Colors of Chaos

CLVI

THE STOCKY BLONDE mage stood on the other side of the study desk from Cerryl, a separation for which Cerryl was more than glad. “I don’t understand. You killed a bunch of traders, and now the people are back in the streets.” Puzzlement crossed Kalesin’s face.

“I didn’t kill many average people. I didn’t kill the bravos, except for those who tried to kill me. I didn’t kill the chandler.” Cerryl shrugged. “After a while, even stupid people get the message.” Except for you, Kalesin.

“There aren’t any ships in the harbor,” Kalesin pointed out almost smugly.

“It takes some time for word to get out.” Cerryl smiled gently. “There was a coaster yesterday, and we did collect a few golds. That’s more than anyone else has collected.” He stood and glanced out the unshuttered and open window into the cool and clear early-fall day. “I need to take another inspection ride.”

“You do a lot of that, but you don’t drill the troops the way Eliasar did.”

“I can’t. I don’t know how. I’d waste my time and theirs.” Cerryl gestured for Kalesin to leave the study before him. “So I let Hiser and Teras do it. They know their tasks.”

“You’re supposed to be an arms mage,” said Kalesin as he stepped outside into the hall.

“That’s true.” Cerryl frowned for a moment. “If I get the task done, no one is going to question whether I drilled lancers. If I don’t succeed, they won’t praise me for drilling them, either.” He nodded to Kalesin. “I’ll expect your report on the sawmills tomorrow. Then, you can start on what we discussed about the wool growers.”

“Yes, ser.”

Cerryl walked briskly toward the courtyard, leaving Kalesin in the hallway.