L. Modesitt - Colors of Chaos

“The weather is colder than usual.”

“The whole year’s been strange.” Cerryl turned on the settee. “When will your father be home?”

“Not for a bit.” Leyladin paused. “You almost don’t seem glad to see me, not after the first few moments.”

“It’s not that.” Cerryl looked past the healer, toward the painting of her mother, and the image’s blue eyes seemed to bore into him.

“You’re upset. More troubles with Jeslek?”

“Not exactly…” He pursed his lips.

“What don’t you want to tell me?”

“It’s not that.” He paused. “You can’t tell anyone, not even Lyasa.”

“I won’t.” A smile danced across her lips. “Not even Lyasa.”

“Fydel captured a woman trader and brought her back…” Cerryl detailed all that he knew. “…and when they whipped her, Jeslek was twisting chaos…I could sense it, so much that I almost couldn’t scree at the time. I couldn’t go to Kinowin again, and I couldn’t exactly question the High Wizard. So I confronted Anya. She told me that the woman was being returned to the smith. She is on her way back. I checked.” Cerryl shook his head. “I don’t understand any of this. I’ve told Kinowin, but I can’t press him on it, not after the mess I made of the Patrol.”

“And you can’t let Jeslek know you saw him torture this woman.”

“I don’t see how; do you?”

“Not in your position, Cerryl.” Leyladin shook her head.

Cerryl glanced at the image of the healer’s mother, but the eyes remained bleak blue and fixed upon him.

“Jeslek tortured the smith’s woman,” Leyladin said slowly. “It doesn’t make Jeslek look very good.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“That doesn’t further your order of chaos.”

Cerryl took a deep breath. What could he say?

“You could say that he will pay for it,” suggested the blonde.

“He may.”

“You could say that you could do nothing.”

“For now, I fear I have done what I can. I may have made matters worse, both for her and for me. I did not know until the torture was almost over. I couldn’t even have run there fast enough to shorten what they did.” Cerryl shrugged despondently. “Her torture will enrage this Dorrin. He appears to be a man who will find an answer, no matter what the cost. I hope I am not too near when he does.”

“He is similar to you, then.” Leyladin laughed, flirtatiously yet distantly.

Cerryl looked at the floor.

“How do you feel about this…torture?”

“It was wrong.”

“No…what does it make you feel?”

“What difference does that make? I don’t exactly have the power to do anything.”

“Fear, rage, anger, despair-they’re like chaos within you. You keep what you feel about everything to yourself. Sooner or later, Cerryl, you’ll have to trust someone.”

“I trust you.”

“You trust me with what has happened, but I have to pull out of you what you feel.”

“That’s hard for me.”

“I know.” The blonde healer slipped an arm around him and hugged him for but a moment. “You’ve never had anyone to share with, have you?”

“No.”

“You need to learn.”

“We are already.”

Leyladin frowned. “What do you mean?”

“A while back, I was thinking something, but I never said it. You answered what I was thinking.”

“It must have been obvious.” She gave a soft and humorous laugh.

“Perhaps it was.” Cerryl wasn’t sure but forbore saying more as the front door thudded against the foyer wall.

“Cold as a winter road out there, it is!” Layel called as he stamped his feet in the entry foyer. Then he stepped into the sitting room and strode past the two on the settee and stood before the hearth. “Nothing like a warm hearth after a cold ride.”

“Where were you riding from?” asked Cerryl.

“Just from Muneat’s warehouse. It’s on the far northwest, but the wind has picked up, and I fear cold and more snow. He had some brocade, goodly stuff, but a goodly price as well.”

“You didn’t buy any,” Leyladin said with a laugh.

“I buy as little as I can when the price is dear, no matter how someone tells me it will become dearer.” The balding blonde trader shook his head. “If it becomes dearer, all too often, none have the coins to purchase. So I buy what I can that others will have coins for.” He turned so his backside was warmed by the hearth. “Little enough of that, these days. What a world! Still there is no duke in Hydolar, and brigands are everywhere on the roads out of and into Spidlar. One of the best traders I know, fine fellow, Willum was, always had goods of a differing streak-he’s dead, killed by brigands. Never been to his warehouse, some small port in Spidlar-Diev, that’s it. Met him in Elparta or Axum, handful of times, and he’s gone.”

Cerryl frowned. He’d heard the name somewhere, but he couldn’t recall where.

“You know him?” asked Layel.

“No, ser. I’ve heard the name, but I can’t remember where.”

“Then there’s Freidr…factor in Jellico, sent me a scroll wanting to know why your Guild was insisting all warehouses in Jellico be inspected.” Layel raised his eyebrows.

“I didn’t know anything about that,” Cerryl confessed.

“No matter. I’m warmer. Is dinner ready?” the factor asked his daughter.

“Let me check with Meridis.” Leyladin rose and headed for the kitchen.

“You looked most shocked, young Cerryl, when I spoke of inspections.”

“I was, ser. I’d never heard of that before.”

“Neither had I; neither had I. Sorry place the world be getting to. Would that those Black angels on Recluce leave us well enough alone.”

Cerryl refrained from commenting that he wasn’t certain all the problem lay with Recluce.

Leyladin reappeared, standing in the archway by the hearth. “Meridis is more than ready. She wanted to know what took you.” The healer grinned at her father.

“Blasted woman. What took me? Gaining the coins to pay for the food and her stipend-that’s what took me…” Layel broke off as he saw the twinkle in Leyladin’s eyes. “Daughter, you will order me to death.”

“Not me.”

Layel glanced at Cerryl. “Daughters! Let us eat.”

Leyladin and Cerryl exchanged glances, their mouths offering amused smiles beneath momentarily laughing eyes.

WONDERING WHY KINOWIN had summoned him, Cerryl rapped on the overmage’s door. Has he discovered something about the woman trader? Or the smith?

“Come in, Cerryl.”

Cerryl entered and closed the door behind him. The room was warm, despite the chill outside the White Tower and the lack of a hearth within the overmage’s chamber. With the warmth was the scent of something almost astringent, healer-like.

“You summoned me?”

Kinowin gestured to a chair, and Cerryl sat, still wondering.

“Cerryl,” said the overmage. “Jeslek has suggested to me that you accompany the expedition to Spidlar.”

“Me? A former Patrol mage who couldn’t abide by the rules?” Cerryl kept his voice dubious, but not sarcastic, because sarcasm would annoy Kinowin. Why had Jeslek not told Cerryl himself? The High Wizard had not hesitated to do so in the past.

“Few in the lancers know that, but most would deem that a benefit. Jeslek claims he’ll need someone to restore peace in the bigger towns, but someone who’s seen battles and will be useful. He implied that someone who would not be missed in other ways would be more suitable.”

Cerryl winced. “He wants me out of his way and to disappear when he’s safely conquered Spidlar.”

“That may be. But…if you do well, and survive, you most likely won’t have to worry about arrows from side streets for the rest of your life. Or being sent out to remove fractious rulers single-handedly.” Kinowin’s tone was half-humorous, half-serious. He frowned. “You know, do you not, that a new duke has yet to emerge in Hydolar? Nor have the road tariffs been paid.”