L. Modesitt - Colors of Chaos

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Heralt nodded slowly. “That is why you allow Anya such latitude?”

“Unhappily…for now.”

“Best you be careful. She has many allies that she has cultivated for many years. You must know that.”

“Leyladin reminds me most often.” Cerryl’s tone was wry.

“Listen to her.”

“I do.”

Bental, one of the newer Tower guards, watched as Cerryl and Heralt stepped out.

“I’ll be somewhere in the Halls,” Cerryl said.

“Yes, ser.” Bental nodded.

They had no more than descended into the front foyer before Cerryl sensed that Redark had appeared, hurrying down the steps behind them to catch Cerryl.

“High Wizard…ser…”

“I will see you later, Heralt.” Cerryl gave a twisted grin before smoothing his face and turning to Redark.

“Yes, ser.” Heralt bowed and turned toward the rear of the front Hall.

“Yes, Overmage Redark?” Cerryl waited.

“Ser…I just received a scroll from Gorsuch, in Renklaar.” Redark raised his eyebrows. “A very important scroll it is, but you had already left your quarters.”

“I do need to be visible at times, Overmage. What did mage adviser Gorsuch send you that was so vital?”

“He is requesting at least one of the blockade ships off Spidlar be reassigned to patrol the waters off Renklaar and especially around Pyrdya. There are more smugglers there now.”

“I can’t say that I am surprised.” Cerryl nodded. “Since Spidlaria is iced in or will be shortly, the White Serpent and one other ship could be sent to patrol the area off the Ohyde River delta and off Pyrdya. Draft the dispatches, and have them ready for me this afternoon.” Cerryl waited, then asked, “Does Gorsuch have other difficulties?”

“Ah…he suggests that Renklaar is a strenuous post and that perhaps another mage would be helpful.”

Cerryl fingered his chin. “Hmmm…I do not know who we could spare to aid him at this very moment, but he is indeed skilled. Perhaps we could review those junior mages on gate duty? If you would, brief me on them-their strengths and skills-then we could meet with them in the next eight-day. Tell Gorsuch we value his long-standing efforts and we are working to send him assistance.”

“Ah…he would like to return to Fairhaven…”

“That could pose a problem. Would he rather be in Jellico? We could send Disarj to Renklaar? Or Ruzor? Shenan might be persuaded to go to Hydlen.” Cerryl smiled brightly. “What do you think, Redark?”

“I would have to consider that.”

“I’d like your thoughts on that. Perhaps we could discuss it this afternoon when you tell me about the junior mages.”

“Ah…yes.”

“Good.” Cerryl gave a broader smile. “Until then.”

He left the front Hall and crossed the fountain court before he was accosted again-this time by Broka, the thin mage who had once taught Cerryl anatomie.

“High Wizard.”

“Broka. You have a thought upon your mind?” Upon a very devious mind?

“Yes, honored Cerryl. You may recall that I asked whether you would choose caution over actions or the reverse. You responded fairly, if cautiously.” Broka bowed his head very slightly.

“I would prefer to act when the actions will have the effect we all desire,” Cerryl answered. “Acting for appearance wastes coins we do not have.”

“Like Kinowin, you are concerned over golds?”

“I am concerned for the Guild. Golds are necessary to assure the Guild’s future.” Cerryl offered a faint smile. “I would that it were otherwise, but controlling chaos does not pay lancers nor purchase grain.”

“So long as the Guild comes first…” Broka nodded.

“It does,” Cerryl affirmed. “The good of Fairhaven is uppermost in my thoughts.”

“I look forward to when your actions will bring the desired results.”

“As do I.”

Broka gave a sidelong nod and slipped away in the stealthy and angular fashion that had always made Cerryl think of him as lizardlike. Cerryl made his way toward the Meal Hall, even though the noon bells had not quite rung.

The young High Wizard surveyed the Hall. Almost as though he could sense Cerryl’s eyes, Esaak glanced up from the corner table in the Hall. Cerryl made his way through the empty tables and settled down across the round table from the older mage. “How are matters working out with Redark?”

“You may be the most mathematically inept High Wizard the Guild has ever had.” Esaak looked at Cerryl, almost blankly, before a trace of a smile appeared. “But you are not that inept.”

“Redark does not understand why we cannot raise tariffs. He will not listen to me.” Cerryl shrugged. “He will not believe matters unless they are put before him in a fashion he cannot deny. I know of no one other than you who can do so.”

“I appreciate your trust, High Wizard.” A broader smile crossed Esaak’s lined face. “I also imagine you have no objection to my sharing my calculations with anyone who is interested.” The heavyset and white-haired old mage scratched his ear.

“Not at all. I would appreciate seeing them before they are widely shared so that I know what you have calculated.”

“You know what I have calculated, I imagine. Lower tariffs in Fairhaven and broader and lower tariffs in the ports will gain the Guild more golds.” Esaak sighed, then lifted the mug of ale before him, slurping down a healthy swallow. “The difficulty is not the calculations, but the explanation of why this is so.”

“A twentieth part of fifty-score pies gives one more pies than a tenth of fivescore pies,” suggested Cerryl.

“You wish to write the explanations, High Wizard? With your gift of words…?”

Cerryl laughed, easily. “If I wrote them, no one would believe them. You are esteemed and respected.”

“You are a dangerous flatterer, ser.” Esaak smiled broadly. “I will complete the calculations and essay to educate the overmage on pies and golds.” He nodded as Cerryl stood.

“Thank you.” With a nod, Cerryl stepped toward the serving table, where the youths in red were setting out what looked to be mutton stew-a lamb stew that had not changed since he had first come to the Halls and heard Faltar complain about it.

And you wish he were still here to complain . Cerryl’s eyes burned as he turned from the serving table and began to walk back to the White Tower. More than ever you wish that

CLXX

CERRYL PEERED INTO the study commons, noting the three apprentices studying there, then slipped into the corridor, using his blur screen to avoid attention.

He passed back to the front Hall, where he waited a time, watching messengers in red passing, some other apprentices, and, finally, a mage he knew, if but slightly. He waited until the red-haired Kochar was almost abreast before dropping the screen. “Kochar?”

“Ah…oh, I’m so sorry, ser. I didn’t see you.” Kochar half-bowed and stepped back away from the High Wizard.

Cerryl offered a pleasant smile and beckoned to the redhead. “You’re on gate duty now, are you not?”

“Yes, ser. The eastern gate.” Kochar’s eyes did not quite meet Cerryl’s. “Except for today.”

“That was my first gate duty,” mused Cerryl. “You still get farmers coming through?”

“Ah…”

“Not that many?” prodded Cerryl.

“No, ser.”

“You sell many medallions?”

“Not one, ser.” Kochar paused. “I’ve only been on gate duty for a half-season, and it is winter.”

“Still,” mused Cerryl, “they must have some provisions laid by to sell somewhere. Do not some ask about medallions?”

“There was one, an older man, but when he heard it would cost five coppers, he said he’d take his chances at the square in Howlett or even Weevett.”

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