“Might you know of some traders who have?”
“I do not know of any.”
Cerryl caught the faintest emphasis on the word “know” and continued. “Perhaps you have heard rumors or surmised that another trader has hired armsmen in recent eight-days?”
“If you listen long enough, Your Mightiness, you can heard any rumor that you wish. Coins and facts and goods, those be the staples of a factor, not whispers in the streets or rumors.” Muneat fidgeted, and his hand moved, as though he wanted to blot his forehead or brush back the long silver hair above his ears and below the shining bald center of his skull.
“Oh, you have heard rumors of armsmen?”
“Yes, Your Mightiness, but you hear those when times are bad.”
“Might they have been about Chorast?” Cerryl paused. “Or Layel? Or Loboll? Or Felemsol?” Then, after a lengthy silence, he added, “Or Jiolt?”
“I can’t say as I’ve heard that any of those have added armsmen lately.” Muneat offered a tight smile.
“Jiolt is related to you through consortship, is he not?”
“He is, and he is a fine factor, and a good consort and father.” Muneat smiled more broadly, offering the smile more to Kinowin and Leyladin than to Cerryl.
What do those have to do with treason and plotting? Cerryl wanted to shake his head. Being good at what one did and loving one’s family didn’t mean either innocence or guilt. “I am sure he is all of those.” And more. “I do appreciate your time, your forbearance, and your assistance.”
For the first time, Muneat looked disquieted.
“You may go, Factor Muneat.” Cerryl paused, then added, “And I do hope you still enjoy The Wondrous Tales of the Green Angel.”
Muneat bowed deeply, his face nearly frozen, then bowed again and turned.
When the door had closed, Kinowin cleared his throat. “He was fine-except for lying about Jiolt-until your last words. What did they mean?”
Cerryl laughed. “I wanted to let him know something. Many years ago, he purchased that volume from Tellis the scrivener. I thought he should understand that I knew that.”
Leyladin laughed softly.
Senglat swallowed.
After a moment of silence, Gostar announced, “Factor Jiolt.”
The door closed behind the handsome factor with a dull thud.
Jiolt’s ruddy face sat atop a muscular and trim body clothed in a dark green that emphasized both his well-trimmed beard and his hair, both sandy-colored and shot with silvered gray. He bowed and then offered a smile that was warm, friendly, charming, and totally false. “Your Mightiness… overmage, overcaptain, and… healer.”
Cerryl knew that Jiolt had used the last pause to insinuate that Leyladin was somehow less worthy than the three men. He smiled broadly. “Factor Jiolt, I cannot tell you how pleased we are to have you before us.”
“And I am most pleased to be able to assure such pleasure.”
“There have been strange circumstances in Fairhaven lately, as I am most certain you above all others understand,” Cerryl said mildly. “Have you purchased the services of any new guards or armsmen lately?”
“In the depth of winter, after a year such as this?” Jiolt’s sandy eyebrows arched. “I am a factor, and hiring armsmen to guard shipments one cannot make until spring or later is a certain way to ruin.”
“Perhaps I was not so clear as I might have been,” Cerryl said, sensing the growing tension around the factor and beginning to raise the chaos he might need. “Have you been involved in obtaining the services of armsmen? Say, Certan armsmen?”
“Certan armsmen?” Jiolt laughed.
“I will ask once more,” Cerryl said, his voice chill. “Did you act in one way or another to hire armsmen to aid your niece’s plot against the Guild?”
“Absurd… that is… totally absurd! What do you mean by asking me that?” The sandy-haired trader drew himself up.
“I’m asking because some armsmen from Certis caused some trouble last night. That trouble involved your niece and Certis, and you deal with both. Did you pay them?”
“Ser High Wizard, I must confess that I know nothing of this. I am a respected trader…”
The light lance burned through Jiolt’s chest even before he had raised the thin iron throwing dagger. The dagger clanked on the stones of the floor, just before Jiolt collapsed onto it.
Kinowin, swift and graceful still in his gauntness and age, was beside the dead factor almost before the body lay still.
Senglat was on his knees by the dead factor nearly as quickly. The overcaptain rolled the factor over. “Don’t touch the blade. It’s smeared with something.”
“Poison, no doubt.” Kinowin’s voice was dry. “The blade is black iron. Nasty dagger to use on a White mage.”
Senglat glanced up at Cerryl. “Begging your pardon… High Wizard… but he had barely raised the knife…”
“He knew Cerryl would kill him,” Kinowin said, straightening. “He had to have known, once he was summoned.”
Senglat’s face clouded.
“It’s not that,” Kinowin added. “Jiolt was plotting against the Guild and the High Wizard. If he fled, then all would know he was guilty, and his golds and trading vessels and warehouses would be forfeit and his family sent into exile. He would die in any case.” A sad smile crossed the overmage’s face. “No one has ever escaped the High Wizard, and Jiolt knew that.”
“Oh…” said Leyladin. “So he forced Cerryl to kill him.”
The overcaptain’s mouth dropped open. “But… will his family… ?”
“How?” asked Cerryl. “There won’t be any proof. If I act against his family now… for what he did… how will that be received? The Guild would lose all support among the factors.”
“Jiolt knew Cerryl could tell he was lying,” Leyladin interjected. “He didn’t want the High Wizard to learn more.”
Senglat shook his head, then slowly rose. “Perhaps I should leave…” He looked down at the body once more.
“No,” responded Kinowin, “not yet. You are honest, and all know it. If you are asked, you are to tell exactly what you saw.” He added after a brief pause, “It would also not hurt to mention that other traders left unharmed or with praise.”
Cerryl leaned forward, his hands on the table. “Senglat… if you would, have someone contact Jiolt’s son-Uleas, I believe. While I would prefer other… arrangements, it is best to be politic in these things. And if you would have a summons sent to the overmage Redark and the mage Esaak, I would greatly appreciate that-while the overmage, the healer, and I take a moment or two to recover.”
Kinowin nodded.
Senglat half-turned, shaking his head. “How did you know?”
“That’s the task of the High Wizard,” Kinowin answered for Cerryl. “Would you sleep better knowing what His Mightiness knows?”
The overcaptain paused and thought for a moment. “I do not think so.”
“Nor would I.” Kinowin walked to the tower door. “Gostar! Send for the guards at the base of the Tower. And a messenger!”
Senglat lifted the dagger, using a square of cloth, careful to touch but the weapon’s hilt.
Cerryl stood back and watched, as did Leyladin. Once Senglat had left with the guards and Jiolt’s body and the heavy door closed, Leyladin stood and put her arms around Cerryl for a moment. Then she stepped back.
“You don’t like doing this, do you?” asked Kinowin. “No. It has to be done. I can’t have either Anya or the old factors running Fairhaven, though.” He held onto Leyladin’s hands for a moment before adding, “Anya will be here shortly.”
“Why? She wouldn’t come before… when any of her little plots failed then.” Leyladin’s puzzlement showed in every feature. “How many other plots were there?” asked Kinowin. “Enough,” Cerryl answered. “She will be here. That’s why I wanted Esaak and Redark. All she has left are threats.”
“For the moment. Then she’ll start with some mor
e gullible young and old mages.” Leyladin’s laugh was short and bitter. “Unless you do something.”
“I promised,” Cerryl said heavily. “I did, and I keep my promises.” Kinowin nodded. “Let us hope that kept promises do not bury you,
Cerryl.“
“I know.” Leyladin touched his cheek with her fingers. “I won’t say more.”
Even before she lowered her hand, there was another knock on the tower door. “The overmage Redark.”
“Send him in.”
Redark stepped into the Tower room, fingering his ginger beard, then glanced toward Kinowin. “I saw Jiolt’s body…”
“He tried to attack the High Wizard with a poisoned dagger,” Kinowin said. “We thought you should be informed.”
“Jiolt… he is most temperate… a good man with his family…” Redark shook his head.
“That may be, but the dagger was most real,” Cerryl replied. Why do people think that loving family precludes murder and treachery?
“That… it is hard to believe…” stammered the ginger-bearded overmage.
“The dagger was poisoned,” Kinowin added. “Overcaptain Senglat saw that as well.”
“Poisoned?” Redark paled.
Esaak entered through the door that had not closed, puffing. “I hastened, High Wizard… overmages… healer.”
“Good.” Cerryl gestured. “If you all would sit…”
“The High Wizard…” mumbled Esaak.
“The High Wizard needs to stand.” Cerryl walked to the window, looking out and trying to compose himself.
Thrap! “The mage Anya,” announced Gostar.
Cerryl nodded and turned. “Have her come in.”
Anya’s boots clicked on the stones as she marched toward the conference table, ignoring the four seated at the table and staring at Cerryl, who remained before the window. “Why did you bring Jiolt here? What happened to him?”
Cerryl shrugged. “He lied to me. Then he tried to kill me with a poisoned throwing dagger. A black iron dagger. He’s dead. What do you expect?”
“He’s dead? You murdered him!” Anya’s eyes widened. “You… murdered… him… You! You miserable excuse… No, No, NO!!!!” She lurched toward Cerryl, chaos fire flaring at her fingertips.
Cerryl raised full order-chaos shields, as did the other mages.
Abruptly Anya snuffed the flames. “Not… you… not that way. Not for you, Cerryl. High Wizard,” she corrected herself as her eyes flicked to Kinowin and then to Redark. The redhead swallowed, looking at neither Esaak nor Leyladin. “You just killed him? The most powerful factor in Fairhaven? When trade is already so bad?” Her voice moderated by the end of the last question, turning cool and hard.
“If a Patrol mage can pass judgment, then so can the High Wizard,” suggested Cerryl. “I will report on what I discovered to the Guild.”
“You will report… you will report… you will discuss… you will talk…” Anya clamped her jaw shut and glared at the High Wizard, then glanced toward Redark. “And you let him do this… this abomination?”
“Ah… I came but later.”
“How terribly convenient for you all.” Her eyes went back to Cerryl.
“Just how do you expect to remain as High Wizard doing this… sort of thing?”
“I may not, Anya, but I couldn’t exactly ignore it when Rystryr sent a half-company of armsmen after me in Fairhaven now, could I? Or when a factor from Fairhaven helped him?”
“I’ll have the whole Guild throw you out! You are High Wizard because-”
“Anya,” Cerryl said quietly. “Have you noticed that Broka is absent today? Or that the armsmen Rystryr sent to support Jiolt have vanished? Or that all your supporters are with Fydel on the ships? Or that both an overmage and the overcaptain of the White Lancers were there when Jiolt lifted a poisoned dagger against the High Wizard?” He paused. “Not even their worst enemies would accuse Kinowin or Senglat of lying.” After a moment, he smiled. “Oh… I expect that the fleet has reached Southpoint already-or it will shortly.”
“I hope for your sake, dear Cerryl, that it is successful.” Anya flashed a tight false smile. “Even that may not be enough to save you.”
“You may be right, Anya, but even the weakest of High Wizards has to do what is best for Fairhaven.”
“Best for Fairhaven… ?” The redhead closed her mouth and stood before the table silently for a long moment. Then, she looked straight at Cerryl. “By your leave.” As she turned and left the Tower room, Anya avoided looking anywhere even near Leyladin.
The door thudded shut and vibrated on its heavy hinges. “Perhaps you were a bit hasty… High Wizard,” suggested Redark. Cerryl glanced toward Esaak. “You have much experience, Esaak? What do you think?”
“I think, High Wizard, that Anya is most angry and will seek any and all to have you removed.”
“Perhaps so…” Cerryl shrugged. “Yet it remains that Anya had ties to Jiolt, and Jiolt lifted a poisoned dagger-a poisoned iron dagger-against an overmage and the High Wizard.”
“Ties, but not proof,” suggested Redark. “Exactly,” suggested Cerryl. “Did I do other than listen? Did I threaten?”
A faint smile crossed Esaak’s face. “You were most patient. Even Sterol would have turned her to ash.”
“I do wonder how Rystryr’s lancers found their way to the healer’s dwelling in a storm. Especially now.” Cerryl shrugged. “That is all we know, and you all have been helpful. I will summon you when it appears as though our fleet will engage the Black forces. For now… I would like some quiet.”
“I would suggest that as well,” said Kinowin, standing and moving toward the doorway. “By your leave?”
Esaak and Redark rose as well.
Once the overmages and Esaak had left and the heavy door had thudded shut, Leyladin turned to Cerryl. “Why did you have them present when she accused you? What did you gain?”
“Now… none of them can tell each other that Anya has done nothing.” And since three cannot keep a secret, word will spread, and not in the way Anya would like.
“You should have locked her away.” Leyladin said. “She and Jiolt were lovers. They had to be. She was truly upset. I’ve never seen her react that way. She’ll try to kill you, as soon as she can.”
“She can’t best me directly,” Cerryl pointed out, “and there’s no one left she can lure into trying. Besides, if she does it now, all will know, and she’ll lose any support she may have left.” He shrugged slowly. “I can’t tell you why, but I know I cannot remove her at this moment, not without being distrusted by all.” You need the story to spread, first… and it will. “There is no proof that Jiolt and Anya were conspiring, nothing beyond what you and I or Kinowin could sense by truth-reading, and who would believe that?”
Leyladin sighed. “She’ll find someone else to poison against you.”
“Not before the attack on Recluce.” Cerryl shrugged wearily and added, “If she can, then they’re the sort I’d like to know about before sending them out into Candar.”
“You’re still serious about that, aren’t you? About spreading the Guild all over Candar?”
“Most serious. There’s too much plotting and too little use of the Guild’s power with most of the Brotherhood here.”
“More will die.”
“Probably,” Cerryl admitted. “They’ll die for the good of Candar and Fairhaven, though, instead of dying in Hall plots and schemes.”
“You have to stay, High Wizard. You cannot if plots such as these continue. And what if the fleet fails?”
“I will be most surprised-pleasantly so, but most surprised-if any fleet should succeed in inflicting any real damage upon Southpoint or the smith’s vessel.” Cerryl slowly turned toward the window, stretching tense muscles.
“And you let it go?”
“How else could I prove to the Guild the futility of attacking Recluce?” How else indeed… and how many will die to prove that? Cerryl swallowed and took a dee
p breath. He turned and looked out across the snow-covered city-indeed a White City. Truly a cold white city, with a cold White High Wizard.
CLXXXI
Cerryl slowly surveyed those around the table-Kinowin, Redark, and Leyladin-with the new young mage Ultyr standing slightly back, beside a stool Cerryl had asked to be brought in. “Are you ready?” Cerryl asked. “Yes, ser.” Ultyr stepped forward and squinted. Slowly, far more slowly than if Cerryl had sought the image, the mists in the glass parted and showed ships upon a dark blue sea. The small Black craft without masts or even a bowsprit, a craft that radiated order, drove through the low and rolling swells toward the larger ship-the White Serpent, Cerryl thought. One of the smaller war schooners downwind of the White Serpent veered to port, as if the mage on board had sensed the deadliness of the Black ship. “Darkness, it looks evil,” murmured Redark.
The Black warcraft eased alongside the White Serpent, and the Serpent tacked, but the Black ship followed the Serpent and pulled alongside easily. A flash of light and something more streaked toward the Serpent, and the bowsprit shattered into fragments. The Serpent’s bow swung port, and the big schooner wallowed as the forward jib and the remnants of the bowsprit sagged into the gulf waters.
A series of fireballs streamed from the near-becalmed Serpent against the black iron plate of the single Black vessel, but all sprayed harmlessly from the dark metal. Three more of the black weapons struck the rear of the Serpent, and before long it had begun to list. Occasional fireballs flashed from both the Serpent and the surrounding ships, without effect, as the small ironclad continued to circle the larger schooner.
“More than a dozen vessels, and nearly as many mages, and they do nothing,” muttered Redark.
“It does not appear as though they can,” observed Kinowin. “They cannot approach closely enough for their mages to be effective, not without risking our armsmen as much as the Blacks’ men-and our ships even more.”
Abruptly grappling hooks flashed from the Black vessel, followed by a flurry of dark arrows that cleared a section of the Serpent’s deck, with black-clad armsmen swarming onto the ship. Cerryl and the others watched silently. A dark figure, smaller than the armsmen, appeared with a staff, apparently walking across the deck toward a White mage who cast firebolts that missed.
Colors of Chaos Page 80
