Colors of Chaos (94 page)

CLXXV

In the late-summer twilight, Cerryl walked quietly along the Avenue, his form half-shielded by the blur screen, a slight headache remaining from the afternoon thundershower. At the steps to The Golden Ram, he turned and entered the inn, slipping along the wall and up the steps to the second level of The Golden Ram and through the half-ajar door into a private room.

Five mages sat around the table, two on each side of Anya, the space across from her empty.

Anya frowned. “I thought I heard someone.”

The four men glanced around, their eyes sliding across Cerryl as though he were not there.

“Close the door.”

A thin-faced and brown - goateed mage rose quickly to comply.

Cerryl smiled to himself. Always someone else is there to do her bidding. Cloaked and blurred in the shadows, he listened.

“We have to act soon. The High Wizard-the younger mages claim he is everywhere and that he must be older and wiser than he is, that he hides his true appearance.”

“Zurchak… Zurchak…” Anya shook her head disapprovingly. “Do not believe every word you hear on the wind. The High Wizard has but two strengths, and both are formidable. He can raise shields strong enough to stop any order or chaos forces known to any but perhaps the great Jeslek. He also can sense where the golds and silvers flow. Other than those traits; he is a normal mage. He does not drift through walls. He does not hear his name murmured on the wind. For darkness’ sake, he sleeps with a Black healer, and he could scarce do that if he bore mighty chaos within him.”

In his cloaked and shadowed corner, Cerryl nodded to himself.

“Cerryl the cautious. He does nothing unless he has calculated and planned.”

“Caution is not always without merit, Muerchal,” observed Anya, the tip of her tongue touching her lips after she spoke. “He is High Wizard, and the Guild has more golds than when he took the amulet.”

“Golds… golds are not glory. They don’t bring the Guild or us power or respect.” Muerchal snorted.

“They do pay our stipends,” added the goateed mage. “There is much to be said for that.”

“If Cerryl the cautious were bolder, the Guild would be more greatly respected, and the golds would flow in,” retorted Muerchal.

“Perhaps… perhaps when you are High Wizard, you can make that happen,” suggested Anya, smiling broadly.

“I will. Even as overmage, I could do more than doddering old Kinowin or Redark the repeater.”

“Muerchal-you talk so much now, but when you get in the chamber we won’t hear so much as a whisper.”

“You will. You will, Aalkiron.”

“We’ll see.” The goateed Aalkiron snickered.

“What about you, Aalkiron?”

“I’ll leave the words to you, Muerchal.”

“Enough… enough,” Anya said. “The High Wizard has promised that there will be an attack upon Recluce. Should he fail to address that, we must question his resolve.”

“He will address it, at great length, and with many words,” suggested Zurchak. “If the words mean anything new, that is another question.”

Cerryl’s unseen smile was crooked. Your time is getting short, shorter than you would like.

“Others-older mages-will listen with care as well,” Anya replied. “They have been more patient, but they will take it amiss if nothing definite is promised.”

“They will take it amiss?” Muerchal laughed. “And then what? Will they ask for more and more words?”

Cerryl decided that Muerchal needed to serve somewhere outside of Fairhaven, preferably aboard a ship-a small ship that was barely seaworthy.

After a time, when a serving woman appeared with more wine, Cerryl slipped from the upper room. He walked silent and unseen up the Avenue and past the Halls of the Mages, nearly to the Market Square. Then he turned westward toward Layel’s dwelling.

Leyladin was waiting in the front room, the one with the portrait of her mother. “What did you discover?” She stood and offered an embrace.

Cerryl returned it, adding a kiss, before responding. “Anya and her group of younger acolytes will indeed push me to commit to the attack on Recluce. She says she has also talked to some of the older mages, Broka and Fydel, I’d guess, and perhaps Gyskas and a few others. They want action as well.”

“So long as others’ blood is shed.” The healer led the way to the silk-hung bedchamber and closed the door behind them.

“That has been the case since I was a student mage, and doubtless before that.” Cerryl sat on the small chair and began to pull off the heavy white boots.

“Do you want anything to eat?”

“No. I’m not hungry.”

“Not hungry?” The dark-green eyes danced in the light of the single lamp lit in the bedchamber. “I don’t know that such is good. What can I do with a mage without hunger?”

“Woman…”

“Do not forget that, my highest wizard. I have waited long, and the season you have been back is too short…” Her eyes went to the second boot as it thumped on the green rug that covered the polished floor stones. Then she smiled. “No one notices that the High Wizard still wears the heavy working boots of a patrol mage.”

“There is much they do not notice,” Cerryl said with a grin, “and probably that is for the best-for us.”

“Best they do not notice your evenings.” Leyladin stepped forward, her arms encircling him as he rose.

CLXXVI

Cerryl surveyed the Council Chamber for a long moment, letting the murmurs die away, faint words muffled by the heavy crimson hangings swagged between the gold-shot pillars that framed the chamber. “A number of you have exhibited great patience in refraining from demanding that I act at once against Recluce.” The High Wizard offered a broad smile. “That patience is to be rewarded.”

“Hear! Hear!” The words came in a low whisper from somewhere in the back benches. “Cheers for Cerryl the cautious.”

“I appreciate the confidence, Muerchal, though your words were not much more than a whisper.” Cerryl’s normally mild voice filled the Hall. He was glad for the time he had spent slinking through the Halls and elsewhere, listening, unheard, noting and keeping track. His eyes fixed on the far left corner. “Do you agree, Zurchak?”

Cerryl couldn’t help but note the smile-quickly smothered-from Kochar at the end of the second row. “I am announcing that the steps we have taken to secure tariff payments from the north coast of Candar have indeed worked, and that the Guild has received the largest such tariff payments this summer that it has ever gotten.” Cerryl let golden light sparkle-momentarily-from the amulet at his neck. That had been one of Leyladin’s suggestions. “We have also reduced the number of ships in the Northern Ocean and shifted them to patrol the waters of Worrak and Ruzor. Tariff collections in both ports have increased as well. They have increased greatly.” He paused to let the words penetrate.

Beside Anya, in the center of the fifth row, Fydel shifted his weight, almost as if the square-bearded mage did not wish to be noticed.

“At my direction,” Cerryl continued, “the noble Anya has been and will be developing the plan for the attack on the new port city on Recluce. As many of you know, Anya has been one of those most concerned about the Black Isle. She has been most insistent that the Guild deal firmly with Recluce, and I felt that, with that insistence, she would work to develop the strongest possible attack on the Southpoint port. She has had much experience in Guild campaigns, from Gallos to Spidlar to Hydlen.” Cerryl gestured toward the redhead. “If you have suggestions, or information that would be helpful, please convey them to her. She has worked long and hard to make all aware of the menace of the Black Isle. She served Sterol and the mighty Jeslek well in their efforts on behalf of Fairhaven and against Recluce. To her, nothing is more important than the Guild vanquishing Recluce.” Cerryl offered a slight bow, pausing before asking, “Is there other business before the Guild? If not… overmages, would you join me?”

Kinowin stepped forward and onto the dais, followed by Redark. “Now that the business of Recluce has been handled for now,” Cerryl said, more warmly, “let us bring in the new mages.”

Cerryl waited on the dais, Kinowin to his right, Redark to his left, as Esaak escorted the three figures in the tunics of student mages forward and down the center aisle of the chamber.

“High Wizard, I present the candidates for induction as full mages and members of the Guild.” Esaak’s voice rumbled, and he barely managed to avoid coughing before stepping to the side.

Cerryl stepped forward, looking down at the three student mages he’d scarcely known. They’d come from the creche and gone through training while he’d been in working for Jeslek and then in Spidlar for the better part of three years. After a short silence, he nodded, calling forth the names, “Eidlen, Dumal, Ultyr… you are here because you have studied, because you have learned the basic skills of magery, and because you have proved you understand the importance of the Guild to the future of all Candar…”

Cerryl wondered if they really did, if any of the Guild members in Fairhaven itself-except Kinowin-truly understood what Fairhaven and the Guild offered for the future of Candar. “… we hold a special trust for all mages, to bring a better life to those who follow the White way, to further peace and prosperity, and to ensure that all our talents are used for the greater good, both of those in Fairhaven and of those throughout Candar.” Cerryl paused.

“Do you, of your own free will, promise to use your talents for the good of the Guild and for the good of Fairhaven, and of all Candar?”

“Yes,” answered the squat and bushy-haired Eidlen.

“Yes.” Dumal squared his painfully thin shoulders.

“Yes.” Ultyr was a small blond girl/woman with the same dark green eyes as Leyladin had.

“And do you faithfully promise to hold to the rules of the Guild, even when those rules may conflict with your personal and private desires?”

“Yes,” answered the three, nearly simultaneously.

“Do you promise that you will do your personal best to ensure that chaos is never raised against the helpless and always to benefit the greater good?”

“Yes.”

“And finally, do you promise that you will always stand by those in the Guild to ensure that mastery of the forces of chaos-and order- is limited to those who will use such abilities for good and not for personal gain and benefit?”

“Yes.”

“Therefore, in the powers of chaos and in the sight of the Guild, you are each a full mage of the White Order of Fairhaven…”

Cerryl raised that shimmering touch of chaos to brush the sleeves of the three-and the red stripes were gone, as if they had never been, as had been the case when he had become a full mage.

“Welcome, Eidlen, Dumal, and Ultyr…” Cerryl smiled at the three and then studied the mages behind them. “Now that we have welcomed our newest mages, our business is over. All may greet them.”

Murmurs, and then conversation, broke out across the chamber. Cerryl’s eyes took in Anya, leaning to one side and whispering to Fydel. He forced his smile to remain in place and stepped off the dais toward the three young mages, each of whom carried a half-bewildered expression.

Dealing with Anya could wait. For the moment… only for the moment.

CLXXVII

As soon as she seated herself at the table in the High Wizard’s quarters, Anya raised her eyebrows. “Come. Show us what your precious smith has done now, Cerryl.”

“I would be most happy to show you what Jeslek’s precious smith has done,” answered the High Wizard, pausing to blot sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He concentrated, and the silver mists formed, then parted.

A small schooner with sails was tied at a sturdy stone pier. The ship’s sails were furled, and a black pipe protruded from the main deck. Beside the schooner was a small two-masted fishing boat and, on the other side, another ship, jet-black, without masts, but with a slant-sided deckhouse, an open cylinder behind it, and smooth, curved hull lines. Workers attached black metal plates to the rear of the Black ship’s deckhouse. The three White wizards studied the scene in the mirror.

“What in darkness is it?” asked Fydel.

“Do we really want to find out?” Cerryl’s voice was sardonic. “You can sense the order he has poured into the iron.”

“Cerryl dear, you are so cautious. Look at the hillside. Those are tents beyond the first houses. Clearly, this… settlement is scarcely begun.”

Fydel raised his eyebrows. “The stone buildings appear rather solid, Anya.”

“As do the piers,” added Cerryl.

“You… men! If you can call yourselves that. We need to stop this before the Black Council decides this smith should build more such vessels. Right now, all he has is two small ships and a fishing boat and a few buildings. We wait much longer, and it gets that much harder.”

Cerryl cleared his throat. “Anya, we are not in the Council Chamber. The Guild has agreed to your plan. The southern fleet is already gathering in the Great North Bay. Within the next two eight-days, depending on the winds, it will be ready to set forth-exactly according to your plans.” He offered the redhead a broad smile. “What else would you have us do?”

“You are too accommodating, Cerryl.” Anya’s voice was smooth. “But I appreciate your thoughtfulness. I do trust that the fleet’s departure will be as you have projected and that there will be sufficient troop support to level this Black settlement.”

“You wish to prove to the Blacks that we can strike even upon their beloved isle?”

“It would aid our effort, would it not?” asked the redheaded wizard.

“If you so believe, then I bow to your wisdom, and I will make certain that all understand your words and observations.” Cerryl inclined his head. “I will ensure that the fleet leaves as you have planned. With some lancer detachments aboard.”

“Thank you.” Anya stepped back and inclined her head. “By your leave, Highest of High Wizards?”

“Of course.” Cerryl inclined his head in return, standing and watching as she left, waiting until she was outside his apartments.