The White Order

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “For once, Jeslek-you have gone too far. Cerryl may indeed be deficient in his mathematicks, as you have alleged. And he may not be the most powerful of the younger mages with chaos. But he can stand up to you for at least a while, and his actions prove he has ability and he is loyal to Fairhaven-and, unlike some, he has never lied.” Sterol laughed. “It would not hurt to have a young mage you cannot intimidate. Not at all.”

  Jeslek’s sun-gold eyes raked across the group. Then he laughed.

  Cerryl’s eyes crossed Jeslek’s, and at that moment Cerryl knew that Jeslek had known Cerryl had succeeded, and would return to Fairhaven.

  “Ah… loyalty over ability,” Jeslek said. “Was it ever thus with you, Sterol. Still… you are the High Wizard, and you are supported.”

  “Yes. I am.” Sterol’s smile was full and cold. “Cerryl will be inducted as a full mage at the next meeting, and so far as I’m concerned already has those privileges. The rest of us will discuss how to proceed to salvage the situation in Gallos.” Sterol glanced toward Cerryl. “You may go. You could use some food and some cleaning.”

  Cerryl inclined his head. “Thank you, honored Sterol. And you, Myral.”

  Jeslek’s eyes glittered. “Good day, mage Cerryl.”

  “Good day, overmage Jeslek.” Cerryl smiled faintly. “I thank you for all that you have taught me.”

  “Good day.”

  Cerryl bowed to the older mages and slipped out through the iron-bound oak door and onto the landing. His legs were not quite shaking as he made his way down the stairs.

  Leyladin and Lyasa found him in the commons, where he was gathering himself together.

  “When did you get back? What happened?” demanded Lyasa.

  Leyladin merely smiled gently.

  “Please sit down.” Cerryl gestured to the empty chairs across from him. “It’s almost impossible to explain.” He smiled. “Thank you both for getting word to Myral. Without that, things might have been… more complicated…”

  “You still haven’t told me what happened.”

  How much should he tell? Finally, he began, just as Lyasa opened her mouth to prompt him once more. “You know that I was supposed to be Sverlik’s assistant and then do something, and that it was a test.”

  “You told me that in Gallos.”

  “What I didn’t tell you was that the task was to kill the prefect of Gallos.”

  “You? Why you?”

  “I don’t know. I can guess, but I don’t know.”

  Lyasa turned her head to Leyladin. Leyladin smiled briefly at Cerryl.

  “You did it, of course.” Lyasa’s voice was matter-of-fact.

  “The prefect had Sverlik killed, and a detachment of our lancers, and you were there when he sent an entire force against us.”

  “I heard about that,” Leyladin said quietly.

  Bealtur stopped dead in the archway to the commons, on his face an expression of alarm and consternation.

  “I suppose you heard I had left,” Cerryl called to the goateed student. “That was just a story to cover the task Jeslek set for me.” He offered a broad smile.

  Bealtur bobbed his head. “I am glad to see you have returned.”

  “So am I. The last eight-days have been hard.” Cerryl smothered a grin as he glanced at Lyasa.

  “Ah…”

  “Don’t worry, Bealtur. I won’t be too much of a problem.” Cerryl grinned.

  Bealtur bobbed his head, then turned.

  “No,” said Lyasa. “They’ll have to make you a full mage.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping for,” Cerryl admitted, deciding that he should not reveal too much.

  “That’s all?” asked Lyasa. “You just killed the prefect and walked away?”

  Cerryl sighed. “No. I sneaked in and out of Fenard. I ran out of coins. Most of the Gallosian guards were after me.” His stomach twinged at the exaggeration, and he added, “Those around the palace, anyway. The stable folk complained that I let the horse get too thin, and Jeslek wanted to say that the test wasn’t enough because… just because.”

  Lyasa nodded. “He doesn’t like you.”

  “He doesn’t like anyone who doesn’t think he’s really the High Wizard,” suggested Leyladin, “and that’s most of the students and mages.”

  Lyasa stood. “I have to meet with Esaak. He’s not pleased with my mathematicks. Again.”

  “Good luck,” said Cerryl. “He was never pleased with mine, either. He still isn’t.”

  “Lucky you.” The black-haired student walked away.

  From across the table, Leyladin looked directly at Cerryl.

  Cerryl took a deep breath. “It has been a long few eight-days. Very long.” His eyes went to Leyladin’s, and he just looked into their depths for a time.

  “You’ve learned a great deal,” Leyladin said quietly. One hand reached across the table and covered his. “I wasn’t sure you could. Or that you’d want to.”

  “I had some encouragement. I can’t tell you how much encouragement.” He grinned, then glanced down. His trousers were filthy, and his boots needed work. He didn’t even want to think about how he looked. “I need to clean up and then get something to eat.”

  Leyladin slid a leather pouch across the table. Cerryl’s eyebrows rose as he recognized it. He peered inside to check. The white-bronze razor glittered against the dark leather. “Is this a hint?”

  “No. It is a strong suggestion.”

  They both laughed.

  CIV

  Cerryl fingered his clean-shaven chin, then glanced across the front foyer, wondering why the Council was taking so long. Or was it just that it seemed long to Him?

  “I can’t believe this,” said Faltar, his eyes on the archway to the Council Chamber.

  “You can’t believe it?” asked Lyasa.

  A heavyset figure waddled through the archway and across the polished stone tiles of the foyer. “Well, you three,” said Myral, a wide smile on his round face, “are you ready?”

  The three exchanged glances.

  “We’re ready,” Cerryl finally answered.

  “So am I. Just follow me, and do what Sterol says.” Myral turned back toward the archway. “It’s a good idea, anyway.” After a pause, he added, “That’s a joke.”

  Cerryl and Lyasa followed Myral; Faltar followed them. All four walked through the archway and under the pillars that flanked the sides of the Council Chamber. Each circular pillar was gold-shot white granite, fluted, and apparently flawless. Red hangings swept from the top of one pillar to the next, in effect cloaking the capital of each. The base of each was a cube of a shimmering gold stone Cerryl did not recognize.

  The floor of the chamber was comprised of polished white marble tiles that held golden swirls. An aisle led up the center of the chamber. On each side of the aisle were gold oak desks, each with a gold oak chair. Each chair had a red velvet cushion. At the eastern end of the chamber was a low dais, a mere cubit above the floor of the chamber. The dais was of the same gold-shot marble, and totally bare.

  Sterol stood in the center of the dais. To the right of the High Wizard, and two steps back, were Jeslek and Kinowin, standing side by side. Cerryl caught a glimpse of Anya’s red hair somewhere among all the white robes and tunics in the seats to the left of the aisle that the three student mages walked down. Even in a crowd, she stood out- and still made him wary.

  In the row of desks before Anya sat Fydel, beside a mage Cerryl did not know. The unknown mage was talking in a low voice. “… don’t understand it… took me years… scrivener’s apprentice…”

  Cerryl smiled to himself.

  “Bealtur was here before him…”

  “You want Bealtur at your elbow?” asked Fydel. “Cerryl’s solid.”

  That surprised Cerryl, but he kept walking toward Sterol.

  The High Wizard actually smiled as Myral stepped aside.

  “High Wizard, I present the candidates for induction as full mages and members of the Guild.”
Myral inclined his head, then took another step backward.

  Sterol let the silence draw out for a moment, then nodded. “Cerryl, Lyasa, Faltar… 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 wanted to nod at that. After seeing Fenard and Jellico, he definitely 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 those throughout Candar.” Sterol paused, surveying the three.

  “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 Cerryl. What else could he do, being who he was?

  “Yes.”

  “Yes.”

  “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,” replied Cerryl. 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…”

  A shimmering touch of chaos brushed Cerryl’s sleeves… and the red stripes were gone-as if they had never been.

  “Welcome, Lyasa, Cerryl, and Faltar…” Sterol offered a broad smile and looked across the assembled group. “Now that we have welcomed the new mages, our business is over, and all may greet them.”

  Murmurs, and then conversation, broke out across the chamber.

  Sterol glanced at the three. “I’m very pleased that all of you have succeeded. You have very different talents, and in the troubling days ahead, we .will need each of those talents, I fear.” The High Wizard’s eyes were, for once, reflected Cerryl, warm and friendly.

  “Congratulations!” Kinowin stepped up and clasped Cerryl’s shoulder. The big mage smiled warmly. “You must know I have personal sympathy for anyone who comes from the background we share.”

  “You mean the lack of background?” replied Cerryl with a laugh.

  A broader smile crossed Kinowin’s face, then faded. “It doesn’t get easier, but if you need anything, I’m here.” He patted Cerryl’s shoulder and slipped away.

  Lyasa touched Cerryl’s forearm, and he turned.

  “Good,” said Jeslek. “Before you are flooded with well-wishers, I wanted to let you know some things quickly. Each of you now has quarters in the second rear hall, on the second level-there is a bronze plate on each door.” The sun-eyed overmage smiled. “Best you move your things and get settled quickly. There are some youngsters from the creche who would trade their red for white trimmed with red. You can still eat in the hall, but that is your choice now. You, as do all full mages, receive a stipend of one gold an eight-day. Not extravagant, but since the Guild supplies all your raiment and equipment and lodging, it’s generally enough for modest pleasures. You will be assigned more permanent duties sometime in the next eight-day, after the High Wizard, overmage Kinowin, and I review the Guild assignments.” Jeslek flashed a broad smile, the one Cerryl still mistrusted. “Now… enjoy yourselves.” The white-haired overmage nodded and slipped across the dais.

  “Congratulations!” Anya appeared and offered Faltar a warm hug, then turned to Cerryl. “And to you, too. And to you, Lyasa.”

  “Thank you.” Cerryl inclined his head.

  Fydel stepped forward. “Congratulations, all of you.” His eyes went to Cerryl. “You’ve proved you belong here, more than most.” With a smile, he was gone.

  “Lyasa!” Esaak lumbered forward, something cradled in his arms.

  Cerryl glanced at the dark-haired new mage beside him, watching her eyebrows rise as the older mage extended the thin, freshly bound volume. “Since you will not take my tutoring seriously… this is a copy of The Mathematicks of Logic.” A broad smile crossed Esaak’s face. “Your very own.”

  Lyasa bent forward and hugged Esaak.

  Cerryl stepped back and turned to Myral. “Thank you… I haven’t said it, but I mean it.”

  The older mage smiled. “Don’t thank me. You worked for it, and you will make the Guild proud. I know that. Now… enjoy the day.”

  Another mage-one Cerryl didn’t know-stepped up to Faltar. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.” Faltar inclined his head.

  As the crowd of mages finally filtered away, Cerryl leaned against one of the white stone pillars at the side of the chamber. He glanced at Faltar, and then Lyasa.

  “Is it what you expected?” asked the black-haired mage, her olive-brown eyes resting on Cerryl.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t let myself think about it,” he confessed.

  “Sterol gave part of it away. None of us would be mages this soon if things weren’t getting bad.” Lyasa laughed softly. “I wouldn’t be a mage at all if things weren’t getting bad. I don’t use my body the way some do.”

  Faltar raised his eyebrows.

  “It doesn’t matter now,” Cerryl said quickly. “We’re mages, and not students, and I’m glad.”

  “So am I,” added Faltar. “What are you going to do now?”

  “Move,” said Cerryl. “Find those new quarters. Then take a walk and have something to eat for dinner-outside the Halls.”

  Lyasa laughed. “I’ll bet dinner tonight is really bad.”

  “I’ll worry about that later.” Cerryl straightened and eased out into the foyer, now almost empty. He made his way toward the second rear hall, looking around, but he didn’t see who he sought.

  Cerryl’s new quarters were as far as one could get from the main hall, in the building even behind the one in which Jeslek had his apartment. But the overmage had been correct-there was a bronze plate by the door, and the old tongue script spelled out “Cerryl.”

  Still, Cerryl allowed himself a smile as he glanced around the room, the most spacious he had ever had, with real shuttered windows-two of them-and a wide desk and a chair with cushions… and a full-sized bed with cotton sheets and a red woolen blanket, and even a rug by the bed. And his own washstand-and an empty bookcase against the wall.

  His eyes went from item to item. Hard as it was to believe, he was a full mage-admittedly over Jeslek’s machinations and reservations, but a full mage-all he-or his father, had ever hoped for, and far more than he could have reasonably expected.

  Yet… nothing was certain. War loomed with Gallos-and perhaps with Spidlar and even Recluce. Jeslek was even more angry at Sterol, and Sterol was using Cerryl against Jeslek, and Anya… well, Anya was playing an even deeper game, and one Cerryl didn’t understand the reasons for, only that she did play such a game. Then, Myral, who had helped him in so many ways, was not in the best of health.

  Still… he was more secure, and more able, than ever before in his life. He had a place and a chance at being what he could be, and a chance at happiness…

  Thrap!

  He turned.

  “Very nice quarters.” Leyladin stood in the open doorway, a broad smile on her lips.

  “I… just got them.”

  “I know.” The bright green tunic and trousers shimmered, and she seemed especially alive.

  Cerryl studied the blonde young woman with red highlights in her hair, taking in the dancing green eyes. He couldn’t help smiling.

>   “I wanted to see your new quarters.” She smiled back.

  Perhaps more than a mere chance at happiness. He crossed the room and took her hands.

  After a moment, still smiling warmly, her green eyes melding into his gray eyes, she tightened her fingers around his hands.