Colors of Chaos

LVI

AFTER GULPING DOWN some leftover bread and cheese from the Meal Hall and washing up quickly, Cerryl hurried up the steps to the upper level of the White Tower, glad that his gate-guard duty was only a normal duty period, rather than two.

The guard outside the High Wizard’s chambers was neither Gostar nor Hertyl, but a grizzle-bearded veteran unfamiliar to Cerryl, who studied Cerryl suspiciously, his hand on the short iron blade. “Ser?”

“Cerryl. I’m here as directed by Overmage Kinowin.” Cerryl stood there, conscious that he no longer wore the wide red belt of a Patrol mage and was no more than a very junior mage-once again. He was also conscious that the guard wore an iron shortsword, not one of white bronze, and that, he thought, was new. Why? Does Jeslek fear attack from other mages? A single guard with an iron blade would not stop most mages. Cerryl repressed a frown.

The guard stepped to the door and rapped once. “A Mage Cerryl is here, ser. He says the overmage Kinowin sent him.”

“He’s expected, but have him wait out there.”

“Yes, ser.” The guard nodded and gestured to the bench. “If you would like a seat, ser?”

“Thank you.” Cerryl dropped onto the seat. His feet were still sore. He wondered if they’d ever recover.

After a time, Redark left the chamber, glancing briefly at Cerryl but saying nothing. Then Anya departed, offering a dazzling smile but no words, leaving a faint scent of sandalwood lingering around the upper landing.

The guard didn’t speak, and Cerryl didn’t feel like trying to make conversation. What does Jeslek want from you? Why would you be his personal assistant, especially after Sterol used you against him? So he can watch you closely? That didn’t seem to make sense, but Cerryl wasn’t sure what did-except Kinowin’s words about doing what was necessary to survive.

In time, perhaps midafternoon, Jeslek opened the door. “You may come in, Cerryl.”

A red-haired student mage-Kochar-stood by the table as Cerryl entered.

“Kochar…you may go. I will see you in the morning.” Jeslek gave a perfunctory nod to the apprentice mage.

“Yes, ser.”

After the door closed, the High Wizard turned to Cerryl. “Kochar will be starting sewer duty in the next few days. He is getting more and more able,” Jeslek announced as he glanced at the table and the blank glass. “For a brief time Esaak has agreed to take over those duties that Myral had held.”

Cerryl waited.

“For the moment, Cerryl, I have little enough for you. You may have the rest of the afternoon to do as you please. I would like you here every afternoon after your morning duty. You will listen. You will observe. You will not speak of what you see or hear here. You will offer no statements, no advice, no words whatsoever, unless you are asked. You may ask an occasional question. Choose it carefully.” Jeslek’s smile was hard and bright. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, ser.”

“Good. I will see you tomorrow.”

Cerryl bowed slightly, then turned, his shields ready, though he knew Jeslek had raised no chaos, and slipped from the High Wizard’s chambers and back toward his own quarters.

He needed to rest-and think.