CLXIII
Cerryl glanced past Layel, past the polished wooden railing of the Western Sun, toward the dark gray waters of the harbor and beyond, toward the Northern Ocean.
Layel clapped Cerryl on the back. “Best I stay here, but Wandrel will get you there.” The balding trader grinned. “Better quarters here, and the crew is safer, too. The Western Sun’s a good ship.”
“I’m sure she is:”
“Besides, this way Wertel can send back more of that dried fruit and those tools and blades I agreed to get for the sawmill fellow. Still think he can make the kind of planks that the Sligan yards need, and that will mean more golds in tariffs.”
Cerryl gave a half-smile. “I’m glad you came here.”
“Except for the cold… I am, too. Don’t have to worry about what Muneat’s doing or whether I can get haulers or wagons…” Layel laughed. “Could talk your ear off, and you best be going.” The balding trader frowned and looked directly at Cerryl. “You sure you don’t want some guards once you get to Lydiar?”
“No. Just a pair of mounts. No one will remember I was there.”
“Mage stuff?”
“Magery,” Cerryl confirmed.
“You coming back soon?”
“Probably not.” // you’re successful you’ll stay, and if you’re not… you’ll be dead-or mind-blind and working on the road crew.
“Feared of that. Well… you know how I feel. Try to keep that daughter of mine in line.”
“More likely, she’ll keep me in line.”
Layel nodded a last time, then climbed slowly over the railing and scrambled down the gangway to the wharf. “She’s yours, Master Wandrel.”
“Single up the lines!”
Cerryl stepped back and watched as the crew began the effort to take the Western Sun out of the harbor and back to Lydiar.
Toward what? Cerryl had kept checking the glass, watching Kinowin and Leyladin, but both seemed to continue their daily routines, from what Cerryl could tell, and he dared not use the glass on those he distrusted the most, fearing that alone would tell them too much.
His eyes went to the north and the colder waters of the Northern Ocean beyond the breakwater.
CLXIV
Cerryl sat in the chair in Leyladin’s bedchamber, half-nodding off. He really needed to sleep, but he didn’t dare, not until he knew she was back in the house. Both horses were groomed and stabled, more quickly than he’d anticipated, because he’d been too tired to refuse Soaris’s help. Cerryl had washed and changed, since he hadn’t liked the way he’d smelled and he could do that while he waited.
Outside the bedchamber window, the fall wind whispered through the late afternoon, not nearly so cold as in Spidlaria, though the trees had shed the leaves they would shed and the winter leaves had all grayed, giving the forests along the White highway between Lydiar and Fairhaven a depressing gray look, since no snow had yet fallen.
He jerked awake and glanced toward the door. The mansion remained silent, except for the muted clanking from the kitchen where Meridis labored over something. He dozed off slightly, until he heard a door through his stupor and immediately awakened, glancing around.
The bedchamber door opened, and Leyladin, still wearing a dark green woolen cloak over her healer greens, burst into the room. “You’re here! How did you do it? No one knows where you are.” The dark green eyes contained both love and wonder.
Cerryl smiled, feeling not nearly so tired. “A little magery. You remember I showed you?” He didn’t feel like explaining in detail how the blur shield didn’t alert chaos wielders and made those who used screeing slide over his image.
“That was a long time ago… and you still amaze me.”
“I’m here, and glad no one knows. Very glad.” For more than a few reasons.
Her arms went around him. “It’s good to hold you.”
“It’s good to be held-and to hold you.”
After some moments, she stepped back. “Father?”
“He’s fine. He’s already set up and bringing in golds, mumbling the whole time about how he’s too old to do it and how Spidlaria is too cold. Then he figures out some other business to set up and someone else to run it for him. He thinks he can sell timber to Spidlar.”
Leyladin laughed. “Father.”
“He’s safer there, I think. He’s a trader, and they’d rather have a trader, even one from Fairhaven, than armsmen and lancers and mages.”
“Fairhaven… you don’t think it will be safe here?”
“For your sisters… it’s safe. For your father or you or me?” Cerryl shook his head slowly, then drew her close again, holding on tightly.
After a time, she disengaged herself. “How are you going to take on Sterol? Even Kinowin says you have to.”
“Meet with Anya tomorrow and go straight to his quarters.”
“That’s dangerous, trusting her.”
“I won’t tell her I’m here. You send a messenger asking her to meet you in the fountain courtyard, but I’ll be there.” Cerryl shrugged. “I can defeat Sterol. That’s not the problem. I don’t want anyone to know I can do it. If anyone realizes I have that kind of power, they’ll turn on me because I’m so young-and so inexperienced.”
“You’re scarcely inexperienced.”
“That’s what they think, and I don’t want to take on all the older members of the Guild. Anya needs someone to run the Guild for her. It might as well be me.”
“You’re playing a dangerous role, dear one. Trusting Anya for anything is like playing with a serpent.”
“Tell me.” He rubbed his eyes. “Except Sterol is getting worse.”
“Both Kinowin and Anya warned me about Sterol. Kinowin even suggested I stay away from the White Tower these days. I’m glad you’re back.”
“Did he… Sterol… ?”
“No… nothing like that.” Yet. Cerryl swallowed.
“Sterol is controlled by Anya.” Leyladin smiled sadly. “He doesn’t even know it. She says things so that he’ll do the opposite of what she says and not realize that’s what she wants.”
“That’s the problem with her. Do you oppose her or support her? How do you ever know quite what she intends?” Cerryl glanced toward the growing darkness outside the bedchamber windows, stifling a yawn.
“Have you eaten?”
“Not enough.”
“Not nearly enough.” Her eyes danced. “Not for tonight.”
Cerryl couldn’t help grinning.