Cerryl raised full order-chaos shields, as did the other mages.
Abruptly Anya snuffed the flames. “Not…you…not that way. Not for you, Cerryl. High Wizard,” she corrected herself as her eyes flicked to Kinowin and then to Redark. The redhead swallowed, looking at neither Esaak nor Leyladin. “You just killed him? The most powerful factor in Fairhaven? When trade is already so bad?” Her voice moderated by the end of the last question, turning cool and hard.
“If a Patrol mage can pass judgment, then so can the High Wizard,” suggested Cerryl. “I will report on what I discovered to the Guild.”
“You will report…you will report…you will discuss…you will talk…” Anya clamped her jaw shut and glared at the High Wizard, then glanced toward Redark. “And you let him do this…this abomination?”
“Ah…I came but later.”
“How terribly convenient for you all.” Her eyes went back to Cerryl. “Just how do you expect to remain as High Wizard doing this…sort of thing?”
“I may not, Anya, but I couldn’t exactly ignore it when Rystryr sent a half-company of armsmen after me in Fairhaven now, could I? Or when a factor from Fairhaven helped him?”
“I’ll have the whole Guild throw you out! You are High Wizard because-”
“Anya,” Cerryl said quietly. “Have you noticed that Broka is absent today? Or that the armsmen Rystryr sent to support Jiolt have vanished? Or that all your supporters are with Fydel on the ships? Or that both an overmage and the overcaptain of the White Lancers were there when Jiolt lifted a poisoned dagger against the High Wizard?” He paused. “Not even their worst enemies would accuse Kinowin or Senglat of lying.” After a moment, he smiled. “Oh…I expect that the fleet has reached Southpoint already-or it will shortly.”
“I hope for your sake, dear Cerryl, that it is successful.” Anya flashed a tight false smile. “Even that may not be enough to save you.”
“You may be right, Anya, but even the weakest of High Wizards has to do what is best for Fairhaven.”
“Best for Fairhaven…?” The redhead closed her mouth and stood before the table silently for a long moment. Then, she looked straight at Cerryl. “By your leave.” As she turned and left the Tower room, Anya avoided looking anywhere even near Leyladin.
The door thudded shut and vibrated on its heavy hinges.
“Perhaps you were a bit hasty…High Wizard,” suggested Redark.
Cerryl glanced toward Esaak. “You have much experience, Esaak? What do you think?”
“I think, High Wizard, that Anya is most angry and will seek any and all to have you removed.”
“Perhaps so…” Cerryl shrugged. “Yet it remains that Anya had ties to Jiolt, and Jiolt lifted a poisoned dagger-a poisoned iron dagger-against an overmage and the High Wizard.”
“Ties, but not proof,” suggested Redark.
“Exactly,” suggested Cerryl. “Did I do other than listen? Did I threaten?”
A faint smile crossed Esaak’s face. “You were most patient. Even Sterol would have turned her to ash.”
“I do wonder how Rystryr’s lancers found their way to the healer’s dwelling in a storm. Especially now.” Cerryl shrugged. “That is all we know, and you all have been helpful. I will summon you when it appears as though our fleet will engage the Black forces. For now…I would like some quiet.”
“I would suggest that as well,” said Kinowin, standing and moving toward the doorway. “By your leave?”
Esaak and Redark rose as well.
Once the overmages and Esaak had left and the heavy door had thudded shut, Leyladin turned to Cerryl. “Why did you have them present when she accused you? What did you gain?”
“Now…none of them can tell each other that Anya has done nothing.” And since three cannot keep a secret, word will spread, and not in the way Anya would like.
“You should have locked her away,” Leyladin said. “She and Jiolt were lovers. They had to be. She was truly upset. I’ve never seen her react that way. She’ll try to kill you, as soon as she can.”
“She can’t best me directly,” Cerryl pointed out, “and there’s no one left she can lure into trying. Besides, if she does it now, all will know, and she’ll lose any support she may have left.” He shrugged slowly. “I can’t tell you why, but I know I cannot remove her at this moment, not without being distrusted by all.” You need the story to spread, first…and it will. “There is no proof that Jiolt and Anya were conspiring, nothing beyond what you and I or Kinowin could sense by truth-reading, and who would believe that?”
Leyladin sighed. “She’ll find someone else to poison against you.”
“Not before the attack on Recluce.” Cerryl shrugged wearily and added, “If she can, then they’re the sort I’d like to know about before sending them out into Candar.”
“You’re still serious about that, aren’t you? About spreading the Guild all over Candar?”
“Most serious. There’s too much plotting and too little use of the Guild’s power with most of the Brotherhood here.”
“More will die.”
“Probably,” Cerryl admitted. “They’ll die for the good of Candar and Fairhaven, though, instead of dying in Hall plots and schemes.”
“You have to stay, High Wizard. You cannot if plots such as these continue. And what if the fleet fails?”
“I will be most surprised-pleasantly so, but most surprised-if any fleet should succeed in inflicting any real damage upon Southpoint or the smith’s vessel.” Cerryl slowly turned toward the window, stretching tense muscles.
“And you let it go?”
“How else could I prove to the Guild the futility of attacking Recluce?” How else indeed…and how many will die to prove that? Cerryl swallowed and took a deep breath. He turned and looked out across the snow-covered city-indeed a White City. Truly a cold white city, with a cold White High Wizard.
CLXXXI
CERRYL SLOWLY SURVEYED those around the table-Kinowin, Redark, and Leyladin-with the new young mage Ultyr standing slightly back, beside a stool Cerryl had asked to be brought in.
“Are you ready?” Cerryl asked.
“Yes, ser.” Ultyr stepped forward and squinted.
Slowly, far more slowly than if Cerryl had sought the image, the mists in the glass parted and showed ships upon a dark blue sea. The small Black craft without masts or even a bowsprit, a craft that radiated order, drove through the low and rolling swells toward the larger ship-the White Serpent, Cerryl thought. One of the smaller war schooners downwind of the White Serpent veered to port, as if the mage on board had sensed the deadliness of the Black ship.
“Darkness, it looks evil,” murmured Redark.
The Black warcraft eased alongside the White Serpent, and the Serpent tacked, but the Black ship followed the Serpent and pulled alongside easily. A flash of light and something more streaked toward the Serpent, and the bowsprit shattered into fragments. The Serpent’s bow swung port, and the big schooner wallowed as the forward jib and the remnants of the bowsprit sagged into the gulf waters.
A series of fireballs streamed from the near-becalmed Serpent against the black iron plate of the single Black vessel, but all sprayed harmlessly from the dark metal. Three more of the black weapons struck the rear of the Serpent, and before long it had begun to list. Occasional fireballs flashed from both the Serpent and the surrounding ships, without effect, as the small ironclad continued to circle the larger schooner.
“More than a dozen vessels, and nearly as many mages, and they do nothing,” muttered Redark.
“It does not appear as though they can,” observed Kinowin. “They cannot approach closely enough for their mages to be effective, not without risking our armsmen as much as the Blacks’ men-and our ships even more.”