Colors of Chaos

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “You understand, Cerryl. Unfortunately, that is the way matters will be for a time. After you eat, be on your way. I will be meeting with the High Wizard in the early afternoon.” Kinowin grinned. “Did she like the flowers?”

  Cerryl flushed. “She did.” Then he grinned. “And she said to thank you also.”

  “Hang to her, Cerryl. She is worth all those in the White Tower, this old overmage included. Consider yourself fortunate, and waste no days… or nights.”

  Cerryl flushed even more brightly.

  “Go.” Kinowin laughed gently. “I’ll not tariff you more.”

  CXLIII

  Cerryl studied the empty Avenue, his eyes flicking around the square. Despite the infrequent street lamps, the whitened granite of the Avenue held and reflected enough light, even at midnight, that Cerryl’s borrowed mount had no difficulty in making her way from the Artisans’ Square up the narrower Way of the Lesser Artisans. The shops of the first crafters were as he had recalled, including the old potter’s, but the one that had held the weaver’s shop-where he had first seen Pattera- that now held yet another potter, if the emblem over the door were true.

  He guided the mare down the alleyway-past all the sewer catches- toward the rear gate to Tellis’s house. Outside the courtyard, Cerryl sat in the saddle, then fingered the leather pouch-a small handful of golds, but a few golds were all he had. Not all by any means, but you have other debts to pay, and now is not when you should be poor again, either. Self-deception? Probably.

  He smiled in the darkness, not quite sardonically, as he swung down from his mount, which he tied to the gate. He looked in all directions, but all the nearby windows were dark. Then, letting the light-blurring shield rise around him, he opened the gate from the alley and eased across the rear courtyard. Rather than open the common room door, Cerryl tied the pouch to the door latch and cloaked it in a faint illusion, one that would break the moment a hand touched the latch and one that would not hold past midmorning.

  He wondered if Tellis and Beryal or Benthann would guess who had left the pouch. One way or another, it didn’t matter. Another debt paid… as best you can for now.

  He retreated to the gate, which he closed, and then untied the mare and remounted. The faint clop of hoofs echoed down the alley and then along the Way of the Lesser Artisans as he retraced his path back to the small stable behind Layel’s small mansion. The air remained warm and still, the Avenue empty, except for one White mage and his mount.

  Once back at the stable, he dismounted and led the mare to her stall. He brushed her quickly in the darkness, then closed her stall and the stable door, making his way through the gloom back to the door on the south side of the house. He unlocked it with Leyladin’s key, then relocked it behind himself. His steps were not quite noiseless on the marble floor, but no one roused-or called out-as he opened Leyladin’s bedchamber door, then closed it behind him.

  “You weren’t that long. How did it go?” asked Leyladin sleepily as he undressed and then slipped under the single sheet, more than enough for the warm night.

  “It was too little and too late, but…”

  “Better than not at all.” She touched his lips with her finger. “Tellis? The weaver girl?”

  “Tellis. The weaver has moved.”

  “I’ll ask Soaris to see if he can find her. No one should know you’re the one who’s looking. Especially Anya.”

  Especially Anya. “Thank you.”

  “I’m glad you are who you are.” Two warm arms slipped around him, and their lips met.

  So am I… after all these years.

  CXLIV

  Sitting at the other side of the round table, the gaunt Kinowin sipped some early cider from a mug.

  Just like Myral. Does age do that? Cerryl’s eyes lingered on the mug.

  “The apple juice helps.” Kinowin smiled. “I used to wonder that myself. Now, I know. What more about the smith?”

  “He is building a town. I wasn’t sure to begin with,” Cerryl admitted, “but in two eight-days he has the beginning of another port town. The Blacks are letting him do it; some are even sending timber and supplies”

  “Maybe it’s just a way to get a second good port,” suggested the overmage, fingering the collar starburst with the fingers of his free hand. “The waters are smoother in the winter there.”

  “They’ve even got a timber wharf, and the glass shows walls and footings for a stone quay or something. He’s working on the bay, making it bigger, but with some kind of order force.”

  “You can’t use order that way,” Kinowin pointed out.

  “He used some kind of order force to kill Jeslek,” Cerryl countered.

  “Are you sure he just didn’t use order to contain that force?”

  Cerryl shrugged. “That might be, but he’s as Black as they come, with no trace of chaos. How did he come up with that kind of force? Chaos is the only force I know of that’s so strong.”

  Kinowin fingered his clean-shaven chin, his eyes going to the purple and blue hanging on the wall above him. “Cammabark or explosive powder, I’d guess, and he put it inside black iron so none of you could spark it off with chaos fire.”

  “What if he builds something bigger than what he carried?”

  The overmage offered a wan smile. “If he doesn’t, someone else will. That’s usually what happens.”

  “He could use it against our lancers or-”

  “That won’t work,” Kinowin replied. “He can only forge so much black iron. He couldn’t possibly forge enough to take on even a few companies of lancers. It has to be a limited weapon.” He laughed. “Good against mages and little else. This Dorrin didn’t remain in Diev. You’ll also note that Sterol avoided talking to you three about his weapon.”

  “I wondered, but that’s not something you ask the High Wizard.” Cerryl laughed once, softly.

  “Just watch to see if the smith is building something else. In the meantime, I will tell Sterol about the town and the new harbor,” Kinowin said. “Now that we’re sure. I only told him that the ship had been moved away from the part of Recluce, where there were towns. He laughed at that.”

  “He won’t laugh now.”

  “No. He’ll try to blame you. That’s why I won’t tell him until I’ve written a short scroll about it and given a copy to Redark and a few others.” Kinowin offered a wry grin. “It will be later this afternoon. We can’t afford to allow him to claim we delayed unduly.”

  “Then what?”

  “You give me a short written report each day-dated, you know, fiftieth day after the turn of spring… first day after the turn of summer.”

  “What will that do? He’ll still want to blame me.”

  “I’m sure he will. But he can’t, not with the reports. So he’ll send you somewhere, and it won’t be bad for you to be someplace else for a while.”

  Cerryl wasn’t certain he wanted to be somewhere else. He hadn’t had that long with Leyladin, and here the overmage was suggesting they be separated again.

  “Remember,” Kinowin said gently, “you wanted to be a White mage.”

  The overmage’s words hung in Cerryl’s mind long after he had left the tower and was riding out to the south gate for another inspection.

  You wanted to be a White mage…but did you have any real choices?

  Yes… you just didn’t like any of the others.

  CXLV

  Cloaked in the light-blurring shield, the one that would not scream his presence to an alert gate mage, Cerryl stood in the early-afternoon shadow of the guardhouse beside the north gate.

  Another of the younger mages he did not know paced along the upper balcony, looking down and out at the empty White highway that stretched north and then eastward to Lydiar. The gate mage rubbed her forehead, then her neck, before pacing back across the worn stone tiles, the same tiles Cerryl had paced in years past. It scarcely seemed that long ago, before Spidlar had become more than a name on a map and a wiry smith had killed the most p
owerful chaos mage in generations.

  Cerryl focused his eyes on the gate mage, who had seated herself on a stool. Below her, the three duty guards stood in the shade of the gates, not a dozen paces from him.

  “… slow…”

  “… always slow anymore, except for the post coaches… some of the factors’ wagons…”

  “Don’t see many wagons out of Certis or Gallos these days.”

  “Hydolar, neither…”

  Cerryl nodded to himself. As Layel and Leyladin had also noted, the roads were almost empty, except for farmers bringing produce to Fairhaven, and such slow commerce was unusual at any time, particularly in summer.

  Then, there was the problem of the Black smith. Each day Cerryl screed the southern tip of Recluce. Each day he wrote a report, and each day more dwellings and structures were appearing in the smith’s town on Recluce. Kinowin had reported such to Sterol, but the High Wizard had done nothing-at least nothing that Kinowin had relayed or that Cerryl had perceived.

  Nor had Cerryl found any more traces of Anya’s presence in his room in the Halls.

  The quietness that filled the Halls of the Mages bothered Cerryl. Something had happened-or would happen. He just hadn’t been able to see what it was or might be.

  His eyes went back to the gate mage. She had stood and begun to pace again-as he had so often.

  CXLVI

  Cerryl stepped into the overmage’s quarters. Kinowin was standing by the table, beside the purple wall hanging with the blue arrows. His face was impassive.

  “What’s the matter?” Cerryl concealed a frown. “Did I do something wrong?”

  Kinowin shook his head. “You did nothing wrong. I have been requested to bring you to the High Wizard.”

  Cerryl did frown and began to raise, slightly, his order shields.

  “You won’t need those. Eliasar was killed. Sterol is sending you to take his place.” The overmage offered a grim smile.

  “Me? To get me out of Fairhaven? How did it happen?”

  “That and because you are the best one to send. You know the land better than any others here. You’re strong with chaos. Although you’ve taken great pains to conceal that, Sterol is no fool, and more perceptive about that than either Jeslek or Anya.”

  “And I’m away from you.”

  “That, too, but you don’t need my advice, not that much, anymore.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Cerryl protested. “What happened to Eliasar?”

  “Iron crossbow bolts… that’s what Lyasa’s scroll said.”

  “Lyasa? She’s there. She could handle things. Or Syandar. What happened to Buar?”

  “Neither the older members of the Guild nor the folk of Spidlar would take kindly to rule by Fairhaven under a woman. That also wouldn’t give Sterol an excuse to send you there. As for Syandar, he’s all right as an administrator, but he can scarcely muster enough chaos to light a fire. And Sterol already sent Buar back to the blockade fleet.”

  “I think I’m going to Spidlaria.”

  “Sterol has insisted on confirming that-as soon as you arrived.” Kinowin gestured toward the door. “Shall we go?”

  The two walked up the stone steps, Cerryl being careful to walk slowly, all too conscious of Kinowin’s heavy breathing, marveling sadly at how quickly the big and powerful mage had become a gaunt old man. Will that happen to you?

  The guard on the landing outside the High Wizard’s quarters opened the door and announced, “Overmage Kinowin and Mage Cerryl.”

  Sterol did not rise from where he sat at the table, with his back to the open window. The light summer breeze had not carried away all the scent of sandalwood.

  “If you would sit.” Sterol inclined his head to the chairs across from him.

  Cerryl waited for Kinowin to sit, then seated himself.

  “I presume the overmage has told you that I would like you to go to Spidlaria and complete the tasks Eliasar had begun.” Sterol’s words were deliberate, evenly spaced.

  “Yes, ser.”

  “I would like you to find those responsible for his death and ensure they are executed publicly.”

  “I will do my best on that,” Cerryl said cautiously.

  “You do not promise that so readily.”

  “If those responsible come from Recluce or beyond the Westhorns…” Cerryl shrugged.

  “Young, but cautious.” Sterol steepled his fingers for a moment, then cleared his throat. After another silence, he continued. “You are younger than would be best for what I have set before you, but caution may assist you. The malefactors of the Black Isle have cost us grievously.” Another pause followed.

  Cerryl forced himself to wait.

  “There will be a blockade ship waiting for you in Lydiar, Cerryl.” Sterol looked mildly across the circular table. “You will leave on the post coach in the morning. I will draft a scroll with your commission. You may obtain it from Kinowin in the morning.”

  “What do you expect from me?” Cerryl brushed back hair he feared was thinning like Myral’s had. “In Spidlaria.”

  “Anya reported that you had managed to set matters right in Elparta. I expect the same in Spidlaria. After Syandar and Eliasar reduced Diev, Eliasar sent Syandar to Kleth. Syandar will remain there, but he will answer to you. Kalesin remains in Spidlaria and so does Lyasa With their assistance I’m sure you can manage. We look forward to the resumption of tariff coins.”

  “There are not likely to be many ships in the near future.”

  “The Guild and the Council are confident you will find a way to resolve the problem.” Sterol’s words were flat, their tone indicating he had said what he would say. “I expect written reports on your progress each eight-day.” The High Wizard stood.

  So did Kinowin and Cerryl.

  They walked back down to Kinowin’s quarters. There the overmage settled into the chair behind the table. Cerryl remained standing.

  “Sterol wants either the tariff golds or a way to blame me,” suggested the younger mage.

  “He needs the golds more,” Kinowin said. “He has been going through those set aside for lean times, and there are but a few thousand left.”

  A few thousand-once you would have marveled at that number of golds. “How long before those set aside are gone?”

  “I do not know, but no more than a half-year, less if Rystryr and Syrma delay their tariff payments.” Kinowin laughed, half - humorously, half - bitterly. “Sterol can no longer stir their fears with the threats that Jeslek could.”

  “He can suggest that they could vanish as have other rulers.”

  “He already has,” Kinowin said. “How long can he use such a threat before he must carry it out? A year? Two? One cannot remove rulers too frequently, or they ignore the threat because they fear they will be removed whatever course they follow.”

  “Hmmmm… So what would you do were you the High Wizard.”

  “Try to gather more coins and spend less. Let matters settle so that traders again fill the roads.”

  “And try to make sure than outland traders pay the surtax on goods from Recluce?”

  “That is more difficult because the ships for the blockade are costly.”

  “What should I avoid in Spidlaria?”

  “Being too lenient and too understanding. Remember, all men and all traders-and all women-serve themselves above others.” Kinowin gave a crooked smile. “No matter what they profess or how earnestly they affirm their allegiance. Study the coins and follow their course, not the words of the men who gather them.”

  “Should I seek for Leyladin to join me?”

  “Not unless it appears that you will be in Spidlaria as the mage adviser for many years.”

  Cerryl nodded. “I am being sent as the head arms mage, then.”

  “If that. Your power is what you make it.”

  “I’d better make ready.”

  “Spend most of that time with the healer.” Kinowin’s smile was faint, almost self-mocking. “Trust
the words of an aging mage there, Cerryl.”

  What sort of love had the overmage known and relinquished-or lost? Cerryl nodded. “I will.”

  “Then be on your way.”

  Cerryl gave a last nod and departed. On his way back to his quarters, to pack what he would need, Cerryl paused at the archway to the Meal Hall, looking in at the double handful of apprentices scattered across the tables. He knew not a single one-that was how out of touch he was with the Halls. Even Kiella had become a full mage and stood gate duty. Idly Cerryl wondered if the redheaded apprentice sitting by herself was Viedra, the one poor Faltar had fallen for before he’d left to fight in Spidlar.

  Myredin and Faltar, and even Bealtur, were dead. Of those who had become mages when Cerryl had, only Heralt and Lyasa were left. Heralt was still in Ruzor with Shenan. Of course, Cerryl would be in Spidlar if Heralt ever did get to Fairhaven. You’ll probably spend the next ten years in Spidlar, so long as Sterol is High Wizard-or whoever Anya maneuvers to succeed him.

  Cerryl swallowed. How could he have been so stupid? Anya had wanted him to take the amulet in Diev. If he had, then he and Sterol would have been at each other. Even if Cerryl had prevailed, he would have had to rely on Anya for her contacts, especially with the large trading families, and politicking to keep the older members of the Guild, or enough of them, behind him. But he probably wouldn’t have prevailed-Anya would have seen to that.

  He frowned. He had to do something. Did he dare to take the chance? Then he shrugged and turned, hoping he could find the redheaded mage.

  Anya surprised him. She was in the Library, poring through a thick and ancient tome. “Cerryl.”

  “Anya. Have you a moment?”

  Anya flashed the broad smile, and the scent of trilia and sandal-wood flowed around him. “For you, Cerryl, I can spare a moment.”

  “I am most grateful.”

  They walked to the fountain courtyard. There Cerryl walked into the shade in the corner where the falling water would mask their voice.