Not until Cerryl was back in the headquarters dwelling and into his study did Lyasa take a deep breath. “You can’t keep appearing like that.”
“I can’t hide. That will make them think they can drive us out.” Cerryl sank into his chair, massaging his neck.
“If anything happens to you, they will drive us out. Oh, the High Wizard won’t call it that, and the new Council of Traders will pay some token golds, and things will return to the way they were.”
“It can’t happen like that.” Cerryl’s voice was tight.
“Why not? You’re not the first mage who’s tried to change things. It’s never worked. Look what happened to Jeslek.”
“I have to try.” You don’t have any choice…because if you return to Fairhaven as a failure, you’re dead…sooner or later.
“You’re stubborn.”
“Probably.”
Lyasa slumped into the straight-backed chair with a sigh sounding of both relief and exasperation. “Cerryl…I’ve never seen anyone use a truth-read like that before.”
He rubbed his forehead. “It’s demon work. My head’s splitting.”
“You don’t take compliments easily, either.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve mistrusted them for a long time, especially after working with Jeslek,” he added. “All I have is water. Would you like some?”
“Please.”
“You could do what I did. All you do is set up the questions so that they have to deny what you think is the truth. Untrue denials are easier to read. It’s not evidence, really, and I’d get in trouble if I were in the Patrol in Fairhaven for acting just on truth-reading. Here…I have to do something.”
“Will it work?”
He shrugged. “They either change or get killed, or I get killed. But if I remove enough of them—always from the top—some of the more common merchants and the people in the street may get the idea that the Guild’s not after them.”
“You grant them vision they do not have.”
“We’ll have to give it to them.” Somehow…someway…He kept massaging his forehead, hoping the force of the needles that stabbed at his eyes would at least lessen.
Lyasa poured a mug of water and sipped it, and the two sat in the darkness, neither looking toward the embers in the center of the harbor square.
CLVI
THE STOCKY BLONDE mage stood on the other side of the study desk from Cerryl, a separation for which Cerryl was more than glad. “I don’t understand. You killed a bunch of traders, and now the people are back in the streets.” Puzzlement crossed Kalesin’s face.
“I didn’t kill many average people. I didn’t kill the bravos, except for those who tried to kill me. I didn’t kill the chandler.” Cerryl shrugged. “After a while, even stupid people get the message.” Except for you, Kalesin.
“There aren’t any ships in the harbor,” Kalesin pointed out almost smugly.
“It takes some time for word to get out.” Cerryl smiled gently. “There was a coaster yesterday, and we did collect a few golds. That’s more than anyone else has collected.” He stood and glanced out the unshuttered and open window into the cool and clear early-fall day. “I need to take another inspection ride.”
“You do a lot of that, but you don’t drill the troops the way Eliasar did.”
“I can’t. I don’t know how. I’d waste my time and theirs.” Cerryl gestured for Kalesin to leave the study before him. “So I let Hiser and Teras do it. They know their tasks.”
“You’re supposed to be an arms mage,” said Kalesin as he stepped outside into the hall.
“That’s true.” Cerryl frowned for a moment. “If I get the task done, no one is going to question whether I drilled lancers. If I don’t succeed, they won’t praise me for drilling them, either.” He nodded to Kalesin. “I’ll expect your report on the sawmills tomorrow. Then, you can start on what we discussed about the wool growers.”
“Yes, ser.”
Cerryl walked briskly toward the courtyard, leaving Kalesin in the hallway.
CLVII
CERRYL REINED UP outside the long one-story timbered building and dismounted. Two of the score of lancers did also. While the arms mage disliked the continual guard, he couldn’t argue with Lyasa, Hiser, Teras, and Suzdyal about the necessity of the precaution. Not yet, anyway.
The cold rain continued to fall around him as he stepped under the overhanging eaves that sheltered the crude plank door. Cerryl knocked and waited until the door opened.
The burly bearded factor stepped back away from the door, back into the long room with the huge vats. “Ser mage…I have done nothing…nothing wrong.” His voice was thinner and higher than Cerryl recalled.
Beside the second vat stood a younger man, also bearded, watching Cerryl with wide eyes.
“I know,” Cerryl said gently, not pressing into the building. “Unlike many factors and traders I have encountered in Spidlar. And Certis,” he added with a slight emphasis. “You are an honest man.”
“Factoring clay and fuller’s earth, one must be honest,” admitted Aliaskar.
“Might I come in?”
“Of course.” Aliaskar backed away another few cubits.
The two lancers followed Cerryl in but stepped to the side.
The mage blotted the dampness off his forehead, taking in the odor of earth and clay, then looked at the clay factor. “You have noticed that the lancers have not bothered you or the other merchants who have continued to work their businesses?”
“That is what folk say,” Aliaskar replied cautiously.
“Have they bothered you?”
“No, ser mage.”
“So long as I am here, and so long as you pay any tariffs you may owe, they will not bother you, or any who follow your example.”
“Those are fair words…”
“But you doubt them. I would also were I standing where you stand,” Cerryl admitted. “You can choose to believe me or not. Trade is what holds Candar together, and trade travels the seas, the rivers, and the roads. Without good roads, trade is less and more costly. It takes more time to reach those places without river ports or seaports.”
“That be true, mostly.”
“Fairhaven built the roads, and many have used them, but many of the wealthier traders of Certis, Spidlar, and Gallos did not wish to pay for their use of the White highways.”
“I’ve heard that some were not allowed to use those highways.”
Cerryl frowned, thinking of the lady trader who was apparently the consort of the smith Dorrin. “That also might have been true. I do not think it is so now.” Not if I can do anything about it. “That meant that the traders of Fairhaven paid more and could often not match the prices of traders who did not pay.”
Aliaskar nodded that he had heard what Cerryl said, not necessarily that he agreed.
“Yet when the Guild asked these traders of Spidlar and Certis and Gallos to pay tariffs, we were ignored or mocked. We asked again and were ignored. We tried to warn folk without killing many.”
“Like as the mountains the old wizard raised in Gallos?”
Cerryl nodded. “That encouraged the prefect of Gallos to ensure we received the tariffs. But not the Traders’ Council of Spidlar. They bought goods cheaply from the Black isle and then used the roads we built to sell those goods without even paying the tariff.” He shrugged. “In the end, we had to fight. We would rather not, and so long as the tariffs are paid there will be no fighting.”
“Your words make sense, yet many would claim that the tariffs go for luxuries of the White City.”
Cerryl laughed, harshly. “You can believe me or not, but the High Wizard of Fairhaven lives in one large room at the top of a tower. In Fairhaven, the richest merchant’s dwelling is a quarter part the size of Reylerk’s mansion. Yet we have no beggars, nor do people starve in the streets. You or anyone can travel there and see.” He paused, then added, “I was an orphan apprenticed to a scrivener, and the mages took me in. The mage Lyasa comes
from no wealth or position. Nor does the overmage Kinowin.”
Aliaskar frowned, then studied Cerryl and the lancers. “I do not know. You have done what you said you would do. You have not lied—not that I know. Yet…”
Cerryl nodded. “I am not asking anything except that you think about what I have said. There is one thing more you should know. I have encouraged some of the larger factors from eastern Candar to come here and to set up their warehouses.” One—so far—but he doesn’t have to know that.
“You expect them to be more loyal?”
“No. I expect them to understand that all of eastern Candar must abide by the same tariffs and rules for trade. If this does not occur, in the end Candar will suffer.” Cerryl smiled crookedly. “Of course, that means that the factors can’t line their purses with golds that should have gone to build roads to help traders large and small.”
“I must think, ser mage,” Aliaskar said.
“That is all I ask.” Cerryl nodded a last time. “I will trouble you no more.” He inclined his head. “Good day.”
“Good day, ser mage.”
As the door closed, Cerryl caught a few words.
“…most strange, Ziersar.”
The arms mage hoped so.
After he walked through the cold drizzle and remounted, Cerryl pulled out his list, studied it, and then replaced it inside the oiled white leather jacket.
“Viskarl—charcoal factor.” Darkness…how many days will this take? Too many, but he had to convince a good portion of the remaining factors and merchants that he and Fairhaven were halfway human and not White demons, at least not all the time.
CLVIII
CERRYL HAD FINALLY given up and had another chair brought into the study, and both Lyasa and Kalesin sat across the ancient desk from him in the gloom of another gray and cloudy fall morning.
“We have another twenty golds from tariff collections,” Lyasa announced. “We’re nearing a hundred for this season.”
“Twenty golds. Sterol will not find that adequate,” prophesied Kalesin. “Nor even five score or ten score. Not after a mere three and a half score for the summer.”
“He won’t,” Cerryl agreed amiably. “But another coaster from Suthya entered the harbor yesterday, and Tyldar told me that yet another was sailing here out of Quend.”
“Still…” murmured Kalesin.
Gloomy as Kalesin was, Cerryl knew the stocky mage was right. Both Sterol and Anya would find his performance inadequate. They probably already had and doubtless would have sent his replacement, save for the fact that there wasn’t anyone any better to send. Not yet.
“Another coaster will help,” Lyasa said.
Now…if Layel would only arrive—or send someone—or Wertel. “A full trader from Hamor or Sarronnyn would help more,” Cerryl admitted. “But we have more than half the fall remaining.”
Thrap!
“Come in.”
Subofficer Suzdyal peered in, holding a pair of scrolls. “For you, ser.”
“Thank you.” Cerryl rose.
Lyasa took them and handed them to him. Kalesin eyed the scroll with the crimson ribbons speculatively.
Cerryl ignored the look. “I haven’t seen your wool factor report.”
“I have two other factors to visit.”
“Perhaps you should.”
“One remains in Kleth.”
“Then visit the first and complete the report. The other might remain in Kleth for seasons.”
“Let us go, Kalesin.” Lyasa rose from her chair. “The arms mage has much to do, and so do we. I do, I know.”
After the two mages had left, Cerryl eased open the first scroll, glad that Teras or Hiser had made sure it came directly to him. The High Wizard’s seal crumbled away, as though it had been invested with far too much chaos.
Cerryl, greetings—
The three-and-a-half-score golds which you sent were, the Council finds, most disappointing for one of your skills. As arms mage of Spidlar you are expected to regain all those golds unpaid by the traitors…
Cerryl wanted to grit his teeth. Four parts out of five of the old traders’ fortunes had been taken by Jeslek and sent to Fairhaven even before Eliasar had taken over from Jeslek. By the time Cerryl had arrived, every stray gold had fled or been hidden who knew where. He forced himself to continue reading.
…greater efforts will be required in Hydlen, and Spidlar must be brought into line and speedily, so that at least half of the lancers there can be returned to Fairhaven and mustered for the spring campaigns…
Campaigns? In Hydlen and where else?
We look forward to at least a thousand golds before the turn of the year…Our wishes and those of the Council for your success in carrying out your duties…
The scroll was not even signed by Sterol but by Anya, “at the direction of the High Wizard, His Mightiness Sterol.”
“His Mightiness?” Cerryl took a deep breath. What did Sterol expect? Or Anya? It had taken over two years to destroy Spidlar, and now the High Wizard expected great flows of golds in less than two full seasons? After Jeslek had plundered the great fortunes? Except for that onetime rape of Spidlar, Cerryl doubted Fairhaven had ever collected 4,000 golds in a year from Spidlar—or a thousand in a full year. That was the problem, though.
He took several deep breaths to calm himself before opening the second scroll—the one with the green ribbons, the one he hoped would be more cheering. The greeting alone lifted his spirits.
Dearest—
I have sent this with Hiser’s courier and trust it will arrive in a timely fashion.
Father is preparing to undertake the task which you had suggested, and I hope that you will see the results—if you have not—before long. You have asked much, although we both think that your suggestions will be helpful for all of us. The climate there may be better for his health in his declining years, also. Wertel agreed with that, as do I…
Declining health? Cerryl swallowed, wondering if Anya and Muneat and Jiolt were already making matters more difficult for Layel in Fairhaven—and for Leyladin. Not if…how…He hadn’t seen such in his glass, but Anya’s maneuverings wouldn’t be obvious that way.
We all wish you both the best and look forward to seeing you before too long.
He smiled at the “love” with which Leyladin had signed the missive, but the smile faded as he considered all the implications of both scrolls, separately and together.
After rereading both once more, Cerryl stood and glanced out through the window into the almost cold fall day. The clouds were darker, promising more of the cold rain that seemed so common.
CLIX
AS THE FIRST ship eased toward the wharves, Cerryl dismounted and walked to the seawall, watching. His guards eased their mounts behind him but did not dismount. The fall wind blowing off the Northern Ocean carried the odor of salt and a chill that foreshadowed a cold winter.
Cerryl kept his jaw in place as the two ocean traders were tied to the wharves, both bearing the green and gold banners of Layel’s trading house. The two heavy-laden cargo ships were the first trading vessels so large that he had seen in Spidlaria since his return.
A balding blonde figure in blue, flanked by a pair of guards in green, stood near the bow of the inshore vessel and gave a single wave to Cerryl. The arms mage and administrator of Spidlar walked down the wharf to where the gangway was being wrestled into place, conscious that his guards had dismounted and followed him, weapons at the ready.
Layel stood on the deck by the top of the gangway. “I see you have guards now—just like the High Wizard. You’ve come up in the world, Cerryl.” The factor laughed.
“If having enemies is a sign of position, it’s one I could do without.”
“If you would join me in my cabin—or the one I took from the master?”
“The ships are both yours?”
“Aye. There are two others that sail out of Lydiar, but Wertel manages them, and well, too.”
Cerryl hopped onto the plank and then onto the deck. The guards followed as the mage and factor walked to the rear deckhouse.
Layel opened the narrow door and gestured to Natrey. “You can look in.”
The guard nodded and made a brief inspection, but both guards remained in the passageway outside the cabin when Layel shut the door. Cerryl sat in one of the chairs around the gold oak table that was bolted to the polished plank floor.
“Trust my ship more than anywhere else,” said Layel.
“More than most places,” Cerryl agreed.
“Both my daughter and the overmage pushed me here—against my initial judgment,” said Layel.
“I agree with them,” Cerryl said.
“I do as well, from what I’ve since learned. Fairhaven is no place for an honest trader, not while Sterol is High Wizard and Anya sits by his side.”
“What happened?”
“Scerzet…did Leyladin tell you of him?”
Cerryl shook his head.
“He died—sudden-like—and Muneat and Jiolt ended up with his warehouses and stock, settled with his heirs. Folk said that the Council suggested that there were too many traders in Fairhaven.” Layel gave a wry smile. “About that time, your offer looked more tempting.”
“That I had not heard of.”
“I doubt many folk have, but it happened all the same.” Layel cleared his throat. “Be hard starting here, even with the ships and the golds.”
“Perhaps not so hard as you think.” Cerryl offered a smile. “In return for your help in restoring trade in Spidlar I am giving you the dwelling, the warehouses, and the lands of the leading factor in Spidlar.”
“What befell him that he has no need of such?”
Colors of Chaos (Saga of Recluce) Page 72
