L. Modesitt - Colors of Chaos

“What did you say?”

“Wasn’t much I could say, ser, was there?”

“Not now. We’ll be trying to change that.” Cerryl paused. “Anyone tried to bring in perfumed oils packed inside timbers? They’re hard to sense if they’re not in leaded pottery.”

“Ah…not that I know.”

“You never know what might be in a wagon.” Cerryl nodded. “I won’t keep you.”

“Yes, ser. Thank you, ser.” With a bow, Kochar backed away.

As soon as the young mage’s head turned, Cerryl concealed himself with the blur screen.

Kochar glanced back once and almost stumbled when he could not see the High Wizard. Cerryl smiled to himself. One way or another…you’ll get them thinking you can be anywhere .

Cerryl crossed the fountain courtyard, ignoring the chill wind and raw air, and then along the corridor and into the library, watching a young woman in the red-trimmed whites of an apprentice who pored over a familiar map. It took him a moment to put name to face.

“What are you trying to find?”

Her eyes widened as she saw the amulet. “Oh, ser, honored High Wizard…ah…”

“I know. You’ve been told not to seek help from any full mages and now you have the High Wizard questioning you.” He gestured toward the map stretched on the table before her. “That map is familiar…It was the first big map I did-for Jeslek, even before he became High Wizard. I had to find out where Tellura, Meltosia, Quessa, and a few other places in Gallos were. What is your task? That you can tell me.” Cerryl smiled.

“I’m to find a place called Asula and one called Telsen.”

“Who set the task?”

“Overmage Redark, ser.”

“Add two more,” Cerryl said gently. “Diev and Axalt. You may ask anyone why they are important, but not their location.”

“Yes, ser.” The tone was not quite resigned.

“What do you think about the Black Isle?”

“The Blacks are our enemies.”

“So it has been said for many years,” Cerryl answered. “It will be for years to come. Yet most arms mages have died in Candar with few Blacks nearby, and never have the Blacks sent lancers or armsmen into Candar.”

“Ser?”

“All enemies are not those who are the most convenient to name.” Cerryl smiled enigmatically. “I wish you well on the map. Diev was somewhere in Spidlar, by the way, and Axalt in the Easthorns.”

“Was?”

“Good day, Meylal.” Cerryl stepped back past the bookcase, drawing the blur shield around him, so that he would appear to have vanished.

CERRYL GLANCED AROUND the lamp-lit and silk-hung bedchamber, so similar to the first view of Leyladin’s chamber through his glass and yet so different in ways he could not describe but only feel.

“You look tired,” Leyladin said, standing behind him and rubbing his shoulders. “Your shoulders are tight. Lie down on the bed.”

Cerryl was glad to comply, easing off his boots and stretching out on the green coverlet. The breeze coming through the shutters that were cracked but a fraction of a span was chill yet held the hint of approaching spring.

The healer’s long fingers were firm but gentle as she massaged the tight muscles between his shoulder blades and spine. “Your muscles are like iron.”

“That’s from wondering who will appear behind me every time I leave the Tower.” And if they’ll see through your blurring screen .

“You don’t have to walk the Halls of the Mages that much.”

“I don’t? How else do I establish that I could know anything and be anywhere? I’m not a mighty mage like Jeslek was, or a planner and plotter like Anya is.”

“You’re getting pretty effective. Kiella drew me aside yesterday. She wanted to know if I knew how you managed to slip through walls.”

“I wish I could sometimes.” Cerryl sighed, enjoying the kneading that relaxed and loosened his shoulders.

“She also said that someone had told her that you had removed all the traders in Spidlar. No one had seen you do it, nor knew how you had, not even to this day.” The healer’s fingers moved down his back.

“That feels good.” After a moment, he added, “I’m not getting respected but feared? Is that it?”

Leyladin laughed. “Both, I would say. That’s not too bad for a mage almost no one knew a season ago.”

“From nothingness to High Wizard in a single season.”

“Better that than the other way around.”

Facedown on the soft bed, Cerryl closed his eyes. He wanted to shake his head.

“You can’t have as much power as the High Wizard has and expect to be loved,” she said quietly. “Except by me and a few others who really know you.” After a moment, she added, “That’s true for everyone, really.”

“I suppose so. Sad, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but we won’t change that.”

Not if you want to change Candar, we won’t . He let his breath out slowly and tried to concentrate on the firm and gentle touch that had begun to relax a body all too tight.

CERRYL GLANCED AT the scroll sent from Heralt.

…now that the ice is out across the entire Northern Ocean, the wagons have begun to roll in from Certis. I have stationed a full company of lancers at the harbor with one of the apprentices there all the time. Otherwise, cargoes would be loaded and unloaded without tariffs being paid…

…with this should come a small chest of golds, nearly 400, to follow the 200 sent three eight-days ago…

There is a certain sullenness…yet acceptance when we mention your name to the Certans…as though they know of you by more than name…as though they now know that the full surtax will be collected…Records here show that such was not so last fall…still concerned that the viscount may attempt something…

…have seen no Black traders…

Cerryl let the scroll roll shut. He stood and walked to the open window, looking out at the white and green of Fairhaven, thinking about Heralt and the continued tariff and trade problems. His use of the glass showed no movement of Certan troops, and the tariff collections sent from Jellico by Disarj had increased somewhat over the previous year, but not to the amount Cerryl suspected was truly due. Sooner or later, he’d have to deal with both Rystryr and Disarj, but that problem would have to wait.

His eyes went to the pile of scrolls. So far matters had continued to improve in Spidlaria and Lydiar, and despite complaining, Gorsuch remained dutiful in Renklaar. The Duke Afabar continued to send obedient scrolls-and golds-from Hydolar. Shenan confirmed that more trade was appearing in Ruzor, but without more mages or lancers she could not ensure that all the tariffs were being recorded and paid.

“How long that will last…” Cerryl twisted his lips in a private and wry smile.

Thrap! “Overmage Redark.”

“Have him come in.” Cerryl turned from the window and the warm breeze.

“Greetings, High Wizard.” Redark bowed after he entered the High Wizard’s apartment. The pale green eyes peered at Cerryl above the ginger beard as the overmage seated himself across the table. “You are often seen around the Halls, or so I am told. Yet you are like a shadow.”

“The High Wizard must cast a long shadow…don’t you think?”

“I had not thought of it in quite that way.”

“The overmage Kinowin,” announced Gostar from beyond the white oak door to the chamber.

“Have him join us,” Cerryl answered, raising his voice.

Kinowin walked in, with no sign of the stiffness Cerryl knew the older overmage felt, and sat to Redark’s right. “Greetings, High Wizard, Redark.”

“Greetings,” Redark answered, not quite dourly.