Colors of Chaos

CLXII

THRAP!

Cerryl concentrated on the glass before him, letting Leyladin’s image fade and focusing on the outside of the door. The silver mists swirled and revealed a stolid-faced, stocky blonde mage. “Come in, Kalesin.”

“Ser, here are the scrolls from the courier for you.” Kalesin extended three scrolls.

“Thank you.” Cerryl rose and took them.

“We only mean to please, honored Cerryl.”

Even without looking closely, Cerryl could tell that someone had sliced the seal on at least one of the scrolls and then reheated it. Cerryl studied the other mage impassively. “I appreciate it, Kalesin.”

Kalesin inclined his head, then turned and left.

Once the door shut, Cerryl studied the scrolls more closely. One was sealed with a purple wax, the second with red, and the third with green. All had been opened and resealed.

“Let’s read the worst first.” He broke the seal on the one from Sterol or Anya and skimmed through it, centering on the key phrases:

…wish to remind you that the turn of winter approaches and that the Council expects at least several hundred golds in tariff revenues, with the balance to follow by the turn of the year at midwinter…

That missive had been signed and sealed by Anya at the direction of “His Supreme Mightiness, the High Wizard Sterol.” There was more, but all in the vein of reminding Cerryl of the urgency of tariff collections. He set the first scroll on the desk and opened the second. As he had suspected from the purple wax, it was from Kinowin.

Cerryl-

I would like to remind you that you promised to bring me, if possible, a purple hanging from Spidlaria. I am doing my best to look after the one in green silk that I feel you entrusted to me, though I know that was not precisely your intent. As with Myral, age has begun to creep upon me, and I may not be a fit custodian for all that much longer…

I would like to see the handiwork Myral promised you would bring me before too much longer…The handiwork is important, and though some will quibble over the coins, good workmanship outlasts coins.

Kinowin

Cerryl swallowed, set the second scroll down, and hurriedly broke the seal on the third, a seal he suspected had been cut and resealed twice.

Dearest-

I know that you have had great duties laid upon you, but I thought you would like to know that Mother is close to the end. Knowing how you have respected her, it might be best that you return to Fairhaven as quickly as you can, if possible. Kinowin can no longer leave his quarters, now, as you suspected might happen. I have no one to assist me now that Father is helping you in rebuilding factoring in Spidlar, and Aliaria and Nierlia are occupied with their children and legacies…

If this is not possible, I understand. It may be hard to explain to certain relatives, particularly one niece who left a message suggesting that if you respected her judgment, you should hasten homeward-as if you had ever jumped to her scented wishes.

As always, we all miss you.

Leyladin

Cerryl looked at the words of the scroll again. He frowned. The words were in Leyladin’s hand. The order behind them was Leyladin’s, but she never would have said something like that, especially such nonsense. His regular screeing of her showed her in no danger, and her mother had died long before…

“You’re stupid, Cerryl.” He nodded grimly. The message was the same as what she had written-get back to Fairhaven-but the other words, the reasons, were there for whoever might have opened and read the scroll, and the niece had to be Anya-she was Muneat’s niece and wore too much scent.

Cerryl studied the scroll, looking with his senses for the slightest touch of chaos on the inner parchment-and finding it. Lyasa had not been around, and the chaos was too fresh for it to have been anyone other than Kalesin who had opened the scroll.

He stood and walked into the hall. “I’m going out for a bit of air.”

“Yes, ser.”

Instead, once around the corner, Cerryl raised the blur shield and started up the stairs to the third floor.

As he had suspected, Kalesin was seated at the small desk in his bedchamber on the third floor.

When Cerryl stepped into the room, closing the door behind him, he let the blur shield drop. “So what are you sending to Anya? Or is it Rystryr?”

Kalesin rose and turned slowly, bringing the long iron dagger around. “I’ll use this on you, if I have to. You can’t order me around, Cerryl. I’ve been a mage longer. They sent you here to get rid of you. You aren’t going to sneak home and leave me with the mess you’ve made. And you’re not proof against cold iron, no matter what-”

“Why not? You’d like being in charge-”

As Kalesin lunged forward, Cerryl didn’t even hesitate but slammed the focused light lance into the blonde mage’s chest.

The sandy-haired mage flew backward, his dead face frozen in surprise.

Cerryl played chaos over the body carefully, trying to ensure that no trace of the man remained, except for the white ashes that would dissipate and the dagger that had fallen to the floor.

Then he rearranged the desk back in the order in which Kalesin kept it. He picked up the dagger and set it alongside the third stack of paper, leaving everything neat, except for the half-written scroll, which he read quickly.

Anya-

Cerryl has become insufferable…He has received a scroll bidding him return to Fairhaven…from that blonde harlot…and another one from doddering old Kinowin, begging for a hanging before he dies…

Cerryl wanted to shake his head. Kalesin had been more stupid than Cerryl could have imagined, and that meant that Kalesin hadn’t been any real danger at all, except as Anya’s tool. How many tools has she? He tucked the half-written scroll under the blotter and replaced the quill and inkstand.

With a deep breath, and ignoring the incipient headache his order and chaos manipulations were bringing on, he cloaked himself in the blur shield and slipped down the steps until he was in the shadows of the main corridor outside the study.

“Natrey?”

“Ser? How did you get there?”

“I walked.” Cerryl smiled. “Have you seen Kalesin?”

“No, ser. He left your study a bit ago…”

Cerryl frowned. “He was supposed to bring me something, but I haven’t seen him.”

“You want me to send some of the boys to find him?” Natrey grinned.

Cerryl forced an amused smile. “Perhaps you should. Perhaps you should.” He let himself back into the study and forced himself to wait, rereading the three scrolls until he had them committed to memory.

Kinowin was clearly telling him that the overmage had been able to shield Leyladin, but that wouldn’t last forever, and Leyladin was practically ordering him to return as quickly as he could get there.

Cerryl continued to wait.

Finally, there was a knock on the door.

“Yes?”

Foyst peered in: “Ser? We can’t find the mage nowhere. His mount be in the stable, his dagger be on his table, but he be nowhere.”

“Are you sure?” Cerryl put a shade of annoyance into his voice. “He was supposed to bring me a report on the golds taken by the older traders before they fled or were executed. He had those records.”

“Ser, beggin’ your pardon…”

“It’s not your doing, Foyst. I’m not angry at you.” Cerryl pursed his lips. “Have you seen the mage Lyasa?”

“Yes, ser. She was riding in.”

“Good. If you would tell her I’d like to see her…”

“Yes, ser.”

Cerryl offered a quick smile and a nod. The door closed.

He waited, but not nearly so long, before Lyasa, still in her white cold-weather jacket, stepped into the study.

“You were asking for me?”

Cerryl looked at her, then shook his head. “Kalesin has vanished. None of the lancers saw him go. I’d like you to come up to his room with me.”

“You’re worried?”

“Yes.”

“You should be. I warned you, you know.”

As he stood, Cerryl shrugged. “I know. I did what I could.” That is true enough.

The two walked hurriedly up the two flights of steps, with Foyst following. Both mages kept scanning the staircase and landings.

Once on the third floor, Cerryl looked around the room, as if he had not seen it earlier. “He left in a hurry, and he left everything behind.” He stepped toward the desk. “There’s something here.” Cerryl pulled out the half-written scroll from beneath the blotter and began to read it. He shook his head and handed it to Lyasa.

“Read this.” Cerryl wandered to the wardrobe, looking through it cursorily. “Everything seems to be here.”

“This looks like his writing.” Lyasa’s eyes widened as she read. After a moment, she looked at Cerryl. “I told you…What are you going to do?” She paused. “You suspected he would leave, didn’t you?”

“He was nervous when he gave me the scrolls.” Cerryl laughed ruefully. “I forgot to tell you. I got a message from Anya demanding more golds and one from Kinowin suggesting I get back to Fairhaven, however I could. Both scrolls had been opened-most recently-and resealed with chaos. I sent the lancers after Kalesin…”

“He must have known you’d find out.”

“You’ll have to be most careful,” Cerryl told her.

“I’ll have to be…You’re leaving?”

“If I can, I’m returning to Fairhaven, before it’s too late. If it’s not already.”

“Sterol will try to kill you.”

Cerryl nodded. “But if I stay here, I’ll be even deader, because he’ll take Leyladin and Kinowin, too.”

“I could go.”

He shook his head. “If matters don’t go well, I may need a friend outside Fairhaven.” Cerryl didn’t like deceiving Lyasa, but she’d be safer not knowing how Kalesin had disappeared. The scroll Kalesin had written was enough to warn her, and she could say, truthfully, if anything happened to Cerryl, that she had known nothing about Kalesin’s disappearance.

“How?”

“I’m going to ask Layel for a trip on one of his ships. He might just agree.”

“When it’s his daughter you’re trying to save?” Lyasa laughed. “You shouldn’t have any worries on that course.”

“Not until I get to Fairhaven.” Then my real troubles begin.