebrows.

“The usual way-the one I’m so adept at. Trade and pay tariffs or lose your goods and your life.” Cerryl snorted.

“Will this do any good, ser?”

“It can’t do any less than doing nothing,” suggested Cerryl. “It won’t be enough, but we’re working on the next step. We’ll need two companies this morning. We’ll surround each shop so that no one can escape, and then Lyasa and I-and a half-score lancers-will present the alternatives.” He nodded at the lancer captain. “If you would get the companies ready?”

“Yes, ser.” Hiser smiled. “They’d like to see something happen.”

“Good.” Let’s hope it happens the way you think it will .

After the study door closed behind the departing captain, Lyasa looked at Cerryl.

He gestured to the chair. “We have a few other things to talk about.”

“You don’t think this morning’s work will solve everything?” Lyasa sat down.

“No. Would you help me?”

The black-haired mage smiled warmly. “Just for asking, rather than ordering, I’d be happy to. What do you want?”

“After we finish today, I want you to use your screeing glass-you can use it, right?” His eyes flicked to the window at the sound of hoofs in the courtyard outside. “I want you to track several merchants and let me know if a group of them is meeting somewhere. Whenever you find that out, find me, and let me know right then.”

“That doesn’t sound impossible.”

“Not quite. If you’re like me, you’ll have to spend some time riding or even calling on them to get to know them.”

“You have to do that?”

“Unless it’s someone like the smith who radiates so much order that it doesn’t matter.” Or Leyladin, who you found with a glass before you knew who she was . “Or Jeslek, I suppose, though I never tried. That didn’t seem wise.”

“Or Anya?”

Cerryl shuddered. “I never wanted to know.”

“You’re still too honorable about some things.”

“What I’m planning here isn’t totally honorable.”

“They didn’t give you much choice. Neither will Sterol, but that wasn’t what I meant.”

“I know.” Cerryl turned from the window and lifted the top sheet of crude brown paper. “We’d better get ready. Can you track these people?” He extended the list.

Lyasa took it. “I can try.”

“Thank you.”

They left the study and took the side door to the courtyard where Hiser and the lancer companies were forming up.

“You do one thing that Jeslek and Sterol didn’t understand.” Lyasa stopped by the mount being held for her.

“Oh?”

“You don’t rush into things, but once you decide, you act.”

Then why do you feel like you’re rushing? “Sometimes, there’s little choice and waiting can only make things worse.” Cerryl swung up into the saddle. “It’s still hard to know those times.”

“You’re doing fine.”

Maybe …

By the time the column entered the harbor square, Cerryl could sense the eyes on him, Lyasa, and the lancers. He felt as though silent messages had crossed all of Spidlaria, which they probably had. As they reined up before the chandlery, Cerryl turned in the saddle. “Hiser?”

“Ser?”

“Remember, I want the chandlery surrounded. I want no one to escape, but unless someone flees or attacks, I want no one hurt.”

“Yes, ser.” Hiser turned. “Blades and lances ready!”

The chandler opened the barred door even before Cerryl and the lancers set foot on the narrow front porch.

“Ser…we have nothing.” The chandler stepped back and gestured to the empty shelves of the store. “The war took most of what we had, and the lack of trade has taken the rest.”

“Chandler, I don’t like lying. I know you care little for Fairhaven, but you will respect her. Follow me.” Cerryl gestured to the lancers, then to the chandler.

“Ser…where…?”

“To find some goods you can sell.” Cerryl let a grim smile cross his face as the chandler and his consort exchanged glances. “To the back room there.”

“Ah…yes, ser.”

The back room had more shelves and was as bare as the front had been.

“Open that.” Cerryl pointed to the inside cellar door in the small back room of the chandlery.

“That is but for the cellar, and bare it is, as you will see.”

“I’d like to see that.” Cerryl turned to the lancers. “Half with me. The others make sure no one leaves.” He followed the chandler and his consort down the creaky wooden stairs.

“You see, ser?” The man gestured to the bare clay-floored room, where only the small table remained from Cerryl’s night visit.

Cerryl walked straight to the wall, removed the oblong stone, and fumbled for a moment before pulling the lever. The narrow door swung open.

The chandler paled.

“So…you had no goods to sell, chandler?”

“None so as I’d tell you…White thieves…”

Cerryl let chaos appear on his fingertip, then grow into a sword of flame. He let the slightest touch of chaos flash toward the outside door, leaving a blackened slash in the wood. “I could do that to you. I won’t. Believe it or not, I’m not going to take your goods. I’m not even going to take a single coin out of that strongbox you have here.” Cerryl smiled. “I’m not going to kill anyone. I will say one thing. If you do not put those goods back on the shelves upstairs within two days-all of them-then…then you will answer to me. And I will have to find someone else who will sell goods during the daytime and not under the cover of darkness.”