The White Order

LXXII

CERRYL WOKE ALMOST clutching at his throat, feeling, sensing chaos everywhere. Sweat rolled down his forehead, and he had a hard time swallowing for a moment.

His eyes traversed the darkness of his small cell, but it remained as always-the desk with the books, the stool, the table, the unlit lamp, and the cold stone floor-all empty.

He swallowed again, then eased from under his blanket toward the door, standing with his hand on the latch, shivering in his smallclothes. After a moment of thought, he decided against opening the door but just listened.

Had he heard the whisper of footsteps on the polished stone of the corridor? Or was that the wind outside the halls?

He sniffed. Even through the door he could smell the faint odor of sandalwood and flowers, and his senses told him that someone in the corridor had warped or twisted light somehow.

The faintest snick of a lifted latch-had he heard that, or was it his overactive imagination?

Anya? Visiting Faltar again?

Briefly, the corners of his mouth lifted in the darkness as he thought how he would react if someone slipped into his room. Say someone like Leyladin. .

He swallowed and pushed that thought away as he sensed, almost like a white shadow, a looming but partly shielded chaos presence, farther away-where, he couldn’t sense, but not too far. And that chaos presence was definitely watching.

Cerryl swallowed. Anya was visiting Faltar, and Cerryl had no doubts about what kind of visits the redhead was making, and someone was watching Anya, and both were hiding their presence.

The thin-faced-and cold-footed-young man slipped back from his door to his bed, easing his blanket back around him, trying to let his feet warm up as his thoughts swirled in his head.

What did Anya want of Faltar-a mere student? Mere sexual pleasure? Somehow, recalling Anya’s smile and the coolness beneath it, Cerryl doubted that.

Should he tell Faltar? How much should he say? Or should he just wait? What else can you do but wait. Wait and learn. . and hope.

He turned over, wrapping the blanket tighter about him, but sleep was long in returning.