The White Order (The Saga of Recluce #8)(66)



“That?” Tellis's head twitched. “Oh, the manual for Nivor? If you can keep the letter width thin enough. That last page is barely passable. For a journeyman, yes, but not from Tellis the scrivener.” He frowned. “You aren't listening to me these days, not enough.”

“I try, ser. I'm cutting the nibs the way you showed me yesterday, and I am comparing the letters to the gauge.”

“You shouldn't have to compare. You should know.”

“Yes, ser.” Cerryl lifted the quill.

“See that you do.”

The apprentice nodded.

“I still don't understand about the mages ... Sterol trusts me with all of his books. Why would he send lesser mages into my shop? Why?”

Cerryl kept breathing evenly and took out his penknife to resharpen the quill. After working on it, he stood by the copy desk, waiting, hoping he could either get on with the copying or go on an errand.

“My shop,” Tellis repeated. “Why would any mage come to my shop? My shop, of all others.”

“Stop moaning, Tellis,” interrupted Beryal from the doorway. “If they'd a wanted you on the road, you'd be pounding rocks already. Your high and mighty Sterol would a squashed you like a ground lizard under his shiny white boots. Same's for your apprentice there. They were looking for something. They didn't find it here. Count yourself lucky, and stop moaning. If they were after you, you wouldn't be getting copy work.”

Cerryl wanted to sigh in relief, or smile. He didn't.

“Beryal... you are not the one to lecture me.” Tellis turned and glared at the older woman.

“I be telling you I'm on my way to the market, ser.” Beryal inclined her head. “Deria said there were some tender chickens a-coming from Howlett. Some roast fowl would do us all good. Course, I'd need a half silver or so, for that and all else you'd be needing.”

Tellis sighed, then looked at Cerryl. “You can do what you can with Ivor's book. Keep the letters slender. When I get back, you can scrub the floor in the front room.”

“Yes, ser.”

“After that, you can scrub down the courtyard.”

“Yes, ser.”

“The market, ser?” prompted Beryal. “You'd not be wanting me to be the last one in line for a fowl, you know?”

Tellis gave another sigh and marched out of the workroom, Beryal trailing him.

Cerryl felt like sighing, and did, if silently.





White Order





XLVI




Cerryl was only halfway through the workroom door when Tellis barked, “Cerryl, the letters on this sheet are too wide. It's near worthless. Nivor won't pay for such sloppy work. I'll have to redo this page and the one before it.” Tellis lifted the sheets of vellum. “All these are good for is palimpsests-for low-coin copy work.”

“Yes, ser. If you like, I can copy them over with narrower letters.” Cerryl kept his voice even, standing just inside the doorway.

“Why didn't you do it that way to begin with?” Tellis's voice took on a tone that almost verged on whining. “I've showed you time and time again.”

“I thought I was doing it the way you wanted, ser.” Cerryl struggled to keep his voice even and subservient.

“It is not the way I taught you. Can't you get anything right?” Tellis waved the vellum.

Cerryl did not answer.

“Can't you? I have spent seasons instructing you, and you still make your letters too wide.” The scrivener's eyes flicked to Cerryl and then toward the doorway to the front room. “I never had white mages in the shop, except to purchase books. Now... we are watched and questioned. What do you say to that?”

“Ser, I have done nothing wrong.” Clearly, any answer would be useless, but not answering would be worse.

“The only thing you do right is run errands and scrub the floor. Even your ink will fade before its time.”

“Yes, ser.” Cerryl understood. For some reason, Tellis did not want to throw Cerryl out on the street, but he was going to make life impossible for his apprentice ... so impossible that Cerryl would not stay. Yet at the moment, he dared not leave, not if his feelings were accurate, and they were all he had to guide him.

“All your wages-what I owe you-would not pay for the vellum you have ruined.”

“You may have my wages, ser. I would not displease you.”

“You have displeased me.” Tellis sniffed. “Go empty the chamber pots.”

“Yes, ser.”

“And wash them.”

“Yes, ser.”

“Wash them well.”

Cerryl bowed and turned.

“Then you can go to the Tenderer's for hoofs. I need to make binding glue.”

“Yes, ser.”

As he stepped out of the workroom, the apprentice could still hear Tellis muttering.

“A favor for Dylert... and where does it get me? Because he helped my son ... and still, where, light forbid, is the justice in it? This may right the balance, if I can but survive.”

Cerryl stepped into the kitchen, wondering what he could do, and how he could stay, at least until the white mages lost interest in him.

“Where you be going?” asked Beryal.

L. E. Modesitt Jr.'s Books