L. Modesitt - Colors of Chaos

Another book like Myral’s on sewage? Or philosophy like Colors of White ? Or did it really have firm rules? Did the Guild have a manual for everything?

He closed the book and took a deep breath.

DUARRL WAS A head taller than Cerryl and half again as broad, clean-shaven with brown and gray hair and thin eyebrows that joined over his nose. Despite a bulk that threatened to burst out of the white tunic and crimson belt of a patroller, his face was long and narrow. He and Cerryl stood beside each other in Isork’s office, while Isork stood behind the desk that contained little beside the quill and inkstand and another pile of paper and scrolls.

“Duarrl, this is Mage Cerryl,” Isork began. “He’s a bit young. Kinowin says he’s talented. He killed those smugglers in the sewer last fall, the ones that had iron blades and shields.”

Duarrl offered a minimal head bow. “Good. Mage who can’t handle iron’s not much use to the Patrol.”

“He’s also been in a full battle in Gallos-killed close to a score of purple lancers.”

“Never liked those folk much,” Duarrl grunted.

“I told you-he’ll be taking the mornings from Fylker. Move him to the afternoon so Huroan and I aren’t down there all the time.”

“Be good.” Duarrl smiled. “That way all of us can find you.”

Isork spread a parchment map on the desk. “Like a sewer map. I’m sure you’re familiar with those.”

Cerryl nodded, then bent over, noting that red lines split the city in quarters. The north-south line was effectively the Avenue, and the east and west line ran outward from the Wizards’ Square in each direction.

“You will have to find another inn to eat at.” Isork grinned. “Least while you’re on duty. The Golden Ram is just across the Avenue, but it’s out of your section. Here’s the section Patrol building.” He pointed.

From what Cerryl could see, it was perhaps two blocks south and five blocks east of where Arkos the tanner had his shop.

“Your section has most of the tanners, some tinsmiths and coppersmiths, and some of about everything else except for big houses of wealthy factors. You should get to know it like the back of your forearm. Wouldn’t hurt to spend some time screeing it as well. Use your glass before you have to.” Isork turned to Duarrl. “Anything you’d like to add?”

“Well…like as a lot of hotheads in the southeast section …we try to yell first, give ’em a moment to understand we’re Patrol. Makes it easier on all of us.”

“They respect the Patrol, but it takes a moment for them to realize that they could be in trouble?” asked Cerryl.

“Right as light, ser. And, the boys, well…no sense in slicing up someone or forcing you to ash ’em, not if it not be needed.”

In short, look and think before you start throwing firebolts . Cerryl nodded.

“Cerryl…a word while Duarrl talks to the Patrol.” Isork cleared his throat and glanced at Duarrl. “Might tell ’em about him…what you think necessary.”

“Yes, ser.” Duarrl straightened.

Isork rolled up the map. As Duarrl closed the door, the Patrol chief offered a smile. “Not much to say. The reason you’re here is so he can tell the patrollers what I told him to tell them. About you. They need to know that you’ve faced an iron blade and been in battle. Makes them feel better. Wouldn’t be quite so necessary if…”

“If I looked more like you or Kinowin?”

Isork nodded. “True you faced down Jeslek?” The Patrol chief offered a wry smile. “It’s not known to many…but I have talked to Kinowin.”

After a momentary hesitation, Cerryl nodded. “I’d rather it not be known…unless you think it important.”

“No one here but me needs to know that.” Isork stood. “There was one other thing I didn’t mention. Shouldn’t be a problem, though, seeing you were a scrivener. The Patrol mage is the one who writes down the daily report. You have to finish that before you leave your shift and send it here by messenger. You don’t start writing until you take over the morning duty, though. Next two eight-days, I want you learning everything you can about the southeast section-every inn, every spirit shop, every stable, and every warehouse. Any sewer tunnel you don’t know.”

“Yes, ser.”

After a moment, Isork cocked his head to the side. “Let’s go meet this morning’s Patrol group. I don’t expect you to remember all the names at once, but make an effort. Patrol mage is supposed to know every patroller by name and face.”

“Ah…eight score?”

“About nine score, with the wagon drivers and everyone. We should have ten score, but…” Isork shrugged. “It’s hard to get patrollers, too.”

Cerryl opened the door, then waited for Isork to step around the desk. Duarrl and four men stood in a loose row in the entry hall. The four patrollers straightened slightly as Isork and Cerryl approached. Isork’s eyes rested on each of the white-uniformed men in turn before he spoke.

“This is Mage Cerryl. Duarrl’s told you some about him, I’m sure. I’ll tell you one more thing. He was raised in the mines and worked his way out of a sawmill.” Isork nodded to Duarrl.

“Here they be, ser.” Duarrl pointed to a tall and thin man with dark red hair and the faint trace of a scar above his left eyebrow. “Reyll.”

“Noyr.” The next patroller was squat, even shorter than Cerryl, but twice as broad, and his hair was jet-black, his eyes equally black.

“Churk.” Churk offered a broad smile with his mouth, but the blue eyes remained distant under the short flax-gold hair.

“Praytt.” After meeting Cerryl’s eyes, the last patroller’s green eyes flicked from side to side, as if he had to study everything around him all the time.

“All right, once we cross the Avenue, we’ll do it like a sweep, except this is so Mage Cerryl knows what a sweep’s like, and also so you don’t forget.” Duarrl grinned at the four patrollers. “First four blocks, Noyr and Praytt…you be in front of us. Reyll-the left alleyway, Churk, the right.” He nodded sharply, and the four started for the doorway.

Isork looked at Cerryl and then at Duarrl. Cerryl understood-listen to Duarrl and try not to do anything stupid. Cerryl followed Duarrl out to the Avenue, out into a day that was already gusty, with a hint of chill, forecasting the cooler days of late fall after harvest. The six waited for a lumber wagon to rumble past before crossing the divided pavement of the Avenue. On the other side, Reyll and Churk eased away from the other four.

Cerryl had walked through some of the area east and south of the square on the last part of his sewer duty, but he’d walked through it, not studied it. So he tried to take in all the details poured forth by Duarrl.

“Vuyult-sells baskets and chairs, things woven from withies. Also sells withies themselves to the traders from Kyphros…

“There…the long warehouse with the gray timbers…used to belong to Hefkek…till he got bigger than his trouser…sold it to some brothers from Biehl…They grind all sorts of stuff…make pigments…Traders take ’em everywhere…

“…Bavann…says they’re all his daughters and cousins.” Duarrl snorted. “Always different daughters and cousins, and they’ve stayed young, and his beard’s gone from black to gray. Doesn’t make trouble, though, and we’re here to keep the peace, not to judge what folk do behind doors and walls…”

Cerryl had to nod at that, though he wondered at times if some of the mages didn’t cross that line. After all, he hadn’t exactly made any trouble, yet the Guild had sought him out and would have sent him to the road crew or killed him if he hadn’t been acceptable to the Guild.