The White Order (The Saga of Recluce #8)(70)

Jeslek's quarters were on the second level at the rear of the older building-also of stone, even whiter than that of the tower itself, and about as far as possible from those of Sterol, Cerryl calculated.

A single guard in white stood by the door. “The honorable Jeslekhas requested he not be disturbed.”

“I am here from the High Wizard,” said Kinowin. “We will wait.” He motioned to the bench across the hall from the white oak doorway, then sat.

After a moment, so did Cerryl.

“Do you have any questions?” asked Kinowin, in a gentler tone seemingly at odds with his rugged appearance.

“This has been sudden...” Cerryl shook his head. “It's hard to believe I'm here.”

“That's what happens to most students,” said the mage, a warmer tone in his voice. “The talent often comes suddenly, about your age, and we try to find it before it turns dangerous.” After a moment of silence, he added, “If you don't learn how to use it properly, it can destroy you and everyone around you. Some people think that we're too harsh.” He faced Cerryl, and the purple blotch was more pronounced. “Have you ever seen a renegade white?”

“Once. He threw firebolts. Another white mage was chasing him.”

Kinowin nodded. “That's what many people see. Others see us destroy some young man who was their neighbor. What they do not see, is the twisted destruction within the man-or the deaths that follow uncontrolled use of the power.” He gave a quick dismissive headshake.

Cerryl found himself surprised at the concern in the man's voice and the momentary bleakness in Kinowin's eyes.

“To survive your talent, Cerryl, you must be absolutely obedient until you fully understand both your powers and your limits. Otherwise ...” Kinowin coughed and cleared his throat. “Otherwise, you will destroy yourself, if the Guild does not destroy you first.”

Cerryl was the one to shiver.

Abruptly, the door opened, and a white-haired mage stood there, gazing past the guard toward the two on the bench. “You might as well come in, Kinowin. How can I concentrate with you smoldering outside my chambers? Come on in.” He turned and walked into the single room.

Kinowin stood, and Cerryl scrambled erect as quickly as he could, following the blond mage. The guard closed the door behind them.

“Your guard said you did not wish to be disturbed, yet Sterol insisted that I come and await your pleasure to deliver my charge.” Kinowin bowed and gestured to Cerryl.

Jeslek's white tunic and trousers and boots shimmered. Cerryl swallowed, then quickly closed his mouth. The mage bore the face of a young man, but his hair was white and glistened. Like Sterol, Jeslek wore a golden sunburst on his collar. Unlike Sterol, he wore no amulet. Sun-gold eyes turned from Kinowin to Cerryl and then back to the rugged blond mage. “You come from the honorable Sterol today?”

Another figure in white, with the red slash across the tunic sleeves, stood silently by the table bearing the screeing glass.

Kinowin bowed yet again. “Honored Jeslek, the High Wizard bade me to convey young Cerryl here to you. You are to instruct him.” Kinowin smiled blandly.

“And ... what else? You have more to say, Kinowin?” asked Jeslek. “You act as dutiful aide only when it suits you.”

“I was bidden to inform you that you are limited to minor discipline.” The words were flat and bland.

A broad and false smile crossed Jeslek's face. Cerryl wanted to climb under the stone floor tiles on which he stood. “Ah ... I see. The honored Sterol is too engrossed to instruct his own apprentices.” After a pause, another smile followed. “You may tell the High Wizard, when his onerous and laborious duties permit him to receive you again, that I will give his apprentice every advantage that I allow my own students, and that I will treat this young man as any other.”

“I will tell him, honored Jeslek.” Kinowin bowed once more before he turned and walked quickly from the chamber.

Jeslek waited until the door opened and closed. Then the sun-gold eyes fixed on the former scrivener's apprentice. “Cerryl. Is that your name?”

“Yes, ser.”

“What did you do before you were brought to the tower?”

“I was an apprentice to Tellis the scrivener.”

“Then you know your letters?”

“Yes, ser.”

“And the old tongue?”

“Yes, ser.”

“Do you have any other skills?”

“I know something about woods, ser. I once worked for a sawmill master.”

“Good. You have worked with your hands.” A fainter smile crossed Jeslek's face. “Now you are a student mage, an apprentice mage, if you will. No matter what you may have done, or not done, you are not to attempt to work with chaos, or order, unless you are instructed to do so. If you disobey-and are caught-your mind will be bound, and you will work until you die on the white road. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ser.”

“By the way, I can tell if you have used chaos within the last eight-day, and longer. You have been careful, I can see, but the traces are there.” All hints of a smile vanished.

“Ser?” Cerryl swallowed.

“Yes?” Jeslek's voice was cold.

“Sometimes I can see when chaos has been used. Does trying to see that count as using it?”