Colors of Chaos

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “I would suggest you gather those you can trust to stand ready when we go to see Sterol.”

  “He will not wish to see you.”

  “You will not request that. You will bring me.”

  “And if I do not?” Anya’s smile was almost coy.

  Cerryl forced a shrug. “Then you will suffer through many more years of Sterol as High Wizard… until he grows tired of your taking pleasure elsewhere-if he has not already.”

  “Do not be so coarse, Cerryl. It does not become you.” Anya arched her eyebrows. “How would you be any different? I assume that is what you want?”

  “I have Leyladin, and that leaves you free to pursue… what you wish, besides power, of course.”

  “There is a certain attraction to that-but that assumes you can defeat Sterol.”

  “If I cannot, well, then you and Sterol are well rid of me, and you can claim I forced you to bring me to the White Tower. Sterol will believe that of a female mage.”

  “You are getting more devious as you age, Cerryl.”

  “I have watched you, Anya, to learn what I can. Why did you really summon me?”

  “Because this time the amulet has poisoned him.” Anya lowered her voice to a murmur, and her bright and false smile dimmed into something sadder-and truer.

  “His scrolls seem the same to me,” Cerryl said mildly. “Impatient and self-centered.”

  “Do you believe that? Truly?” asked the redhead. “Once he talked, as you have, of making Fairhaven great again. Now he demands golds and berates the rulers of other lands, and we must send lancers to protect the mage advisers-or recall them. He does nothing about the Black demon smith who fled to Recluce.”

  “Where is Gorsuch? Still in Renklaar?”

  “Where else? He can control the port there, and there’s less danger than in Hydolar. Duke Afabar is even more unpredictable than his predecessors, but he’s Asulan, and they’re known for that.”

  “Disarj is in Jellico?” Lining his purse as Shyren did, no doubt.

  “You know that already, Cerryl.”

  “So… what else has Sterol done that shows this… poisoning?”

  “He’s turned a messenger to ashes because the lad brought him sour wine. He’s done the same to two apprentices.” She paused. “One might have merited it, but even Broka was aghast at the second. Esaak remonstrated with Sterol, and the High Wizard threatened to send Esaak, at his age, to Naclos. Then he asked him to report on the sewer runnels from the Halls.” Anya paused.

  “And what of the problem of the smith and Recluce?”

  “The Guild asks for action, and he will not act. I have asked, and he will not act.”

  So Anya does want to act against the smith. She really does. “He does not listen to anyone?”

  “Has he ever? Need I say more?”

  Cerryl nodded slowly. From what he could tell, every word Anya spoke, she had believed. Some he even believed. “No. Who can you call upon… today?”

  “Today we could summon but Fydel, dear faithful Fydel, and two of the younger mages-Isepell and Rospor. You did not chose the best of days.”

  Cerryl inclined his head. “Shall we go? Fydel must be somewhere near.”

  “We might as well.”

  They passed no one Cerryl knew on the way to the rear Hall that held Fydel’s quarters, but that was because there were few indeed left in the Halls that Cerryl knew-Kinowin, Esaak, Broka, Redark, and Kiella, now that the apprentice had been made a full mage. All the others Cerryl had known were either in the peacekeeping Patrol-and not in the Halls-scattered across Candar or dead. Which is why you need Anya.

  Fydel’s mouth opened, then closed as Anya and Cerryl stepped into his quarters.

  “Cerryl has returned to put things to rights with Sterol,” Anya said briskly, without her usual smile. “We need to move quickly.”

  “Now,” added Cerryl.

  “I like this not.” Fydel paced back and forth across his narrow room. “If Cerryl cannot defeat Sterol, we are dead.”

  “If Sterol remains High Wizard, you are dead,” Cerryl said bluntly. “He already knows Anya would rather spend her time with you than with him. He only waits for a way to assign you some impossible task, such as becoming the new mage adviser to Duke Afabar.”

  Fydel fingered his beard. “I will stand ready, but I don’t wish to be in the meeting.”

  “You would not be there for this,” Anya said quietly. “I must ask him to act on the Guild’s wishes, and he must refuse. There must be a reason.”

  “He will not act against Recluce,” Fydel said.

  “Then that would be best. We can claim that we will.” Cerryl smiled. “Now… you could do one favor before that?”

  “I like that less yet.”

  “Gather Isepell and Rospor to stand with you.”

  “Why me? They’re Anya’s supporters.”

  “Exactly,” offered Cerryl. “Should anyone see Anya gathering them… whereas if you do…” Of course, that’s not your reason. You don’t want Anya out of sight until the deed is done, but they don’t have to know that.

  “Ah.” After a moment, the square-bearded mage asked, “Then what?”

  “Bring guards with iron chains. Tell them that the High Wizard needs them for a problem.”

  “Sterol won’t submit,” Anya said.

  “No,” Cerryl admitted, “but the guards and chains will keep others from asking why three mages wait outside Sterol’s quarters.”

  Fydel nodded. “And we can be totally innocent if this fails. Not that I expect either of you to fail, but…”

  “You would rather not fail with us.” Anya did offer the bright smile.

  “Let us make our way to see the High Wizard,” Cerryl said, offering his own bright and false smile. “Fydel will gather the others and follow. Will you not, Fydel?”

  “Your wishes-both of yours-are my command.”

  Anya and Cerryl left Fydel’s small quarters and began to walk back toward the front Hall and the White Tower.

  “You know, Cerryl, Fydel is most pleased that you have an arrangement with the healer. It does make matters… easier.”

  “It does,” Cerryl agreed, “and that will not change.”

  “Fydel will be pleased.”

  As they left the second Hall and stepped into the fountain courtyard, Esaak appeared, saw Cerryl, and stepped away hurriedly, but not toward the front Hall.

  “Best we not delay,” Cerryl said.

  “You’ve said that before.” Anya’s voice was testy.

  Two apprentices backed away as Anya and Cerryl crossed the foyer toward the steps up to the tower, though Cerryl knew neither.

  At the topmost landing, outside the High Wizard’s apartments, the guard Gostar’s eyes widened as they went from Anya to Cerryl and back to Anya. “Sers? He… said he did not wish…”

  “Is he alone?” asked Anya.

  “Yes, Mage Anya.”

  “Then he will see us. And there will be several other mages following with guards to take care of Sterol’s needs.” Anya stepped forward and opened the door. “Sterol! I have a surprise for you, a rather unforeseen and pleasant one.”

  Cerryl followed Anya, closing the door.

  Sterol rose from behind the table, chaos building and billowing around him. “A surprise? Cerryl? So… you have brought our recalcitrant mage home to the High Wizard for judgment?”

  “I thought you might like to see him. You may deal with him after you answer the question that Redark and Kinowin prevailed upon me to ask.” Anya’s tone was languid, almost insolent.

  “After? Who tells me what I should deal with and when? Are they so weak they would not trouble themselves to ask?” Chaos crackled around the iron-haired High Wizard, so much that Cerryl wondered how the man had not already aged into dust.

  “The Council wants to know what you intend to do.” Anya’s eyes dropped to the blank mirror upon the table. “They are getting restless.”

  “They wish?
Do they know what they wish?” Sterol gestured, and the white mists appeared and vanished. A view appeared in the glass, so solid that it might have been painted there, a view of a black ship moored at a pier in the narrow inlet, with five black stone buildings on the hillside above. “Look. Have you ever seen anything so clear?”

  “No.”

  Cerryl, standing well back, almost to the window, shook his head ever so slightly, but his eyes did not leave the High Wizard as he quietly and slowly raised his shields, without raising chaos. Yet.

  “I haven’t either. What aspect of the Balance created that monster I don’t know…” His eyes flicked to Cerryl. “Save that you let him escape.”

  Cerryl did not answer.

  “The Council is worried,” Anya persisted. “They want you to do something.”

  “Fine! What am I supposed to do? Send a fleet out against Recluce? What good will it do?” Sterol snorted and looked at the image in the mirror on the table. “The old Black ones won’t respond. Should we attack the island? Do you know what black iron swords do to our White Guards? Do you want one of those things he built blowing you into shreds? Like the great Jeslek?”

  “The Blacks are divided,” said Anya quietly. “They want this Dorrin to disappear as much as we do.”

  “That may be, but how does that explain all the people helping build this new town? He didn’t carry them all on that little ship. And they’re all still Blacks. That means he isn’t creating any chaos on Recluce, the demons know why…” Sterol rubbed his forehead.

  “Why can’t you send a fleet? Recluce doesn’t even have a half-score of warships, if that. They don’t like fighting. And most of those ships are spread across the oceans.”

  Sterol massaged his forehead again, then touched the amulet that rested against his chest. “Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said?”

  “The Council wants some action, Sterol.” Anya’s voice was sharp. The hint of a frown crossed Cerryl’s forehead. “With what do they wish for me to pay for such action?” Sterol’s eyes went to Cerryl. “We receive no golds from Spidlar. Disarj sends scrolls but fewer golds than did Shyren.”

  “The Guild members mutter. They say nothing when you are around, but they mutter.”

  “Cowards-all of them.” The air crackled with chaos. “And they send you, a woman. You are supposed to be my assistant, not their lackey.” The High Wizard lifted the amulet. “Here. You take it. Be my guest, O lackey of Redark and Kinowin.”

  The redhead looked at the amulet, then at Sterol. “I won’t be tricked like Jeslek.”

  “Either shut up or take the amulet,” Sterol snapped.

  Anya’s hand lifted, then dropped. Finally, she sighed. “Someone has to do something.”

  “Why?”

  “Do you intend to do nothing while this… oddity… builds so much order into black iron that Recluce will dominate the Eastern Ocean forever?”

  “I don’t see that much of a threat.” Sterol laughed. “He can’t live forever. Why spend golds we don’t have on a threat that won’t hurt us?”

  Anya laughed, harshly, metallically. “You know… those were Jen-red the Traitor’s exact words? Creslin didn’t live forever, but he lived long enough so that you-the High Wizard of Fairhaven-are afraid to take any direct action against Recluce. Will you be the one who’s remembered for letting Recluce dominate all of Candar?”

  “No.” Sterol chuckled, bitterly, and laid the amulet on the table beside the mirror. The image of Southpoint vanished. “You want action. Take the amulet-or give it to someone else.”

  “I’m asking you, Sterol.”

  “And I’m refusing. Have those lackeys come to me.”

  “Fydel!” Anya nodded toward the door, and three guards appeared, all bearing chains. Behind them stood three White wizards.

  “How predictable, dear Anya. You would all chain me rather than act yourselves.” White chaos fires swirled around Sterol.

  By the window, Cerryl lifted his shields, then focused the tight white light lance.

  The redhead’s eyes burned; her fingers tightened on the white-bronze dagger.

  Fire, white flames, and swirling mists filled the room. The mirror upon the table exploded, and two of the guards shriveled into dust on the white-powdered stones. A single blaze of light flared through trie dust, boring through the shields raised by Sterol.

  Abrupt and sudden silence fell across the tower.

  As the remaining white smoke subsided, Anya picked up the amulet, glancing down at the pile of white dust that lay within the white robes and white boots. She turned and extended the amulet. “Here. You earned it, Cerryl.”

  Cerryl looked at her sadly. “No. You earned it, but I’ll wear it for you.” His eyes flickered to the white powder on the stone that vanished as he watched.

  “Good. We need to plan the attack on Recluce.”

  “As you wish. Bring me a plan, and we will implement it. I need a moment.” He gestured.

  After a moment, the sole remaining guard eased his way back out of the chamber. Then Fydel, Rospor, and Anya stepped outside the tower room. Anya closed the door behind her, leaving Cerryl amid the white dust and the residual chaos.

  Has any High Wizard died in his sleep? Can anyone really rule the White City? And you think you can unite Candar?

  His laugh was short-and bitter. In time, he slipped the amulet over his head.

  CLXVI

  Cerryl stood looking out the White Tower window at the clouds that threatened rain and massaged his forehead, hoping the rain would hold off, hoping Anya wouldn’t return too quickly. He fingered the amulet. Hard to believe you wear it, but keeping it will be even harder.

  He turned and studied the room. It needed cleaning and the removal of Sterol’s effects-among other things.

  “High Wizard, the Lady Leyladin,” Gostar announced through the door.

  Cerryl opened the door immediately and swept her inside. “You shouldn’t be here. How did you get here?”

  “I came here to the Halls right after you left this morning. I stayed down with Kinowin. I couldn’t help you, but I wasn’t going to leave you, either.” The green eyes that sparkled so often were somber. “The word is out that you and Anya and Fydel have destroyed Sterol and that you were the compromise choice to be High Wizard.”

  “Scarcely a ringing mandate, but it’s better that way.” And the only way you could possibly succeed as High Wizard… if you can. Cerryl laughed ruefully. “I understand why you’re here, and I love you.” He paused. “I do worry, and I didn’t want you in danger.”

  “I’m safer here than at the house. You have guards.” Her eyes danced mischievously. “Besides, right now, who would attack the High Wizard?” The green eyes turned somber again. “You’re safer from Anya if I’m near.”

  Cerryl couldn’t argue that. “I am, but are you?”

  “For now. It will reinforce her belief that you need a woman to support you, you weak-willed White noodle.” The healer grinned.

  “Noodle? I’ll show you-”

  “You need to meet with Kinowin.”

  “You change the subject too much.” He waited.

  “Send a messenger for both Kinowin and Redark,” she insisted.

  Cerryl looked around, then finally located the handbell on the side table. He rang it.

  “Ser?” A young messenger peered inside the door, his eyes wide, almost fearful.

  “If you would, please inform the overmages Kinowin and Redark that I would greatly appreciate their presence here at their earliest convenience.”

  “Yes, ser.” The door closed swiftly.

  “You’re so fearsome,” Leyladin said ironically. “If they but knew…”

  “They do. Everything was going as it had. I returned, and suddenly there is a new High Wizard-or a very young mage claiming to be High Wizard. All those who once knew him-except the Council and Anya and a suspect Black healer and a few ancient Whites-are gone.”

  “You are more cynical.”
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  “More realistic, I fear.” Cerryl glanced toward the door.

  “That could be. What will you do first… after this meeting?”

  “Get the Guild to acknowledge me. Then start working on changing trade in Candar.”

  “You sound like Father.”

  “He’s right about trade.”

  “He is…” Leyladin smiled.

  Thrap! “The overmage Kinowin, ser.”

  “Have him enter.”

  Kinowin stepped through the door. Despite his gauntness, his shoulders were straight, and his gray eyes were intent, with the hint of a smile buried there. “Cerryl-or should I say ‘honored High Wizard’?-greetings, my best wishes, and my condolences.” He bowed slightly to the healer. “Especially condolences to Lady Leyladin.”

  “ ‘Cerryl’ is more than sufficient, old friend.” The new High Wizard gestured to the round table. “Please sit. We’re awaiting Overmage Re-dark.”

  Kinowin settled into one of the seats, and Leyladin sat beside him.

  “You intend to have Leyladin here?”

  “Absolutely. I’m a weak-willed compromise for High Wizard who needs a healer nearby.”

  Kinowin laughed. “Anyone who knows the healer knows the lie of that.” After a moment he added, “Some will claim that you will be too soft on Recluce, if you listen to a Black.”

  “That is possible, but I would have them judge by my actions.”

  Kinowin frowned. “You are not going to allow Anya her head in invading Recluce?”

  “Let us see what the season brings.” Hating the immediate temporizing, Cerryl offered a smile as he seated himself with his back to the window, facing the door.

  “You have something in mind?”

  Much in mind… but whether it will play out as you wish, that is something else. “Some thoughts.”

  “He has grown more cautious in what he utters.” Kinowin nodded toward Leyladin.

  With another knock, Gostar announced, “The Overmage Redark.”

  “Have him come in.” Cerryl stood and gestured to the single empty chair. “Please join us, honored overmage.”

  “Honored Cerryl.” Redark inclined his head, and the ginger beard bobbed. “This has been a surprise, truly a surprise, but not necessarily an unwelcome one, though change is always unwelcome to some.” He cleared his throat as he sat down at the table. The pale green eyes flicked to Leyladin but centered back on Cerryl.