Colors of Chaos

Thrap.

 

Cerryl set the book down with another sigh, hoping Anya had not returned. “Yes?”

 

“Cerryl?”

 

“You can come in, Lyasa. Please.” He set the book back in its place in the bookcase and walked to the door, opening it.

 

The black-haired Lyasa wrinkled her nose as she entered. “I thought so.” Her eyes went to the bed. “Good.”

 

“What did you want?”

 

“Just to make sure you survived your last visitor. Leyladin is my friend, too.” Her olive-brown eyes rested on Cerryl. “I trust you more than most men, but Anya I trust not at all.”

 

Cerryl had to smile.

 

“I’m not sure I find it amusing.”

 

“I haven’t trusted her since she found me in the street by the scrivener’s,” Cerryl admitted. “I see no point in angering her.”

 

“She’ll be angry if you don’t bed her-sooner or later,” predicted the black-haired mage.

 

“Not if I flatter her enough.” Cerryl added, “I hope.”

 

Lyasa dropped onto the bed. “You don’t mind, do you? My feet hurt.”

 

“Darkness, no. I haven’t seen you lately. What have you been doing?” Cerryl turned the chair and sat down, leaning forward.

 

“After an eight-day or so, they decided my talents were better used elsewhere than on the gates-for a while. I’m working with Myral’s masons on repairs to the offal treatment fountains and basins.” Cerryl winced. “That sounds worse than gate-guard duty.”

 

“It stinks more, but I don’t have to turn old ladies into ashes.”

 

“I didn’t want to…” And try not to think about it too much… or for too long…

 

“I know. Leyladin told me.”

 

The silence drew out for a moment, and a brief breath of hot air gusted through the open window into the room for a moment before subsiding.

 

“I wonder… do the Blacks on Recluce have problems like we do?”

 

“They have problems,” Cerryl asserted. “Everyone does. I doubt they’re the same. They just throw out people who don’t agree. Then we, or some other land, has to deal with them.”

 

“We don’t kill their exiles.”

 

“They don’t kill people who leave Fairhaven.” He laughed. “Unless they agree with the Black doctrine, they just don’t let them stay.”

 

“We have to kill people who make trouble.”

 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they don’t do some killing, one way or another.”

 

“I don’t know.” Lyasa ran her hand through her short and thick black hair. “I think it’s harder for the Guild to govern Candar than for the Blacks to run their isle.”

 

“Even eastern Candar is bigger,” Cerryl pointed out. “I think Gallos alone is bigger than the whole isle.”

 

“That’s not it. You know what I think?”

 

“What?”

 

“That it’s all because Creslin was a ruthless bastard. He killed off anyone who didn’t agree right in the beginning, and they throw out dissenters, and they’re on an isle. Nobody’s left to disagree.”

 

“Could be.” Cerryl shrugged. “That would be Anya’s style. Jeslek’s, too, I think.”

 

“Why are you telling me that?”

 

“Because I trust you.”

 

“Have you told Faltar that?”

 

“No.”

 

“He’s your friend.”

 

“You know why,” Cerryl said with a laugh.

 

“Alas… men.” Lyasa made a woeful face. “You are different. A little different.”

 

Cerryl made a bowing gesture with his right hand. “My deepest gratitude, lady mage. If you would but convey that to the absent lady who is your friend…”

 

Lyasa shook her head, then yawned and stood. “I need a nap or something.”

 

Cerryl rose and slipped toward the door.

 

“Whatever it is you do to keep her away, keep doing it.”

 

As if I’d ever dare to do anything else. “Your request is my command.” He put his hand on the door lever.

 

“Would that you had told me that before you met Leyladin.”

 

“That couldn’t happen. I’ve known her longer.” Cerryl smiled at Lyasa’s puzzlement as he opened the door. “Ask her.”

 

“I just might.”

 

As he closed the door, Cerryl glanced toward the bookcase, wondering if he would be able to read more than a page before being interrupted again. Finally, he sat and took out Colors of White, looking at the half-familiar words where the book opened:

 

 

 

… iron, being that which draws free chaos unto it, never should it be employed around those who employ chaos for good, for it will drain chaos as it can…

 

 

 

He smiled ruefully. There were times when he’d felt that-when he’d had to climb the iron gate in Fenard while he had been holding a light shield, but usually iron did not burn him the way he knew it would Jeslek or Anya. He flipped back to his place marker and resumed his search.

 

 

 

 

 

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