“The latest?” How many have there been in the last few years?
“Another cousin. Afabar, I believe. He is from Asula, one of the ancient towns that claims the purest line of descent. He also has the support of the traders of Worrak, Pyrdya, and Renklaar. There are few traders of coins outside of those cities.”
“He refuses-the new duke-to pay tariffs?”
“He has not said anything-by messenger, by scroll, or in any other fashion. Fairhaven does not exist for him. You recall Derka?” Kinowin leaned back in the chair.
“He went back to Hydolar.”
“The Council made him mage adviser, but he declined and vanished-quickly-and they sent Elsinot.”
“The new duke killed him somehow?”
“How did you guess?”
“Mountain cats don’t lose their claws,” Cerryl said dryly.
“So Sterol does not wish to deal with mere speculation at the moment.” Kinowin’s mouth quirked. “I will tell him that the ship moved and that you will watch closely. I will also tell him you are out inspecting the gates this afternoon. I suggest you do so, and that after you do, you make your presence known to one of the gate mages.”
Cerryl nodded. “I should give Sterol no excuses and no offense.”
“Not until you must.”
“Also…Anya’s been in my quarters when I’ve been gone.”
“That surprises me even less than the movement of the smith’s vessel.”
“I should ignore her but leave nothing that I would not wish Sterol to see?”
“You understand, Cerryl. Unfortunately, that is the way matters will be for a time. After you eat, be on your way. I will be meeting with the High Wizard in the early afternoon.” Kinowin grinned. “Did she like the flowers?”
Cerryl flushed. “She did.” Then he grinned. “And she said to thank you also.”
“Hang to her, Cerryl. She is worth all those in the White Tower, this old overmage included. Consider yourself fortunate, and waste no days…or nights.”
Cerryl flushed even more brightly.
“Go.” Kinowin laughed gently. “I’ll not tariff you more.”
CXLIII
CERRYL STUDIED THE empty Avenue, his eyes flicking around the square. Despite the infrequent street lamps, the whitened granite of the Avenue held and reflected enough light, even at midnight, that Cerryl’s borrowed mount had no difficulty in making her way from the Artisans’ Square up the narrower Way of the Lesser Artisans. The shops of the first crafters were as he had recalled, including the old potter’s, but the one that had held the weaver’s shop-where he had first seen Pattera-that now held yet another potter, if the emblem over the door were true.
He guided the mare down the alleyway-past all the sewer catches-toward the rear gate to Tellis’s house. Outside the courtyard, Cerryl sat in the saddle, then fingered the leather pouch-a small handful of golds, but a few golds were all he had. Not all by any means, but you have other debts to pay, and now is not when you should be poor again, either. Self-deception? Probably.
He smiled in the darkness, not quite sardonically, as he swung down from his mount, which he tied to the gate. He looked in all directions, but all the nearby windows were dark. Then, letting the light-blurring shield rise around him, he opened the gate from the alley and eased across the rear courtyard. Rather than open the common room door, Cerryl tied the pouch to the door latch and cloaked it in a faint illusion, one that would break the moment a hand touched the latch and one that would not hold past midmorning.
He wondered if Tellis and Beryal or Benthann would guess who had left the pouch. One way or another, it didn’t matter. Another debt paid…as best you can for now.
He retreated to the gate, which he closed, and then untied the mare and remounted. The faint clop of hoofs echoed down the alley and then along the Way of the Lesser Artisans as he retraced his path back to the small stable behind Layel’s small mansion. The air remained warm and still, the Avenue empty, except for one White mage and his mount.
Once back at the stable, he dismounted and led the mare to her stall. He brushed her quickly in the darkness, then closed her stall and the stable door, making his way through the gloom back to the door on the south side of the house. He unlocked it with Leyladin’s key, then relocked it behind himself. His steps were not quite noiseless on the marble floor, but no one roused-or called out-as he opened Leyladin’s bedchamber door, then closed it behind him.
“You weren’t that long. How did it go?” asked Leyladin sleepily as he undressed and then slipped under the single sheet, more than enough for the warm night.
“It was too little and too late, but…”
“Better than not at all.” She touched his lips with her finger. “Tellis? The weaver girl?”
“Tellis. The weaver has moved.”
“I’ll ask Soaris to see if he can find her. No one should know you’re the one who’s looking. Especially Anya.”
Especially Anya. “Thank you.”
“I’m glad you are who you are.” Two warm arms slipped around him, and their lips met.
So am I…after all these years.
CXLIV
SITTING AT THE other side of the round table, the gaunt Kinowin sipped some early cider from a mug.
Just like Myral. Does age do that? Cerryl’s eyes lingered on the mug.
“The apple juice helps.” Kinowin smiled. “I used to wonder that myself. Now, I know. What more about the smith?”
“He is building a town. I wasn’t sure to begin with,” Cerryl admitted, “but in two eight-days he has the beginning of another port town. The Blacks are letting him do it; some are even sending timber and supplies.”
“Maybe it’s just a way to get a second good port,” suggested the overmage, fingering the collar starburst with the fingers of his free hand. “The waters are smoother in the winter there.”
“They’ve even got a timber wharf, and the glass shows walls and footings for a stone quay or something. He’s working on the bay, making it bigger, but with some kind of order force.”
“You can’t use order that way,” Kinowin pointed out.
“He used some kind of order force to kill Jeslek,” Cerryl countered.
“Are you sure he just didn’t use order to contain that force?”
Cerryl shrugged. “That might be, but he’s as Black as they come, with no trace of chaos. How did he come up with that kind of force? Chaos is the only force I know of that’s so strong.”
Kinowin fingered his clean-shaven chin, his eyes going to the purple and blue hanging on the wall above him. “Cammabark or explosive powder, I’d guess, and he put it inside black iron so none of you could spark it off with chaos fire.”
“What if he builds something bigger than what he carried?”
The overmage offered a wan smile. “If he doesn’t, someone else will. That’s usually what happens.”
“He could use it against our lancers or-”
“That won’t work,” Kinowin replied. “He can only forge so much black iron. He couldn’t possibly forge enough to take on even a few companies of lancers. It has to be a limited weapon.” He laughed. “Good against mages and little else. This Dorrin didn’t remain in Diev. You’ll also note that Sterol avoided talking to you three about his weapon.”
“I wondered, but that’s not something you ask the High Wizard.” Cerryl laughed once, softly.
“Just watch to see if the smith is building something else. In the meantime, I will tell Sterol about the town and the new harbor,” Kinowin said. “Now that we’re sure. I only told him that the ship had been moved away from the part of Recluce where there were towns. He laughed at that.”
“He won’t laugh now.”
“No. He’ll try to blame you. That’s why I won’t tell him until I’ve written a short scroll about it and given a copy to Redark and a few others.” Kinowin offered a wry grin. “It will be later this afternoon. We can’t afford to allow him to claim we delayed unduly.”