L. Modesitt - Colors of Chaos

“I must think, ser mage,” Aliaskar said.

“That is all I ask.” Cerryl nodded a last time. “I will trouble you no more.” He inclined his head. “Good day.”

“Good day, ser mage.”

As the door closed, Cerryl caught a few words.

“…most strange, Ziersar.”

The arms mage hoped so.

After he walked through the cold drizzle and remounted, Cerryl pulled out his list, studied it, and then replaced it inside the oiled white leather jacket.

“Viskarl-charcoal factor.” Darkness…how many days will this take? Too many, but he had to convince a good portion of the remaining factors and merchants that he and Fairhaven were halfway human and not White demons, at least not all the time.

CERRYL HAD FINALLY given up and had another chair brought into the study, and both Lyasa and Kalesin sat across the ancient desk from him in the gloom of another gray and cloudy fall morning.

“We have another twenty golds from tariff collections,” Lyasa announced. “We’re nearing a hundred for this season.”

“Twenty golds. Sterol will not find that adequate,” prophesied Kalesin. “Nor even five score or ten score. Not after a mere three and a half score for the summer.”

“He won’t,” Cerryl agreed amiably. “But another coaster from Suthya entered the harbor yesterday, and Tyldar told me that yet another was sailing here out of Quend.”

“Still…” murmured Kalesin.

Gloomy as Kalesin was, Cerryl knew the stocky mage was right. Both Sterol and Anya would find his performance inadequate. They probably already had and doubtless would have sent his replacement, save for the fact that there wasn’t anyone any better to send. Not yet .

“Another coaster will help,” Lyasa said.

Now…if Layel would only arrive-or send someone-or Wertel . “A full trader from Hamor or Sarronnyn would help more,” Cerryl admitted. “But we have more than half the fall remaining.”

Thrap!

“Come in.”

Subofficer Suzdyal peered in, holding a pair of scrolls. “For you, ser.”

“Thank you.” Cerryl rose.

Lyasa took them and handed them to him. Kalesin eyed the scroll with the crimson ribbons speculatively.

Cerryl ignored the look. “I haven’t seen your wool factor report.”

“I have two other factors to visit.”

“Perhaps you should.”

“One remains in Kleth.”

“Then visit the first and complete the report. The other might remain in Kleth for seasons.”

“Let us go, Kalesin.” Lyasa rose from her chair. “The arms mage has much to do, and so do we. I do, I know.”

After the two mages had left, Cerryl eased open the first scroll, glad that Teras or Hiser had made sure it came directly to him. The High Wizard’s seal crumbled away, as though it had been invested with far too much chaos.

Cerryl, greetings-

The three-and-a-half-score golds which you sent were, the Council finds, most disappointing for one of your skills. As arms mage of Spidlar you are expected to regain all those golds unpaid by the traitors…

Cerryl wanted to grit his teeth. Four parts out of five of the old traders’ fortunes had been taken by Jeslek and sent to Fairhaven even before Eliasar had taken over from Jeslek. By the time Cerryl had arrived, every stray gold had fled or been hidden who knew where. He forced himself to continue reading.

…greater efforts will be required in Hydlen, and Spidlar must be brought into line and speedily, so that at least half of the lancers there can be returned to Fairhaven and mustered for the spring campaigns…

Campaigns? In Hydlen and where else?

We look forward to at least a thousand golds before the turn of the year…Our wishes and those of the Council for your success in carrying out your duties…

The scroll was not even signed by Sterol but by Anya, “at the direction of the High Wizard, His Mightiness Sterol.”

“His Mightiness?” Cerryl took a deep breath. What did Sterol expect? Or Anya? It had taken over two years to destroy Spidlar, and now the High Wizard expected great flows of golds in less than two full seasons? After Jeslek had plundered the great fortunes? Except for that onetime rape of Spidlar, Cerryl doubted Fairhaven had ever collected 4,000 golds in a year from Spidlar-or a thousand in a full year. That was the problem, though .

He took several deep breaths to calm himself before opening the second scroll-the one with the green ribbons, the one he hoped would be more cheering. The greeting alone lifted his spirits.

Dearest-

I have sent this with Hiser’s courier and trust it will arrive in a timely fashion.

Father is preparing to undertake the task which you had suggested, and I hope that you will see the results-if you have not-before long. You have asked much, although we both think that your suggestions will be helpful for all of us. The climate there may be better for his health in his declining years, also. Wertel agreed with that, as do I…

Declining health? Cerryl swallowed, wondering if Anya and Muneat and Jiolt were already making matters more difficult for Layel in Fairhaven-and for Leyladin. Not if…how …He hadn’t seen such in his glass, but Anya’s maneuverings wouldn’t be obvious that way.

We all wish you both the best and look forward to seeing you before too long.

He smiled at the “love” with which Leyladin had signed the missive, but the smile faded as he considered all the implications of both scrolls, separately and together.

After rereading both once more, Cerryl stood and glanced out through the window into the almost cold fall day. The clouds were darker, promising more of the cold rain that seemed so common.

AS THE FIRST ship eased toward the wharves, Cerryl dismounted and walked to the seawall, watching. His guards eased their mounts behind him but did not dismount. The fall wind blowing off the Northern Ocean carried the odor of salt and a chill that foreshadowed a cold winter.

Cerryl kept his jaw in place as the two ocean traders were tied to the wharves, both bearing the green and gold banners of Layel’s trading house. The two heavy-laden cargo ships were the first trading vessels so large that he had seen in Spidlaria since his return.

A balding blonde figure in blue, flanked by a pair of guards in green, stood near the bow of the inshore vessel and gave a single wave to Cerryl. The arms mage and administrator of Spidlar walked down the wharf to where the gangway was being wrestled into place, conscious that his guards had dismounted and followed him, weapons at the ready.

Layel stood on the deck by the top of the gangway. “I see you have guards now-just like the High Wizard. You’ve come up in the world, Cerryl.” The factor laughed.

“If having enemies is a sign of position, it’s one I could do without.”

“If you would join me in my cabin-or the one I took from the master?”

“The ships are both yours?”

“Aye. There are two others that sail out of Lydiar, but Wertel manages them, and well, too.”

Cerryl hopped onto the plank and then onto the deck. The guards followed as the mage and factor walked to the rear deckhouse.

Layel opened the narrow door and gestured to Natrey. “You can look in.”

The guard nodded and made a brief inspection, but both guards remained in the passageway outside the cabin when Layel shut the door. Cerryl sat in one of the chairs around the gold oak table that was bolted to the polished plank floor.

“Trust my ship more than anywhere else,” said Layel.

“More than most places,” Cerryl agreed.

“Both my daughter and the overmage pushed me here-against my initial judgment,” said Layel.