L. Modesitt - Colors of Chaos

“Yes, ser.” Cerryl took his eyes from the model, but the amount of order concentrated in it bothered him, disturbing him almost as much as had there been an equal amount of chaos focused there. A smith named Dorrin? A Black smith? Why had Jeslek mentioned the name? To see if Cerryl knew?

“You do not know this smith’s name?”

“No, ser.” Cerryl repressed a frown.

“That, at least, is to your benefit.” Jeslek paused. “Now…do you wish to stand in my way?”

“No. I still have much to learn.”

“Ah…you remain the honest mage.” Jeslek laughed. “And you have avoided Anya’s bed.”

“That seemed best, given my youth.”

“How do you find the Patrol?”

“I continue to learn, especially about Fairhaven, and I find that good, for I was not raised here.”

“That is good for any mage, even those raised here.” Jeslek’s eyes glittered momentarily. “You follow Myral too closely, Cerryl.”

“Myral? I respect his understanding.”

“His understanding-with that I have no quibble.” The High Wizard smiled lazily. “Few mages have understood so much as Myral. Yet few have been so frozen into inaction by such understanding. Myral is too cautious. There is a time to strike and a time to wait. Myral would always wait.”

“He is cautious,” Cerryl temporized. “You feel it is time to strike.”

Jeslek nodded abruptly. “If we do not show that Fairhaven is to be feared, and not just respected, the rulers of eastern Candar will ignore every White mage in their courts.”

“Is that really why you raised the Little Easthorns?”

“Is that what they’re calling them? Diminishing me by calling them little?”

“To divide Gallos,” Cerryl continued, as if he had not heard Jeslek’s comment. “It’s too big to hold together with a mountain range down the middle.”

“Have you seen the Market Square, Cerryl? Each eight-day there are fewer traders there. Do you know why? Because goods are short, and they can obtain more in Hydlen or Kyphros, and they do not have to pay the road taxes. After years of benefiting from our roads and efforts, they turn away, and the rulers in some other lands encourage them. Some would change the rulers in other lands.”

“As in Hydlen?”

“Or Gallos. Even after my visit with Eliasar and the creation of the chaos mountains, the Gallosian merchants bridle. They would forget the years they benefited from the White highways and reject their just debts.”

“That will happen, ser,” Cerryl suggested, “unless they are compelled otherwise.”

“What do you suggest, then, O wise young mage?”

“You have far greater experience. I cannot suggest. I only know that most men respond to swords or silvers or chaos, not to words. We cannot raise enough golds, not now.”

Jeslek’s sun-gold eyes met the pale gray ones of the younger mage, surveying him deliberately. “Did you know that matters in Spidlar are getting worse? I understand that brigands ride every back road.”

“I had not heard that. I cannot say I am surprised. It would be to our interest that brigands be found there.”

“Do you know that, since Spidlar refuses to act, the viscount of Certis sent forces to control them?”

“I take it that his efforts have been less than totally successful.”

Jeslek’s eyes glittered more intently, and Cerryl wondered if he had presumed too much.

Probably…but you can’t back down .

“You could be dangerous, Cerryl, if you weren’t a disciple of Myral’s.”

“You know I don’t have the kind of chaos power you do.”

“I know that you have never raised such power. I know that you do not wish to do so.” Jeslek raised his eyebrows. “You avoid using chaos more than you have to. That is wise, assuming you retain the ability to wield it when you have no choice. Ah, yes, young Cerryl, there will be a time when you have no alternative but to raise chaos in force.” A twisted smile crossed the High Wizard’s face, and his fingers touched the amulet that hung around his neck. “That is where Myral and even Kinowin are mistaken. But you need not listen to me. Just watch.”

“I will,” Cerryl said quietly.

“I know you will.” With another smile, Jeslek rose. “I trust you will continue your hard work with the Patrol.”

“I plan to, ser.”

“No mock politeness, Cerryl.”

“You are the High Wizard.” And the office deserves respect .

“You are wise to remember that.” Jeslek gestured toward the door. “I will see you again when the time is ready. It may not be that long. You do have certain…skills…the Guild may need.”

“I stand ready to assist the Guild.”

“Good.”

Cerryl inclined his head, then turned and left, his senses and shields ready. Outside, when Hertyl closed the door, Cerryl took a silent but slow, deep breath. What did he want? To tell me he knew I could withstand his chaos? To warn me? To test me? And why did he ask about the smith?

Cerryl wanted to shake his head as he went down the steps. Jeslek was very different from Sterol, very different, but then he’d known that since he had been an apprentice mage. Cerryl only wished he understood more of what he knew existed but could not see.

Outside, the rain splattered on the Tower, and on the steps Cerryl rubbed his aching head. His eyes flicked southward, in the general direction of Hydolar, and he took a deep breath and continued down the stone steps toward the entry Hall.

CERRYL WAS TRUDGING the last few cubits toward his room when a blonde figure appeared in the corridor.

“I’m going to eat in. Do you want to join me?” asked Faltar.

“Eating in?” Cerryl raised his eyebrows. “Have I heard your words?”

“The Golden Ram-everywhere-the prices are higher, and my stipend is but a gold an eight-day. I had to get new boots, and I couldn’t believe how much more they cost this time…” Faltar shook his head.

Cerryl glanced down. “They look good. Where did you get them?”

“From Beykr, down on the Way of the Tanners.”

The smaller mage laughed. “I get mine from Miern. He’s a block farther east. The boot soles and heels are thicker and a good two silvers cheaper, maybe more. I’ve been told they fit better, too.”

“Now you tell me.”

“You didn’t ask.” Cerryl grinned. “I’ll go with you. Leyladin’s still in Hydolar, and my stipend doesn’t go so far, either. I wear out boots faster on Patrol duty.”

“You still walking the streets?”

“I don’t know the city well enough, not by far. I wasn’t born here, remember. Wait a moment, and let me wash up.”

Faltar leaned against the stone wall of the corridor. “Try to hurry. I’m hungry and I might lose the courage to face the Meal Hall.”

“Courage doesn’t matter if you have no coins to eat elsewhere. I’ll hurry.” Since his own gut was growling, Cerryl washed quickly.

Faltar was still leaning against the wall when Cerryl emerged from his room. “Good.”

The two walked down the steps to the main level and across the rear courtyard.

“How’s gate duty going?”

“Boring,” admitted Faltar. “Always the same. Most of the owners of the wagons and carts are honest, but there’s always someone who thinks we can’t find oils or spices or silver. I don’t understand. The cost of a full-trade medallion isn’t that high.”

“The problem’s not here, I think,” mused Cerryl. “Fairhaven isn’t the only land-or city-that levies taxes, and you can’t remove a medallion and then replace it. Not without the gate mages sensing it.”

“Oh…that means two wagons and a place to keep them?”