“Even eastern Candar is bigger,” Cerryl pointed out. “I think Gallos alone is bigger than the whole isle.”
“That’s not it. You know what I think?”
“What?”
“That it’s all because Creslin was a ruthless bastard. He killed off anyone who didn’t agree right in the beginning, and they throw out dissenters, and they’re on an isle. Nobody’s left to disagree.”
“Could be.” Cerryl shrugged. “That would be Anya’s style. Jeslek’s, too, I think.”
“Why are you telling me that?”
“Because I trust you.”
“Have you told Faltar that?”
“No.”
“He’s your friend.”
“You know why,” Cerryl said with a laugh.
“Alas…men.” Lyasa made a woeful face. “You are different. A little different.”
Cerryl made a bowing gesture with his right hand. “My deepest gratitude, lady mage. If you would but convey that to the absent lady who is your friend…”
Lyasa shook her head, then yawned and stood. “I need a nap or something.”
Cerryl rose and slipped toward the door.
“Whatever it is you do to keep her away, keep doing it.”
As if I’d ever dare to do anything else. “Your request is my command.” He put his hand on the door lever.
“Would that you had told me that before you met Leyladin.”
“That couldn’t happen. I’ve known her longer.” Cerryl smiled at Lyasa’s puzzlement as he opened the door. “Ask her.”
“I just might.”
As he closed the door, Cerryl glanced toward the bookcase, wondering if he would be able to read more than a page before being interrupted again. Finally, he sat and took out Colors of White, looking at the half-familiar words where the book opened:
…iron, being that which draws free chaos unto it, never should it be employed around those who employ chaos for good, for it will drain chaos as it can…
He smiled ruefully. There were times when he’d felt that-when he’d had to climb the iron gate in Fenard while he had been holding a light shield, but usually iron did not burn him the way he knew it would Jeslek or Anya. He flipped back to his place marker and resumed his search.
XXII
CERRYL STOOD IN the shadows by the columns at the back of the north side of the Council Chamber, not erecting a light shield exactly, but letting the light sift, or blur, around him, as though he were not quite there. People’s eyes shifted from him, and he could see them, if not clearly, unlike when he hid behind the total light shield, which rendered him invisible to all-except mages who looked for concentrations of order and chaos. That was one reason not to use the full light shield in the Halls, that and that it left him blind, except for his chaos-order senses. He couldn’t explain the reasons for the difference, but Leyladin had assured him that no concentrations of order or chaos accompanied the effort, and she could sense such better than most Whites. With the blur shield he was now using he could see colors and forms, enough with his order senses, to recognize those he knew.
Esaak waddled in, accompanied by Myral, whose wheezing reached even Cerryl. After them came a mage wearing a crimson and gold sash. Gorsuch? Were the sashes to signify in what lands they represented the Guild?
Shyren appeared, his shock of graying sandy hair standing out and wearing a green sash-green for Certis. Eliasar, the battle mage, walked with him but did not wear a sash.
Then came the slender red-haired figure of Anya, accompanied by Fydel. She paused at the back of the chamber and peered around.
Cerryl almost held his breath, wanting to clutch the white marble column that partly shielded him.
“He’s not here yet,” Fydel said in a whisper, barely audible to Cerryl.
“I thought I had made it clear to him.”
“That could be, but he still reports to Kinowin.”
“Kinowin and Myral won’t live forever,” Anya hissed. “He will deal with us.”
Cerryl shivered and waited. Once Anya, a puzzled expression on her face, finally walked down the aisle and seated herself beside Fydel, Cerryl let the light filter go and allowed himself to be cloaked only by shadows as the rest of the Guild entered the chamber.
“So you’re here?” Lyasa slipped up beside Cerryl. “I didn’t see you before.”
“I’ve been here. I just didn’t want to be seen at first.”
“Why are you back here?” she asked in a low voice, her eyes going around the chamber, which was almost full. “You can’t see everything from the back.”
“I have a feeling.”
“A feeling?”
“Just wait.”
“If you say so.”
For a time the two young mages stood in the shadows, watching. Then Cerryl smiled faintly as the sun-eyed and white-haired Jeslek strode into the chamber, marching up the center aisle, exuding the raw odor of chaos. “I thought so.”
“Thought what?”
“Anya told me that Jeslek wouldn’t be here and asked me to sit with her. She was looking for me earlier.”
“What did you do to her? Besides refuse her advances? And her charms?”
“Isn’t that enough?” he whispered dryly.
At the front of the chamber, Sterol stepped onto the dais, along with Kinowin and Jeslek.
“Let’s go farther up.” Cerryl slipped along the outer edge of the columns until he was within a dozen or so cubits of the gold-shot marble of the speaking dais.
“…we face most difficult times, even more difficult than I had predicted at the last meeting.” Sterol’s face could have been carved out of granite when he paused, so hard did it appear. “Guild revenues have dwindled. At the same time, we have been forced into sending more lancers into Certis.” He turned to Jeslek.
“The Great White Highway is now more protected than before, and by early fall we should have that protection completed.” Jeslek’s smile was dazzling. “Then we will bring in lancers to ensure that the prefect meets his obligations to Fairhaven.”
“Bringing the lancers to Gallos will likely cost another two thousand golds,” Sterol snapped. “Two thousand golds to enforce what we should not have to enforce.”
Kinowin and Jeslek nodded.
“Even raising mountains across the middle of Gallos has not fully convinced the prefect,” Sterol continued. “His scrolls are polite, but his golds are not forthcoming.”
“Because they are not forthcoming, the merchants and holders of Certis question why they should pay to maintain trade and highways,” Kinowin added.
“As does, in a most polite way, Duke Estalin of Lydiar,” inserted Jeslek smoothly, “though he is a longtime friend of the High Wizard. As did the late Duke Berofar, also a longtime friend of the High Wizard.”
Cerryl shifted his weight.
“Don’t say anything,” suggested the black-haired White mage.
Standing by the third column back from the speaking circle on the right side of the room, Cerryl nodded and murmured, “That is good advice, Lyasa.”
“With Sterol in the mood to incinerate anyone who disagrees, I’d wager it is.”
And with Any a watching closely for Jeslek’s interests…and her own, whatever they may be. “Unless one were to agree with the mighty High Wizard…and support him.”
“You’re too junior. They wouldn’t even recognize you.”
“It is better to be recognized.” Cerryl shrugged and added in a low voice, “Then one’s disappearance raises questions.” He eased out to the side of the pillars on the north side of the chamber toward the dais.
“That’s still dangerous.”
“Life is dangerous. Death more so.”
Kinowin raised a hand, then spoke. “Not all of us see the signs closer to Fairhaven itself, the very disturbing signs that are already appearing in our midst. You all know that I do not get around quite as I used to, but I do listen to those who do.” He gestured to Cerryl. “You may recall Cerryl. He has been serving as a gate guard, and serving observantly. He mentioned something the other day, and I’d like him to tell it in his own words.” Kinowin nodded. “Briefly, though, Cerryl.”