Colors of Chaos

XIV

AS INSTRUCTED BY Kinowin, Cerryl sat behind a desk in the second row on the north side of the Council Hall, watching and listening as the meeting continued. Both Kinowin and Sterol stood on the dais, but Jeslek had remained in Gallos, and his place beside the High Wizard was vacant as mages stood and spoke and then reseated themselves.

“…we see no change in trading…”

“…a season has gone by, and still the Gallosian traders are accepting goods from Recluce.”

“Not directly, Disarj. They ship the ironwork and spices to Spidlaria, and then the Spidlarians barge it upriver to Elparta.”

“So? They still evade the surtax.”

Sterol stepped forward, his hand raised. “Peace! The surtax was imposed here, not a season ago, but by the time scrolls were drafted and messengers sent it has been less than a handful of eight-days since all traders have been notified. Some traders may not yet know. They cannot summon ships back or change cargoes in a matter of eight-days.”

“They will not change,” snapped the frizzy-haired and balding Disarj. “A serpent will slither all its days.”

“That may be,” conceded the gray-haired Sterol, his hand touching his trimmed iron-gray beard, his red-flecked brown eyes mild. “We have agreed that Eliasar should be dispatched to Fenard shortly with a suitable complement of lancers to offer encouragement to the new prefect.”

“…make sure there are enough lancers for that encouragement…”

“…too bad young Cerryl didn’t flame a few more…”

Cerryl winced at his name but kept his eyes on the High Wizard.

Sterol waited for a lull in the soft comments. “For us to act before the traders know of the tax will raise unrest even within our own lands.”

“Our traders are already uneasy,” pointed out the pudgy Isork. “They claim they lose coins every eight-day.”

Kinowin stepped forward and nodded to Sterol, who nodded back.

The overmage cleared his throat. “We hear from the traders. That is truth. The traders are not all of those we govern. Those who have the coins or the power to reach us are not a tenth part of the people who depend on us-or from whom we draw our armsmen and lancers. Nor is everything always as peaceable as it seems, even within and around Fairhaven itself.”

Low murmurs whispered across the chamber.

Kinowin squared himself on the dais. “One of our younger mages has been guarding the north gate. He told me of a meeting there. I also asked the guards, and all swore that it occurred exactly as told me. That is as it should be and speaks highly of the training he was given by the honorable Jeslek. Before we discuss matters further, I would like you to hear this story.” He gestured to Cerryl, who stepped forward. “Up here, Cerryl, where all can hear you. Now…tell all of the Guild what you told me.”

As Sterol eased off the south side of the dais, Cerryl stepped onto the gold-shot marble of the dais. He had to clear his throat before starting. He tried not to look at Anya, with Fydel seated beside her. Faltar was on duty at the south gate. Nor did Cerryl look at Myral, who was in the first row. “It was about two eight-days ago, and I was on duty. I looked out along the highway, and there was this old woman with a staff leading an old farm cart with some baskets in it. I could tell that she didn’t have a medallion. She looked poor and maybe ill. So I called down to Gyral-he was the lead lancer on duty-and I asked him to warn her that she needed to either pay for a medallion or get off the highway.” Cerryl cleared his throat gently, trying to overcome his nervousness before the assembled mages.

“She wouldn’t stop or get off the highway. She yelled at all of us something like, ‘The roads be for everyone!’ She said she was a common person and she needed the road to sell her baskets so that her family could live until harvest and that she had no spare coppers for the White ninnies. I told her she’d have to give up the cart and the baskets, since she wouldn’t pay for a medallion, and she screamed that the roads were for everyone. She took her staff and threatened the guards.” Cerryl swallowed. “I used a firebolt and turned the staff into ashes. Then she screamed that darkness and the Black angels should take us. She grabbed a knife and attacked the guards. I had to flame her.” Cerryl glanced toward Kinowin.

The overmage murmured, “Stay here for a moment.” Then he turned to the Hall. “I think that young Cerryl was attempting to be both fair and understanding while upholding the laws and ways of Recluce.”

“…more than fair,” came a murmur from somewhere.

“…demon-damned peasants.”

“…ignorant beasts.”

“Yet,” continued Kinowin, his voice strengthening to silence the murmurs, “this peasant woman had no interest in his fairness or the laws. All she wanted was the easiest way to market and the most coins. Was she that different from the late Prefect Lyam? Or from all the smugglers who try to avoid taxes and tariffs? We meet, and too often, I think, we forget that the rules of law, and the need for such rules to ensure prosperity, they are merely nodded at even by those in Fairhaven. Too often our merchants take for granted the smoothness and the directness of our roads. Too often we do not see the anger at us, because we have forged a glorious city and prosperity for all Candar. Too often we would rather be loved than respected.” Kinowin paused. “Before I let Cerryl resume his seat, are there any questions?”

A tall mage halfway back in the chamber rose. “You said that this woman called us ‘White ninnies.’ Did she use those words?”

“Yes, she did. She also said that she had rights under the land that no man dressed in white and riding in a gold carriage could take away.”

Another mage-Isork-stood. “Did she actually say that the Black angels should take you?”

“Yes.”

Isork sat down.

“Perhaps we should send Eliasar to Gallos sooner rather than later,” suggested Fydel from the middle of the chamber, Anya practically whispering in his ear as the square-bearded mage spoke.

Sterol stepped back onto the dais from the columns at the south side of the chamber, waiting for another round of murmurs to die down. “The Council has decided that Eliasar should not depart until closer to harvest.” He turned and gestured to Cerryl. “Remember what happened at the gates. Cerryl attempted to handle the old woman gently. The guards know that, and they will tell others. Unhappily, there will always be those who respect little but force. There will always be those who do not pay willingly for the prosperity and peace that the Guild has provided Candar. There will always be those who believe the lies and deceptions of the Black Isle. We cannot make all our people happy, but we can make them respect the Order. And that we will do.

“Many of you know that the overmage Jeslek is working in Gallos to ensure that the new prefect will indeed respect the Guild. We are also building more warships to patrol the gulf and the Eastern Ocean. All Gallos-and the Black traders-will respect Fairhaven before we are done. That will be the occasion to send Eliasar and the lancers.” Sterol laughed. “Shortly, I will begin assigning mages to those warships that will be completed sometime this winter, and the Black traders will pay tariffs or they will not trade with Candar.”

Kinowin nodded to Cerryl, who stepped down and back to his seat.

Sterol gave a nod to Kinowin, who returned it with one barely perceptible.

“Now that our business is complete,” Sterol said in a warmer tone, “let us bring in the new mages.”

Sterol waited on the dais, Kinowin to his right, as Esaak escorted the three figures in the tunics of student mages forward and down the center aisle of the chamber.

“High Wizard, I present the candidates for induction as full mages and members of the Guild.” Esaak inclined his head, then stepped back and to the side.

Sterol let the silence draw out for a moment before speaking. “Bealtur, Heralt, and Myredin…you are here because you have studied, because you have learned the basic skills of magery, and because you have proved you understand the importance of the Guild to the future of all Candar…”

Cerryl smiled at the words that deviated not at all from those Sterol had employed when Cerryl himself had stood before the dais.

“…we hold a special trust for all mages, to bring a better life to those who follow the White way, to further peace and prosperity, and to ensure that all our talents are used for the greater good, of both those in Fairhaven and those throughout Candar.” Sterol paused, surveying the three. “Do you, of your own free will, promise to use your talents for the good of the Guild and for the good of Fairhaven, and of all Candar?”

There were three quiet assents.

“And do you faithfully promise to hold to the rules of the Guild, even when those rules may conflict with your personal and private desires?”

“Yes,” answered the three simultaneously.

“Do you promise that you will do your personal best to ensure that chaos is never raised against the helpless and always to benefit the greater good?”

“Yes.”

“And finally, do you promise that you will always stand by those in the Guild to ensure that mastery of the forces of chaos-and order-is limited to those who will use such abilities for good and not for personal gain and benefit?”

“Yes.”

“In the powers of chaos and in the sight of the Guild, you are each a full mage of the White Order of Fairhaven…”

A shimmering touch of chaos brushed the sleeves of the three, and the red apprentice stripes were gone.

“Welcome, Bealtur, Heralt, and Myredin…” Sterol offered a broad smile and looked across the assembled group. “Now that we have welcomed the new mages, our business is over, and all may greet them.”

Scattered murmurs broke out across the chamber.

Sterol glanced down at the three. “I’m very pleased that all of you have succeeded. You have different talents, and in the difficult days before the Guild we will need each of those talents, I suspect.”

Cerryl waited for the older mages to congratulate the three before he stepped forward, beginning with the dark-eyed and curly-haired Heralt. “Congratulations, Heralt.”

“Thank you. You and Kinowin made it easier.”

Cerryl offered a smile. “Don’t forget the High Wizard. He seeks talent.” With a nod, Cerryl stepped up to Bealtur. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” The goateed young mage’s words were polite, even, and without warmth.

“And congratulations to you.” Cerryl nodded politely at Myredin. Myredin nodded back, his intense and slightly bulging gray eyes fixed somewhere beyond Cerryl.

Cerryl stepped back and to the side, back along the pillars on the north side of the chamber.

“I have a good feel about Heralt, too.”

Cerryl turned. Kinowin and Myral stood behind the pillar. Myral inclined his head, and Cerryl joined the two.

“I’m sure you guessed that Kinowin wanted you to be seen,” said Myral. “He could have told the story without you.”

“I’m your protégé, ser?” asked Cerryl.

Kinowin smiled, almost ironically. “We need you to be seen and heard. I suggest you have something to say at the next meeting. Something that sounds most reasonable, with which few will disagree. Something about trade.”

“Me?”

“You.” Myral coughed, covering his mouth with the gray cloth he carried everywhere. After a moment, he added, “You have the shields to stand against Jeslek’s anger, and he knows that. You have no ties to the traders of Fairhaven or elsewhere, and it is important that you be seen to have a mind.”

Whether I do or not…whether I’m just an ignorant orphan determined and lucky enough to have become a mage.

Kinowin lowered his voice more. “Jeslek will be High Wizard by fall, if not before.”

“Why not you?” blurted Cerryl.

“Your judgment of character is sound,” said Myral with a chuckle, “but not of age. Kinowin is closer to my age than to Jeslek’s. For him to use power as Jeslek does would kill him within a handful of years.”

“We’ll talk more later,” said Kinowin, “but this is one of the few places where the three of us could talk for a moment without much notice.” He raised his voice. “Thank you, young Cerryl.”

“I did what I thought best,” Cerryl replied with a bow, his voice also pitched to carry beyond the pillars.

Myral coughed and covered a smile as the young mage bowed again and turned, walking back along the pillars.

“Cerryl? Have you a moment?” The words arrived with the impact of the trilia and sandalwood fragrance used by Anya.

Cerryl offered a head bow to the red-haired mage. “For you, Anya, I always have time.”

“Obvious but gracious, Cerryl, and I thank you for the effort.”

“When one is young and unskilled as I, what else can I do?” He offered a shrug. “How might I help?”

“I was curious, just curious, mind you, about your encounter with the old woman. Were you given any instructions for situations such as that?”

“No. No one ever mentioned that I’d ever deal with old farm people. I was told about traders and haulers, and how to set up the medallions, and the general rates for wagon and cart sizes.” Cerryl looked guilelessly at Anya, which was not difficult, since he spoke the truth.

“Why did you wish to warn off the old woman?”

“I didn’t see any sense in destroying her cart and taking her baskets. They would add little to the treasury and would create bad feelings.”

Anya nodded. “Yet you would judge when to break the rules?”

“I was not aware of breaking the rules.” Cerryl could feel that Anya’s questions were far from idle curiosity. “Anyone may bring a cart to the guardhouse to get a medallion, and gate guards are not allowed to destroy carts without medallions that do not come to the gates.”

Anya laughed. “You could be more dangerous than Jeslek.”

Cerryl bowed again. “I fear that I lack the mass of chaos that Jeslek can bring to bear upon all who would oppose him. Thus, I must think as best I can before I act.”

Anya touched his shoulder. “Just keep thinking, Cerryl, and there will always be a place in the Guild for you.” She flashed her brilliantly insincere smile, touched his shoulder again, warmly, and ducked away.

Cerryl wanted to wipe his forehead but didn’t. The implication of Anya’s remarks was certainly clear enough. He had thought that his life would get easier once he was a full mage, but he was beginning to have doubts about that, especially with all the undercurrents within the Guild.

And then to find out that Kinowin was far older than Jeslek-perhaps nearly so old as Myral? That was hard to believe, but Myral’s words had held the feel and ring of truth, and that worried Cerryl.