The White Order (The Saga of Recluce #8)(85)

Why should all the gentle rain fall upon Candar and upon the lands of our enemies, and those who have sworn to destroy us? asked Creslin of Megaera. Why should we not turn the great winds so that the rains return to Recluce as they once must have fallen?

Even the faceless black mages shivered as they heard Creslin's words whisper across the barren rocks and bleached sands.

Yet none would raise his voice when Creslin and Megaera set forth to raise the waters and the skies and fought the winds of Heaven, nor was a word spoken when fires blazed out of the sky and floods of water cascaded across Recluce.

The fires burned across dry Montgren and the crops of Certis. Even the hardy oilseeds withered and dried, and the forests of Sligo blazed through the long summer.

The floods subsided, and rains fell upon Recluce, and Creslin and Megaera rejoiced, never looking into a glass or caring about the destruction which they had wrought upon Candar ...

Colors of White

(Manual of the Guild at Fairhaven)

Preface





White Order





LVII




A woman in green crossed the hall and started toward the courtyard and the front building as Cerryl stepped out of the library workroom with his map in hand-a woman in green with red-blonde hair...a young woman.

Cerryl looked for a moment, just looked. Could it be the girl from his glass? She was definitely a woman now.

He glanced toward the steps to Jeslek's quarters, then in the direction she had gone, pursing his lips. After a moment, he turned toward the courtyard. Even with that momentary delay, by the time he passed the fountain and reached the end of the foyer of the front building, she had turned and was headed up the steps to the tower.

Cerryl walked more quickly, holding the map high so that he wouldn't trip or drag it along the polished stones. He dodged around Lyasa, who gave him a questioning look, and offered a harried look that he hoped would cover his action.

Lyasa raised both eyebrows but said nothing.

By the time Cerryl reached the pair of guards at the base of the tower, breathing slightly harder than he would have liked, the young woman in green had vanished. No sound of feet echoed down the steps to the higher levels, either.

He looked at the guard standing on the right. “Hertyl... the woman who just went up the steps ... do you know her?”

“Young ser, it be not my business to know any like her.”

Cerryl caught the twinkle in the young guard's eye and grinned. “Nor I... but you might know her name.”

“I've heard that it be Leyladin. She is a merchant's daughter, but some say she also be a healer.” Hertyl nodded toward the steps. “I do not ask where she visits.”

Cerryl paused.

The older guard cleared his throat.

Cerryl understood the signal. “Thank you.” He looked at the map he held and then at the guards, nodding to both. “Best I be going. Good day.”

“Good day to you, young ser.”

Cerryl walked quickly, if slightly more deliberately, back toward Jeslek's quarters.

The red-blonde hair-it could be no one else. But what was she doing in the Halls of the Mages? Just a healer? Or something else? His thoughts went back to Benthann's comments-sex? Was she the mistress or consort-to-be of a white mage? Of one of the older mages?

His fingers curled until his hands were almost fists, and he took a slow and silent deep breath, trying to relax. He had no claim on her. He didn't even know her, and she certainly didn't even know he existed. Why was he reacting so violently?

Besides, Jeslek had asked to see the map, and he dared not hasten, not after chasing the woman-Leyladin, not woman-practically to the white tower. Another test? Had Jeslek sent her past him?

He shivered but left the front foyer hall and started across the courtyard.

“Why were you in such a hurry?” Lyasa stood by the fountain, clearly waiting for him. Her olive brown eyes pinned him.

“I got flustered ...” That was certainly true enough. He inclined his head to the map. “Jeslek wants to see this, and I found myself going in the wrong direction.”

“In more ways than one.” Lyasa shook her head, adding a wry smile. “She's an apprentice healer or some such. You're an apprentice white. You want to kill both of you? Black and white don't mix that way.”

“I didn't know.” Cerryl could feel his face fall, but a sense of elation followed. Leyladin ... she probably wasn't a test by Jeslek, at least.

“That's obvious. It's one of the things we have to live with.” Lyasa reached out and patted his shoulder. “At least you're not watching Anya ... the way Faltar does.”

Cerryl didn't know what to say.

“You understand that.” Lyasa's tone was low and matter-of-fact. “Now... if Jeslek wanted you, you'd better hurry. He's not all that patient.”

“No ... he's not.”

With an indulgent smile, Lyasa touched his shoulder again, then watched as he hurried across the courtyard and into the hall toward the steps. Again, he was breathing hard by the time he reached the back of the building.

Gostar, the guard outside Jeslek's quarters, nodded as Cerryl approached. Cerryl stepped past the armed guard and rapped on the door. “Cerryl, ser, as you requested.”

“Come in.” Jeslek's voice resonated through the closed white oak door.