The White Order (The Saga of Recluce #8)(98)

“Stop it,” whispered Dientyr to Ullan.

Cerryl waited until the echoes died away, and then turned the chaos-fire on the tunnel wall across the drainage way.

Whhhssttt! This time the fire arced too low, barely scouring the bricks a cubit above the water level.

Cerryl frowned. He'd done so much better before he'd started thinking about how to handle and direct the chaos-fire. Why was that? He knew he didn't want to spew fire wildly-or even half-wildly. He'd seen how little good that had done for the fugitive back at Dylert's mill.

“Less order... more chaos ...” he murmured, and tried a third time. The results were better but not much-a patch on the walkway perhaps three cubits long and one wide.

Doggedly, he kept at it, slowly scouring the bricks on the walkway and the wall. When he had a section nearly ten cubits long cleaned, he turned the fire on the scum in the drainage way. A quick-running fire burned across the surface, leaving the turbid and slow-flowing water free of the scum and an odor that mixed ashes, dung, and worse.

Slowly, he cleared the bricks, noting almost absently that he had to take longer and longer breaks between each effort... and that Ullan had started tapping the lance on the bricks again. He glanced back at an for a moment.

“Sorry, ser.” Ullan bobbed his head, and the thin mustache twitched.

Without speaking, Cerryl turned back to the work at hand.

Once, as a firebolt seared a chunk of branch, Dientyr whispered to Ullan again. “Stop banging that lance. He's no Jeslek, but he's got enough flame to fry us.”

No Jeslek? Not yet. Cerryl tightened his lips for a moment, then just let the fire fly.

WHHHSSSTTTT! The fire cascaded into the tunnel wall across the drainage way and splattered in all directions, scouring clear an irregular patch nearly ten cubits long and half again as high.

“Ulppp!” The gulp from Ullan was followed by stillness.

Cerryl smiled to himself, but the expression faded quickly. Somehow ... somehow, he had to manage to combine control with the relaxed flow of chaos... somehow. And that was hard when he still didn't really understand what he was doing.

Recalling what Myral had said, Cerryl tried to concentrate on separating chaos into a stream of red light and one of green... but that wasn't what he got. Instead, three separate beams flared-yellow, blue, and red-flashing across the slime on the walkway, leaving a hint of steam but not scouring the glazed bricks clean.

“... was that?” murmured Ullan.

“Shut up... don't know, and don't want to find out,” muttered Dientyr. “Get us both turned into ash.”

“Ooooffff.”

Even without turning, Cerryl had the feeling that Ullan had gotten an elbow, or something, in the gut. He glanced at the faint miasma of steam that dissipated as he watched. Three colors?

He took another deep breath and faced the wall across the drainage way.





White Order





LXVII




Esaak's fat hand flew across the slate, leaving behind a line of numbers “You see? If you take the area of the cross-section... Bah!” Esaak stared at Cerryl. “Do you not see?”

Cerryl was having great trouble, not with understanding why it was necessary, but with Esaak's explanations.

“You do not see why the study of mathematicks is necessary despite all I have said... despite the evidence of Fairhaven.” The heavyset mage gave a deep sigh, and his wattled jowls wobbled.

“Ser...”

“You are cleaning the sewers, are you not?”

“Yes, ser.”

“Does the water, when the sewer is clean, not flow below the drainage way?”

“Yes, ser.”

“How did the engineer who built that secondary tunnel know how big to build it? Did he just guess?”

Cerryl felt blank. He knew that the engineer couldn't have guessed. Esaak wouldn't have asked the question, but why was the older mage asking such an obvious question? “He used mathematicks.”

“Brilliant. Now ... how and why?”

How? That Cerryl didn't know. “He used mathematicks to make sure it didn't fall apart or wasn't too small. I understand that, ser. It's the formulas and the way to manipulate numbers I have trouble with.”

“Cerryl... you are so bright, and so stupid.” Esaak wiped his sweating forehead. “No ... no one ever taught you anything, did they?”

“No, ser.”

“How did you learn to read? Jeslek and Sterol say you read well-at least history and maps.”

“I persuaded a tutor of my master's daughter to teach me the letters, and I worked at her books-those she would lend me. Tellis the scrivener helped me some later.”

“It is too bad they taught you nothing of numbers. What a waste. We will do our best, though it is late in your life for such.” Esaak paused. “This formula-it shows ...” Esaak paused. “You know a watering trough? Well, the bottom of the sewer tunnel is like a trough...”

Cerryl forced himself to concentrate, hoping that he would still understand after he left Esaak's chambers and headed out to the sewer again.





White Order





LXVIII




Cerryl rapped on the brass-bound white oak door.