Colors of Chaos

LXXXI

CERRYL GLANCED DOWN at the glass on the oval braided rug, watching the mists clear, showing a blonde healer in green sitting at a desk, her head cocked to one side, a sheet of paper before her. A broad smile crossed her face, and she lifted her fingers to her lips and then blew the kiss outward.

Cerryl smiled and let the image fade, knowing she had sensed his presence.

After a time, he looked down at the glass again, concentrating until the silver mists formed and then spread, showing a figure in scarlet and gray. The man sat in a carriage, but Cerryl could not tell where the carriage was bound.

A time later, he tried again, concentrating on a more distant view of Pullid, but the glass merely showed the carriage nearing the viscount’s palace, the image blurred by the intermittent spring snow flurries fluttering down.

Cerryl pulled on his white jacket with a shrug and made his way through the corridors toward the front courtyard where he had seen the mounting block for carriages. There he waited with the two pair of armsmen who guarded what appeared to be the entrance to the viscount’s part of the sprawling warren of buildings.

Cerryl stepped forward as Pullid eased out of the carriage. “Ser Pullid?”

The bulky man in gray and scarlet turned. “I do not believe I know you, ser mage. Young ser mage.”

Cerryl ignored the condescending tone. “I was hoping you might bring your vast knowledge of finance to my aid.” He offered what he hoped was a warm smile.

Pullid merely scowled. “What would a mage need to know of finance?”

“Well…we do raise some coins, through the assistance of rulers like the viscount, of course, in order to build and maintain the great White highways. All say you are the one who is most important in assisting Finance Minister Dursus and that you know the best ways to ensure the collection of tariffs and such. We have had some difficulty in Montgren,” Cerryl lied, “and I thought I might ask for your advice.”

Pullid continued to frown without responding.

Cerryl could read the man’s thoughts from his face. He didn’t want to offend a mage, particularly one brought on a war campaign, since that meant one able to turn him to ash. But Pullid clearly did not wish to talk to Cerryl.

“I wondered…obviously the viscount has roads of his own to maintain. Is that a separate tariff, or do you collect them both together?”

“We would not dare to collect taxes more than once.” Pullid offered a slightly off-key laugh. “Even once is difficult enough.”

Cerryl nodded as he gained a definite feel for the man.

“Now…if you will excuse me…”

“Of course.” Cerryl bowed, if but slightly.

Back in his guest quarters, he took out the glass. Perhaps he had stirred Pullid into action. The next image was that of Pullid talking to the finance minister, but from what Cerryl could tell, Dursus seemed unmoved, talking easily, before finally motioning Pullid out of the paneled study or office. Pullid walked until he reached a smaller, a much smaller, paneled room, where he sat behind a table for a long time, long enough that Cerryl finally had to let the image lapse before his head threatened to burst.

His problem still remained. How could he prove the viscount was diverting coins? Everything Cerryl felt told him that it was happening, but he had not one single vision or item even remotely close to proof. Most likely, his efforts had only made everyone nervous and unhappy with one mage named Cerryl. Yet if he didn’t push, how would he find anything in a city where he knew no one?

He sat on the bed and massaged his neck and forehead, trying to massage away the headache.

Perhaps later.