Colors of Chaos

CLXIX

CERRYL TURNED IN the chair and glanced out the Tower window. The winter clouds threatened cold rain or wet snow, but nothing was yet falling from them, nor was his head throbbing.

“The mage Heralt,” declared the guard outside the door.

“Please have him come in.” Cerryl stood, moving from behind the table, still amazed after more than a pair of eight-days that he was the High Wizard and that people were deferring to him. Except they defer to the title and the position, not to you.

Heralt looked much the same as when Cerryl had last seen him-short brown curly hair, olive eyes, and a trace of diffident shyness. There were the beginnings of lines in his forehead and dark circles under his eyes. “High Wizard.”

“Please sit down. Would you like some wine?”

“Please.”

Cerryl poured a half-goblet of the white-for some reason it kept in the Tower better than the red or the rosé-then sat down. “I appreciate your making the trip here at this time of year.”

“As the High Wizard commands.”

Cerryl wanted to sigh. Instead, he said, “Please save the ceremony for the public. You’re still Heralt, and I’m still Cerryl, and I need your help.”

“Mine?” The surprise in Heralt’s voice shocked Cerryl. “What can I do? I’m not that powerful. You know that. That’s why they sent me to Ruzor to count ships and cargoes and be Shenan’s assistant.”

“I need every mage’s help, but you have skills that will be most useful in the seasons ahead. These are skills few mages have.”

“I cannot say what those might be,” confessed the olive-eyed young mage.

“Heralt, is your father still trading?” Cerryl found himself standing, then pacing back and forth across the stone floor of the High Wizard’s apartment, still half-bemused that the quarters-and the position-were his.

“No, ser. He died last spring.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. And please…I’m just Cerryl here. I know the proprieties have to be observed in public…but this isn’t public.”

“It’s hard…the High Wizard.”

“You didn’t expect a friend to be High Wizard so soon?”

“No.” Heralt grinned. “I thought you might be one day, but not so soon.”

“I’m High Wizard because the Guild is threatened and weakened. Whether the Guild survives or not depends on whether we can enforce the tariffs throughout Eastern Candar. I’ve sent Leyladin’s father to Spidlaria, and Lyasa and Syandar are working with him to rebuild the trading and factoring system there. Between Duke Estalin’s debt to Leyladin and my support of Wertel-”

Heralt looked blank at the name.

“Another trader from Fairhaven, and Leyladin’s brother,” Cerryl explained. “Lydiar is obeying the tariff rules, and the Guild has taken the port of Renklaar. East of the Westhorns, that leaves three places-Ruzor, the two smaller ports of Hydlen, and Tyrhavven. Now, if we can ensure the tariffs are collected in Tyrhavven, that will give the Guild control of all tariff coins across the whole north and east coasts, except for Worrak, and the blockade ships can be used for other things-controlling smugglers…”

“And an attack on Recluce?”

Cerryl shrugged.

“I’d rather go on one of the ships.”

“Heralt…you understand trade. When we were both apprentices, you explained it to me. The Guild needs you in Tyrhavven. I need you there. I need someone who can understand things and keep the traders in line.”

“They won’t listen to me.”

“They will if you’re my representative and if you have ten-score lancers behind you and a pair of apprentices to assist.”

“Who…the apprentices?”

“You can pick them. Then tell me, and I will summon them to meet you here, so that it is clear that they go with you by my command.”

“Tyrhavven is that important?”

“More important than you know. Also, if you hear anything about the viscount moving troops into Sligo or mustering them, let me know. Do not wait for confirmations or reports.”

“I see you trust him highly.”

“I found him taking the bulk of the road tariffs for his own use, but that was during the war with Spidlar and Jeslek would not let me act on what I discovered, save to remove Shyren and one of the viscount’s ministers. I doubt that replacing a minister changed anything. The tariffs from Certis have continued to decline.”

“But Tyrhavven?”

“We now control the ports of Spidlar and Lydiar. From where else can Rystryr and his traders obtain trade goods from Recluce and Hamor?”

“The Sligan Council will not be pleased.”

“They will not, but I will send another twenty-score lancers if need be and blockade Tyrhavven, and I have already let messages be intercepted and sent to their traders indicating such.” Cerryl shrugged. “Since I am known as the mage who butchered the leading Spidlarian traders…”

“Do you think Rystryr will send lancers?”

“That is possible, but he knows that the Guild removed his brother and that three Dukes of Hydlen and the prefect of Gallos have been removed.”

Heralt’s mouth opened. “That…I did not know…”

“Rystryr may send crossbowmen against you-he did against me and against Eliasar-but he will do little that can be tracked to his lair. So…you must be careful.” Cerryl smiled crookedly. “Do you still wish to go to Tyrhavven?”

“How could I not go? Would that not make me mage adviser there?”

Cerryl nodded.

“And what else do you want me to do once I am there?”

“If your lancers get restless for action, have them patrol the roads-against brigands and smugglers.” Cerryl added dryly, “Those tend to appear once we start seeking to change the way matters have been.”

“And they once wore green?”

“Some have. Fydel and Shyren gave Rystryr that idea.”

“Tyrhavven still sounds better than Fairhaven or Ruzor.”

“I hope you find it so.” Cerryl slowly stood. “I’ll leave my quarters here with you.”

Heralt raised his eyebrows.

“I walk the Halls, talk to folk…that sort of thing.”

“Oh?”

“I have to. No one knows me. Both Sterol and Jeslek took pains to keep me away from Fairhaven and out of sight when I was here.”

Heralt nodded slowly. “That is why you allow Anya such latitude?”

“Unhappily…for now.”

“Best you be careful. She has many allies that she has cultivated for many years. You must know that.”

“Leyladin reminds me most often.” Cerryl’s tone was wry.

“Listen to her.”

“I do.”

Bental, one of the newer Tower guards, watched as Cerryl and Heralt stepped out.

“I’ll be somewhere in the Halls,” Cerryl said.

“Yes, ser.” Bental nodded.

They had no more than descended into the front foyer before Cerryl sensed that Redark had appeared, hurrying down the steps behind them to catch Cerryl.

“High Wizard…ser…”

“I will see you later, Heralt.” Cerryl gave a twisted grin before smoothing his face and turning to Redark.

“Yes, ser.” Heralt bowed and turned toward the rear of the front Hall.

“Yes, Overmage Redark?” Cerryl waited.

“Ser…I just received a scroll from Gorsuch, in Renklaar.” Redark raised his eyebrows. “A very important scroll it is, but you had already left your quarters.”

“I do need to be visible at times, Overmage. What did mage adviser Gorsuch send you that was so vital?”

“He is requesting at least one of the blockade ships off Spidlar be reassigned to patrol the waters off Renklaar and especially around Pyrdya. There are more smugglers there now.”

“I can’t say that I am surprised.” Cerryl nodded. “Since Spidlaria is iced in or will be shortly, the White Serpent and one other ship could be sent to patrol the area off the Ohyde River delta and off Pyrdya. Draft the dispatches, and have them ready for me this afternoon.” Cerryl waited, then asked, “Does Gorsuch have other difficulties?”

“Ah…he suggests that Renklaar is a strenuous post and that perhaps another mage would be helpful.”

Cerryl fingered his chin. “Hmmm…I do not know who we could spare to aid him at this very moment, but he is indeed skilled. Perhaps we could review those junior mages on gate duty? If you would, brief me on them-their strengths and skills-then we could meet with them in the next eight-day. Tell Gorsuch we value his long-standing efforts and we are working to send him assistance.”

“Ah…he would like to return to Fairhaven…”

“That could pose a problem. Would he rather be in Jellico? We could send Disarj to Renklaar? Or Ruzor? Shenan might be persuaded to go to Hydlen.” Cerryl smiled brightly. “What do you think, Redark?”

“I would have to consider that.”

“I’d like your thoughts on that. Perhaps we could discuss it this afternoon when you tell me about the junior mages.”

“Ah…yes.”

“Good.” Cerryl gave a broader smile. “Until then.”

He left the front Hall and crossed the fountain court before he was accosted again-this time by Broka, the thin mage who had once taught Cerryl anatomie.

“High Wizard.”

“Broka. You have a thought upon your mind?” Upon a very devious mind?

“Yes, honored Cerryl. You may recall that I asked whether you would choose caution over actions or the reverse. You responded fairly, if cautiously.” Broka bowed his head very slightly.

“I would prefer to act when the actions will have the effect we all desire,” Cerryl answered. “Acting for appearance wastes coins we do not have.”

“Like Kinowin, you are concerned over golds?”

“I am concerned for the Guild. Golds are necessary to assure the Guild’s future.” Cerryl offered a faint smile. “I would that it were otherwise, but controlling chaos does not pay lancers nor purchase grain.”

“So long as the Guild comes first…” Broka nodded.

“It does,” Cerryl affirmed. “The good of Fairhaven is uppermost in my thoughts.”

“I look forward to when your actions will bring the desired results.”

“As do I.”

Broka gave a sidelong nod and slipped away in the stealthy and angular fashion that had always made Cerryl think of him as lizardlike. Cerryl made his way toward the Meal Hall, even though the noon bells had not quite rung.

The young High Wizard surveyed the Hall. Almost as though he could sense Cerryl’s eyes, Esaak glanced up from the corner table in the Hall. Cerryl made his way through the empty tables and settled down across the round table from the older mage. “How are matters working out with Redark?”

“You may be the most mathematically inept High Wizard the Guild has ever had.” Esaak looked at Cerryl, almost blankly, before a trace of a smile appeared. “But you are not that inept.”

“Redark does not understand why we cannot raise tariffs. He will not listen to me.” Cerryl shrugged. “He will not believe matters unless they are put before him in a fashion he cannot deny. I know of no one other than you who can do so.”

“I appreciate your trust, High Wizard.” A broader smile crossed Esaak’s lined face. “I also imagine you have no objection to my sharing my calculations with anyone who is interested.” The heavyset and white-haired old mage scratched his ear.

“Not at all. I would appreciate seeing them before they are widely shared so that I know what you have calculated.”

“You know what I have calculated, I imagine. Lower tariffs in Fairhaven and broader and lower tariffs in the ports will gain the Guild more golds.” Esaak sighed, then lifted the mug of ale before him, slurping down a healthy swallow. “The difficulty is not the calculations, but the explanation of why this is so.”

“A twentieth part of fifty-score pies gives one more pies than a tenth of fivescore pies,” suggested Cerryl.

“You wish to write the explanations, High Wizard? With your gift of words…?”

Cerryl laughed, easily. “If I wrote them, no one would believe them. You are esteemed and respected.”

“You are a dangerous flatterer, ser.” Esaak smiled broadly. “I will complete the calculations and essay to educate the overmage on pies and golds.” He nodded as Cerryl stood.

“Thank you.” With a nod, Cerryl stepped toward the serving table, where the youths in red were setting out what looked to be mutton stew-a lamb stew that had not changed since he had first come to the Halls and heard Faltar complain about it.

And you wish he were still here to complain. Cerryl’s eyes burned as he turned from the serving table and began to walk back to the White Tower. More than ever you wish that…