Colors of Chaos

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “She wouldn’t stop or get off the highway. She yelled at all of us something like, ‘The roads be for everyone!’ She said she was a common person and she needed the road to sell her baskets so that her family could live until harvest and that she had no spare coppers for the White ninnies. I told her she’d have to give up the cart and the baskets, since she wouldn’t pay for a medallion, and she screamed that the roads were for everyone. She took her staff and threatened the guards.” Cerryl swallowed. “I used a firebolt and turned the staff into ashes. Then she screamed that darkness and the Black angels should take us. She grabbed a knife and attacked the guards. I had to flame her.” Cerryl glanced toward Kinowin.

  The overmage murmured, “Stay here for a moment.” Then he turned to the Hall. “I think that young Cerryl was attempting to be both fair and understanding while upholding the laws and ways of Recluce.”

  “… more than fair,” came a murmur from somewhere.

  “… demon-damned peasants.”

  “…ignorant beasts.”

  “Yet,” continued Kinowin, his voice strengthening to silence the murmurs, “this peasant woman had no interest in his fairness or the laws. All she wanted was the easiest way to market and the most coins. Was she that different from the late Prefect Lyam? Or from all the smugglers who try to avoid taxes and tariffs? We meet, and too often, I think, we forget that the rules of law, and the need for such rules to ensure prosperity, they are merely nodded at even by those in Fairhaven. Too often our merchants take for granted the smoothness and the directness of our roads. Too often we do not see the anger at us, because we have forged a glorious city and prosperity for all Candar. Too often we would rather be loved than respected.” Kinowin paused. “Before I let Cerryl resume his seat, are there any questions?”

  A tall mage halfway back in the chamber rose. “You said that this woman called us ‘White ninnies.’ Did she use those words?”

  “Yes, she did. She also said that she had rights under the land that no man dressed in white and riding in a gold carriage could take away.”

  Another mage-Isork-stood. “Did she actually say that the Black angels should take you?”

  “Yes.”

  Isork sat down.

  “Perhaps we should send Eliasar to Gallos sooner rather than later,” suggested Fydel from the middle of the chamber, Anya practically whispering in his ear as the square-bearded mage spoke.

  Sterol stepped back onto the dais from the columns at the south side of the chamber, waiting for another round of murmurs to die down. “The Council has decided that Eliasar should not depart until closer to harvest.” He turned and gestured to Cerryl. “Remember what happened at the gates. Cerryl attempted to handle the old woman gently. The guards know that, and they will tell others. Unhappily, there will always be those who respect little but force. There will always be those who do not pay willingly for the prosperity and peace that the Guild has provided Candar. There will always be those who believe the lies and deceptions of the Black Isle. We cannot make all our people happy, but we can make them respect the Order. And that we will do.

  “Many of you know that the overmage Jeslek is working in Gallos to ensure that the new prefect will indeed respect the Guild. We are also building more warships to patrol the gulf and the Eastern Ocean. All Gallos-and the Black traders-will respect Fairhaven before we are done. That will be the occasion to send Eliasar and the lancers.” Sterol laughed. “Shortly, I will begin assigning mages to those warships that will be completed sometime this winter, and the Black traders will pay tariffs or they will not trade with Candar.”

  Kinowin nodded to Cerryl, who stepped down and back to his seat.

  Sterol gave a nod to Kinowin, who returned it with one barely perceptible.

  “Now that our business is complete,” Sterol said in a warmer tone, “let us bring in the new mages.”

  Sterol waited on the dais, Kinowin to his right, as Esaak escorted the three figures in the tunics of student mages forward and down the center aisle of the chamber.

  “High Wizard, I present the candidates for induction as full mages and members of the Guild.” Esaak inclined his head, then stepped back and to the side.

  Sterol let the silence draw out for a moment before speaking. “Bealtur, Heralt, and Myredin… 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 smiled at the words that deviated not at all from those Sterol had employed when Cerryl himself had stood before the dais.

  “… 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, of both 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?”

  There were three quiet assents.

  “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 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.”

  “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 the sleeves of the three, and the red apprentice stripes were gone.

  “Welcome, Bealtur, Heralt, and Myredin…” 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.”

  Scattered murmurs broke out across the chamber.

  Sterol glanced down at the three. “I’m very pleased that all of you have succeeded. You have different talents, and in the difficult days before the Guild we will need each of those talents, I suspect.”

  Cerryl waited for the older mages to congratulate the three before he stepped forward, beginning with the dark-eyed and curly-haired Heralt. “Congratulations, Heralt.”

  “Thank you. You and Kinowin made it easier.”

  Cerryl offered a smile. “Don’t forget the High Wizard. He seeks talent.” With a nod, Cerryl stepped up to Bealtur. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.” The goateed young mage’s words were polite, even, and without warmth.

  “And congratulations to you.” Cerryl nodded politely at Myredin. Myredin nodded back, his intense and slightly bulging gray eyes fixed somewhere beyond Cerryl.

  Cerryl stepped back and to the side, back along the pillars on the north side of the chamber.

  “I have a good feel about Heralt, too.”

  Cerryl turned. Kinowin and Myral stood behind the pillar. Myral inclined his head, and Cerryl joined the two.

  “I’m sure you guessed that Kinowin wanted you to be seen,” said Myral. “He could have told the story without you.”

  “I’m your protege, ser?” asked Cerryl.

  Kinowin smiled, almost ironically. “We need you to be seen and heard. I suggest you have something to say at the next meeting. Something that sounds most reasonable, with which few will disagree. Something about trade.”

  “Me?”

  “You.” Myral coughed, covering his mouth with the gray cloth he carried everywhere. After a moment, he added, “You have the shields to stand against Jeslek’s anger, and he knows that. You have no ties to the traders of Fairhaven or elsewhere, and it is important that you be seen to
have a mind.”

  Whether I do or not… whether I’m just an ignorant orphan determined and lucky enough to have become a mage.

  Kinowin lowered his voice more. “Jeslek will be High Wizard by fall, if not before.”

  “Why not you?” blurted Cerryl.

  “Your judgment of character is sound,” said Myral with a chuckle, “but not of age. Kinowin is closer to my age than to Jeslek’s. For him to use power as Jeslek does would kill him within a handful of years.”

  “We’ll talk more later,” said Kinowin, “but this is one of the few places where the three of us could talk for a moment without much notice.” He raised his voice. “Thank you, young Cerryl.”

  “I did what I thought best,” Cerryl replied with a bow, his voice also pitched to carry beyond the pillars.

  Myral coughed and covered a smile as the young mage bowed again and turned, walking back along the pillars.

  “Cerryl? Have you a moment?” The words arrived with the impact of the trilia and sandalwood fragrance used by Anya.

  Cerryl offered a head bow to the red-haired mage. “For you, Anya, I always have time.”

  “Obvious but gracious, Cerryl, and I thank you for the effort.”

  “When one is young and unskilled as I, what else can I do?” He offered a shrug. “How might I help?”

  “I was curious, just curious, mind you, about your encounter with the old woman. Were you given any instructions for situations such as that?”

  “No. No one ever mentioned that I’d ever deal with old farm people. I was told about traders and haulers, and how to set up the medallions, and the general rates for wagon and cart sizes.” Cerryl looked guilelessly at Anya, which was not difficult, since he spoke the truth.

  “Why did you wish to warn off the old woman?”

  “I didn’t see any sense in destroying her cart and taking her baskets. They would add little to the treasury and would create bad feelings.”

  Anya nodded. “Yet you would judge when to break the rules?”

  “I was not aware of breaking the rules.” Cerryl could feel that Anya’s questions were far from idle curiosity. “Anyone may bring a cart to the guardhouse to get a medallion, and gate guards are not allowed to destroy carts without medallions that do not come to the gates.”

  Anya laughed. “You could be more dangerous than Jeslek.”

  Cerryl bowed again. “I fear that I lack the mass of chaos that Jeslek can bring to bear upon all who would oppose him. Thus, I must think as best I can before I act.”

  Anya touched his shoulder. “Just keep thinking, Cerryl, and there will always be a place in the Guild for you.” She flashed her brilliantly insincere smile, touched his shoulder again, warmly, and ducked away.

  Cerryl wanted to wipe his forehead but didn’t. The implication of Anya’s remarks was certainly clear enough. He had thought that his life would get easier once he was a full mage, but he was beginning to have doubts about that, especially with all the undercurrents within the Guild.

  And then to find out that Kinowin was far older than Jeslek-perhaps nearly so old as Myral? That was hard to believe, but Myral’s words had held the feel and ring of truth, and that worried Cerryl.

  XV

  As Cerryl crossed the courtyard in the early afternoon, his eyes went to the blonde-haired figure in green in the shadows behind the fountain.

  “Leyladin!” He hurried over to her. “When did you get back?”

  “Late last night.” Her smile warmed him. “I slept for a while. I knew you were on duty early. Myral said you’d be here sometime after midday.”

  “I have to report to Kinowin for the first few days on summer duty. That’s where I was. Tomorrow will be the last day of that.”

  “Have you seen him? Today?”

  Cerryl grinned. “Just left his quarters.”

  “Could I entice you into something to eat at the house?” The green eyes danced.

  “You could.” You could entice me into more than that… “I haven’t eaten much today.”

  “I’m ravenous. Let’s go.” Her eyebrows arched. “Don’t expect me to be enticing in that way.” A playful smile followed.

  Even as Cerryl flushed, he wondered if his thoughts had been that obvious.

  They walked past the fountain and its cooling spray and through the entry foyer of the front Hall and out onto the Avenue, turning north. As they passed the square, Cerryl glanced westward where white clouds were beginning to pile into the sky. “We might have some rain this afternoon.”

  “It rained almost every afternoon in Lydiar. There was mold everywhere.” Leyladin shuddered. “It’s a dirty place.”

  “Compared to Fairhaven, everywhere I’ve been is dirty.”

  A city patrol appeared ahead on the eastern side of the square, three guards in lancerlike uniforms, followed by a mage Cerryl didn’t know, escorting a man in chains along a side street away from the Avenue.

  “You don’t see that very often,” Leyladin said.

  “The patrols? No. That’s only the second or third time I’ve seen them since I’ve been in Fairhaven.”

  “Sometimes you forget there are patrols.”

  “Well… they do supply the prisoners who clean up the stable at the gate and the ashes if we have to destroy a wagon or cart.”

  “They do? I didn’t know that.”

  Cerryl glanced sideways at her, but Leyladin seemed perfectly sincere. “You’ve lived here all your life.”

  “People here know the rules.”

  The White mage reflected. For the most part, people did know the rules and abided by them. They put their refuse in the rubbish wagons, their chamber pots in the sewage catches, and there were no brawls or fights in the streets. There were seldom any brigands, and no beggars or homeless urchins-not that he’d seen. He frowned. “What happens to the really poor people?”

  “Most of them live on the southwest side of Fairhaven.”

  “I meant the ones without homes.” In his almost five years in the city, Cerryl had been so busy he’d never really thought about the homeless. In the mine and farm country where he’d grown up people and children worked or died, and he’d never had the time to really explore Fairhaven.

  “The Patrol sends them out of the city. If they come back, they go on the road crew, except for infants or small children. They go to the other creche. When they get older, they get apprenticed somewhere.” Leyladin made a vague gesture.

  The road crew? For life, like all the others? He moistened his lips but concentrated on her words and offered a response. “Probably to the tanners and the Tenderers and trades like that.”

  “It’s better than dying. It’s a trade and a living.”

  Cerryl contained a wince. He could have been one of those children, but Leyladin was right. Even the road crew was better than dying, and not that much worse than grubbing in the fields for life-or working for a renderer.

  “It’s a pretty day, much nicer than in Lydiar.”

  “I’m sure,” he answered.

  South of the Market Square, Leyladin turned left, and they walked the block to her house. There the blonde healer took out a large brass key and inserted it in the lock. “Soaris is off today, and Father is back in Vergren again. Then he’s going to Tyrhavven.”

  “He was in Vergren the last time I talked to you.”

  “He’s worried about something, but he hasn’t said much about it. I think it’s timber this time. That’s why he has to go to Sligo.” Leyladin opened the door and held it open.

  Inside was cooler than in the afternoon sun, much cooler, and Cerryl blotted away the dampness on his forehead, hoping he would cool inside the granite dwelling.

  “Meridis!” The blonde walked through the foyer into the silk-hung entry hall and then through another door.

  Cerryl followed her into the kitchen.

  The gray-haired Meridis, wearing a pale blue shirt and no overtunic, looked up from the worktable where she was rolling out something. “L
ady, I did not expect you so soon.”

  “We need something to eat. Nothing fancy. Fruit, cheese, some bread…”

  “Aye, those I can do.” Meridis wiped her hands on the weathered gray apron cinched around her. “Go and sit down. Be but a bit. Even have some cool redberry. Now… you sit down.”

  Feeling almost shooed from the kitchen, Cerryl followed Leyladin into a small room where a golden oak table with four chairs sat halfway into a hexagonal room, the outer three walls comprised of floor-to-ceiling windows facing north. Leyladin plopped down in a chair on one side of the table, her back to the windows.

  Cerryl sat across from her. “Redberry?” I drink it when I can. Too much wine or ale, and I have trouble with healing. They say that the full Blacks on Recluce don’t drink wine or ale or spirits.“

  Meridis appeared with a warm loaf of dark bread, a bowl filled with early peaches and green apples, and three wedges of cheese-one yellow, one yellow-white, and one pale white. Setting those down, she departed, only to return immediately with two platters and cutlery. A third trip brought two of the crystal goblets and two pitchers. “Redberry and golden ale. Now… eat afore you both melt.” A brusque nod preceded her departure.

  “Ah… she…”

  “Meridis is family. She’s not hesitated to let me know when she disapproved. She likes you. That’s why the ale.”

  “How would she know?” Cerryl couldn’t help frowning. “She’s only seen me once-that I know of.”

  “She makes up her mind quickly. She doesn’t change it easily.” A smile crossed Leyladin’s lips. “She’s usually right. Not always, but enough that I’d never wager against her. Neither would Father.” She poured ale for Cerryl and redberry for herself.

  Cerryl waited for her to take a sip of her redberry before tasting the ale. “It’s good. Then, everything here is good.”