Colors of Chaos

CLX

AT THE SOUND of footsteps on the chill and polished stone of the hallway floor, Cerryl turned.

Kalesin walked quickly toward Cerryl and the pair of lancers outside his study door. “I’d like to talk with you, ser.” The smile that followed the words was false and forced.

“I was headed out to accompany Lyasa on an inspection.” Cerryl reopened the study door and stepped inside, moving behind the desk to put some space between him and the other, but not seating himself.

Kalesin closed the door with a dull thud. “I know that, ser.” His eyes were hard as he glanced at Cerryl. The stocky blonde mage’s eyes were cold, above a body that had thickened in the seasons since Cerryl had returned to Spidlaria. “I don’t understand. What have I done to displease you? You’re letting her handle the tariff coins and supervise the lancers, and she’s not even an arms mage.”

“She is good at what she does,” Cerryl said evenly. “I give you those things to do that you do well.” He paused. “Many of the tasks you do are the same sorts that I did for Jeslek, or Kinowin, or that Anya does for the High Wizard.”

“I proved I was capable of more for the honored Eliasar,” Kalesin replied firmly.

“You may well have,” Cerryl said gently, “but what we are capable of doing is not always what needs to be done. I need the lists and the locations of merchants if we are to ensure that we can collect taxes and tariffs. Such a task is tedious, but it is necessary, and it takes a mage who can use a glass.”

“I can do more than that,” Kalesin insisted.

“I’m sure you can. But if you did more, you would not be doing what needs to be done.” Cerryl tried to make the smile friendly.

Kalesin’s lips tightened, and he was silent.

“Is there anything else?”

“No, ser.” After another pause, the blonde mage asked, “By your leave?”

“You may go.”

“Thank you, ser.” Kalesin turned and opened the door.

Cerryl followed him into the hallway.

As Kalesin stepped away from the study door and walked toward the main entry of the building, the blonde mage’s fingers tightened around the hilt of the long dagger in his belt, a long iron dagger, with a heavily wrapped tang and a thick scabbard.

Cerryl concealed a frown before he turned to the guard. “I will be riding to the large barracks with the mage Lyasa and the lancers from one of Captain Teras’s companies.”

“Yes, ser.”

The arms mage walked quickly out to the courtyard, trying to make up for the delay caused by Kalesin’s interruption.

Lyasa stood by her mount, holding the mare’s reins and those of Cerryl’s gelding. “You don’t have to come with me, you know?”

“If I don’t show up occasionally when you inspect the barracks and the lancers, they won’t remember who I am.” Cerryl took the leathers and mounted the gelding.

Lyasa gestured toward the gate. “Kalesin just rode out of here. He was angry.”

“He’s angry most of the time, these days. He wants to do great and challenging things when what we need is painstaking and tedious chores. I try to keep a close watch on him.”

Lyasa urged her mare toward the open courtyard gate, and the cold wind ruffled her jet-black hair, blowing it back off her ears. “I hate to say this…You’d be better off if he were in Fairhaven.”

Cerryl flicked the gelding’s reins to catch up with her. “I can’t send him back. They’d probably send someone else and then call me up before the Council. They’d claim I sent him away because I was taking the coins. Like I thought Shyren had. Those are the coins we have yet to collect. So I give him things to do that need to be done, things that he can’t foul up without my knowing immediately.”

“He knows that, and it just makes him angrier.”

“Do you have any suggestions about Kalesin?”

“Oh, Cerryl…all you can do is watch him.”

For now. “I know.”

The hoofs of the horses clicked on the hard and cold stones of the street that led to the main barracks.