L. Modesitt - Colors of Chaos

Thrap .

Out of a blind need to practice, to do something, he focused on the glass. Lyasa waited outside.

“Come in, Lyasa.” He stood by the table, waiting.

She opened the door. “You know, Cerryl, I hate that.”

“People screeing to see who’s there? I’m sorry. I’ve just been trying to practice using the glass. I don’t do that much in Patrol work. Not that I’ll be doing that much longer, I suspect.”

“What?”

He shrugged tiredly. “I made a mistake. I was too hard on a child caught stealing. I mean, I was trying not to be, but it didn’t work out that way, and he’s going to end up on the road crew, and it’s my fault, and there didn’t seem to be anything else I could do.”

“They won’t get rid of you for that.”

“I don’t know. I touched him with chaos, meant to warn him, but I burned him, and I shouldn’t have tried it.”

Lyasa winced. “You didn’t mean to.”

“No. Not exactly. But rules are rules, and I didn’t do what I was supposed to, and I’ll have to pay for that.”

“Outside of the…burn, was anyone hurt? Did you do…?”

“Anything else stupid? No. I should have thought about things, should have taken him to the section building, but I was thinking about Myral, and I was upset, and then I thought about this…child…on the road crew.” He lifted his hands helplessly. “I just didn’t think, and I’ve tried to be so careful.”

“Cerryl…you can’t be so careful that you never feel.”

“Feeling-that’s what caused the problem. If I hadn’t been feeling…”

“About Myral?”

He nodded.

“Does Leyladin know? That was what I came to ask you about.”

“I sent her a message scroll about Myral. There wasn’t much else I could do. I wish Leyladin could use a glass.”

“Blacks can’t-not easily-and healers especially have a hard time.”

“I know. It sounds simple in Colors of White . ‘Screeing is the gathering of chaotic light patterned by the order of the world…’” He shook his head.

“You’re still upset about Myral.”

“Yes,” he admitted. “I don’t know why. I mean, I know why I’m upset, but not why I am so upset. So upset that I couldn’t even remember the rules of peacekeeping.” He laughed bitterly.

“Because you respected him and you haven’t found many mages to respect,” suggested Lyasa.

“That’s probably part of it. Except why did I go out and do something he wouldn’t have respected?”

“Were you trying to break the rules?”

“No. Yes. How can I say? I didn’t want the boy to go on the road crew. But I didn’t want to-I couldn’t-let him go. If you let one get away with stealing, with all the hunger, they’ll all be stealing.” Cerryl shook his head. “I don’t…Maybe I’m not meant to be a Patrol mage. That…demons! I probably won’t be much longer.”

“You’re making too much out of this. You still brought him in, didn’t you? And he’ll go on the road crew?”

“I’m sure he will.” Cerryl couldn’t tell Lyasa of the horrified look in Gyskas’s eyes or the sickening sense of despair he himself had felt. He just shook his head.

“Then what is the problem?”

“You don’t break the rules, not if you’re a Patrol mage. How can anyone trust the mages if we don’t keep the rules we make? Things are bad enough already, and it’s harvesttime. What will they be like by midwinter?”

“Worse,” admitted Lyasa. “But you didn’t make them that way. You made a mistake. We all make mistakes.”

Cerryl just shook his head. “Sometimes…sometimes, you can’t afford mistakes.” Not me…not if everyone’s watching to see if you do…hoping you will .

She reached out and touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

“No. Not now.” He straightened. “I did what I did. We’ll have to see what happens. I just hope it’s not too bad.” How can it not be bad when discipline is going to come from Jeslek and Redark?

“If you need anyone to talk to, I’m around.”

“Thank you.” He swallowed. “I mean it.”

Lyasa offered a soft smile before she left.

Cerryl sat down heavily, half-staring at the blank screeing glass.

CERRYL LOOKED UP from the table-desk as Isork appeared in the doorway. As the chief Patrol mage shut the door to the duty room behind him, Cerryl stood. “Ser.”

“Cerryl…” The chief Patrol mage’s voice was soft, almost regretful. “Gyskas reported what happened yesterday afternoon.”

“I thought he would, ser.” Cerryl lifted a sealed message from the desk, stepped forward, and extended it. “Here is my report. I doubt they differ in any great degree.”

Isork continued to stand as he unfolded the sheet and read it. Seemingly he read it a second time; then he handed it back to Cerryl. “I prefer Gyskas’s report, and I think you would as well. He was somewhat more charitable to you than you have been to yourself. That speaks well of you, but there is no sense in making matters worse.”

“Yes, ser.” Cerryl folded the report into his belt.

“Cerryl, I am sorry. But we cannot change the rules of peacekeeping.”

“I understand that, ser. Especially now. But nothing seemed to fit. He didn’t resist taking, and he didn’t attack me. He was telling the truth. Am I supposed to put him on the road gang because he had to choose between letting his sister starve or stealing?”

“We cannot let peacebreaking occur.” Isork offered a half-smile. “No matter what the reason. People often have good reasons to break the peace. Sometimes, as now, the Guild may even be partly at fault. It’s easy to keep the peace when times are good. It’s harder when times are bad. Yet it is even more important that Fairhaven remain calm in the troubled times.”

How can it remain calm when more and more people cannot find enough to eat?

“I know you were upset by Myral’s death. Kinowin told me when I saw him early this morning. But you have to do your duty, according to the rules, no matter what you feel. I can’t have mages branding people. What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking, ser. For a moment, I thought of just using the brand to remind him, but I realized that wouldn’t work. So I carried him back here. I should have put him on the refuse crew, I suppose, but I wasn’t thinking. It happened so quickly.”

“No…what you should have done was send him to the south prison for transfer to the road crew. Without branding him.” Isork smiled. “Then, we could have arranged for him to escape on the way to the highway work. We will anyway, but we’ll have to make sure he doesn’t escape until he is well, well away from here, probably into Kyphros.”

Cerryl’s mouth opened.

“That’s the second lesson. We’re not totally unfeeling-but what we do has to look like it is totally unfeeling, totally impartial. The adjustments have to be made in a way that doesn’t appear to compromise the system.”

“Now what do I do?” Cerryl sighed. “I’m sure the word will be out that there is a crazy Patrol mage.”

“We could get around that, in time, after a disciplinary assignment and relocation to another section. What this points out is that you’re too young and too creative,” Isork said, “to stay as a Patrol section mage. You think too much. Sooner or later, the thinking will push you into doing something else. You’ve already made a few decisions that were a bit creative, like putting people on the refuse crew that other mages would have sent to the road crew.” Isork shook his head. “The Patrol doesn’t air its refuse or its laundry in public. You won’t see open disciplinary hearings for Patrol mages-or patrollers. That sort of thing only undermines public trust. It’s simple. Patrol mages and patrollers are fully accountable, and all know they are.”