The White Order (The Saga of Recluce #8)(157)

Bealtur bobbed his head, then turned.

“No,” said Lyasa. “They'll have to make you a full mage.”

“That's what I'm hoping for,” Cerryl admitted, deciding that he should not reveal too much.

“That's all?” asked Lyasa. “You just killed the prefect and walked away?”

Cerryl sighed. “No. I sneaked in and out of Fenard. I ran out of coins. Most of the Gallosian guards were after me.” His stomach twinged at the exaggeration, and he added, “Those around the palace, anyway. The stable folk complained that I let the horse get too thin, and Jeslek wanted to say that the test wasn't enough because ... just because.”

Lyasa nodded. “He doesn't like you.”

“He doesn't like anyone who doesn't think he's really the High Wizard,” suggested Leyladin, “and that's most of the students and mages.”

Lyasa stood. “I have to meet with Esaak. He's not pleased with my mathematicks. Again.”

“Good luck,” said Cerryl. “He was never pleased with mine, either. He still isn't.”

“Lucky you.” The black-haired student walked away.

From across the table, Leyladin looked directly at Cerryl.

Cerryl took a deep breath. “It has been a long few eight-days. Very long.” His eyes went to Leyladin's, and he just looked into their depths for a time.

“You've learned a great deal,” Leyladin said quietly. One hand reached across the table and covered his. “I wasn't sure you could. Or that you'd want to.”

“I had some encouragement. I can't tell you how much encouragement.” He grinned, then glanced down. His trousers were filthy, and his boots needed work. He didn't even want to think about how he looked. “I need to clean up and then get something to eat.”

Leyladin slid a leather pouch across the table. Cerryl's eyebrows rose as he recognized it. He peered inside to check. The white-bronze razor glittered against the dark leather. “Is this a hint?”

“No. It is a strong suggestion.”

They both laughed.





White Order





CIV




Cerryl fingered his clean-shaven chin, then glanced across the front foyer, wondering why the Council was taking so long. Or was it just that it seemed long to Him?

“I can't believe this,” said Faltar, his eyes on the archway to the Council Chamber.

“You can't believe it?” asked Lyasa.

A heavyset figure waddled through the archway and across the polished stone tiles of the foyer. “Well, you three,” said Myral, a wide smile on his round face, “are you ready?”

The three exchanged glances.

“We're ready,” Cerryl finally answered.

“So am I. Just follow me, and do what Sterol says.” Myral turned back toward the archway. “It's a good idea, anyway.” After a pause, he added, “That's a joke.”

Cerryl and Lyasa followed Myral; Faltar followed them. All four walked through the archway and under the pillars that flanked the sides of the Council Chamber. Each circular pillar was gold-shot white granite, fluted, and apparently flawless. Red hangings swept from the top of one pillar to the next, in effect cloaking the capital of each. The base of each was a cube of a shimmering gold stone Cerryl did not recognize.

The floor of the chamber was comprised of polished white marble tiles that held golden swirls. An aisle led up the center of the chamber. On each side of the aisle were gold oak desks, each with a gold oak chair. Each chair had a red velvet cushion. At the eastern end of the chamber was a low dais, a mere cubit above the floor of the chamber. The dais was of the same gold-shot marble, and totally bare.

Sterol stood in the center of the dais. To the right of the High Wizard, and two steps back, were Jeslek and Kinowin, standing side by side. Cerryl caught a glimpse of Anya's red hair somewhere among all the white robes and tunics in the seats to the left of the aisle that the three student mages walked down. Even in a crowd, she stood out- and still made him wary.

In the row of desks before Anya sat Fydel, beside a mage Cerryl did not know. The unknown mage was talking in a low voice. “... don't understand it... took me years ... scrivener's apprentice ...”

Cerryl smiled to himself.

“Bealtur was here before him ...”

“You want Bealtur at your elbow?” asked Fydel. “Cerryl's solid.”

That surprised Cerryl, but he kept walking toward Sterol.

The High Wizard actually smiled as Myral stepped aside.

“High Wizard, I present the candidates for induction as full mages and members of the Guild.” Myral inclined his head, then took another step backward.

Sterol let the silence draw out for a moment, then nodded. “Cerryl, Lyasa, Faltar ... you are here because you have studied, because you have learned the basic skills of magery, and because you have proved you understand the importance of the Guild to the future of all Candar ...”

Cerryl wanted to nod at that. After seeing Fenard and Jellico, he definitely understood what Fairhaven and the Guild offered for the future of Candar.

“We hold a special trust for all mages, to bring a better life to those who follow the white way, to further peace and prosperity, and to ensure that all our talents are used for the greater good, both of those in Fairhaven, and those throughout Candar.” Sterol paused, surveying the three.