“I do not know, but no more than a half-year, less if Rystryr and Syrma delay their tariff payments.” Kinowin laughed, half-humorously, half-bitterly. “Sterol can no longer stir their fears with the threats that Jeslek could.”
“He can suggest that they could vanish as have other rulers.”
“He already has,” Kinowin said. “How long can he use such a threat before he must carry it out? A year? Two? One cannot remove rulers too frequently, or they ignore the threat because they fear they will be removed whatever course they follow.”
“Hmmmm…So what would you do were you the High Wizard?”
“Try to gather more coins and spend less. Let matters settle so that traders again fill the roads.”
“And try to make sure that outland traders pay the surtax on goods from Recluce?”
“That is more difficult because the ships for the blockade are costly.”
“What should I avoid in Spidlaria?”
“Being too lenient and too understanding. Remember, all men and all traders-and all women-serve themselves above others.” Kinowin gave a crooked smile. “No matter what they profess or how earnestly they affirm their allegiance. Study the coins and follow their course, not the words of the men who gather them.”
“Should I seek for Leyladin to join me?”
“Not unless it appears that you will be in Spidlaria as the mage adviser for many years.”
Cerryl nodded. “I am being sent as the head arms mage, then.”
“If that. Your power is what you make it.”
“I’d better make ready.”
“Spend most of that time with the healer.” Kinowin’s smile was faint, almost self-mocking. “Trust the words of an aging mage there, Cerryl.”
What sort of love had the overmage known and relinquished-or lost? Cerryl nodded. “I will.”
“Then be on your way.”
Cerryl gave a last nod and departed. On his way back to his quarters, to pack what he would need, Cerryl paused at the archway to the Meal Hall, looking in at the double handful of apprentices scattered across the tables. He knew not a single one-that was how out of touch he was with the Halls. Even Kiella had become a full mage and stood gate duty. Idly Cerryl wondered if the redheaded apprentice sitting by herself was Viedra, the one poor Faltar had fallen for before he’d left to fight in Spidlar.
Myredin and Faltar, and even Bealtur, were dead. Of those who had become mages when Cerryl had, only Heralt and Lyasa were left. Heralt was still in Ruzor with Shenan. Of course, Cerryl would be in Spidlar if Heralt ever did get to Fairhaven. You’ll probably spend the next ten years in Spidlar, so long as Sterol is High Wizard-or whoever Anya maneuvers to succeed him.
Cerryl swallowed. How could he have been so stupid? Anya had wanted him to take the amulet in Diev. If he had, then he and Sterol would have been at each other. Even if Cerryl had prevailed, he would have had to rely on Anya for her contacts, especially with the large trading families, and politicking to keep the older members of the Guild, or enough of them, behind him. But he probably wouldn’t have prevailed-Anya would have seen to that.
He frowned. He had to do something. Did he dare to take the chance? Then he shrugged and turned, hoping he could find the redheaded mage.
Anya surprised him. She was in the Library, poring through a thick and ancient tome. “Cerryl.”
“Anya. Have you a moment?”
Anya flashed the broad smile, and the scent of trilia and sandalwood flowed around him. “For you, Cerryl, I can spare a moment.”
“I am most grateful.”
They walked to the fountain courtyard. There Cerryl walked into the shade in the corner where the falling water would mask their voices.
“What do you want?” For once, Anya was not smiling as she turned to him. Her eyes darted to the far corner, toward the door from the main Hall.
“I’ll be but a moment. I was thinking, and I wanted to thank you.”
“I don’t know as I merit thanks.” Puzzlement and interest appeared in her pale eyes, eyes neither quite green nor blue.
“After Jeslek’s death, you offered me the amulet, in a way. I think I understand why now, and I appreciate the gesture. I’m leaving for Spidlaria in the morning to take Eliasar’s place, but I wanted you to know that I did appreciate your suggestion.”
“Thank you, Cerryl.” A faint smile appeared and vanished. “Is that all?”
“Well,” he added, “you seem to work well with Sterol. But you know where you can reach me, and Leyladin can get me a message if you need something I can provide.”
That brought a faint smile, one not quite real, but one with a hint of self-satisfaction and wistfulness, an expression that faded as she spoke. “I forget at times how young you were when you became a full mage. You continue to grow. I thank you for your offer.” The bright smile appeared. “You had best be readying yourself.”
“I will.”
Together they turned back toward the rear Hall. Once inside, Anya slipped toward the Library and Cerryl toward his quarters. He packed what he thought he might need-including two sets of whites, smallclothes, spare boots, and his ragged-edged copy of Colors of White-and set it on the narrow single bed.
Then he left, walking quickly through the Halls and up the Avenue toward the Market Square, before turning left at the side street leading to Layel’s dwelling.
Soaris opened the door, his eyes widening slightly as he beheld the White mage.
“Is Lady Leyladin here, Soaris?”
“I believe so, ser. Would you come in?”
“Thank you.” Cerryl followed the blue-vested and huge man into the sitting room.
“I will tell her you are here. It may be a moment.”
“Thank you,” Cerryl repeated. He did not sit but studied the portrait of Leyladin’s mother, studying the blue eyes that seemed to follow the beholder.
Leyladin appeared nearly immediately-wearing green trousers and a light silk shirt without a vest. Her red-gold hair was ruffled, half-disarrayed. “It’s barely afternoon.” The usually dancing green eyes were somber and fixed on Cerryl’s gray orbs. “What happened?”
“Eliasar was killed. The High Wizard is sending me back to Spidlaria to take his place. Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
He nodded.
She was silent, then stepped forward and slipped her arms around him. For a time, they just embraced.
Then the healer eased back, her arms still loosely around him. “This is all a ploy to get you out of Fairhaven…and to discredit you.” Her voice was low, pitched as if to keep it from others.
“I know. Making me responsible for obtaining and collecting tariffs when there’s no trade. Why me?”
“Neither Sterol nor Anya wish you around.” She snorted. “You might actually come up with the tariff coins. No one else could, and the way we’re losing mages, you’re already one of the few really skilled ones left.”
“Recluce is winning this war, if it is a war.” He paused. “I told Anya you could get me a message if she needed one.”
“You what?” The healer stiffened.
“I worry about Kinowin’s health, and I’m not so sure about Sterol. It’s just a feeling. He’s not quite the same, and I don’t know why. Anya can be counted on to preserve herself.”
Abruptly Leyladin smiled. “You’re more devious than you let on, dear mage. You implied that she could count on you if something happens.”
“I suppose I did. Was that wrong?” Cerryl frowned.
“No. Not since you told me.” Her eyes narrowed. “But when did you tell her this?”
“Just before I came here.”
“Ah…coming from another woman to me?”
“That’s not…” He grinned as he realized she had been teasing. “You!”
“You’d best remember that.”
“I promise.”
“Now…I know you have to leave early in the morning, but you are staying here the rest of today and tonight.”
“Are you sure?” asked Cerryl, grinning in spite of himself.
“Of that I’m quite sure.”
They both smiled…bittersweet smiles.