The White Order

XXII

IN THE LIGHT drizzle that drifted from the low-hanging gray clouds, Cerryl used the dark brown laundry soap and washed his hands and face at the well, the one uphill of the south end of the porch. He shook his hands as dry as he could in the damp air, then began to walk toward the porch of the millmaster’s house, noticing that Rinfur was already stepping into the kitchen. Viental had gone-again-to visit his “sister.”

Dylert was waiting on the porch just back of the top step, his face somber.

“Yes, ser?” Cerryl could feel his stomach tightening, but kept his expression pleasant.

“You’ve learned the letters, haven’t you, boy?” Dylert asked, stepping back and gesturing for Cerryl to take a seat on the porch bench.

“Ser?” Meeting the millmaster’s eyes squarely, Cerryl managed a blank expression. He did not sit down.

Dylert laughed. “Young fellow, from your look I’d not know, but my daughter I can see through like she was fine timber.”

“Yes, ser. I asked her to teach me. But only when I was not working, ser.” Cerryl’s gray eyes continued to hold those of the millmaster. “Most times, after dinner.”

“I’ve no complaints with your work or anything else you have done, young Cerryl.” Dylert fingered his beard, then cleared his throat. “That’d not be the problem.”

Cerryl waited.

“That fellow-the one the white mage got the other day? Something like that. . well, it happened to your da. You know that, do you not?” Dylert’s eyes flicked downhill, toward the spot on the edge of the road where the rocks and clay remained blackened.

“I know that something happened. Uncle Syodor and Aunt Nall-they didn’t say much about it.”

“Syodor. . he was. . he be not the type to speak of it.” Dylert fingered his beard again.

A pattering of heavier rain swept across the porch roof, followed by a light gust of wind that ruffled Cerryl’s hair. Water began to drip from the eaves.

“Speaking or not, though, fact is, be a dangerous time to stay here for a young fellow with a da like yours.”

“Did the white mages kill Uncle Syodor, too?” Cerryl asked softly. “You would only tell me that he and Nall were dead.”

“Too sharp for your own eyes, you be, young fellow.” Dylert frowned. “Like as they died in a fire, that be what Wreasohn said. How that fire got started, I’d not be guessing. Nor you, either.”

Cerryl nodded. But why? What had they done to anger the white mages? If the mages knew Cerryl existed, wouldn’t they have come after him?

“I’ve a wagon of white oak a-heading to Fairhaven the day after next. To Fasse, the cabinet maker there.” The millmaster cleared his throat. “I’ve a scroll here-Siglinda, she helped me with it-and it says that you’re a hardworking young fellow better suited to finer things. It also says you’re a tattered britches relative of mine, of a distant cousin.” Dylert frowned. “Don’t be making me a liar, now.”

“I won’t, ser.” Cerryl could feel the ache in his guts growing, but kept his eyes on Dylert.

“It’s like this, Cerryl. Your da and your uncle, they did things that, well. . they did not. . I mean. . the white mages can be jealous. . of anything much. . much close. . to what. . what they do.” The millmaster wiped his forehead. “You be their son and nephew, and Hrisbarg. . well, small it is. All the folk know all the folk.” He shrugged. “In Fairhaven. . none care. . not that ways, anyway.”

What had Uncle Syodor done? His uncle had stayed away from anything like the white mages had done, and Aunt Nall-she’d had a fit when she’d even seen a fragment of a mirror or glass around Cerryl.

“I thought of Tellis. Been owing me a long time, ever since I sent him the best gold oak timbers for his shop. . and a few other things.” Dylert’s face clouded.

Cerryl wondered what favor was so bad that the genial Dylert had a bad memory about it.

“Now, Tellis, he’s a cousin of Dyella, and he’s a scrivener. You know what a scrivener is?”

Cerryl didn’t have to feign puzzlement. Why was Dylert talking about scriveners?

“Scriveners write things for others,” Dylert said slowly, “and in Fairhaven they make books, like the ones Erhana let you read.”

“Yes, ser.”

“Well, you be liking books, and Tellis owing me, and sure as he could use a young fellow works hard as you. . and Fairhaven being a better place for you. . and. . well. . being a place where someone with. . the kind of talent mayhap you have. . seeing as if you didn’t use it. . it wouldn’t be so unexpected. . and Tellis, he knows how that land lies, if you see the line I’m laying. .” Dylert cleared his throat.

Cerryl did see the line Dylert laid. The millmaster was worried that any passing white wizard might stumble on Cerryl and hold Dylert responsible. He was also suggesting that Cerryl would be safer in Fairhaven, especially if he did not use his talents openly-or perhaps at all. “Yes, ser.”

“You understand, young fellow. . it’s not just you. .”

“I understand, ser. You’ve been fair and good to me.”

“Dinner be ready,” Dylert said. “We’ll talk more after we eat. You be needing some clothes, and a pair of good boots.”

“Thank you.”

“After we eat,” Dylert repeated, opening the door to the kitchen.