Colors of Chaos

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Though warned by the those of the Guild of the great storms raised by the evil Creslin, the Emperor of Hamor thought that he alone would seize the talismans of order and thus raise Hamor to become first among all lands.

  In his greed and arrogance, the emperor sent more than a score of vessels, all filled with armsmen and weapons of every type and size, and those ships sailed into the port known as Land’s End and attacked the small keep therein, for Creslin was seeking the high and great winds far away.

  Yet, even in Creslin’s absence, Megaera the black-hearted raised mighty fires and turned many of the emperor’s ships into funeral pyres for sailors and armsmen alike.

  Creslin returned, with both his killing blade and the great winds, and all but a single ship perished, and all but a score of all those thousands of men who had sought the talismans of order perished as well.

  The single ship that remained Creslin rebuilt and refitted, as the beginning to the Black fleets…

  Colors of White

  (Manual of the Guild at Fairhaven)

  Preface

  III

  Cerryl nodded to the tower guards on duty, although he didn’t know either by name, as he passed on his way to report to the overmage Kinowin.

  “Good day, ser,” the older guard returned.

  Cerryl smiled politely, glad that this day was drawing to a close, although it hadn’t been that eventful, unlike the time with the oil smugglers several eight-days before. Most days were quiet-and long.

  Kinowin’s quarters were on the lowest level of the tower-and the door was around the corner to the left from the guard station-Derka’s door was the other way, not that Cerryl had been there, but Faltar had told him.

  Outside of the time when Jeslek had tried to insist that Cerryl had not succeeded in accomplishing his magely task-or rather when Jeslek had insisted that he had not set such a task-and the High Wizard Sterol had brought in Kinowin, Myral, and Derka to judge the situation, Cerryl had never really had much conversation or contact with the stooped, silver-haired Derka. Then… Cerryl had seen how much power the kindly voice and stooped posture concealed.

  Jeslek, thank the light, had been forced to admit he had set a magely task for Cerryl, whether he had so intended or not, and Sterol and the others had agreed that Cerryl was fit to be a full mage.

  Cerryl snorted as he thought about it. If sneaking into a strange city and killing the ruler with chaos fire and escaping unseen didn’t make for a magely task, he wasn’t certain what did. Then, because he was an orphan from a suspect background, he’d been held to a more difficult standard in many ways-except for one thing. Sterol had known that Cerryl had used chaos fire before the Guild had found Cerryl, and the High Wizard had let that pass. Cerryl’s father hadn’t been so fortunate-which was why Cerryl had ended up an orphan almost right after he was born.

  “Cerryl, ser,” he announced as he rapped on the white oak door. He didn’t mind reporting to Kinowin, the other Guild overmage that he knew of besides Jeslek, but that was because the big overmage had also surmounted poverty-and far more disciplinary actions than Cerryl-in becoming a mage.

  “Come in,” Kinowin’s voice rumbled.

  Cerryl eased into the room-so different from that of Myral or Jeslek. Myral’s quarters were filled with books and Jeslek’s almost bare of all but essentials. Kinowin’s walls were filled with colored hangings of different types and styles, but all of them featuring shades of purple, accented with other colors. His books were limited to a single four-shelf case on the wall beside the sole window. Even the table that held his screeing glass was covered with a purple cloth-trimmed with green.

  “I take it that nothing untoward happened today.” Kinowin’s lips curled into a friendly but sardonic smile, lifting slightly the purple blotch on his left cheek.

  “No, ser. Not a thing. There weren’t many wagons, and only the coach from Lydiar. Just two passengers, a grain merchant from Worrak and one from Ruzor.”

  “Wasn’t there an olive merchant from Kyphros the other day?”

  “Ah… two days ago, I think.”

  “Not much trade coming to Fairhaven at all, is there?” Kinowin nodded to the chair across from him. “We need to talk.”

  Cerryl’s stomach tightened.

  “No… you haven’t done anything wrong, and the great Jeslek has been quiet so far as you are concerned. He’s still out in Gallos raising more mountains. To protect the Great White Highway, he says…”

  Cerryl wondered. Jeslek claimed that such a use of chaos was to show the force of the Guild to the prefect of Gallos, but Cerryl doubted such was the sole reason.

  “… also,” continued Kinowin, “Jeslek’s been reporting cattle theft in the northern part of Kyphros. His scrolls indicate that the locals are complaining that the thieves are being allowed to steal Analerian cattle and take them to Fenard for slaughter. He’s sent a scroll to the new prefect-your ‘friend’ Syrma-suggesting that Gallos could use more evenhanded justice.”

  “Syrma won’t like that, not from the little I saw.”

  “No, he won’t, but Jeslek is convinced that Fairhaven must apply a stronger hand. Both Sterol and I agree… about the need for a greater presence.” Kinowin offered a short laugh. “That brings up what we need to talk about… Sterol and I were talking the other day, and we decided that some of the junior mages need to know more about what is happening. But… we’re telling you each individually. I’d like you to keep this to yourself. You may discuss it with me, with Myral, with Sterol-and with Jeslek, of course. You may also talk with other junior mages, but only about things which have in fact already happened.” Kinowin cocked his big head slightly to one side. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, ser.” Cerryl frowned. “I think so. People are talking, but it’s not always right what they’re saying, and you need to make sure we understand what’s really happening. But you don’t want it spread all over the place, and there are some people who won’t be told everything because they-” Cerryl stopped as he saw the glimmer in Kinowin’s eyes. “I’m sorry, ser. Maybe I don’t understand.”

  Kinowin laughed and shook his head. “You understand. You even understand the intrigue. No wonder Jeslek worries about you. Just don’t share something like you just said with anyone but me or Myral.”

  Cerryl nodded slowly. He noted that the overmage had not mentioned the High Wizard Sterol or the overmage Jeslek.

  Kinowin squared himself in his chair, put both elbows on the table, and leaned forward. “You know that Syrma is now the prefect of Gallos. Lyam’s family-they are largely wool factors and timber merchants- is not pleased with the situation. Nor are the overcaptains of the Gallosian forces, especially a fellow by the name of Taynet. He’s the most senior of the overcaptains. What this means for the Guild is that we really can’t press Syrma for payment of all the golds that Lyam owed Fairhaven from when he was prefect.”

  Cerryl wasn’t sure how the intrigue of Gallos had anything at all to do with him or the Guild, but Kinowin wasn’t one for idle gossip.

  “The traders in Gallos have been bringing in goods from Recluce through Spidlar-wool, spices, even copper. The Black traders have also been bringing in Austran cotton and linen-and it’s cheaper than what comes from Hydlen. They’re shipping that copper from Southport to Spidlaria cheaper than our traders can cart it across the Westhorns.” Kinowin paused, cocking his head again, as if uncertain as to what else to say. “And they’re using the profit to buy our grains and tubers. They can raise grain on Recluce, but not enough.”

  The junior mage waited.

  “The Duke of Lydiar is beginning to expand the copper mines south of Hrisbarg… and might be persuaded to reopen the old iron mines. He’s not happy about the cheaper copper… or the iron.” Kinowin stopped. “Does this tell you anything?”

  It told Cerryl a great deal-and nothing at all. Traders were always unhappy when someone else could sell cheaper, unless they were the ones who had the cheaper goods. Certainly Sy
rma would be in a hard position in Gallos. He’d become prefect because the Guild had effectively announced-through Cerryl’s assassination of Lyam-that it was most unhappy with the Gallosians’ use of the White highways without paying the tariffs. Jeslek’s use of chaos to destroy one small Gallosian army had also pointed out that Gallos would have trouble using armsmen to defy Fairhaven. At the same time, the traders and merchants of Gallos were doubtless displeased with the thought of paying tariffs-and Lyam’s family certainly wouldn’t be in the best of humors.

  “The situation isn’t good and may not get better,” Cerryl finally temporized. “What about the Viscount of Certis?”

  “The viscount cares little about any mining or metals, or the wool. His concerns are oils, and right now his merchants can sell more oil than they can harvest and press. It costs the Certans about the same whether they get wool from Montgren or from Recluce through either Tyrhavven or Spidlaria.”

  Cerryl thought, half-wondering at the idea that he-an orphan raised by a disabled miner-would be worrying about merchants and traders and rulers as a member of the White Order of Fairhaven. Finally, he glanced at Kinowin. “I am only guessing, ser. Much of what supports the Guild and ties Candar together are the White highways. What you say tells me that if the prefect of Gallos supports us, he may be replaced. The Viscount of Certis does not care, and does not wish to offend, but may find it difficult to encourage his overcaptains to support us against Gallos.” He paused. “What of the Duke of Hydlen?”

  “Duke Berofar is old, and tired.”

  Cerryl swallowed. “War, then? Sooner or later?”

  A grim smile crossed the overmage’s face. “Although Jeslek and Sterol and I agree on little… we all fear such. And you are not to tell anyone that.” Kinowin sat back in his chair, as if to let Cerryl digest what he had just said. After a moment, he continued. “You were with Jeslek when he used chaos to destroy the Gallosian lancers, were you not? How did Jeslek look after the battle?”

  “It took all six of us, ser,” Cerryl said carefully. “Jeslek did much more than anyone else.”

  “But you might not have won without all of you?”

  “It would have been in much greater doubt,” Cerryl admitted.

  Kinowin laughed. “Well said, and with great care.” The big mage stood and wandered to the window, looking into the shadows that fell across the Avenue to the east of the White Tower. “How many Gallosians were there?”

  “Around twenty score.”

  “The prefect of Gallos can raise nearly twenty times that in lancers, if need be.” Kinowin turned and faced the seated Cerryl. “The Viscount of Certis cannot match that, though he might come within fifty score. I doubt the Duke of Lydiar, for all his boasts, can raise more than one hundred score-trained lancers, that is. We have somewhere over two-hundred-fifty-score lancers and another hundred score of other armsmen and archers. Do you have any idea how many coins that takes each year?”

  “No, ser.”

  “Were the pay chests for the year put together, just the pay chests, I would guess the total would easily exceed five-hundred-score golds.”

  Cerryl swallowed. The thought of that many golds, just for armsmen, left him speechless.

  An ironic smile crossed Kinowin’s face. “How many lancers did you kill in Gallos? You?”

  “I didn’t count, ser. I’d say a half-score, perhaps a few more.”

  “In one battle you killed more than some lancers do in years. You also clean sewers and water aqueducts. The other day you killed a man, kept some guards from being injured, and saved the Guild from being cheated on taxes and tariffs. Your stipend is more than ten times that of a senior lancer-because the Guild expects more than ten times as much from you.” Kinowin paused. “There is a problem with that. Do you know what it is?”

  Cerryl frowned. “The Guild isn’t that big?”

  The overmage nodded. “Yes, and Gallos as it is now is too large and too powerful, and all the tariffs and all the taxes will barely pay for our mages and our lancers. Yet we must ensure that Gallos pays its road taxes or soon none will do so. That is why Jeslek set you to kill Lyam and why he is raising mountains. And why Sterol must allow it.” Cerryl licked his lips. He had known that Jeslek had needed to raise the Little Easthorns for more than a vain show of power.

  “I would not be overly surprised if we must send Eliasar and the White Lancers to Gallos before long. There must be someone to replace Sverlik, and that wizard must have enough force behind him to convince Syrma to treat with him.”

  “There must be a reason, ser, but can you tell me why we cannot raise the taxes and tariffs?”

  “Cerryl… think… What did I tell you when you sat down?” Kinowin’s face was expressionless.

  The thin-faced and slender junior mage tried to recollect what the overmage had said. “Oh… because higher tariffs make the prices higher and people won’t use the roads and pay any taxes?”

  Kinowin nodded. “Roads are more costly than shipping, especially when the Blacks can call the winds to their beck.”

  Cerryl thought some more. “There are a lot of things you can’t get from Recluce or by ship. Carpets from Sarronnyn and olives from Kyphros and brimstone from Hydlen.”

  “People forget the gains from the roads; they only think of the costs.” Kinowin cleared his throat. “You need to think about those things. You can talk all you want to your friends about trade and tariffs.” The overmage smiled. “Even to a certain blonde healer, but not a word about the pay chests or any thought of war. And not a word outside the Halls of the Mages.”

  “Yes, ser.” Cerryl couldn’t quite keep from flushing at the reference to Leyladin.

  “Go get something to eat. Your guts are growling.”

  Cerryl rose and slipped out the door, noting that Kinowin had turned back to the window, hands clasped behind his back.

  IV

  Cerryl glanced up as he started up the steps from the front foyer of the Halls of the Mages, his eyes going to the full-body stone images on the ledge just below the top of the wall-the images of the great mages, he guessed. He knew the stocky figure that was the second from the far left was Hartor, the High Wizard who had restructured the Guild to oppose Recluce. As if it had done much good.

  He paused on the stone landing just outside the White Tower’s first level. Did he hear a set of boots on the stone steps? He stepped into the lower level, where one of the guards he did know, Gostar, was talking to the boy in the red tunic of a messenger who sat on the stool behind the guards, waiting for a summons from one of the higher mages in the tower.

  “Doesn’t always take so long, lad.” Gostar’s eyes went to Cerryl. “The mage Cerryl here. He was a student mage for but two years.”

  The black-haired boy from the creche looked away from Cerryl.

  “It’s true,” Cerryl said. “Sometimes it’s easier if it takes longer, though.” His friend Faltar had taken nearly four years, but Faltar hadn’t had to fight brigands in Fenard and sneak across a hostile land… or deal with Jeslek day in and day out. Cerryl frowned. Faltar also hadn’t gotten a half-score of lancers killed, either.

  “You see there, lad. All in the way you look at it,” said Gostar heartily.

  The messenger kept his eyes on the white granite floor tiles.

  At the sound of boots coming down the tower steps, Cerryl glanced through the archway, and a broad smile filled his face as Leyladin descended the last few steps from the upper levels, wearing her green shirt, tunic, and trousers-even dark green boots. Her blonde hair, with the faintest of red highlights, had been cut shorter and was almost level with her chin.

  “How is Myral?” asked Cerryl, not knowing quite what to say.

  “Better today.” After a moment of silence, Leyladin offered a smile, somehow both shy and friendly. “Can you come to dinner? Tonight?”

  “I’d like that.” Cerryl paused. “If you can wait a bit. I have to meet with Kinowin first. For the first season I do gate duty I h
ave to talk to him after I finish. It shouldn’t take that long.”

  A mischievous smile crossed her lips. “Father can wait that long.”

  “Your father?” Cerryl’s throat felt thick.

  “I’ve talked about you so much that he says he must meet you.”

  Lucky me… He could sense a chuckle from Gostar.

  “I’ll wait here with Gostar.”

  Cerryl nodded. “I hope it won’t be long.” He went to the left, past the guards and the still-mute young messenger.

  “Lady mage… true he killed the prefect of Gallos all by himself?”

  “It’s said to be true.” Leyladin’s voice drifted after Cerryl.

  “He looks… too nice…”

  “… a quiet mage…”

  Appearances-was one of his problems that he looked like a polite young scrivener and not a mage who would upset the world. They said that the Black mage Creslin had been small. Was that why he’d killed- or had to kill-so many? Cerryl squared his shoulders as he stepped up to the overmage’s door.

  At the first thrap on the door, Kinowin replied, “Wait a moment, if you would, Cerryl.”

  “Yes, ser.” Cerryl settled onto the bench outside the white oak door. Even if he hadn’t done that much, it had been a long day, a very long day. The gates opened to wagons at sunrise. His eyes closed…

  “Cerryl?”

  He jerked awake and bolted upright. “Oh… I’m sorry.”

  Kinowin laughed once, gently. “That’s all right. Being a gate mage is more tiring than most realize. That’s why we give it to you younger mages. I wouldn’t want to do it.”

  As Cerryl followed, still groggy, and closed the heavy door behind him, Kinowin walked to the window and looked out at the dark clouds looming to the east. Even the purple wall hanging seemed gloomy rather than striking.

  Cerryl stood by the table, not wanting to sit down.

  “Go ahead. Sit down.” Kinowin did not turn from the window. “It’s storming to the east.” After a moment, he turned. “How did your day go?”