The White Order (The Saga of Recluce #8)(153)

Cerryl looked forward to bathing, really bathing and shaving. He'd wished all along that he'd taken the bronze razor Leyladin had given him, but all that would have to wait. He needed to get to Myral-and a few others-speedily.

Once he entered the hall, he moved quickly, dumping his pack and gear in the corner of the commons. He'd thought about using the light shield, but that could have been construed as an admission of guilt and allowed Jeslek, should Cerryl have run into the overmage, to attack immediately.

Heralt stopped Cerryl outside the commons as he headed toward the fountain courtyard. “Cerryl... I heard you'd disappeared ...”

“No. That was what Jeslek wanted everyone to think. He sent me on a special task.” Cerryl pointed toward the courtyard. “I have to report. If you want to walk with me ...”

Heralt eased beside him as Cerryl crossed the courtyard. The wind whipped chill spray over both students.

“I had to go to Fenard... the Gallosians managed to kill most of my escort, and it took a while to get back. I was supposed to give Sverlik a hand, but the perfect killed him before I got there.” Cerryl glanced at Heralt. “Please don't tell anyone this-except Sterol, if he asks.”

“I can live with that.” Heralt smiled. “I'd better let you tell him.” The curly-haired student stopped at the archway to the front hall and the foyer that led to the mages' tower.

Cerryl stepped inside. The foyer was empty, and he crossed it and went up the steps to the bottom level of the tower. He marched past the guards, and the messenger from the creche in red, not even looking at them, and up the steps toward Myral's quarters. He'd figured that Jeslek wouldn't have told the guards anything, particularly since they reported to Sterol-or maybe Kinowin. He wasn't totally sure, but he doubted he'd find Jeslek in the tower.

Panting heavily after his quick climb, he rapped on Myral's door. There was no response. He rapped again.

“Cerryl?”

“Yes, ser.” Cerryl stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, closing the door behind him.

Myral looked up, his round face annoyed. He sat by the table, stripped to the waist, and Leyladin was massaging his shoulders. “You could have waited ...” The older mage cleared his throat. “Cerryl... I had not heard that you had returned ...”

“You are the first to know. Jeslek gave me a test.”

“He said you vanished.”

“I am not surprised.” Cerryl snorted. “I thought that might be the case.” The younger man glanced at Leyladin, his eyes meeting her green orbs. He swallowed, almost feeling as though he were falling into her eyes, then pulled himself more erect.

Myral laughed. “The great Jeslek is always doing things his way.” He pulled his shirt and tunic back into place. “Leyladin told me you had set out to become an assistant to Sverlik. How did that go?”

“I didn't tell Lyasa the whole story. Jeslek instructed me to become Sverlik's assistant so that I could kill the prefect. He said it was a test I needed to pass before I became a full mage.” Cerryl's smile was bitter. “One that would prove my devotion to Fairhaven.”

“You believed him?”

“No. I believed I had no choice. And after briefly overhearing Lyam, I have to admit that the overmage was right about the prefect.”

Leyladin watched Cerryl intently, concern in her green eyes.

Myral sat up straight and scratched his head, then looked at Cerryl. “And the prefect?”

“He's dead. I killed him with chaos-fire, as Jeslek instructed me. But he-the prefect-had Sverlik killed before I reached Fenard. After I left my escort, the Gallosians killed them, too.” Cerryl worried at his upper lip with his teeth. “I didn't expect... so much death.”

“Where Jeslek is concerned, that seems to occur.” Myral coughed, and Leyladin leaned forward intently. After several not-quite-racking coughs, the older mage straightened. “Age and chaos ... not good for the health. Nor surprises.”

“I'm sorry. It wasn't my idea. I mean, coming to you was, but it was Jeslek's idea to have me kill the prefect.”

“How would you deal with this?” asked Myral, his tone even, not judgmental.

“I would like you to see if we could meet with Sterol. Jeslek, I hope, doesn't know I'm back yet.”

“You didn't walk through-”

“I took some precautions, but I didn't see him. I couldn't very well stop him from screeing me, if he chose to do that.”

“No... you couldn't, but you're probably well beneath his sight. Now ... I wasn't clear, and I want to be sure. This test of Jeslek's-that was... ?”

“To remove the prefect of Gallos.”

“Oh, dear. He actually said that was the test? And you were successful?”

Cerryl nodded.

“That will cause problems-but not so much as your surviving.” Myral heaved himself to his feet, then glanced at Leyladin. “Best you go your way for a while, young lady. My shoulders are better, and this young fellow doesn't need to be distracted by your presence.” The older mage laughed. “Don't think I don't see things when they're right before my eyes. Black and white ... bah .. . it's not that simple, not that I'd be telling either the High Wizard or that overbearing clod Jeslek.”