“A surprise for you, I see.” Fydel laughed. “Were there such for me.”
Cerryl couldn’t help feeling a touch of sadness for the square-bearded mage, foolish as Fydel was to be attracted to Anya. “It comes when you do not expect it.”
“For some.”
Cerryl stepped almost to the edge of the pier planks as the boatmen tied the barge in place.
Jeslek was the first onto the pier. Although ruddier than when he had left Elparta in early winter, he appeared thinner, if not quite gaunt, and some of the circles beneath his eyes remained. “Fydel, Cerryl-you have made much progress.” The sun-gold eyes merely sparkled, and he nodded as he surveyed the rebuilt piers and the river wall.
Leyladin vaulted over the gunwale of the gray-timbered barge, and Cerryl leaped forward to steady her. He caught her arm, and they stood there, on the heavy crude planks of the river pier, less than a cubit apart, as if neither could believe the other’s presence.
“I can’t believe…” Cerryl’s mouth felt dry.
“Neither can I.”
“How…?” he stammered.
“Let us say that Kinowin’s tongue and Father’s golds were persuasive.” Leyladin’s hands reached out and took his.
He squeezed hers, wanting to draw her closer.
“Leyladin has already proved most useful.” Anya’s smile was tighter yet slightly less false than usual.
Cerryl turned, jarred by the redhead’s words. He hadn’t even sensed her approach, but close as she stood, the trilia and sandalwood were overpowering.
“I did what any good mage would do for others.” Leyladin’s gentle smile turned as hard and false as Anya’s, and her green eyes glittered like frozen emeralds.
“We are all appreciative, Leyladin dear, especially young Cerryl, I’m sure.” Anya turned to Jeslek even before finishing her words.
Leyladin’s lips tightened for a moment.
“Another reason for shields?” His fingers squeezed hers again.
The chill left the healer’s face and eyes. “I don’t need them now.” She slipped forward, disengaging his hands and wrapping her arms around him in a firm hug. “I missed you.”
“Missed you.”
For a time, they just held each other.
The pier shuddered as the second barge rebounded from it and then against the ropes. Even as he released Leyladin and turned toward where Jeslek and Anya stood talking to Fydel, Cerryl couldn’t help but feel some satisfaction as the barge was tied into place against the new solidity of the pier.
“…few more attacks, but we only lost a handful of lancers…Cerryl has been busy supporting us with all the rebuilding…good at support.”
Cerryl wanted to wince at the belittling comment but didn’t, forcing a smile as he and Leyladin, still holding hands, stepped toward the other three.
The pier shivered again as the third barge was moored downstream of the first two. Cerryl glanced out at the river, seeing that yet another barge made for the lower piers.
Jeslek followed his eyes. “Just the first. A mere fifteen score. Prefect Syrma has committed to sending a hundred score within the next three eight-days. We yet have another fifteen-score lancers two days south of here.”
How did he do it?
“How? I suggested that he would not want the fate of Elparta to befall Fenard. I also told him that there were a dozen mages that could do so and that the Guild would put up with no more nonsense.”
“He also turned the subprefect into ashes at dinner-and the arms commander and about ten enraged captains,” said Anya dryly.
“Anya offered some assistance.” Jeslek smiled. “Prefect Syrma decided that cooperation was preferable to annihilation.”
Both Cerryl and Leyladin continued to smile faintly, but Cerryl could tell she felt the same emptiness as he did.
For all that Fairhaven offered, was the only way to force its prosperity on the other lands of Candar? Lands that unceasingly wanted the benefits of prosperity and good roads without contributing to them.
Seeing a lancer captain Cerryl did not recognize, Jeslek gestured abruptly. “Get the mounts off first.”
“Aye, ser.” The captain turned and called back to a figure in purple standing on the bow, “The mounts be first!”
“The mounts, aye. Up with the ramp.”
Two rivermen slid a wooden ramp into place between the barge and the pier.
“The walls are new,” Leyladin said.
“Look to the north, at the end there. That’s the way it all was,” Cerryl said.
A shadow fell across the piers, accompanied by a gust of wind, cold and foretelling yet more snow before the turn of spring.
“Your mount, High Wizard,” said a lancer, leading forward a bay with crimson and white livery, although some of the white trim was almost yellow. “Been watered, but I’d not ride far.”
“Only to my quarters.” Jeslek eased himself into the saddle, and Anya had to hurry to mount and ride alongside him. Behind the two rode a good score of lancers who had been on the barge.
Fydel stood back, a sardonic smile on his face.
As he turned to watch the High Wizard depart, by the left gate Cerryl glimpsed the spritely white-haired Jidro, a smile on his face as he looked at the piers and barges.
Another lancer appeared with a black mare. “Lady Leyladin, our thanks.”
“I am glad I could make things easier.” The healer smiled, then mounted.
Cerryl walked alongside Leyladin as she rode the several dozen cubits to where his gelding was tethered next to the squad of lancers headed by Hiser.
As Cerryl swung up into the saddle, Hiser eased his own chestnut forward. “Ser? You be heading back to quarters?”
“Yes. The healer will be coming with me.” Was he being too abrupt? But where else would she stay? He turned. “If that’s all right?”
“I’d say that would be best.” Her lips almost curled into a smile, and her eyes did smile.
“…don’t think she’d be with anyone else,” murmured Fydel in the background.
Cerryl guided the gelding through the open trade gates toward the main avenue, and Hiser and his squad fell in behind them. Leyladin rode so closely that their legs almost brushed.
Cerryl found his eyes wandering to her. “What did you do for the lancers?”
“Brought some dried fruit, nuts, some good travel bread, and cheese.” Her voice faded out as they rode past the refurbished quarters’ dwellings and turned onto the avenue, where most of the damage from Jeslek’s attack remained untouched. One house stood gaping like a skull, shutters gone, door vanished. “Is it all like that?”
“More than half of Elparta. It’s been hard enough to get the piers rebuilt and the gates and walls-and enough houses to quarter everyone.” Cerryl coughed. “With another thirty score coming in…I don’t know. The winter’s long here, and it’s not over yet.”
“Most will not linger here that long,” prophesied Leyladin.
“If the Spidlarians do not hold them back.”
“There is yet another duke in Hydlen, and this one will send levies.”
“Jeslek and Anya paid a visit to Hydolar?”
“No. Eliasar seized Renklaar. The port belongs to Fairhaven now.”
Cerryl nodded. That made sense. If the Hydlenese valued coins more than loyalty, then take that which controlled their coins. Should Fairhaven take Lydiar? And Ruzor-after Spidlaria?
“That was Sterol’s idea. I don’t think he thought Jeslek would heed it, but he did.” Leyladin laughed, softly, bitterly.
A flurry of white flakes shivered from the clouds, and the wind picked up until it whistled intermittently.
“I’m glad you got here before the storm.”
“You didn’t know I was coming, remember?” she teased.
“I can still be glad.” Cerryl gestured. “This way-up the long, narrow street there.”