“Some would say, then, that power for one’s self is all that there is.” Leyladin’s eyebrows lifted momentarily.
“Some would. I wouldn’t. Power for one’s self is hard to amass and harder to hold. Where are Jeslek? Sterol? Anya?” He shrugged. “Myral died as peacefully as he could have. Kinowin is still here. So are we.” So far…
“So far,” she repeated. “And I am with you.”
“I’m glad.”
The healer touched his hands, and the soothing darkness spread across his skin, lifting the discomfort. “She was screaming about an image.”
“I’m having her statue put up on the ledge. I did promise her that, and I keep my promises.”
“You didn’t set one up for Myral.”
“No, I didn’t. He was more than an image…much more.”
CLXXXIII
THE HIGH WIZARD dismounted at the alley gate, and the pair of lancers checked the courtyard before he crossed the rain-puddled stones and entered the small common room that had once seemed so spacious.
Beside the table stood a wide-eyed boy of less than a handful of years and a woman.
“Is that you, Cerryl?” Benthann’s voice was hoarse, and the once-blonde hair was mostly gray, the blonde like streaks of sunlight against gray autumn clouds.
He nodded.
“Why did you wait so long to come back?”
“Because had I shown any affection toward you or Tellis or Beryal, my enemies would have used you. The only way I could show my gratitude was not to come.” He smiled, not concealing the twist to his lips. “I did what else I could.”
“The golds in the leather bags?”
“Yes.”
“I thought they might have come from you.”
“Your son?” He inclined his head toward the towheaded boy. “He is handsome.”
“Like I was once, I suppose.”
“Yes. I always looked at you.”
“I know.” Her eyes dropped. “You’re not here just for me.”
“I need to thank Tellis. I owe where I am to him. Because he took in a mill boy and made him a scrivener.”
“He won’t know what to do.” Her voice was low. “He’s in the workroom.”
“Where else would he be?” Cerryl looked at the boy. “If you need help…”
“Only if I really need it.”
“If you do…” He nodded and stepped through the archway.
Tellis was bent over the copying desk as Cerryl stepped into the workroom, but the scrivener’s head jerked up. “Ser? I did not see you enter. My apologies, ser, my apologies. Have you seen the latest copies of the Histories?” Abruptly the scrivener stopped, his eyes on the golden amulet. “Oh, Your Mightiness…what can this humble scrivener-”
“Tellis.” Cerryl laid a manuscript on the table. “It’s been a long time, but I’d like you to make three copies for me. If you would…”
“Of course, honored ser. Of course.”
Cerryl wanted to wince at the politeness, the servility, the near-groveling. “As I told Benthann…I owe you my life and more, and until now there was little I could do to repay it, except through purses left by stealth. I am sorry…but I do try to repay my debts.”
After a moment, Tellis looked at the manuscript. “Your letters are wide…honored ser.”
“They were not, once upon a time.” Cerryl grinned crookedly. “If you could find some of the green leather, I would appreciate that. Oh…and if you can finish them by the turn of summer, your fee will be ten golds-for each of the three I need.”
“Some, honored ser, pay their debts, and that be what a good scrivener would hope for. You’ll have your three, and all in green.”
Cerryl finally nodded, knowing that to say more would not help. “Thank you. For everything.” For life, for Leyladin, for the chance to become what I have…for not making it too hard to try to repay debts…old debts.
“Thank you,” he repeated before, with another nod, he turned to head back to the White Tower.
CLXXXIV
CERRYL STOOD BEFORE the table as Kinowin and Redark entered the High Wizard’s official apartment, which had come to serve mainly as a meeting and conference room, since Cerryl and Leyladin continued to spend evenings at her dwelling.
“Thank you both. I’ve requested your presence for the Council to meet with the last of Anya’s…” Cerryl paused, searching for a word, then added, “acolytes.”
Redark glanced to where Leyladin stood by the window.
“The healer is most helpful in discerning shades of truth,” Cerryl said politely.
“Ah…yes.” Redark cleared his throat.
“Before they arrive, you should read this.” Cerryl handed the scroll that tingled from the order that filled it to the older overmage.
“What is it?” asked Kinowin as he seated himself to Cerryl’s right.
“A request for terms from the Black mage.”
“Terms? He asks us for terms?” demanded the ginger-bearded Redark.
“Not exactly. I’d rather you read it. Then we can talk,” said Cerryl.
After a moment, his face blank, Kinowin handed the heavy parchment to Redark.
The younger overmage read the document and returned it to Cerryl. “Can we trust him?”
“Considering that he can destroy any ship upon the seas, do we have any choice?”
“As I understand this,” Kinowin said, “he is proposing that we Recluce the surtax on goods from Recluce to three parts in ten but will open the new port at Southpoint to any ships from Candar that do not carry White mages on board.”
“I took the liberty of having Esaak do some calculations,” Cerryl explained. “Our factors will do better at three parts in ten. That is high enough to protect the wool growers.”
“Why would the Blacks do that,” asked Redark, “if their ship is so mighty?”
“Like all of us, they must eat, and they cannot compel our ships to port there,” said Cerryl.
“Because they need the grains and oilseeds and they can still charge more for those cargoes in Recluce. But they have to be able to sell something in Candar. They can’t travel one way in ballast,” suggested Kinowin.
“We can tell the Guild that we have gained trading rights in Recluce and that more trade will be coming to Candar.” Cerryl smiled. Besides, it doesn’t matter now that you’re getting control of the tariff collections.
“We lost…and you’re going to claim a victory?” Redark frowned.
“We didn’t lose. The Black can’t build enough ships to stop us from blocking their traders. If this keeps up, we both lose. So they give up something, and we give up something.”
“But…most of the trading on Recluce is at Land’s End.” Redark glanced at Kinowin.
“That will change,” predicted Cerryl. “Besides, do you have a better proposal? We only lost two ships this time. How many will we lose if we don’t agree? And how much will it cost us to keep up a blockade of the Black Isle?”
Redark shrugged. “I defer to the High Wizard.”
Cerryl wanted to sigh. Instead, he smiled. “The Guild needs to pick the battles it can win. By reinforcing our mage advisers with lancers in all the major ports we can collect more in tariff coins. That is a battle we can win, and we are winning.”
“The viscount and the prefect will protest.”
“Probably,” Cerryl admitted. “We now control Lydiar, most of Hydlen, Sligo, and Spidlar. If we do not have to blockade Recluce or our own coasts against Black traders, we can use those ships to quarantine Ruzor and Worrak. Neither Gallos nor Certis can muster the arms to stand against us now.”
Redark wiped his forehead. “You…you planned this from the beginning.”
Cerryl nodded. “I had help from many, but…yes, I did. By controlling the roads and the ports the Guild can unite Candar, at least that part east of the Westhorns. With the use of the screeing glasses, the White highways, and mages in the major ports and trading cities we can bring down any ruler who will not pay his tariffs and trade fairly.”