“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 Jenred 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 the 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 amule
t, 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.”
“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 Redark.”
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.
“We need a full Guild meeting,” Kinowin said, “within the eight-day.”
“Many could not be contacted and return,” protested Redark.
“They should not leave their posts, not at the moment,” Cerryl said as he reseated himself. “In Spidlar but Lyasa and Syandar remain, and their presence is necessary. With the trade problems, both Gorsuch and Sedelos must remain watchful.”
“Besides,” Kinowin added dryly, “how will their presence change matters? Half of those elsewhere would favor Cerryl, and the others know him not.”
“Mages belong in Fairhaven,” Redark replied, “except when they are needed elsewhere.”
“That is often these days,” Kinowin observed.
Leyladin smiled faintly but did not speak.
“It may become more necessary in the days to come,” added Cerryl.
Redark raised his ginger eyebrows.
“Recluce must be respected in Candar before it will be respected in Recluce.” Cerryl made a vague gesture. “How to accomplish that we will discuss in greater detail later.” He smiled. “For now, we need to discuss whether you and Kinowin feel that immediate changes are necessary within the Halls.”
“The younger mages…the apprentices…they protest the sewer training,” offered Redark.
“Who handles that now? Or is it still—” Cerryl glanced at Kinowin.
“Alas…I am still working with Kochar and Kydasl on the sewers.”
Cerryl knew Kochar from when he had been an apprentice but had never heard of Kydasl.
“Kydasl was an assistant in Renklaar, but Gorsuch thought he might better serve the Guild in Fairhaven, and Sterol suggested he could one day take over the sewer cleaning and training.”
Redark nodded. “He is inclined to be most fastidious.”
Cerryl concealed a wince. “I think we all disliked sewer training, but it is necessary.” He smiled at Redark. “If you have some thoughts on exactly how we might improve that training, I would find them most welcome.”
“I will think on it,” p
romised Redark. “There is also the question of whether the tariff structure for gate medallions might best be improved so as to raise the revenues…”
The last thing Fairhaven needed to do was discourage farmers and traders from entering the city. Cerryl nodded. “Perhaps you could prevail upon Esaak to show what revenues might be raised with changes at both higher and lower levels and how that might affect the number of wagons entering the city.”
“Esaak…he is inclined to lower the tariffs.” Redark frowned.
“I see.” Cerryl paused, then added, “Ask him to show all the possible numbers and golds received so that we might review them. And the numbers for past years as well.”
Redark nodded. “I will.”
Kinowin covered his mouth for a moment.
“We also need to consider refurbishing the Guild Hall…”
That’s the last thing golds should be spent on…“Perhaps dealing with that would seem too presumptuous for a new High Wizard.” Cerryl knew the meeting was going to last far, far longer than he wished—or needed.
He could sense the smile hidden behind the bland expression of interest shown by Leyladin, but he nodded at the ginger-bearded overmage to continue.
CLXVII
CERRYL FELT EXPOSED as he sat in the front row of the Council Chamber. He could feel Anya’s and Fydel’s eyes on his neck…and countless others’ as well. Never imagined you’d feel this alone amid so many mages…
Kinowin, erect and broad-shouldered still, despite the gauntness of age, marched up the side steps and then to the center of the polished gold-shot marble dais of the Council Chamber. Behind him by several steps followed Redark, his eyes shifting nervously from the marble floor to Kinowin and down again.
The two waited for the whispers to die away.
“The first order of this meeting is to affirm Cerryl as High Wizard.” Kinowin nodded toward Redark.
The second overmage smiled quickly and faintly, as though he would rather have been anywhere else.
“Is there any member of the Guild who wishes to propose another member as High Wizard?” questioned Kinowin.
Colors of Chaos (Saga of Recluce) Page 75
