Colors of Chaos

XVI

THE SUN HAD barely cleared the low hills to the east of Fairhaven when the heavy wagon rumbled through the north gates and onto the highway. Cerryl watched. The entire wagon bed was filled with brass fittings, ship parts of various sorts, headed for Lydiar.

Fittings for the warships Sterol had mentioned? No…those were being built somewhere in Sligo. But could there be others being built on the Great North Bay?

He shook his head. Again, he didn’t even know enough to conjecture. How could he find out? Without asking anyone directly?

Leyladin had offered one suggestion-become friendly with more of the other younger mages. Some of them had to know things he didn’t, and most people would talk, he’d discovered, with a slight bit of encouragement. That hadn’t been his style, but…the more he saw, the more he understood the danger of being alone and aloof.

He glanced down at the white stones of the highway, arcing out to the north and then east, seeing the fine white dust that was everywhere in Fairhaven slowly settle back onto the stone. Then he walked across into the sunlight to warm up, knowing that before midmorning he’d be seeking the shade to cool off.

Below, Diborl watched as the prisoners from the city patrol swept the stones clean. Then another guard escorted them back to the holding room where they were kept between cleanup duties.

Not for the first time, Cerryl wondered exactly what the pair had done. Smuggling, disturbing the peace?

The creaking of another set of wheels alerted him.

Coming down the road from the direction of Hrisbarg were two farm carts and, farther behind them, yet another-the beginning of the line of produce vendors that would fill the markets before many folk were fully up and about.

He stood on the rampart and waited.