Colors of Chaos (Saga of Recluce)

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Yes, honored Cerryl. You may recall that I asked whether you would choose caution over actions or the reverse. You responded fairly, if cautiously.” Broka bowed his head very slightly.

  “I would prefer to act when the actions will have the effect we all desire,” Cerryl answered. “Acting for appearance wastes coins we do not have.”

  “Like Kinowin, you are concerned over golds?”

  “I am concerned for the Guild. Golds are necessary to assure the Guild’s future.” Cerryl offered a faint smile. “I would that it were otherwise, but controlling chaos does not pay lancers nor purchase grain.”

  “So long as the Guild comes first…” Broka nodded.

  “It does,” Cerryl affirmed. “The good of Fairhaven is uppermost in my thoughts.”

  “I look forward to when your actions will bring the desired results.”

  “As do I.”

  Broka gave a sidelong nod and slipped away in the stealthy and angular fashion that had always made Cerryl think of him as lizardlike. Cerryl made his way toward the Meal Hall, even though the noon bells had not quite rung.

  The young High Wizard surveyed the Hall. Almost as though he could sense Cerryl’s eyes, Esaak glanced up from the corner table in the Hall. Cerryl made his way through the empty tables and settled down across the round table from the older mage. “How are matters working out with Redark?”

  “You may be the most mathematically inept High Wizard the Guild has ever had.” Esaak looked at Cerryl, almost blankly, before a trace of a smile appeared. “But you are not that inept.”

  “Redark does not understand why we cannot raise tariffs. He will not listen to me.” Cerryl shrugged. “He will not believe matters unless they are put before him in a fashion he cannot deny. I know of no one other than you who can do so.”

  “I appreciate your trust, High Wizard.” A broader smile crossed Esaak’s lined face. “I also imagine you have no objection to my sharing my calculations with anyone who is interested.” The heavyset and white-haired old mage scratched his ear.

  “Not at all. I would appreciate seeing them before they are widely shared so that I know what you have calculated.”

  “You know what I have calculated, I imagine. Lower tariffs in Fairhaven and broader and lower tariffs in the ports will gain the Guild more golds.” Esaak sighed, then lifted the mug of ale before him, slurping down a healthy swallow. “The difficulty is not the calculations, but the explanation of why this is so.”

  “A twentieth part of fifty-score pies gives one more pies than a tenth of fivescore pies,” suggested Cerryl.

  “You wish to write the explanations, High Wizard? With your gift of words…?”

  Cerryl laughed, easily. “If I wrote them, no one would believe them. You are esteemed and respected.”

  “You are a dangerous flatterer, ser.” Esaak smiled broadly. “I will complete the calculations and essay to educate the overmage on pies and golds.” He nodded as Cerryl stood.

  “Thank you.” With a nod, Cerryl stepped toward the serving table, where the youths in red were setting out what looked to be mutton stew—a lamb stew that had not changed since he had first come to the Halls and heard Faltar complain about it.

  And you wish he were still here to complain. Cerryl’s eyes burned as he turned from the serving table and began to walk back to the White Tower. More than ever you wish that…

  CLXX

  CERRYL PEERED INTO the study commons, noting the three apprentices studying there, then slipped into the corridor, using his blur screen to avoid attention.

  He passed back to the front Hall, where he waited a time, watching messengers in red passing, some other apprentices, and, finally, a mage he knew, if but slightly. He waited until the red-haired Kochar was almost abreast before dropping the screen. “Kochar?”

  “Ah…oh, I’m so sorry, ser. I didn’t see you.” Kochar half-bowed and stepped back away from the High Wizard.

  Cerryl offered a pleasant smile and beckoned to the redhead. “You’re on gate duty now, are you not?”

  “Yes, ser. The eastern gate.” Kochar’s eyes did not quite meet Cerryl’s. “Except for today.”

  “That was my first gate duty,” mused Cerryl. “You still get farmers coming through?”

  “Ah…”

  “Not that many?” prodded Cerryl.

  “No, ser.”

  “You sell many medallions?”

  “Not one, ser.” Kochar paused. “I’ve only been on gate duty for a half-season, and it is winter.”

  “Still,” mused Cerryl, “they must have some provisions laid by to sell somewhere. Do not some ask about medallions?”

  “There was one, an older man, but when he heard it would cost five coppers, he said he’d take his chances at the square in Howlett or even Weevett.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Wasn’t much I could say, ser, was there?”

  “Not now. We’ll be trying to change that.” Cerryl paused. “Anyone tried to bring in perfumed oils packed inside timbers? They’re hard to sense if they’re not in leaded pottery.”

  “Ah…not that I know.”

  “You never know what might be in a wagon.” Cerryl nodded. “I won’t keep you.”

  “Yes, ser. Thank you, ser.” With a bow, Kochar backed away.

  As soon as the young mage’s head turned, Cerryl concealed himself with the blur screen.

  Kochar glanced back once and almost stumbled when he could not see the High Wizard. Cerryl smiled to himself. One way or another…you’ll get them thinking you can be anywhere.

  Cerryl crossed the fountain courtyard, ignoring the chill wind and raw air, and then along the corridor and into the library, watching a young woman in the red-trimmed whites of an apprentice who pored over a familiar map. It took him a moment to put name to face.

  “What are you trying to find?”

  Her eyes widened as she saw the amulet. “Oh, ser, honored High Wizard…ah…”

  “I know. You’ve been told not to seek help from any full mages and now you have the High Wizard questioning you.” He gestured toward the map stretched on the table before her. “That map is familiar…It was the first big map I did—for Jeslek, even before he became High Wizard. I had to find out where Tellura, Meltosia, Quessa, and a few other places in Gallos were. What is your task? That you can tell me.” Cerryl smiled.

  “I’m to find a place called Asula and one called Telsen.”

  “Who set the task?”

  “Overmage Redark, ser.”

  “Add two more,” Cerryl said gently. “Diev and Axalt. You may ask anyone why they are important, but not their location.”

  “Yes, ser.” The tone was not quite resigned.

  “What do you think about the Black Isle?”

  “The Blacks are our enemies.”

  “So it has been said for many years,” Cerryl answered. “It will be for years to come. Yet most arms mages have died in Candar with few Blacks nearby, and never have the Blacks sent lancers or armsmen into Candar.”

  “Ser?”

  “All enemies are not those who are the most convenient to name.” Cerryl smiled enigmatically. “I wish you well on the map. Diev was somewhere in Spidlar, by the way, and Axalt in the Easthorns.”

  “Was?”

  “Good day, Meylal.” Cerryl stepped back past the bookcase, drawing the blur shield around him, so that he would appear to have vanished.

  CLXXI

  CERRYL GLANCED AROUND the lamp-lit and silk-hung bedchamber, so similar to the first view of Leyladin’s chamber through his glass and yet so different in ways he could not describe but only feel.

  “You look tired,” Leyladin said, standing behind him and rubbing his shoulders. “Your shoulders are tight. Lie down on the bed.”

  Cerryl was glad to comply, easing off his boots and stretching out on the green coverlet. The breeze coming through the shutters that were cracked but a fraction of a span was chill yet held the hint of approaching spr
ing.

  The healer’s long fingers were firm but gentle as she massaged the tight muscles between his shoulder blades and spine. “Your muscles are like iron.”

  “That’s from wondering who will appear behind me every time I leave the Tower.” And if they’ll see through your blurring screen.

  “You don’t have to walk the Halls of the Mages that much.”

  “I don’t? How else do I establish that I could know anything and be anywhere? I’m not a mighty mage like Jeslek was, or a planner and plotter like Anya is.”

  “You’re getting pretty effective. Kiella drew me aside yesterday. She wanted to know if I knew how you managed to slip through walls.”

  “I wish I could sometimes.” Cerryl sighed, enjoying the kneading that relaxed and loosened his shoulders.

  “She also said that someone had told her that you had removed all the traders in Spidlar. No one had seen you do it, nor knew how you had, not even to this day.” The healer’s fingers moved down his back.

  “That feels good.” After a moment, he added, “I’m not getting respected but feared? Is that it?”

  Leyladin laughed. “Both, I would say. That’s not too bad for a mage almost no one knew a season ago.”

  “From nothingness to High Wizard in a single season.”

  “Better that than the other way around.”

  Facedown on the soft bed, Cerryl closed his eyes. He wanted to shake his head.

  “You can’t have as much power as the High Wizard has and expect to be loved,” she said quietly. “Except by me and a few others who really know you.” After a moment, she added, “That’s true for everyone, really.”

  “I suppose so. Sad, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but we won’t change that.”

  Not if you want to change Candar, we won’t. He let his breath out slowly and tried to concentrate on the firm and gentle touch that had begun to relax a body all too tight.

  CLXXII

  CERRYL GLANCED AT the scroll sent from Heralt.

  …now that the ice is out across the entire Northern Ocean, the wagons have begun to roll in from Certis. I have stationed a full company of lancers at the harbor with one of the apprentices there all the time. Otherwise, cargoes would be loaded and unloaded without tariffs being paid…

  …with this should come a small chest of golds, nearly 400, to follow the 200 sent three eight-days ago…

  There is a certain sullenness…yet acceptance when we mention your name to the Certans…as though they know of you by more than name…as though they now know that the full surtax will be collected…Records here show that such was not so last fall…still concerned that the viscount may attempt something…

  …have seen no Black traders…

  Cerryl let the scroll roll shut. He stood and walked to the open window, looking out at the white and green of Fairhaven, thinking about Heralt and the continued tariff and trade problems. His use of the glass showed no movement of Certan troops, and the tariff collections sent from Jellico by Disarj had increased somewhat over the previous year, but not to the amount Cerryl suspected was truly due. Sooner or later, he’d have to deal with both Rystryr and Disarj, but that problem would have to wait.

  His eyes went to the pile of scrolls. So far matters had continued to improve in Spidlaria and Lydiar, and despite complaining, Gorsuch remained dutiful in Renklaar. The Duke Afabar continued to send obedient scrolls—and golds—from Hydolar. Shenan confirmed that more trade was appearing in Ruzor, but without more mages or lancers she could not ensure that all the tariffs were being recorded and paid.

  “How long that will last…” Cerryl twisted his lips in a private and wry smile.

  Thrap! “Overmage Redark.”

  “Have him come in.” Cerryl turned from the window and the warm breeze.

  “Greetings, High Wizard.” Redark bowed after he entered the High Wizard’s apartment. The pale green eyes peered at Cerryl above the ginger beard as the overmage seated himself across the table. “You are often seen around the Halls, or so I am told. Yet you are like a shadow.”

  “The High Wizard must cast a long shadow…don’t you think?”

  “I had not thought of it in quite that way.”

  “The overmage Kinowin,” announced Gostar from beyond the white oak door to the chamber.

  “Have him join us,” Cerryl answered, raising his voice.

  Kinowin walked in, with no sign of the stiffness Cerryl knew the older overmage felt, and sat to Redark’s right. “Greetings, High Wizard, Redark.”

  “Greetings,” Redark answered, not quite dourly.

  Cerryl glanced from the white-and-blonde-haired Kinowin to Redark. “You requested this meeting, Overmage. Perhaps you should begin.” He took a sip of water from the goblet, then poured water for both overmages.

  “Ah…yes, ser.” Redark took a sip from the goblet before him. “There is no doubt, ser, no doubt at all, that you are the most powerful mage—in a quiet sort of way, you understand. But not all understand your power, and you are young…”

  Cerryl smiled. “I understand.”

  “At first…well…every High Wizard must take some time.” Redark shrugged. “It has been more than a season since you assumed the amulet, and spring has turned, and summer is upon us.”

  “And?” asked Cerryl politely.

  “Recluce…the Black Isle remains aloof. Their traders ply the Eastern Ocean, and they carry cargoes that should be from Candar. You have spoken well and often—”

  “Their traders, or those receiving goods in Candar, now pay the full surtax,” Cerryl answered mildly.

  “Those ships are few,” protested Redark, his voice rising slightly. “Many feel that the time to act has long passed. Were it not for having had three High Wizards in near as many years…”

  “I do understand. The time to act will come. That is why you and Kinowin will explain to the Guild at the next meeting why we are not recalling any of the White Lancers or mages from Spidlar.”

  Redark frowned. “We are not? They have been there for near on four years. They should be gathered for the attack on Recluce.”

  Cerryl forced a broader and more winning smile, then nodded toward Kinowin. “I am but following the path laid out by my esteemed predecessors and by you and Kinowin. All of you foresaw the need for Fairhaven to gain control of the northern traders. That was to assure that the shipping tariffs and the surtax were paid. I continue to defer to your expertise. We have, of course, finally managed to do something about Tyrhavven, so that the viscount has not been able to use that port and the Sligan traders to evade his tariff responsibilities, as he once did. But Rystryr will not continue to pay those duties unless we keep the lancers to support Heralt and his assistants.”

  “Ah…I had talked with young Anya,” Redark went on in a modulated voice. “She is of the opinion that Recluce remains the greatest danger facing the Guild.”

  “She is indeed quite knowledgeable,” Cerryl said smoothly.

  “She continues to be most concerned about Recluce and the threat which the Black Isle poses.”

  “As are we all,” Cerryl agreed.

  “There are a number of mages who feel this must be addressed above all,” Redark continued, leaning forward. “I fear you do not appreciate the intensity of feeling.”

  An amused smile flitted across Kinowin’s face, vanishing before Redark straightened to await Cerryl’s response.

  “I understand that, and we are working on plans to do so. This effort to gain greater control of trade is part of that plan. It will enable us to raise the resources to deal with Recluce.”

  “Would you be so kind as to explain, ser?” Redark’s brow furrowed.

  “I had thought Sterol and Jeslek would have been more forthcoming,” Cerryl said, “but they had much with which to occupy their talents. We now have nearly a score of ships upon the Northern and Eastern Oceans, enforcing the tariff rules. Is that not so?”

  “Ah…somewhat slightly less than that.”


  “And if we remove these ships and place them in a fleet to attack Recluce? What happens to the golds we have been collecting?”

  “Ah…are you suggesting that they might not be collected? That they would defy the High Wizard?”

  “I have noticed that in the past the Guild has had trouble collecting golds anywhere that we did not have several mages and detachments of lancers. That was true even when Jeslek was High Wizard, and he was the most powerful chaos wielder in many generations.” Cerryl smiled apologetically. “I cannot see why that would change unless we changed something else.”

  “What do you propose changing?” Kinowin asked, as if to forestall any objection Redark might have.

  “By using friendly traders, detachments of lancers, and junior mages with knowledge to ensure all ships that port in Eastern Candar pay their just tariffs, we have begun to do two things. You see that, of course.” Cerryl favored the ginger-bearded overmage with a smile. “We can free the older and more experienced mages for service against Recluce, and we can free the ships we have been using to enforce the tariffs for an action to blockade Recluce itself, to strike at the heart of the problem.”

  Redark frowned.

  “But…you know all this.” Cerryl smiled. “It has taken me some time and study to comprehend the brilliance of what you all had devised, and for that I beg your indulgence. I am now working to complete the plan so that we may have enough warships free of tariff-collecting duties to assemble a true fleet.”

  “How long might this take?”

  “I doubt that any would wish to serve on the ships of a fleet too small for the task at hand. Still, I would suspect that we should be ready to assemble a fleet by summer’s end.”

  “Might I tell Anya of this?”

  Cerryl forced a cold and bright smile. “It might be best if Anya were to speak to me directly. I would hate to have something I said taken falsely, and so would you, Overmage.” He paused. “Would you not?”

  “Ah…yes. I can see that.” Redark did not quite stammer. “What might I convey, then?”