L. Modesitt - Colors of Chaos

Cerryl sat across from her. “Redberry?”

“I drink it when I can. Too much wine or ale, and I have trouble with healing. They say that the full Blacks on Recluce don’t drink wine or ale or spirits.”

Meridis appeared with a warm loaf of dark bread, a bowl filled with early peaches and green apples, and three wedges of cheese-one yellow, one yellow-white, and one pale white. Setting those down, she departed, only to return immediately with two platters and cutlery. A third trip brought two of the crystal goblets and two pitchers. “Redberry and golden ale. Now…eat afore you both melt.” A brusque nod preceded her departure.

“Ah…she…”

“Meridis is family. She’s not hesitated to let me know when she disapproved. She likes you. That’s why the ale.”

“How would she know?” Cerryl couldn’t help frowning. “She’s only seen me once-that I know of.”

“She makes up her mind quickly. She doesn’t change it easily.” A smile crossed Leyladin’s lips. “She’s usually right. Not always, but enough that I’d never wager against her. Neither would Father.” She poured ale for Cerryl and redberry for herself.

Cerryl waited for her to take a sip of her redberry before tasting the ale. “It’s good. Then, everything here is good.”

“Everything?” She arched her eyebrows.

“Everything.”

“I’m glad you approve. Have some cheese…or something. You’re pale.”

Cerryl cut several slices of cheese off each wedge and nodded to her.

“Thank you.” The healer took a wedge of the white and one of the yellow, then broke off a chunk of the dark bread.

Cerryl tried the pale white with bread. Before he knew it, he’d eaten three wedges of cheese with bread.

“You were hungry.”

“It’s been a long day,” he admitted.

“Yesterday was for me. I just about fell into my bed last night.”

“How is Duke Estalin’s son?”

“He will recover. He wasn’t that sick.” Leyladin shook her head. “Sometimes…” She looked at Cerryl. “You heard about Duke Berofar, didn’t you?”

He frowned. “Heard what? I don’t hear that much, not on gate duty, and not when I really don’t know that many of the full mages-the younger ones, I mean.”

“It couldn’t hurt to eat with a few others,” she pointed out. “The more who know you as a real person…”

He nodded. That made sense. “What about Duke Berofar?”

“He died. Gorsuch…I just don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?” Cerryl continued to feel that the more he learned about anything, the less he really knew. He took one of the green apples and cut it into wedges, then offered them to Leyladin.

“Thank you.” She took one and ate it. “Berofar-he’s from the old line out of Asula, and his first consort and his son and daughter died of the raging fever. That wasn’t ten years ago, and that left him without an heir. I don’t think he cares much for women. Still, he needed an heir, and that’s why he consorted again. Young Uulrac was born at the turn of spring four years ago.”

Cerryl ate two of the apple quarters and offered the last to the blonde healer. He cut another wedge of cheese for himself and listened.

“I think the Council will suggest that Gorsuch be one of the regents.”

“He’s the Council representative to Hydlen?”

She nodded. “Doesn’t it seem strange to you?”

“What?”

“Jeslek has you kill Lyam-and Lyam wouldn’t go along with the road taxes and tariffs, and the new prefect of Gallos knows that he could be removed if he doesn’t. The old Viscount of Certis opposed our tariffs, and he and his entire family died of the bloody flux. Duke Berofar was trying not to provide levies and troops for us…and as soon as I’m tending one duke’s son-where my absence would be a problem-Berofar dies…”

“Strange” wasn’t the word Cerryl would have used. He could see the patterns once he had the facts. He just didn’t know enough and wondered if he ever would. Fairhaven seemed so open and simple on the surface, like a calm ocean or lake, but most of what went on was below the surface. Was it that way everywhere?

“It’s possible,” he agreed.

Her eyebrows raised, as if in a question.

“That Sterol decided Berofar was a problem. I don’t think any of the more powerful mages-Sterol, Jeslek, maybe Anya, or Kinowin-would stop for a moment to remove a ruler who might thwart Fairhaven.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?”

Cerryl shrugged, then took another swallow of the ale and refilled his goblet before answering. “It does, and it doesn’t.”

“That’s a safe answer.” Her tone was bitter.

“That’s not what I meant. I haven’t seen any place like Fairhaven. The streets are clean. There aren’t many thieves. You can drink the water. You can buy most anything if you have the coins. People seem happy, most of them, and happier than the other places in Candar where I’ve been.”

“That’s because we push out those who are too poor or put them on road crews-or kill some of them if they make trouble.”

“True. But what’s the difference? In Fenard, the urchins live in the streets, and I’d wager most die young. Everyone has to worry about thieves and brigands, and there’s flux and misery everywhere. There the prefect lets people die and others do the killing. Either way, the poor either find a way to make a living or die. Here, though, everyone else is better off as well, and I’m probably proof that an orphan has a chance.”

“Don’t you see, Cerryl, that’s why you’re a mage? So that Sterol and Jeslek can say that even a poor boy can rise to being a White mage?”

“What about Heralt? Or Kinowin? And I don’t think Kiella exactly comes from coins.”

Leyladin looked down at the polished white oak table. “It’s the same thing.”

“Maybe.” He shook his head. “Maybe I am lucky. Am I supposed to turn away from it?”

“No. You have to make it better.”

“Me? A junior mage who’s a gate guard?”

“Myral said that you would be High Wizard.”

“Me?”

“He has these visions.”

Cerryl frowned again. High Wizard? A boy whose father was a renegade? That’s hardly likely . “Once…he did mention that he’d seen the future, after the Guild had fallen, and that Candar was filled with mad chaos wielders…I wondered.”

“Trust him. He sees more than he says.”

“So does Kinowin,” Cerryl said wryly, not wanting to think too much about Myral’s visions for him, not at all. “In a different way.”

“He does. Did you know that Kinowin’s a lot older than he looks?”

“Myral told me that.” Cerryl shook his head. “I wouldn’t have believed it.”

“Believe it. He’s like Myral. Very careful about how and when he raises chaos. You should follow their example about that.”

Cerryl nodded. He didn’t want to mention that he’d already patterned his use of order and chaos after Myral’s precepts-and what he managed to figure out from Colors of White . He cleared his throat, not wanting to dwell on the matters the healer had raised, not until he’d had a chance to think more. “I remember when I ate here before and I said how good everything was. You and your father looked at each other. That was because what you fixed was a simple meal for you, wasn’t it?”

Leyladin looked down, then at him. “Yes. I was afraid if you saw a real full-course dinner, you’d be so upset that you’d never see me again.”

“I’d see you again,” he protested. “I’m here.”

“I don’t know, Cerryl. You…when we were at Furenk’s…you were pretty stunned.”

“I didn’t know about the rear dining area. I’d eaten in the front before.”