CLXXVII
As soon as she seated herself at the table in the High Wizard’s quarters, Anya raised her eyebrows. “Come. Show us what your precious smith has done now, Cerryl.”
“I would be most happy to show you what Jeslek’s precious smith has done,” answered the High Wizard, pausing to blot sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He concentrated, and the silver mists formed, then parted.
A small schooner with sails was tied at a sturdy stone pier. The ship’s sails were furled, and a black pipe protruded from the main deck. Beside the schooner was a small two-masted fishing boat and, on the other side, another ship, jet-black, without masts, but with a slant-sided deckhouse, an open cylinder behind it, and smooth, curved hull lines. Workers attached black metal plates to the rear of the Black ship’s deckhouse. The three White wizards studied the scene in the mirror.
“What in darkness is it?” asked Fydel.
“Do we really want to find out?” Cerryl’s voice was sardonic. “You can sense the order he has poured into the iron.”
“Cerryl dear, you are so cautious. Look at the hillside. Those are tents beyond the first houses. Clearly, this… settlement is scarcely begun.”
Fydel raised his eyebrows. “The stone buildings appear rather solid, Anya.”
“As do the piers,” added Cerryl.
“You… men! If you can call yourselves that. We need to stop this before the Black Council decides this smith should build more such vessels. Right now, all he has is two small ships and a fishing boat and a few buildings. We wait much longer, and it gets that much harder.”
Cerryl cleared his throat. “Anya, we are not in the Council Chamber. The Guild has agreed to your plan. The southern fleet is already gathering in the Great North Bay. Within the next two eight-days, depending on the winds, it will be ready to set forth-exactly according to your plans.” He offered the redhead a broad smile. “What else would you have us do?”
“You are too accommodating, Cerryl.” Anya’s voice was smooth. “But I appreciate your thoughtfulness. I do trust that the fleet’s departure will be as you have projected and that there will be sufficient troop support to level this Black settlement.”
“You wish to prove to the Blacks that we can strike even upon their beloved isle?”
“It would aid our effort, would it not?” asked the redheaded wizard.
“If you so believe, then I bow to your wisdom, and I will make certain that all understand your words and observations.” Cerryl inclined his head. “I will ensure that the fleet leaves as you have planned. With some lancer detachments aboard.”
“Thank you.” Anya stepped back and inclined her head. “By your leave, Highest of High Wizards?”
“Of course.” Cerryl inclined his head in return, standing and watching as she left, waiting until she was outside his apartments.
Fydel waited impassively until the door shut. “You push her too much, Cerryl. With all her supporters, she could have your head tomorrow.”
“Perhaps. But would you want this position? Now, particularly?” The High Wizard looked down at the amulet, then turned and glanced out the window into the hot late-summer day, where the white-orange sun burned through the green-blue sky. Too bad you cannot remove her as you did Lyam and the others…but too many in the Guild know of your skills that way, and all would turn on you… now, anyway.
Fydel shook his head.
“Only the young bulls like Muerchal would want to be High Wizard.” Cerryl laughed and turned back to Fydel. “Mages like Disarj, Gorsuch-even Heralt and Lyasa-would have him turning in circles within days. Old and cautious as Kinowin and Redark are, either would be a far better High Wizard.”
“They don’t wish to be,” suggested Fydel. “It takes strength and skill, and cunning. You and Anya are the only ones left with such, save Gorsuch and Disarj, and both of them are rock lizards.” Fydel stood.
“You have your strengths,” Cerryl pointed out. “I would like you to consider being the fleet commander.”
“Me? If all is not well with the ships…”
“Anya will blame me, and then you.” Cerryl frowned, then added, “You have seen me. You know I do not lay my failures on others.”
The square-bearded mage shook his head. “You do not, but Anya would.”
“If you do not command, then she will seek someone like Muerchal or Zurchak-and then, should anything be amiss, she will blame you for not putting your expertise to work for the Guild.” Cerryl grinned lopsidedly. “After she blames me before the entire Guild for not insisting that you take the post.”
Fydel laughed. “Best I make preparations to go to Lydiar.” His face clouded, then cleared, and he nodded somberly. “By your leave?”
Cerryl nodded in return. As the door closed, Cerryl’s eyes went to the papers on the side of the desk, with the commission for Brental from Wertel, who, at Cerryl’s request, had found some buyers interested in quality-cut timbers and planks. You hope that it will help more than a little. Brental had been as good as his father to Cerryl when the High Wizard had been a sawmill boy there.
Can you repay them all? Probably not, but you have to try… just as you have to try to be the best High Wizard-knowing you can’t be.
CLXXVIII
I understand Cerryl has suggested that you command the fleet.“ Anya glanced across the table to Fydel, then at Cerryl. Her pale eyes avoided Leyladin. ”I thought I was directing the plan.“
“I have followed your plan, Anya.” Cerryl poured more water into his goblet and then into Leyladin’s.
Even as Leyladin took a sip of the chaos-cleaned water, the healer’s dark green eyes never left Anya.
“Then, you will direct the fleet, Fydel.” Anya smiled winningly. “I had wanted you, but I had hoped the High Wizard would let me tell you that.”
Cerryl kept his face impassive.
The wizard with the square-cut brown beard frowned, looking from the High Wizard to Anya. “You want me to go against that demon ship? It’s seaworthy now, and it moves faster than the other one.”
“It’s only one ship, and you’ll have a dozen well-armed war schooners,” Anya replied. “Besides, you don’t even have to land. Just use your skills to fire the town.”
“What if the… whatever he is… comes after us?”
“You sink his ship,” Cerryl said quietly. “I recall your once saying that would be possible were you in command. You’re the wizard in charge.”
“Fine. I’ll need some more assistants.”
“Pick whom you need. Except for Lyasa and Heralt-I need them to make sure the tariff coins keep flowing from the northlands. Let me know, though, and I’ll inform those you pick.”
Fydel pursed his lips, then inclined his head. “By your leave?” After Fydel had departed and the tower door had closed again, Cerryl massaged his forehead and looked out the window into the cold rain pelting Fairhaven. “Demon-damned rain, always gives me a headache.”
The redheaded woman sat, legs crossed, before the table. The circular mirror that lay upon the white oak was blank. She smiled, first at Leyladin, then at Cerryl.
“You really don’t care if we win, do you?” asked Cerryl. “What ever gave you that idea?”
“Everyone who supported you has been given a position on those fleets. At your request. That’s a page from Hartor’s book.”
“You’ve read a great deal of history. It makes you much more appealing.” Anya paused. “I did not select them all. Some you added.”
“That is true, but was that not what you wanted?” The High Wizard fingered the amulet once worn by a High Wizard named Hartor and more recently by Sterol. “If they win, they owe you-”
“They owe you, High Wizard.”
“That is so thoughtful of you.” Cerryl inclined his head to Anya. “Humor me, if you please, and listen. You owe me that, at least.”
Anya smiled faintly, but only with her mouth.
“If we somehow destroy or humiliate this Black builder of magic ships, then all your supporters will be indebted. If this unknown Black proves as great as, say, Creslin, then no one is left to challenge you. And,” Cerryl added wryly, “like Hartor, no one will want this position for at least a decade, or until their memories grow somewhat fainter. You are rather astute, Anya dear.” He paused. “Of course, if they fail, but return, then I will follow Sterol.”
“Then why did you accept my proposition?” Anya asked.
“Why not? All life is a gamble. Besides, like Sterol, I suspect attacking Recluce is doomed to failure.”
“You admit that and yet are sending out those fleets?”
“I could be wrong.” Cerryl smiled.
“So you could.” Anya returned the smile, stood, and stepped around the table toward him, lips parted. She bent down and brushed his cheek.
Cerryl took the kiss, and the swirl of sandalwood scent and chaos, without wincing.
Anya glanced at Leyladin. “I trust you do not mind, healer. He has been most helpful.”
The White mage’s smile was broad and false.
“I am glad for you, Anya.” Leyladin’s eyes were cold, her voice level.
“You are such a coward, Cerryl.” The redhead stepped away.
“That is one way of putting it, and I admit it.” He laughed gently.
“If there were anyone else… anyone who could be High Wizard…”
“There isn’t.” Cerryl smiled as falsely as she had. “Not who needs you.”
“You must remember that, especially before the next full meeting of the Guild,” Anya said, overly sweetly, inclining her head briefly to Leyladin. “And you also, healer.”
Cerryl did not wipe his cheek until the door shut.
“I hate her. Did you have to let her do that?”
“Let her kiss me? No. I could turn her into ash and have half the Guild at my neck.”
“You’re stronger than all those left here.”
Cerryl nodded. “But I can’t fight them all, day after day. You know I’m working on it. If I let Anya humiliate me in private… well… there’s less chance she’ll expect what’s coming.”
“She’s planning more than a confrontation before the Guild,” predicted Leyladin. “There aren’t that many who will follow her. Not if you show your power.”
“Probably, but what is she planning? I’ve checked with the lancers and the lancer officers. The companies that were loyal to her were the ones I sent to the southern fleet. Every one of her four young mages- Muerchal, Zurchak, Aalkiron… and the other one… I can’t remember his name…”
“Giustyl,” Leyladin supplied.
“They’re with Fydel and the fleet. Broka is also her tool, but I can’t do much about him. Still, he’s about the only older one left here, except maybe Gyskas, and I can’t see what he sees in her…”
“Lust… sex.” The healer smiled. “Even High Wizards have been known to experience it.”
“Woman…”
“Well? Can you deny it?” Her smile grew broader. “No.” Cerryl frowned. “We’ll have to watch those two closely, but neither is that strong in chaos.”
“Treachery of some sort, then.” Leyladin frowned. “I think I’ll have some of Father’s trade guards watch the house at night.”
“That couldn’t hurt. Should we sleep here?”
“At the house, they can’t tell where you sleep. It’s order-spelled against most glasses now. Besides, if Broka and Gyskas are involved, are you any safer here?”
“Probably not.”
“You could remove her…” Leyladin suggested, tentatively. “That wouldn’t work well for the future. By now, everyone knows that I can remove people without anyone seeing anything. If Anya disappears, it all points to me. And I can’t hold on as High Wizard just by sheer force. Removing people without the support of the Guild… look what happened to Sterol at the end. No one even said a word. They were all relieved. I have to position Anya as totally unreasonable… and leave her without supporters.”
Leyladin raised her eyebrows. “If you look too much to the future, we may not have one.”
“I know. I know.” The longer you’re High Wizard, the worse it seems to get. No wonder Sterol was so arbitrary. Cerryl took a deep breath.