“Then what?”
“You give me a short written report each day-dated, you know, fiftieth day after the turn of spring…first day after the turn of summer.”
“What will that do? He’ll still want to blame me.”
“I’m sure he will. But he can’t, not with the reports. So he’ll send you somewhere, and it won’t be bad for you to be someplace else for a while.”
Cerryl wasn’t certain he wanted to be somewhere else. He hadn’t had that long with Leyladin, and here the overmage was suggesting they be separated again.
“Remember,” Kinowin said gently, “you wanted to be a White mage.”
The overmage’s words hung in Cerryl’s mind long after he had left the Tower and was riding out to the south gate for another inspection.
You wanted to be a White mage…but did you have any real choices?
Yes…you just didn’t like any of the others.
CXLV
CLOAKED IN THE light-blurring shield, the one that would not scream his presence to an alert gate mage, Cerryl stood in the early-afternoon shadow of the guardhouse beside the north gate.
Another of the younger mages he did not know paced along the upper balcony, looking down and out at the empty White highway that stretched north and then eastward to Lydiar. The gate mage rubbed her forehead, then her neck, before pacing back across the worn stone tiles, the same tiles Cerryl had paced in years past. It scarcely seemed that long ago, before Spidlar had become more than a name on a map and a wiry smith had killed the most powerful chaos mage in generations.
Cerryl focused his eyes on the gate mage, who had seated herself on a stool. Below her, the three duty guards stood in the shade of the gates, not a dozen paces from him.
“…slow…”
“…always slow anymore, except for the post coaches…some of the factors’ wagons…”
“Don’t see many wagons out of Certis or Gallos these days.”
“Hydolar, neither…”
Cerryl nodded to himself. As Layel and Leyladin had also noted, the roads were almost empty, except for farmers bringing produce to Fairhaven, and such slow commerce was unusual at any time, particularly in summer.
Then, there was the problem of the Black smith. Each day Cerryl screed the southern tip of Recluce. Each day he wrote a report, and each day more dwellings and structures were appearing in the smith’s town on Recluce. Kinowin had reported such to Sterol, but the High Wizard had done nothing-at least nothing that Kinowin had relayed or that Cerryl had perceived.
Nor had Cerryl found any more traces of Anya’s presence in his room in the Halls.
The quietness that filled the Halls of the Mages bothered Cerryl. Something had happened-or would happen. He just hadn’t been able to see what it was or might be.
His eyes went back to the gate mage. She had stood and begun to pace again-as he had so often.
CXLVI
CERRYL STEPPED INTO the overmage’s quarters. Kinowin was standing by the table, beside the purple wall hanging with the blue arrows. His face was impassive.
“What’s the matter?” Cerryl concealed a frown. “Did I do something wrong?”
Kinowin shook his head. “You did nothing wrong. I have been requested to bring you to the High Wizard.”
Cerryl did frown and began to raise, slightly, his order shields.
“You won’t need those. Eliasar was killed. Sterol is sending you to take his place.” The overmage offered a grim smile.
“Me? To get me out of Fairhaven? How did it happen?”
“That and because you are the best one to send. You know the land better than any others here. You’re strong with chaos. Although you’ve taken great pains to conceal that, Sterol is no fool, and more perceptive about that than either Jeslek or Anya.”
“And I’m away from you.”
“That, too, but you don’t need my advice, not that much, anymore.”
“I don’t know about that,” Cerryl protested. “What happened to Eliasar?”
“Iron crossbow bolts…that’s what Lyasa’s scroll said.”
“Lyasa? She’s there. She could handle things. Or Syandar. What happened to Buar?”
“Neither the older members of the Guild nor the folk of Spidlar would take kindly to rule by Fairhaven under a woman. That also wouldn’t give Sterol an excuse to send you there. As for Syandar, he’s all right as an administrator, but he can scarcely muster enough chaos to light a fire. And Sterol already sent Buar back to the blockade fleet.”
“I think I’m going to Spidlaria.”
“Sterol has insisted on confirming that-as soon as you arrived.” Kinowin gestured toward the door. “Shall we go?”
The two walked up the stone steps, Cerryl being careful to walk slowly, all too conscious of Kinowin’s heavy breathing, marveling sadly at how quickly the big and powerful mage had become a gaunt old man. Will that happen to you?
The guard on the landing outside the High Wizard’s quarters opened the door and announced, “Overmage Kinowin and Mage Cerryl.”
Sterol did not rise from where he sat at the table, with his back to the open window. The light summer breeze had not carried away all the scent of sandalwood.
“If you would sit.” Sterol inclined his head to the chairs across from him.
Cerryl waited for Kinowin to sit, then seated himself.
“I presume the overmage has told you that I would like you to go to Spidlaria and complete the tasks Eliasar had begun.” Sterol’s words were deliberate, evenly spaced.
“Yes, ser.”
“I would like you to find those responsible for his death and ensure they are executed publicly.”
“I will do my best on that,” Cerryl said cautiously.
“You do not promise that so readily.”
“If those responsible come from Recluce or beyond the Westhorns…” Cerryl shrugged.
“Young, but cautious.” Sterol steepled his fingers for a moment, then cleared his throat. After another silence, he continued. “You are younger than would be best for what I have set before you, but caution may assist you. The malefactors of the Black Isle have cost us grievously.” Another pause followed.
Cerryl forced himself to wait.
“There will be a blockade ship waiting for you in Lydiar, Cerryl.” Sterol looked mildly across the circular table. “You will leave on the post coach in the morning. I will draft a scroll with your commission. You may obtain it from Kinowin in the morning.”
“What do you expect from me?” Cerryl brushed back hair he feared was thinning like Myral’s had. “In Spidlaria.”
“Anya reported that you had managed to set matters right in Elparta. I expect the same in Spidlaria. After Syandar and Eliasar reduced Diev, Eliasar sent Syandar to Kleth. Syandar will remain there, but he will answer to you. Kalesin remains in Spidlaria and so does Lyasa. With their assistance I’m sure you can manage. We look forward to the resumption of tariff coins.”
“There are not likely to be many ships in the near future.”
“The Guild and the Council are confident you will find a way to resolve the problem.” Sterol’s words were flat, their tone indicating he had said what he would say. “I expect written reports on your progress each eight-day.” The High Wizard stood.
So did Kinowin and Cerryl.
They walked back down to Kinowin’s quarters. There the overmage settled into the chair behind the table. Cerryl remained standing.
“Sterol wants either the tariff golds or a way to blame me,” suggested the younger mage.
“He needs the golds more,” Kinowin said. “He has been going through those set aside for lean times, and there are but a few thousand left.”
A few thousand-once you would have marveled at that number of golds. “How long before those set aside are gone?”