LII
Cerryl stood on the topmost landing of the White Tower, imperceptibly shifting his weight from one foot to the other and trying not to look at the closed white oak door or at Cerryl. “You may send in the mage Cerryl.”
Straightening his shoulders, Cerryl walked into the High Wizard’s chambers.
There was one empty chair at the table around which sat the High Wizard and the two overmages. Jeslek gestured to the empty place. Cerryl sat down gingerly. Absently, he realized that the black iron toy windmill had vanished. Because its order warped things too much even for Jeslek?
“We had thought of you to take Myral’s place in monitoring the sewers, for a time,” Jeslek began, “before you attempted to remake the rules for peacekeeping by yourself.”
Cerryl nodded impassively. There was no point in confessing he just hadn’t thought; that was probably considered worse than being too free with the rules. The less he tried to defend his stupidity the better, and he was only beginning to understand the enormity of that stupidity. “The Patrol is already short of mages,” Kinowin said, “and you do have various talents. The problem facing the Council is how to use those talents without giving the impression of rewarding you for stupidity. Extreme stupidity.”
Cerryl wanted to wince.
“I had thought of assigning you to one of the blockade ships, but ships are even more disciplined than the Patrol, and you would be too free to be… creative there,” added Jeslek.
Blockade ships? Cerryl tried to keep his mouth in place. Redark merely nodded, as if that were expected of him. “So you will be assigned to the west gate, for double duty, both duties, for the next two eight-days. That should reduce the time you have to offer creative solutions to problems we do not have. After that, the Council will consider how you might best serve the Guild.” Jeslek’s smile was not particularly cruel but almost dispassionate. “And you will keep a report of every single vehicle that enters and leaves the gates, with its general cargo, and you will not delay any wagon or cart.
You will also abide strictly by the rules of gatekeeping. Do you understand?“
“Yes, ser.” Cerryl almost wanted to sigh in relief.
“Also, you will receive no stipend for those two eight-days, and your stipend thereafter will be reduced to the minimum for a full mage.”
“Your golds for this past eight-day, and the minimum you would have received for the next two eight-days, will go to the family of the boy you branded,” Kinowin added. “If they cannot be found, then the coins will be used to purchase bread for the poor and distributed by the patrollers of the southeast section.”
Cerryl almost nodded in agreement.
“Do you find that equitable?” asked Redark.
“Yes, ser.”
“We thought you would,” said Jeslek. “Also, for the next two eight-days you are to remain within the Halls when you are not on duty or going to and from duty.”
“Yes, ser.”
“Finally, you are to write a fully reasoned statement on why exceeding the rules is dangerous to both the Guild and the individual mage, and you will present it to Overmage Kinowin for his review and for his later examination of you,” added Redark. “You have an eight-day to compose the argument. You will present yourself for the examination at his leisure after he has read your argument.”
Cerryl nodded.
“What your future may be in the Guild and whether you have a future depend entirely upon your conduct over the next eight-days,” added Jeslek.
That, that Cerryl had understood from Jeslek’s opening words. Cerryl also understood he had been fortunate to have any real chance at redeeming himself. Isork had made the rules clear enough at the beginning, and Cerryl had lived in Fairhaven and in the Halls long enough to know that overtly breaking rules was scarcely wise and often not survived-as in Kesrik’s unfortunate case.