Cerryl knew that Kinowin was saying far more than his words and that the overmage did not expect a direct answer. “I thank you for sharing your wisdom.”
“Wisdom? I doubt that.”
“What happens now?” Cerryl asked carefully.
“For the moment, after you finish your double duty, you will remain as a gate guard, but only the morning duty. In the afternoons, once you have eaten, you will present yourself to the High Wizard. You will be serving as his assistant. You will not receive any additional stipend for that. Not now. The moment you finish your last double duty, the restriction on remaining in the Halls is lifted-but not until then.”
“Yes, ser. Do you know what the High Wizard expects?”
“Outside of reminding you of your place? And me of my lack of judgment in recommending you for the Patrol?” Kinowin’s tone was dry. “For all his faults, Jeslek takes his position most seriously. He sincerely believes that the trade difficulties with Spidlar and Recluce represent a basic problem that Fairhaven must address, and soon. He has continued Sterol’s policy of opening the Guild to all with possible talent, but that is making things worse right now.”
“Lack of coins?”
“The Treasury is being depleted, and the road tariff payments from other lands are arriving later and later.” Kinowin turned back toward the window and the scattered points of light beyond. “For what the Guild does we have never had enough mages of great talent, and each one that we lose…” He shook his head. “Myral was a great, great loss, though most will not understand why. Too many think that a great chaos wielder is a great mage.” Kinowin’s eyes fixed on Cerryl. “Jeslek is more than a mage who can unleash great amounts of chaos. I do not always agree with him, but he thinks as much of Fairhaven as himself.”
“I will do my best for him.”
“Good.” Kinowin pivoted on one foot to face Cerryl. “Do your best and watch all corners, from the moment you leave here.” Kinowin’s lips offered his crooked smile, or one that seemed so because of the blotch on his cheek. “All mages need to watch all shadows in the years to come. Now go get some sleep.”
Cerryl rose from the chair. “Thank you.”
“You’ll thank me-and Myral-well enough by surviving, thank you.” Kinowin walked toward the door. “You have a few years to learn. Use them.”
Cerryl nodded again.
What Kinowin had said, and not said, echoed through Cerryl’s mind as he headed down the main steps from the White Tower to the front entry foyer. In effect, the overmage had told him, in several different ways, to do Jeslek’s bidding and to survive. And to learn. The last reference to Myral had not been accidental or sentimental, not at all.
Cerryl shivered. What had Myral seen and passed on to Kinowin? How could Cerryl believe that he would do great things, as Kinowin had vaguely suggested, or become High Wizard, as Myral had told Leyladin? How…when he could not see the simplest things necessary to survive?
He shook his head. Do what you have to do and survive. He looked toward the empty foyer, extending his perceptions, but the Hall was empty for the moment. You’d better get back into the habit of studying everything again.
He smiled. At least, he had a future to look out for-if he made no more stupid mistakes. If…
LVI
AFTER GULPING DOWN some leftover bread and cheese from the Meal Hall and washing up quickly, Cerryl hurried up the steps to the upper level of the White Tower, glad that his gate-guard duty was only a normal duty period, rather than two.
The guard outside the High Wizard’s chambers was neither Gostar nor Hertyl, but a grizzle-bearded veteran unfamiliar to Cerryl, who studied Cerryl suspiciously, his hand on the short iron blade. “Ser?”
“Cerryl. I’m here as directed by Overmage Kinowin.” Cerryl stood there, conscious that he no longer wore the wide red belt of a Patrol mage and was no more than a very junior mage-once again. He was also conscious that the guard wore an iron shortsword, not one of white bronze, and that, he thought, was new. Why? Does Jeslek fear attack from other mages? A single guard with an iron blade would not stop most mages. Cerryl repressed a frown.
The guard stepped to the door and rapped once. “A Mage Cerryl is here, ser. He says the overmage Kinowin sent him.”
“He’s expected, but have him wait out there.”
“Yes, ser.” The guard nodded and gestured to the bench. “If you would like a seat, ser?”
“Thank you.” Cerryl dropped onto the seat. His feet were still sore. He wondered if they’d ever recover.
After a time, Redark left the chamber, glancing briefly at Cerryl but saying nothing. Then Anya departed, offering a dazzling smile but no words, leaving a faint scent of sandalwood lingering around the upper landing.
The guard didn’t speak, and Cerryl didn’t feel like trying to make conversation. What does Jeslek want from you? Why would you be his personal assistant, especially after Sterol used you against him? So he can watch you closely? That didn’t seem to make sense, but Cerryl wasn’t sure what did-except Kinowin’s words about doing what was necessary to survive.
In time, perhaps midafternoon, Jeslek opened the door. “You may come in, Cerryl.”
A red-haired student mage-Kochar-stood by the table as Cerryl entered.
“Kochar…you may go. I will see you in the morning.” Jeslek gave a perfunctory nod to the apprentice mage.
“Yes, ser.”
After the door closed, the High Wizard turned to Cerryl. “Kochar will be starting sewer duty in the next few days. He is getting more and more able,” Jeslek announced as he glanced at the table and the blank glass. “For a brief time Esaak has agreed to take over those duties that Myral had held.”
Cerryl waited.
“For the moment, Cerryl, I have little enough for you. You may have the rest of the afternoon to do as you please. I would like you here every afternoon after your morning duty. You will listen. You will observe. You will not speak of what you see or hear here. You will offer no statements, no advice, no words whatsoever, unless you are asked. You may ask an occasional question. Choose it carefully.” Jeslek’s smile was hard and bright. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, ser.”
“Good. I will see you tomorrow.”
Cerryl bowed slightly, then turned, his shields ready, though he knew Jeslek had raised no chaos, and slipped from the High Wizard’s chambers and back toward his own quarters.
He needed to rest-and think.
LVII
AFTER HIS DUTY, Cerryl hurried, but did not run, back to the Halls of the Mages. There he ate alone. That was because any of those he knew well enough to sit with were on duty or elsewhere and he had no desire to exchange meaningless words. He gulped down rye bread and cheese and fresh pearapples before returning to the rear Hall, where he washed. Then he made his way to the top of the White Tower, where Gostar guarded the High Wizard’s chamber.
“Be not here, Mage Cerryl. None of them,” offered Gostar.
“I guess I’ll wait.” Cerryl sat down on the bench. Despite the smooth polished oak surface and probably generations of usage, there was a faint grittiness to the wood. Cerryl looked down. Was everything around the Tower slightly gritty? The effect of too much chaos? He frowned.
Gostar glanced around, then lowered his voice. “Begging your pardon, ser. Some say that you were removed from the Patrol for hurting a boy; some say it was because the High Wizard cares little for you…”