The White Order

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

“I ran out of grain on the way back. I tried to find good grass.” Cerryl unpacked the cloak, pack, and bedroll.

  “He’s just a little thin, ser. We’ll take care of him.”

  “You’re sure he’s all right?”

  “Yes, ser.” The stable boy led the chestnut away.

  For some reason, Cerryl felt somehow disappointed, let down. Because he and the horse had been through so much together? Because he’d been dismissed by a stable boy, who cared more for the mount than the man who rode him? He wasn’t sure whether to smile or sigh. So he took a deep breath, then began to walk toward the hall that held his cell and the commons.

  Cerryl looked forward to bathing, really bathing and shaving. He’d wished all along that he’d taken the bronze razor Leyladin had given him, but all that would have to wait. He needed to get to Myral-and a few others-speedily.

  Once he entered the hall, he moved quickly, dumping his pack and gear in the corner of the commons. He’d thought about using the light shield, but that could have been construed as an admission of guilt and allowed Jeslek, should Cerryl have run into the overmage, to attack immediately.

  Heralt stopped Cerryl outside the commons as he headed toward the fountain courtyard. “Cerryl… I heard you’d disappeared…”

  “No. That was what Jeslek wanted everyone to think. He sent me on a special task.” Cerryl pointed toward the courtyard. “I have to report. If you want to walk with me…”

  Heralt eased beside him as Cerryl crossed the courtyard. The wind whipped chill spray over both students.

  “I had to go to Fenard… the Gallosians managed to kill most of my escort, and it took a while to get back. I was supposed to give Sverlik a hand, but the perfect killed him before I got there.” Cerryl glanced at Heralt. “Please don’t tell anyone this-except Sterol, if he asks.”

  “I can live with that.” Heralt smiled. “I’d better let you tell him.” The curly-haired student stopped at the archway to the front hall and the foyer that led to the mages’ tower.

  Cerryl stepped inside. The foyer was empty, and he crossed it and went up the steps to the bottom level of the tower. He marched past the guards, and the messenger from the creche in red, not even looking at them, and up the steps toward Myral’s quarters. He’d figured that Jeslek wouldn’t have told the guards anything, particularly since they reported to Sterol-or maybe Kinowin. He wasn’t totally sure, but he doubted he’d find Jeslek in the tower.

  Panting heavily after his quick climb, he rapped on Myral’s door. There was no response. He rapped again.

  “Cerryl?”

  “Yes, ser.” Cerryl stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, closing the door behind him.

  Myral looked up, his round face annoyed. He sat by the table, stripped to the waist, and Leyladin was massaging his shoulders. “You could have waited…” The older mage cleared his throat. “Cerryl… I had not heard that you had returned…”

  “You are the first to know. Jeslek gave me a test.”

  “He said you vanished.”

  “I am not surprised.” Cerryl snorted. “I thought that might be the case.” The younger man glanced at Leyladin, his eyes meeting her green orbs. He swallowed, almost feeling as though he were falling into her eyes, then pulled himself more erect.

  Myral laughed. “The great Jeslek is always doing things his way.” He pulled his shirt and tunic back into place. “Leyladin told me you had set out to become an assistant to Sverlik. How did that go?”

  “I didn’t tell Lyasa the whole story. Jeslek instructed me to become Sverlik’s assistant so that I could kill the prefect. He said it was a test I needed to pass before I became a full mage.” Cerryl’s smile was bitter. “One that would prove my devotion to Fairhaven.”

  “You believed him?”

  “No. I believed I had no choice. And after briefly overhearing Lyam, I have to admit that the overmage was right about the prefect.”

  Leyladin watched Cerryl intently, concern in her green eyes.

  Myral sat up straight and scratched his head, then looked at Cerryl. “And the prefect?”

  “He’s dead. I killed him with chaos-fire, as Jeslek instructed me. But he-the prefect-had Sverlik killed before I reached Fenard. After I left my escort, the Gallosians killed them, too.” Cerryl worried at his upper lip with his teeth. “I didn’t expect… so much death.”

  “Where Jeslek is concerned, that seems to occur.” Myral coughed, and Leyladin leaned forward intently. After several not-quite-racking coughs, the older mage straightened. “Age and chaos… not good for the health. Nor surprises.”

  “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my idea. I mean, coming to you was, but it was Jeslek’s idea to have me kill the prefect.”

  “How would you deal with this?” asked Myral, his tone even, not judgmental.

  “I would like you to see if we could meet with Sterol. Jeslek, I hope, doesn’t know I’m back yet.”

  “You didn’t walk through-”

  “I took some precautions, but I didn’t see him. I couldn’t very well stop him from screeing me, if he chose to do that.”

  “No… you couldn’t, but you’re probably well beneath his sight. Now… I wasn’t clear, and I want to be sure. This test of Jeslek’s-that was… ?”

  “To remove the prefect of Gallos.”

  “Oh, dear. He actually said that was the test? And you were successful?”

  Cerryl nodded.

  “That will cause problems-but not so much as your surviving.” Myral heaved himself to his feet, then glanced at Leyladin. “Best you go your way for a while, young lady. My shoulders are better, and this young fellow doesn’t need to be distracted by your presence.” The older mage laughed. “Don’t think I don’t see things when they’re right before my eyes. Black and white… bah… it’s not that simple, not that I’d be telling either the High Wizard or that overbearing clod Jeslek.”

  Cerryl swallowed.

  “You think I don’t know.” A wry smile crossed Myral’s face. “I can tell you what I think now. You’ll either be accepted as a full mage before the day is out, or we’ll both be dead. Makes no difference either way.”

  Leyladin opened her mouth and then closed it.

  “Off with you, young lady.”

  “Yes, Myral.”

  “Dear Leyladin,” Myral said mildly, “I don’t intend for us to be dead. Jeslek might, but Sterol trusts me, and probably Cerryl, far more than he does Jeslek.”

  “Be careful… please… both of you.” Leyladin offered a smile after her words.

  Cerryl noted, though, that the smile was for him, and he smiled back as she slipped out. He fancied he could hear her boots on the stone stairs of the tower.

  Myral waddled toward the door. “Sterol is yet up in the High Wizard’s quarters, and so we will make our way there.”

  A single guard stood outside the High Wizard’s quarters. “Myral and Cerryl to see the High Wizard, and it is important.”

  The guard knocked on the door, then announced, “Myral and Cerryl to see you. The mage Myral states his call is important.”

  The door opened, and a thin, red-haired apprentice mage-barely more than a girl, and one Cerryl did not know-scurried out and down the steps, followed by Bealtur.

  “Come in.” Sterol’s voice was cold and formal. Once the door had closed, he turned to Myral. “Is the return of this deserting apprentice so important?” His eyes fixed on Cerryl. “Have you come cowering back… to beg mercy?”

  “No, ser. I never left. Jeslek set me a task in Gallos. I did it, and I returned-as he told me. After all I have seen, honored Sterol, I would not desert Fairhaven and then return.”

  “A task, you say?” Sterol’s eyebrows lifted.

  “You say, young Cerryl, that Jeslek told you this task was a test?” Myral asked yet again, as though Cerryl had said nothing previously.

  “Yes, ser. One that I had to pass to become a full mage.” Cerryl left his shields down, including the barrier that would have k
ept Sterol from sensing whether he told the truth.

  “Jeslek told you this, and you believed him?”

  “Yes, ser… that is, he told me such. I did not fully believe him, but he had sent Fydel and Anya out scouting, and he raised chaos and was ready to destroy me if I questioned him.”

  “If you doubted him, why did you undertake the task?” asked Sterol, his voice still cold.

  “How could I defy him?” Cerryl asked. “Also, after the actions of the prefect’s troops, it appeared as though the removal of the prefect might indeed be the will of the Council.”

  “The prefect’s removal? You have said nothing of that.”

  “That was the task. I was sent to become Sverlik’s assistant and then to assassinate Lyam. That didn’t work because the prefect had already had Sverlik killed.”

  “How? He was a strong mage.” Sterol’s brow furrowed.

  “I heard a conversation… they used iron bolts. Sverlik still killed half the bowmen. That was what the subprefect said.”

  “And you let him live?”

  “High Wizard,” Cerryl said carefully, “Jeslek told me to do only that with which I was tasked, and my task was to be Sverlik’s assistant, to remove the prefect, and to return to Fairhaven. I could not serve as Sverlik’s assistant because he was dead before I arrived. I sneaked into the palace and killed the prefect with chaos-fire-the overmage was most insistent that I use chaos-fire. Then I sneaked out and rode home.”

  “And no one even chased you?”

  “They sealed the palace, and they had guards running everywhere, but I climbed over a gate no one was watching closely enough. I did dress as a bravo to ride out of Fenard. I even kept the blade and trousers and cloak I used. They’re in my pack.”

  Sterol bobbed his head up and down, and the gray hair glinted in the dull light that came through the window from the cloudy day outside. “You have taken pains to reach me undetected. What if I just removed you?”

  “Not totally undetected.” Cerryl swallowed, thinking that the High Wizard would have no compunctions about removing witnesses. “I doubt it would be in your interest to remove me and those few who know. It is clear that I have followed your directions. Others have not. You told me to report to you, and I have.”

  Sterol laughed, a braying laugh that ended abruptly.

  “He tells the truth,” Myral added.

  “I know. That is the most disturbing of all.” Sterol nodded once more. “I think we should call the great Jeslek-after we summon Kinowin and Derka.” Sterol nodded. “It would be best if you both waited here with me.”

  Cerryl walked to the window while Sterol rang the bell he carried to the door. A misting rain was beginning to drift across Fairhaven, bringing with it the twinge of an incipient headache for Cerryl.

  One of the youngsters from the creche, attired solely in red, appeared and stepped into the High Wizard’s quarters. “Honored ser?”

  “Have the overmage Kinowin and the mage Derka attend me here. Immediately. Then return.”

  “Yes, High Wizard.” The brown-haired youth bowed, then scurried down the steps.

  “Young Cerryl… I am curious about a few details.”

  “Yes, High Wizard.”

  “‘Ser’ will do. I doubt that you were particularly well coined for this venture, nor heavily provisioned.”

  “No, ser. I had two silvers and some coppers. I stole the cloak from a drunkard in the street at night. Then a pair of brigands attacked me in Fenard. I had to use chaos-fire, but no one saw, and I took their purses, and a blade and some clothes.” Cerryl licked his lips, feeling as though he were treading on the edge of a cliff.

  “Wait…” Sterol moved to the door and motioned Kinowin into the room. “Continue.”

  Kinowin offered a faint smile, an ironic expression, as he saw Cerryl and Myral.

  “What I took really wasn’t enough. I haven’t eaten much in the last few days, and the stable boy said the chestnut was thin. He’s all right, but…”

  “You didn’t ‘forage’ in Certis or Fairhaven?”

  “No, ser. Not in Gallos, either, not after I left Fenard.”

  Sterol held up his hand and opened the door again.

  Derka stepped into the room, his deep-set eyes taking in the others. A knowing nod followed.

  “So… let me get this straight. Jeslek set you the task of killing the prefect of Gallos. He told you that you had to do this to become a full mage. You distrusted him, but he raised chaos and effectively threatened you with no one around-”

  “He didn’t threaten me, ser. He sent everyone else away, and he raised chaos, and I felt threatened-”

  “Wise of you,” murmured Kinowin.

  Sterol glanced sharply at the tall overmage, then back at Cerryl. “And you rode to Fenard alone-”

  “No, ser. He gave me an escort, a half-score of the lancers Klybel didn’t want.”

  “Did you know that?” Sterol pursued.

  “No, ser. I felt it. He made the escort leader an undercaptain just before we left, and we were sent off before Anya and Fydel returned.”

  “Who was this undercaptain?” asked Kinowin.

  “His name was Ludren, ser.”

  “That’s enough for me, right there.” Kinowin offered a tight smile. “Ludren is a good man, but he can’t lead.”

  “Ser… after they left me… or I left them, the Gallosians got them. I found that out later.”

  “How did that happen?” asked Kinowin.

  “We were almost surrounded. I told Ludren to take the men and ride away, that they couldn’t help me, and I wanted to give our lancers a chance. They-the Gallosians-were bringing up archers…” Cerryl shrugged. “I rode until it got dark and I could hide. I hoped they’d get away.”

  “Then what did you do?” asked Myral quickly, for which Cerryl was grateful.

  “When it got dark and there was a diversion, I sneaked into Fenard.”

  “A diversion?”

  Cerryl offered a guilty smile. “I used chaos to make a big fire out of some rubbish not far from the gates. They all went to look, and I rode into the city. Maybe someone saw me, but not too close.”

  “I’ve heard enough.” Kinowin turned to Sterol. “What do you want?”

  “I think that we should hear what Jeslek has to say.”

  Cerryl’s heart sank, but he kept his face impassive.

  Sterol rang the bell again, and the same messenger arrived. “Summon the overmage Jeslek. He is to appear here immediately.”

  “Yes, High Wizard.”

  “He will appear and charge us all with attempting to entrap him,” said Derka after the boy had left.

  “Of course.” That was all Sterol said.

  The silence stretched out in the tower room.

  “Derka… why don’t you attempt to scree who might be prefect of Gallos now?”

  The stooped and silver-haired mage stepped over to the table with the glass, then concentrated.

  Cerryl watched as the mists formed, then swirled away to reveal the image of an older man, standing by the desk Cerryl recalled.

  “You know the man?” asked Sterol.

  “I think he might be Syrma… I didn’t see him well… but he was the one who arranged for Sverlik to be murdered. The room is the prefect’s private study. That’s where…”

  “Where you destroyed Lyam?”

  “Yes, ser.”

  “That is the current prefect,” Derka said quietly.

  “It’s not Lyam,” said Sterol. “So you, young Cerryl, are convinced you killed Lyam, and Lyam is dead.” He nodded. “Not all bad, by any means.”

  “It may give Gallos some pause,” suggested Kinowin.

  “It will take more than that, unhappily,” answered Sterol. “In that, our friend Jeslek is correct. But it is a beginning, and one that has not cost too dearly. Not so far.”

  After another period of silence, the door burst open.

  “Sterol… I am not…” Jeslek bowed. “Fe
llow mages… I am surprised…” His eyes glittered as he beheld Cerryl, but showed none of the surprise he had mentioned. “So… the deserter has returned. I say that he should have no mercy.”

  Sterol smiled, a chill expression that did not include his eyes. “Young Cerryl has been telling us an interesting tale, Jeslek, one that other events have confirmed. He says that you set him the mage’s task, and that he removed the prefect of Gallos as that task and returned.”

  Jeslek bowed. “I must beg to differ. I would not have sent Cerryl out on such a test. His mathematicks are deficient, and he has not been a student nearly so long as necessary. And I would not have done so without informing you.”

  “The prefect of Gallos is dead,” said Derka.

  “And I knew of this so-called test long before Cerryl returned,” Myral added mildly.

  “You said nothing.” Jeslek glanced from Sterol to Myral.

  The older balding mage smiled crookedly. “What could I say? I could do nothing. If Cerryl failed to return, he would not have suited the Guild. In that, you were correct, Jeslek. But now that he has, I see no sense in wasting his talent, especially since he has resolved the problem of Lyam.”

  “Why would I have set such a preposterous test?” Jeslek glanced at Sterol, then at Cerryl, ignoring both Derka and Kinowin. “This puppy has no real ability…”

  As Jeslek gathered chaos, Cerryl focused not on repelling or blocking the force, but on channeling it around him.

  Whhhstt!

  Cerryl shivered but held as fire sheeted around him and vanished.

  Chaos filled the room, Kinowin raising almost the power of Jeslek, his gray eyes as hard as the granite stones of the tower.

  “Enough!” snapped Sterol. “Enough of this charade.”

  Cerryl wanted to protest that Jeslek’s chaos had not been a charade but a last-moment effort to destroy him. Instead, he waited.

  “I said enough, Jeslek.” An aura of menace and dark red chaos enfolded Sterol-and Kinowin and Derka, and even Myral. “He has shields enough to stop your incidental rage, and that’s more than most of the young mages. You have just proved that he belongs in the Brotherhood. Again.”

  Jeslek’s eyes hardened, even as he bowed.

  Cerryl couldn’t escape the feeling that in some way Sterol had set him as a weapon against Jeslek. Maybe that’s what you’ve been all along.