The White Order

XCVI

IN THE GRAY of dawn, Cerryl finished his cheese and biscuits with a swallow of water. Then he walked down to the drainage way, where a thin stream of water flowed and refilled the bottle, concentrating on channeling chaos heat into the water until it boiled. The heat wasn’t the hard part. Wrapping the bottle in order to keep it from breaking was.

He couldn’t drink the water until it cooled, and he walked back to where the chestnut was tethered, easing the bottle into the straps.

A faint orange glow filled the sky above the newly raised hills to the east, but the morning was silent-only the scattered chirping of insects. The light wind carried the odor of death, and Cerryl was glad that they would be traveling on, but worried. How long before the prefect decided to sacrifice more men?

Cerryl was well aware that twice as many Gallosians might have carried the skirmish or battle, and he wondered if Jeslek had understood that also.

A hundred cubits or so west of Cerryl, Jeslek stood beside Klybel, and the two talked in low voices. Klybel nodded, reluctantly, and turned. He mounted his horse and rode past Cerryl, back to where the lancers had camped.

“Cerryl?” called the overmage.

Cerryl walked quickly toward Jeslek.

The older man’s face was shadowed, and lines radiated from his eyes, lines of age that Cerryl had not seen before. His sun-gold eyes still glittered, and the dullness had left the white hair.

“You saw how the Gallosians received us yesterday?”

“Yes, ser.”

The overmage cleared his throat, then fixed Cerryl with his eyes. “Cerryl, all students must undertake a task-a thing to be accomplished alone-before they are accepted into the Guild. The task is set before each in a manner to ensure that the mage-to-be indicates utterly his devotion to the Guild.”

Cerryl didn’t like what he knew was coming, even if he had no idea of what task Jeslek was about to lay upon him.

The gold-eyed mage smiled. “Many have questioned your devotion, and I have set you a task after which none can gainsay your right to the Brotherhood.”

“Yes, ser.”

“You are to remove the prefect of Gallos.”

Cerryl swallowed, as much because of the growing chaos that swirled around Jeslek as because of the task. Was that because Jeslek expected him to refuse?

“Ser?”

“Why do I task you, is that what you wonder?”

“Not exactly, ser. You have the power to destroy massed armies. .” Cerryl wanted to know more, even if he were in no position to refuse the overmage.

“Ah. . and I could ravage the lands, you think.”

“You have that power. Of that, after yesterday, there is no doubt.”

“That is indeed true.” Jeslek stroked his chin. “Therein lies a problem. If I did indeed ravage Gallos-then who would farm the land, or cut the timber-or collect the road duties? Likewise, if the removal of the prefect is accomplished by a lesser mage. . then who will refute the wisdom of acquiescing to the ‘requests’ of Fairhaven?”

“And how am I to accomplish this, ser? I cannot very well walk up to Fenard-”

“You will be sent with a lancer guard as an assistant to Sverlik. He, of course, as an envoy, could not act overtly against Lyam.” Jeslek shrugged. “How you deal with Lyam, that I leave to your discretion, save that you must vanish from Fenard and return to Fairhaven without knowledge of any in Gallos. A simple enough task for one who would be a mage.” Jeslek smiled.

“How am I to deal with those armsmen who escaped, ser? They will claim we attacked them.”

“You have been most creative so far. I am sure you will find a way.” Jeslek shrugged, and the chaos continued to build around him. “Captain Klybel is forming your escort right now. He will also provide some extra rations for you. It is best you do not have to forage. I would like you to leave as quickly as possible.” Another false and quick smile followed. “We have made our point, and will also be returning to Fairhaven shortly.”

Cerryl preferred the more direct speech Jeslek had used when Cerryl had been a more junior student mage.

“Best you prepare,” Jeslek suggested pointedly.

“Yes, ser.” Cerryl bowed and turned. Even before he was a dozen steps away, Jeslek had summoned Anya.

“Anya. . I’d like you and Fydel to ride south-just a kay or so-to the end of that ridge, and study the area. Have Fydel scree it for Gallosians. I’ll need to trace the chaos lines there. I’d like you to leave immediately. .”

Cerryl frowned as he walked back toward where he and the other students had camped and where the chestnut was tethered.

“What was that about?” asked Lyasa. “Should I ask?”

Cerryl glanced around. Kochar was nowhere in sight. “Jeslek has insisted that I go to be an assistant to Sverlik in Fenard. I have to do something for him and Sverlik. As a test.”

“After this?” Lyasa also glanced around, then back to Cerryl, her olive-brown eyes filled with concern.

“After this. One does not argue with an overmage.” He glanced along the road to where Jeslek had dismissed Anya. “I would like another favor. Jeslek says you’re headed back to Fairhaven before long. Would you tell Myral? Just Myral?”

“I can do that.” Lyasa paused. “I’d rather tell Leyladin, and let her tell him. I don’t see him often, and people would notice. I can trust her.”

“If you think so.” He smiled as he strapped his pack on the gelding. “AH right. Thank you.”

Klybel rode past, leading a line of lancers-doubtless Cerryl’s escort. The captain did not look at Cerryl.

“You be careful,” cautioned Lyasa.

“As careful as I can be.”

“Cerryl!” called Jeslek.

The student mage untethered the chestnut and began to lead his mount toward the group around Jeslek.

“Good luck,” whispered Lyasa.

“Thank you.”

All of the lancers were mounted, save one-an armsman with a single silver bar on his left tunic collar who inclined his head.

“This is Undercaptain Ludren, young Cerryl,” said Klybel. “Your escort will be a half-score. That should be large enough to deter brigands and small enough not to alarm the people of Gallos.” The lancer captain leaned forward and extended a folded parchment square. “This is a map of the main roads of Gallos. We trust it is accurate.”

Cerryl took the map with a nod. “Thank you.”

“If you are attacked, you have leave to defend yourself, but I would encourage you not to use your powers against any except those who do attack you.” Jeslek’s voice was mild, reasonable, and Cerryl could sense that the chaos around the overmage had begun to subside.

“I will use what powers I have,” Cerryl answered as he mounted the chestnut, “only if attacked.”

“Good.”

Ludren remounted, then looked at Cerryl.

“Whenever you are ready, Undercaptain.”

Ludren nodded and turned his mount westward on the Great White Highway.

Cerryl’s lips tightened as he could sense a screen of chaos rising behind them, one that doubtless blurred his departure. Sterol has set you as a check to Jeslek, and Jeslek wants you removed in a manner not to be traced to him.

Still, there was nothing he dared do. Not yet. His lips tightened. Perhaps not ever, but definitely not yet. He flicked the reins and let the chestnut pull alongside the undercaptain and his mount.