L. Modesitt - Colors of Chaos

“Best we not delay,” Cerryl said.

“You’ve said that before.” Anya’s voice was testy.

Two apprentices backed away as Anya and Cerryl crossed the foyer toward the steps up to the Tower, though Cerryl knew neither.

At the topmost landing, outside the High Wizard’s apartments, the guard Gostar’s eyes widened as they went from Anya to Cerryl and back to Anya. “Sers? He…said he did not wish…”

“Is he alone?” asked Anya.

“Yes, Mage Anya.”

“Then he will see us. And there will be several other mages following with guards to take care of Sterol’s needs.” Anya stepped forward and opened the door. “Sterol! I have a surprise for you, a rather unforeseen and pleasant one.”

Cerryl followed Anya, closing the door.

Sterol rose from behind the table, chaos building and billowing around him. “A surprise? Cerryl? So…you have brought our recalcitrant mage home to the High Wizard for judgment?”

“I thought you might like to see him. You may deal with him after you answer the question that Redark and Kinowin prevailed upon me to ask.” Anya’s tone was languid, almost insolent.

“After? Who tells me what I should deal with and when? Are they so weak they would not trouble themselves to ask?” Chaos crackled around the iron-haired High Wizard, so much that Cerryl wondered how the man had not already aged into dust.

“The Council wants to know what you intend to do.” Anya’s eyes dropped to the blank mirror upon the table. “They are getting restless.”

“They wish? Do they know what they wish?” Sterol gestured, and the white mists appeared and vanished. A view appeared in the glass, so solid that it might have been painted there, a view of a black ship moored at a pier in the narrow inlet, with five black stone buildings on the hillside above. “Look. Have you ever seen anything so clear?”

“No.”

Cerryl, standing well back, almost to the window, shook his head ever so slightly, but his eyes did not leave the High Wizard as he quietly and slowly raised his shields, without raising chaos. Yet .

“I haven’t either. What aspect of the Balance created that monster I don’t know…” His eyes flicked to Cerryl. “Save that you let him escape.”

Cerryl did not answer.

“The Council is worried,” Anya persisted. “They want you to do something.”

“Fine! What am I supposed to do? Send a fleet out against Recluce? What good will it do?” Sterol snorted and looked at the image in the mirror on the table. “The old Black ones won’t respond. Should we attack the island? Do you know what black iron swords do to our White Guards? Do you want one of those things he built blowing you into shreds? Like the great Jeslek?”

“The Blacks are divided,” said Anya quietly. “They want this Dorrin to disappear as much as we do.”

“That may be, but how does that explain all the people helping build this new town? He didn’t carry them all on that little ship. And they’re all still Blacks. That means he isn’t creating any chaos on Recluce, the demons know why…” Sterol rubbed his forehead.

“Why can’t you send a fleet? Recluce doesn’t even have a half-score of warships, if that. They don’t like fighting. And most of those ships are spread across the oceans.”

Sterol massaged his forehead again, then touched the amulet that rested against his chest. “Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said?”

“The Council wants some action, Sterol.” Anya’s voice was sharp.

The hint of a frown crossed Cerryl’s forehead.

“With what do they wish for me to pay for such action?” Sterol’s eyes went to Cerryl. “We receive no golds from Spidlar. Disarj sends scrolls but fewer golds than did Shyren.”

“The Guild members mutter. They say nothing when you are around, but they mutter.”

“Cowards-all of them.” The air crackled with chaos. “And they send you, a woman. You are supposed to be my assistant, not their lackey.” The High Wizard lifted the amulet. “Here. You take it. Be my guest, O lackey of Redark and Kinowin.”

The redhead looked at the amulet, then at Sterol. “I won’t be tricked like Jeslek.”

“Either shut up or take the amulet,” Sterol snapped.

Anya’s hand lifted, then dropped. Finally, she sighed. “Someone has to do something.”

“Why?”

“Do you intend to do nothing while this…oddity…builds so much order into black iron that Recluce will dominate the Eastern Ocean forever?”

“I don’t see that much of a threat.” Sterol laughed. “He can’t live forever. Why spend golds we don’t have on a threat that won’t hurt us?”

Anya laughed, harshly, metallically. “You know…those were Jenred the Traitor’s exact words? Creslin didn’t live forever, but he lived long enough so that you-the High Wizard of Fairhaven-are afraid to take any direct action against Recluce. Will you be the one who’s remembered for letting Recluce dominate all of Candar?”

“No.” Sterol chuckled, bitterly, and laid the amulet on the table beside the mirror. The image of Southpoint vanished. “You want action. Take the amulet-or give it to someone else.”

“I’m asking you, Sterol.”

“And I’m refusing. Have those lackeys come to me.”

“Fydel!” Anya nodded toward the door, and three guards appeared, all bearing chains. Behind them stood three White wizards.

“How predictable, dear Anya. You would all chain me rather than act yourselves.” White chaos fires swirled around Sterol.

By the window, Cerryl lifted his shields, then focused the tight white light lance.

The redhead’s eyes burned; her fingers tightened on the white-bronze dagger.

Fire, white flames, and swirling mists filled the room. The mirror upon the table exploded, and two of the guards shriveled into dust on the white-powdered stones. A single blaze of light flared through the dust, boring through the shields raised by Sterol.

Abrupt and sudden silence fell across the Tower.

As the remaining white smoke subsided, Anya picked up the amulet, glancing down at the pile of white dust that lay within the white robes and white boots. She turned and extended the amulet. “Here. You earned it, Cerryl.”

Cerryl looked at her sadly. “No. You earned it, but I’ll wear it for you.” His eyes flickered to the white powder on the stone that vanished as he watched.

“Good. We need to plan the attack on Recluce.”

“As you wish. Bring me a plan, and we will implement it. I need a moment.” He gestured.

After a moment, the sole remaining guard eased his way back out of the chamber. Then Fydel, Rospor, and Anya stepped outside the Tower room. Anya closed the door behind her, leaving Cerryl amid the white dust and the residual chaos.

Has any High Wizard died in his sleep? Can anyone really rule the White City? And you think you can unite Candar?

His laugh was short-and bitter. In time, he slipped the amulet over his head.

CERRYL STOOD LOOKING out the White Tower window at the clouds that threatened rain and massaged his forehead, hoping the rain would hold off, hoping Anya wouldn’t return too quickly. He fingered the amulet. Hard to believe you wear it, but keeping it will be even harder .

He turned and studied the room. It needed cleaning and the removal of Sterol’s effects-among other things.

“High Wizard, the Lady Leyladin,” Gostar announced through the door.

Cerryl opened the door immediately and swept her inside. “You shouldn’t be here. How did you get here?”

“I came here to the Halls right after you left this morning. I stayed down with Kinowin. I couldn’t help you, but I wasn’t going to leave you, either.” The green eyes that sparkled so often were somber. “The word is out that you and Anya and Fydel have destroyed Sterol and that you were the compromise choice to be High Wizard.”