The White Order (The Saga of Recluce #8)(105)

“Yes, ser. It's been hard work.”

Myral nodded to himself, sipped his cider, coughed, and cleared his throat. “Have you found anything else interesting?”

“Besides branches near the grates, a few soggy chunks of vellum scraped clean ... no.”

“No bodies ... weapons, or scrap iron?”

“No, ser.” Cerryl frowned. “Scrap iron?”

“Sometimes it happens. Don't use chaos-fire on it. You're not ready for that.” Myral set down the mug and stretched. “These old bones get stiff. I'll be glad when summer comes. I might even want to go to Ruzor-for a visit-or somewhere warm.”

“Ruzor?”

“Everywhere east of the Westhorns where there's a port, there's a member of the brotherhood and a detachment of lancers. Ruzor gets a great deal of trade from Southport and Summerdock, even from Recluce. Especially from Recluce.” Myral's eyebrows waggled.

“Ser ... everyone talks around Recluce. Why? I mean, Eliasar laughs about Recluce. He says they have no warships, and they haven't ever-I mean, according to the histories-they haven't tried to send armsmen to take things here, not since Creslin the Black raided Lydiar, and that was a long time ago ...”

“Two hundred eighty-seven years ago at the first turn of summer, according to the records.”

“Oh.”

“It's in the Guild records, the sealed ones, but you can figure it out from the histories.” Myral's eyes hardened and focused on the younger mage. “Cerryl... power is measured not solely by warships and arms-men.” Myral coughed again, almost rackingly, cleared his throat, and sipped more of the hot cider. “Fairhaven maintains armsmen and lancers, and they are paid in part by the trade duties on all the roads Fairhaven has built, but especially on the Great White Highways, and in part from the levies on the trades here in Fairhaven itself. Have you asked what happens if Recluce sends cheaper wool-or better wool for the same coinage for a stone's bundle of wool-to Tyrhavven or Spidlaria? What if the traders of Gallos or Spidlar buy their wool from Recluce instead of Montgren? Or pearapples or oilseeds from Recluce instead of from Certis or Hydlen?”

“Not so many traders use the roads?”

“Exactly.” Myral set the mug on the table with a thump. “Less traders on the Great White Roads means fewer road tariffs and fewer coins to pay our lancers.”

“Could we not tariff the cargoes from Recluce?”

“Ah...” Myral smiled. “Someone could ... but the port of Spidlaria does not owe allegiance to Fairhaven. Lydiar and Renklaar do, and we could insist on tariffs there. But... say you are a trading captain, and the taxes raise the price of your cargo in Lydiar but not in Spidlaria, would you not increase your price less than the tariff and-”

“Port it in Spidlaria?” asked Cerryl.

The older mage nodded. “It is more complex than that, young Cerryl, and something you need not worry about yet, but that was exactly why Creslin the Black raided Lydiar those long years ago. He needed ships and freedom to trade. Now ... Recluce has both.” Myral smiled sadly. “Sterol is talking about how we may need to place mages aboard our ships-and those of our friends and allies-to protect them. I hope it does not come to that, but it may.”

“Eliasar said we were building warships,” Cerryl prompted.

“We have always had warships. A land that cannot protect its traders upon the seas soon has no traders. Now ... enough of that. You need to get to work if you are to complete your duties as you plan.”

“Which sewer tunnels did Kesrik clean?” Cerryl asked after a moment of silence.

“Does it matter?” A soft smile crossed Myral's lips, one that bothered Cerryl. “You all clean secondaries.”

“I was curious.” Cerryl forced a shrug. “Did he-I guess it doesn't matter.”

“It matters to you, or you wouldn't have asked.” Myral's tone was dry.

“Yes, ser.”

“You know, Cerryl... you blaze too much.”

Cerryl's mouth started to open, and he swallowed, almost choking on the bit of cider he hadn't swallowed.

“This should come later, but, if I don't tell you now, you may not be around later.” Myral took a deep breath and glanced toward the tower door. “Jeslek has gone to Gallos, and Sterol and Anya are otherwise occupied-for the moment.”

“When a mage feels strongly or is about to gather chaos and does not shield himself, the chaos around him flares-or blazes. That's one reason why Jeslek always seems so powerful. Chaos almost radiates from him. Sterol is almost as powerful, yet he seems mild, withdrawn. He shields his power, much as you shield yourself from chaos in the sewer-or maybe it's better described as ordering chaos so that it is held rather than dispersed.” Myral shrugged. “Right now, you're like a young Jeslek, spraying power everywhere. If you hadn't been an orphan or a scrivener's apprentice, where no one thought to look, Sterol would have slapped you into the creche years ago-or had you suffocated.”

Cerryl waited.

“Sterol's worried about Recluce-again, and for the reasons I just told you. You can thank the blacks and the new prefect of Gallos for your survival, I suspect. But... you're a possible rival to Jeslek. Once Sterol goes, Jeslek won't want you around.”