Colors of Chaos

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “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 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 blond 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.

  LXXIV

  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 he lack of a hearth within the overmage’s chamber. With the warmth was the scent of something almost astringent, healerlike.

  “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.”

  “I didn’t know. I don’t think I’m surprised. Are you suggesting that Jeslek might send me back there if I don’t go with the expedition to Spidlar?”

  “I could not presume to guess the High Wizard’s intent.” Kinowin’s eyes twinkled, and an ironic smile appeared-briefly.

  “What do you think Myral would have said?” Cerryl asked.

  “He would have suggested you go. I’m certain of that.” Kinowin offered a gentle smi
le.

  Cerryl grinned and then shrugged. “I’ll go.” Not that there was much choice. “Is there anything special I should take that I don’t know enough to think about?”

  Kinowin cocked his head. “Patience. After that, a spare pair of boots and an extra good wool blanket. You’ll be going before the High Wizard with Fydel to Jellico. You and Fydel will accompany the Certan levies and their commanders from Jellico to Spidlar, when the time comes.”

  “Just us?”

  “You’ll have a large detachment of White Lancers, but most will be with Jeslek, I understand. He has some plan in mind. He hasn’t disclosed it, and I doubt he will.”

  “He must be… preoccupied.”

  “Not to tell you himself?” The overmage sipped something from his mug, though it did not seem like cider or yellow fir tea to Cerryl. “He will, in time, but he is only one mage, and matters have gotten far from simple in recent eight-days. Far from simple.” Kinowin set the mug down on the table and glanced toward the purple and blue hanging.

  “The woman trader went back to Spidlar,” Cerryl ventured.

  “I know. That was a time back. I doubt Jeslek’s plan will work, but there’s little either of us can do. Not now and not at this distance. I fear it may turn upon him, and I told him so, though he did not consult me, either, before undertaking it.” Kinowin shook his head. “You can do nothing. Not now. Concentrate on what you can do.”

  That’s hard…and getting harder. “I’ll try.”

  “You’d better try harder… if you want to survive this next year.” Kinowin lifted the mug once more. “That was all I wanted to tell you.”

  “Thank you.” Cerryl rose, still filled with doubts and questions, so many that he couldn’t have centered on one at that moment. As he left, he could still smell the astringent odor. Was Kinowin drinking something because he was ill? Or to prevent illness?

  The thought of the Guild without Kinowin as overmage sent a chill down Cerryl’s back as he headed for the steps out of the Tower.

  LXXV

  We’re going to Furenk’s tonight,“ Leyladin had told Cerryl, in the firm tone that brooked no argument. ”I’m paying, and you’re going to enjoy the food and the wine.“

  The two walked down the Avenue, carefully avoiding the few patches of ice remaining on the paving stones. The air bore the trace of an acrid odor, one Cerryl would have described as that of damp chaos, though he had no idea how chaos could have been damp.

  “It’s been a cold winter,” said Leyladin.

  “It was a warm harvest and a hot summer, though.”

  “Hydolar was beastly. I’m glad you came and got me.”

  “How was Duke Ferobar?”

  “I don’t know. I never saw him. I think he was fearful of mages. I’d rather not talk about it anymore. I was glad to see you. I was even halfway glad to see Anya.”

  “That is something.”

  Leyladin’s eyebrows rose. “Fydel is nice enough, but he’ll only do what he’s told. You and Anya will do what you think is necessary. Jeslek sent Anya to make sure Hydlen paid. He sent you to make sure the duke paid.”

  “You don’t like him.”

  “No, I don’t, but…” She left the sentence unfinished.

  “You’re not sure which is worse-Sterol’s caution or Jeslek’s actions?”

  “Something like that.” The blonde gestured toward the archway, The marble plaque at Furenk’s was unchanged, still proclaiming: “The Inn at Fairhaven,” although the pink marble steps were damp from the mist that had followed the cold rain. Despite the season, the entry area held the faint scent of flowers. Incense? wondered Cerryl, although he saw no braziers.

  As had occurred the last time, a tall functionary in a pale blue cotton shirt and a dark blue vest appeared. “Lady Leyladin, Mage Cerryl, how good to see you both.”

  As Cerryl wondered how the man in blue knew his name, the functionary took both their coats and then led the way to a corner table in the back dining room. He seated Leyladin.

  Cerryl sat down across from the blonde healer. Again, the ten tables of the back dining room were empty, except for the one where they sat. The pale blue linen was spotless and ironed smooth. The polished bronze lamp in the middle of the table cast a warm but faint glow, and the hearth in the middle of the wall held a moderately high fire that removed all trace of chill from the back dining area.

  “It’s as elegant as I remember. Like you,” offered Cerryl.

  “You’re elegant, too, you know.” Leyladin smiled. “I didn’t want to share you tonight. Father would have talked and talked and talked about trade and how bad things are getting.”

  “They are, but… I’m glad we’re here.”

  “Lady… ser?” A heavyset woman in the dark blue trousers and vest with the pale blue shirt appeared beside the table. “This evening, we have the special sliced beef with mushrooms and pearapples or a rack of lamb, young lamb glazed in minted apple.”

  “The lamb,” said Leyladin, “and a bottle of the Kyphran gold wine.”

  “The beef.”

  After the server left, Cerryl looked across the table at the blonde in green, at the deep green eyes he often felt he could fall into. He smiled.

  “Why the smile?”

  “You.”

  “Good. I’m glad. You know, you never tell me about what it was like growing up outside of Fairhaven.”

  “Hard. Not terrible… but hard in a way. I had to fetch water from the spring above the mines. The ones below ran green and yellow sometimes and smelled of brimstone. The house… it was nicer than many, even in Hrisbarg. Uncle Syodar took the best from the mine buildings after the old duke closed the mines…” Cerryl continued to offer his impressions of the mines and growing up there. “… something sad about a place where so many men had worked, and then where only my uncle was left.” He paused as the server returned with the wine.

  Leyladin sipped the first drops, then nodded and let the server fill each goblet half-full.

  Cerryl lifted the goblet and took a sip, smiling as he tasted the Kyphran gold wine, a wine that smelled and tasted like it held faint traces of the best fruits of spring, summer, and fall swirled together. “This is good, maybe the best wine I’ve tasted.”

  “I’ve always liked it. Father said I should.” Leyladin grinned. “It’s four silvers a bottle.”

  Cerryl swallowed-almost half a gold for a single bottle? “No wonder it’s good.”

  “Enjoy it.” Leyladin lifted her goblet.

  After a moment, Cerryl took another sip. Four silvers or not, it was good. “What do you think about Kinowin telling me Jeslek wants me to go to Jellico and then Spidlar?”

  “He doesn’t want you too close to him here in Fairhaven, perhaps anywhere. I think he’s afraid of you, in a way.”

  “Me?”

  “No false modesty, Cerryl. None of the younger mages have your strength or talent.”

  “Still…” he mused.

  “Had I thought of it, I would have expected that Jeslek wanted you to go with the forces to Spidlar.” Leyladin tightened her lips. “He may even let it be known that you are the mage who removed two rulers.”

  Cerryl frowned. He had thought of that. “But if he does, then, if he has to have anyone, not just me, but anyone, do that again, it makes it harder.”

  “There is that.” Her eyebrows arched.

  “You don’t trust him?”

  “I trust him to do what benefits him. You benefit him-now. You won’t always, you know.”

  “I know.” He took another sip of the golden wine, trying to separate out the flavors… and failing.

  “So long as he has problems…”

  “That could be a while. I still don’t quite understand how things got so bad. Heralt was pointing out that nothing is new. I mean, we’ve had bad crops, problems with Recluce, ungrateful rulers, trade difficulties… sometimes all at once, but the Guild hasn’t had to fight half of Candar in one form or another.”

&nbs
p; “No mage has created mountains before,” she answered.

  “I wondered about that.” He looked up as the server returned with two plates. “Part of the reason is that it’s easier to manipulate chaos within the ground than pull pure chaos from the ground and cast it like a firebolt. Part is, I think, that Jeslek wants to split Gallos in two with the mountains. I said that, and he didn’t correct me.”

  The heavyset woman placed the lamb before Leyladin and the beef before Cerryl.

  “Thank you,” Leyladin said.

  “Will there be anything else, lady, ser?”

  Cerryl and Leyladin exchanged glances. Then Cerryl spoke. “No, thank you.”

  The gray-eyed mage cut a small sliver of the beef and chewed it slowly. “Also good.”

  “Try a bite of the lamb.” Leyladin extended a morsel.

  After clearing his mouth with a sip of the wine, he ate the lamb.

  “Good. Better than the beef, I think, but not much.” He recalled Faltar and his aversion to lamb, then pushed away the thought.

  After a short silence, Leyladin said, “You think too highly of Jeslek, even as you worry about him.”

  Cerryl frowned. “Do you really think that? Why?”

  “You seem to think Jeslek thinks beyond himself. I have doubts of that. Either way, he would have you with him to do those tasks he would rather not do. So would Anya, for different reasons.”

  Cerryl offered an enigmatic smile.

  “You aren’t listening. You always give me that order-cursed smile when you don’t want to tell me I’m wrong. Anya is pure poison, especially for you. Everything she says is twisted, but you listen to everyone, and then you have to figure it out. You usually do, but while you’re trying to understand it all, you can do stupid things…” Leyladin shook her head. “I don’t know why I bother.”

  “I don’t trust her, either. I have few choices. I would rather stay with you.” Cerryl sighed slowly. “There. Is that better?”

  “It’s more honest,” said Leyladin. “Why don’t you try it?”

  “What? Honesty?” Cerryl laughed gently. “I have. It doesn’t work. Except with you, and you’re a Black.”