L. Modesitt - Colors of Chaos

“I can’t do it now, even if I wanted to. She knows that.”

“She will keep pressuring you.”

“Of course. That is how she will destroy me. She will make the Blacks the enemy, as Jeslek did, and if I fail to destroy them, then she will blame me for the traders’ woes and those of the Guild and find another High Wizard.” Unless you can turn her schemes .

Leyladin reached for the goblet of water. “She may, even with your understanding.”

“I know. I can only do what I can, and I can do nothing without more golds and tariff coins.”

“Father and Lyasa sent more than you expected.”

“Nearly a thousand golds, but that will be all until next summer, I fear. The ice grows now on the Northern Ocean. Tyrhavven will stay clear of the ice for another few eight-days, perhaps longer if the weather remains not too cold.”

Leyladin reached out and squeezed his hand. “You didn’t think it would be this way, did you?”

“I knew it would be, but I had hoped otherwise.” He took a sip of water, then stood. “I need to walk through the Halls. I cannot remain cloistered in the Tower, not when so few know or recall me.”

“I will return to the house. It would not be well for a Black to accompany you.” She paused as she rose. “I do expect you for dinner, and you are not sleeping here.”

“Yes, dearest lady.” He had to smile.

Leyladin returned the smile.

CERRYL TURNED IN the chair and glanced out the Tower window. The winter clouds threatened cold rain or wet snow, but nothing was yet falling from them, nor was his head throbbing.

“The mage Heralt,” declared the guard outside the door.

“Please have him come in.” Cerryl stood, moving from behind the table, still amazed after more than a pair of eight-days that he was the High Wizard and that people were deferring to him. Except they defer to the title and the position, not to you .

Heralt looked much the same as when Cerryl had last seen him-short brown curly hair, olive eyes, and a trace of diffident shyness. There were the beginnings of lines in his forehead and dark circles under his eyes. “High Wizard.”

“Please sit down. Would you like some wine?”

“Please.”

Cerryl poured a half-goblet of the white-for some reason it kept in the Tower better than the red or the rosé-then sat down. “I appreciate your making the trip here at this time of year.”

“As the High Wizard commands.”

Cerryl wanted to sigh. Instead, he said, “Please save the ceremony for the public. You’re still Heralt, and I’m still Cerryl, and I need your help.”

“Mine?” The surprise in Heralt’s voice shocked Cerryl. “What can I do? I’m not that powerful. You know that. That’s why they sent me to Ruzor to count ships and cargoes and be Shenan’s assistant.”

“I need every mage’s help, but you have skills that will be most useful in the seasons ahead. These are skills few mages have.”

“I cannot say what those might be,” confessed the olive-eyed young mage.

“Heralt, is your father still trading?” Cerryl found himself standing, then pacing back and forth across the stone floor of the High Wizard’s apartment, still half-bemused that the quarters-and the position-were his.

“No, ser. He died last spring.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. And please…I’m just Cerryl here. I know the proprieties have to be observed in public…but this isn’t public.”

“It’s hard…the High Wizard.”

“You didn’t expect a friend to be High Wizard so soon?”

“No.” Heralt grinned. “I thought you might be one day, but not so soon.”

“I’m High Wizard because the Guild is threatened and weakened. Whether the Guild survives or not depends on whether we can enforce the tariffs throughout Eastern Candar. I’ve sent Leyladin’s father to Spidlaria, and Lyasa and Syandar are working with him to rebuild the trading and factoring system there. Between Duke Estalin’s debt to Leyladin and my support of Wertel-”

Heralt looked blank at the name.

“Another trader from Fairhaven, and Leyladin’s brother,” Cerryl explained. “Lydiar is obeying the tariff rules, and the Guild has taken the port of Renklaar. East of the Westhorns, that leaves three places-Ruzor, the two smaller ports of Hydlen, and Tyrhavven. Now, if we can ensure the tariffs are collected in Tyrhavven, that will give the Guild control of all tariff coins across the whole north and east coasts, except for Worrak, and the blockade ships can be used for other things-controlling smugglers…”

“And an attack on Recluce?”

Cerryl shrugged.

“I’d rather go on one of the ships.”

“Heralt…you understand trade. When we were both apprentices, you explained it to me. The Guild needs you in Tyrhavven. I need you there. I need someone who can understand things and keep the traders in line.”

“They won’t listen to me.”

“They will if you’re my representative and if you have ten-score lancers behind you and a pair of apprentices to assist.”

“Who…the apprentices?”

“You can pick them. Then tell me, and I will summon them to meet you here, so that it is clear that they go with you by my command.”

“Tyrhavven is that important?”

“More important than you know. Also, if you hear anything about the viscount moving troops into Sligo or mustering them, let me know. Do not wait for confirmations or reports.”

“I see you trust him highly.”

“I found him taking the bulk of the road tariffs for his own use, but that was during the war with Spidlar and Jeslek would not let me act on what I discovered, save to remove Shyren and one of the viscount’s ministers. I doubt that replacing a minister changed anything. The tariffs from Certis have continued to decline.”

“But Tyrhavven?”

“We now control the ports of Spidlar and Lydiar. From where else can Rystryr and his traders obtain trade goods from Recluce and Hamor?”

“The Sligan Council will not be pleased.”

“They will not, but I will send another twenty-score lancers if need be and blockade Tyrhavven, and I have already let messages be intercepted and sent to their traders indicating such.” Cerryl shrugged. “Since I am known as the mage who butchered the leading Spidlarian traders…”

“Do you think Rystryr will send lancers?”

“That is possible, but he knows that the Guild removed his brother and that three Dukes of Hydlen and the prefect of Gallos have been removed.”

Heralt’s mouth opened. “That…I did not know…”

“Rystryr may send crossbowmen against you-he did against me and against Eliasar-but he will do little that can be tracked to his lair. So…you must be careful.” Cerryl smiled crookedly. “Do you still wish to go to Tyrhavven?”

“How could I not go? Would that not make me mage adviser there?”

Cerryl nodded.

“And what else do you want me to do once I am there?”

“If your lancers get restless for action, have them patrol the roads-against brigands and smugglers.” Cerryl added dryly, “Those tend to appear once we start seeking to change the way matters have been.”

“And they once wore green?”

“Some have. Fydel and Shyren gave Rystryr that idea.”

“Tyrhavven still sounds better than Fairhaven or Ruzor.”

“I hope you find it so.” Cerryl slowly stood. “I’ll leave my quarters here with you.”

Heralt raised his eyebrows.

“I walk the Halls, talk to folk…that sort of thing.”

“Oh?”

“I have to. No one knows me. Both Sterol and Jeslek took pains to keep me away from Fairhaven and out of sight when I was here.”