The White Order (The Saga of Recluce #8)(76)

Then there was the continued reference to light. Even in the scary dream he had had at Tellis's where Anya, the red-haired mage, had been invisible, she had mentioned the power of light. But what was the power of light? How could he find out? So far, Colors of White hadn't said much directly, and he was almost through the second half-the first time.

He thought about Jeslek's questions. No... he definitely wasn't through studying the book-not if he wanted to survive. His stomach gurgled and growled, probably because he'd not been able to eat that much in the morning, knowing that he was to be examined by Jeslek, and also because he'd had a headache from the heavy rain.

He decided to go by the meal hall. There might be something left.

“You look famished, young mage,” called one of the serving boys, looking up from a broom and dust holder. The blond youth in the red tunic of the creche flashed a smile. “There's still some bread there, and I'll just have to throw it out.”

“Thank you.” With a grateful smile, Cerryl took the crusty end section left in the basket, letting his senses check it quickly before picking it up. It held no chaos he could detect, and he broke off a piece and chewed carefully, his thoughts still on light. He couldn't do anything with chaos, but that didn't mean he couldn't think about it.

After finishing the bread and quieting the growling in his stomach, Cerryl walked down the corridor to his cell, where he paused to reclaim Colors of White. He paused a moment longer, certain that someone else had been in the room, although none of his meager possessions-or his books-were missing.

He smiled. Nothing would be missing, not that he would miss the loss of most of what he had-except for the difficulty it would cause. With his abrupt removal from Tellis's house, he had lost the only possession he really missed having-the old amulet that Syodor had said was his father's.

Theft wasn't tolerated in the Halls of the Mages, and the higher mages could tell when someone lied. So if Cerryl said something had been stolen, and told the truth, someone else would be in great difficulty. Cerryl didn't even want to consider the situation he'd be in if he lied.

He tucked the ancient tome under his arm and continued on down the corridor to the study.

Faltar and Lyasa were the only students there. Lyasa was buried in a huge volume Cerryl had never seen, though he couldn't make out the title. He slid onto the stool at one of the empty tables and opened Colors of White. The study wasn't that warm, perhaps because of the earlier rain, and the late summer sky was still cloudy. But the study chamber was close, almost warmly clammy, and Cerryl could feel the dampness gathered in his tunic.

“Cerryl?” Faltar had moved to the stool opposite him. “How did it go?”

“He asked me a lot of questions. The worst was the one about chaos being all-powerful, yet being limited by order.” Cerryl opened Colors but did not look down, his eyes still on the slender Faltar.

“He asked you that?” Faltar shook his head. “I've been studying Colors for over half a year, and Derka hasn't been that hard on me. The High Wizard must want you to suffer.”

Did Sterol? Or was he after something else?

“I don't know.” Cerryl smiled faintly. “It doesn't matter. I still have to know what he wants me to learn. There's no choice, is there, really?”

“Sometimes ... sometimes, Cerryl, you're scarier than the High Wizard.”

“Me?”

“The way you accept things. I'd have trouble.”

“No. You wouldn't. Because you wouldn't, they don't try.” That was clear enough to Cerryl. He was being tested in more ways than one, and he had no choices. None at all.





White Order





LII




As the door opened, Cerryl and Kesrik stepped back to the wall out of deference and habit.

The ruddy-faced and rugged-looking mage with the purple blotch on his cheek smiled at Jeslek. “Greetings.” His eyes fixed on Jeslek, who seemed slender by comparison, and ignored the two student mages.

“How might I be of service?” Jeslek's low voice was smooth, almost resonant, as he glanced at the taller mage who had just entered his chambers.

Kinowin bowed to Jeslek. His white collar bore the same golden sunburst as did Jeslek's. Cerryl didn't remember it from when Kinowin had brought him to the tower. Had it been granted at the last meeting of the white mages?

“With the road tariffs and the trade problems with the accursed isle, the High Wizard has asked how far the Great White Road can be used.”

“It's somewhere beyond Tellura,” answered Jeslek. “If you will wait but a moment, I will offer a more precise reply. Not that such precision will be of great use to His Mightiness.”

“As you see fit.”

Cerryl could sense the tension between the two but didn't fully understand it, since, according to student gossip, both shared a dislike of Sterol. Then, he'd come to understand early that people always made their lives more difficult than necessary.

“I do,” answered Jeslek. “One should be as precise as possible when serving the High Wizard, even when precision is meaningless.”

Cerryl watched, with both eyes and senses, as Jeslek stood before the table and concentrated on his screeing. Standing beside Cerryl, Kesrik looked-and felt-totally bored, as though he'd seen the process over and over.