Colors of Chaos

CLV

AS THE SUN touched the waters of the harbor, Cerryl looked from the makeshift platform to the four traders who stood bound in the center of the harbor square. The square and the adjoining streets were filled with every lancer Hiser and Lyasa had been able to muster. Lancers-and the few archers-watched every street and every building.

Cerryl cleared his throat and began to speak, trying to get his voice to carry. “All the people of Spidlar were warned about deceiving the Guild and refusing to pay tariffs. You deceived the Guild and refused to pay what you owed. Two of your cities were destroyed. Your armsmen have been killed or fled. Yet after that, your predecessors still refused to pay what was owed. They died, and yet you refused to learn. The Guild wants a better life for all people in Candar-not just for a handful of greedy and selfish traders in Spidlar. But you thought you knew better. You would destroy your own people for a few more golds. My words mean nothing to you. Perhaps others will learn from them.” Cerryl paused but for a moment, then focused raw chaos on the four.

WHHHHSTTT!!!

The pillar of flame lit the square, flaring nearly fifty cubits into the air.

Without even waiting for the flames to die, Cerryl hastened off the platform and through the flickering shadows cast by the fire that had succeeded the chaos. He mounted the chestnut awkwardly, but quickly, and Lyasa and Suzdyal’s guards escorted him back to his headquarters, through streets that seemed empty, save that he was all too aware of the eyes that had rested on him through shutters and darkened windows as he had passed.

Not until Cerryl was back in the headquarters dwelling and into his study did Lyasa take a deep breath. “You can’t keep appearing like that.”

“I can’t hide. That will make them think they can drive us out.” Cerryl sank into his chair, massaging his neck.

“If anything happens to you, they will drive us out. Oh, the High Wizard won’t call it that, and the new Council of Traders will pay some token golds, and things will return to the way they were.”

“It can’t happen like that.” Cerryl’s voice was tight.

“Why not? You’re not the first mage who’s tried to change things. It’s never worked. Look what happened to Jeslek.”

“I have to try.” You don’t have any choice…because if you return to Fairhaven as a failure, you’re dead…sooner or later.

“You’re stubborn.”

“Probably.”

Lyasa slumped into the straight-backed chair with a sigh sounding of both relief and exasperation. “Cerryl…I’ve never seen anyone use a truth-read like that before.”

He rubbed his forehead. “It’s demon work. My head’s splitting.”

“You don’t take compliments easily, either.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve mistrusted them for a long time, especially after working with Jeslek,” he added. “All I have is water. Would you like some?”

“Please.”

“You could do what I did. All you do is set up the questions so that they have to deny what you think is the truth. Untrue denials are easier to read. It’s not evidence, really, and I’d get in trouble if I were in the Patrol in Fairhaven for acting just on truth-reading. Here…I have to do something.”

“Will it work?”

He shrugged. “They either change or get killed, or I get killed. But if I remove enough of them-always from the top-some of the more common merchants and the people in the street may get the idea that the Guild’s not after them.”

“You grant them vision they do not have.”

“We’ll have to give it to them.” Somehow…someway…He kept massaging his forehead, hoping the force of the needles that stabbed at his eyes would at least lessen.

Lyasa poured a mug of water and sipped it, and the two sat in the darkness, neither looking toward the embers in the center of the harbor square.