Sterol glanced at the three. “I’m very pleased that all of you have succeeded. You have very different talents, and in the troubling days ahead, we will need each of those talents, I fear.” The High Wizard’s eyes were, for once, reflected Cerryl, warm and friendly.
“Congratulations!” Kinowin stepped up and clasped Cerryl’s shoulder. The big mage smiled warmly. “You must know I have personal sympathy for anyone who comes from the background we share.”
“You mean the lack of background?” replied Cerryl with a laugh.
A broader smile crossed Kinowin’s face, then faded. “It doesn’t get easier, but if you need anything, I’m here.” He patted Cerryl’s shoulder and slipped away.
Lyasa touched Cerryl’s forearm, and he turned.
“Good,” said Jeslek. “Before you are flooded with well-wishers, I wanted to let you know some things quickly. Each of you now has quarters in the second rear hall, on the second level-there is a bronze plate on each door.” The sun-eyed overmage smiled. “Best you move your things and get settled quickly. There are some youngsters from the creche who would trade their red for white trimmed with red. You can still eat in the hall, but that is your choice now. You, as do all full mages, receive a stipend of one gold an eight-day. Not extravagant, but since the Guild supplies all your raiment and equipment and lodging, it’s generally enough for modest pleasures. You will be assigned more permanent duties sometime in the next eight-day, after the High Wizard, overmage Kinowin, and I review the Guild assignments.” Jeslek flashed a broad smile, the one Cerryl still mistrusted. “Now. . enjoy yourselves.” The white-haired overmage nodded and slipped across the dais.
“Congratulations!” Anya appeared and offered Faltar a warm hug, then turned to Cerryl. “And to you, too. And to you, Lyasa.”
“Thank you.” Cerryl inclined his head.
Fydel stepped forward. “Congratulations, all of you.” His eyes went to Cerryl. “You’ve proved you belong here, more than most.” With a smile, he was gone.
“Lyasa!” Esaak lumbered forward, something cradled in his arms.
Cerryl glanced at the dark-haired new mage beside him, watching her eyebrows rise as the older mage extended the thin, freshly bound volume. “Since you will not take my tutoring seriously. . this is a copy of The Mathematicks of Logic.” A broad smile crossed Esaak’s face. “Your very own.”
Lyasa bent forward and hugged Esaak.
Cerryl stepped back and turned to Myral. “Thank you. . I haven’t said it, but I mean it.”
The older mage smiled. “Don’t thank me. You worked for it, and you will make the Guild proud. I know that. Now. . enjoy the day.”
Another mage-one Cerryl didn’t know-stepped up to Faltar. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” Faltar inclined his head.
As the crowd of mages finally filtered away, Cerryl leaned against one of the white stone pillars at the side of the chamber. He glanced at Faltar, and then Lyasa.
“Is it what you expected?” asked the black-haired mage, her olive-brown eyes resting on Cerryl.
“I don’t know. I didn’t let myself think about it,” he confessed.
“Sterol gave part of it away. None of us would be mages this soon if things weren’t getting bad.” Lyasa laughed softly. “I wouldn’t be a mage at all if things weren’t getting bad. I don’t use my body the way some do.”
Faltar raised his eyebrows.
“It doesn’t matter now,” Cerryl said quickly. “We’re mages, and not students, and I’m glad.”
“So am I,” added Faltar. “What are you going to do now?”
“Move,” said Cerryl. “Find those new quarters. Then take a walk and have something to eat for dinner-outside the Halls.”
Lyasa laughed. “I’ll bet dinner tonight is really bad.”
“I’ll worry about that later.” Cerryl straightened and eased out into the foyer, now almost empty. He made his way toward the second rear hall, looking around, but he didn’t see who he sought.
Cerryl’s new quarters were as far as one could get from the main hall, in the building even behind the one in which Jeslek had his apartment. But the overmage had been correct-there was a bronze plate by the door, and the old tongue script spelled out “Cerryl.”
Still, Cerryl allowed himself a smile as he glanced around the room, the most spacious he had ever had, with real shuttered windows-two of them-and a wide desk and a chair with cushions. . and a full-sized bed with cotton sheets and a red woolen blanket, and even a rug by the bed. And his own washstand-and an empty bookcase against the wall.
His eyes went from item to item. Hard as it was to believe, he was a full mage-admittedly over Jeslek’s machinations and reservations, but a full mage-all he-or his father, had ever hoped for, and far more than he could have reasonably expected.
Yet. . nothing was certain. War loomed with Gallos-and perhaps with Spidlar and even Recluce. Jeslek was even more angry at Sterol, and Sterol was using Cerryl against Jeslek, and Anya. . well, Anya was playing an even deeper game, and one Cerryl didn’t understand the reasons for, only that she did play such a game. Then, Myral, who had helped him in so many ways, was not in the best of health.
Still. . he was more secure, and more able, than ever before in his life. He had a place and a chance at being what he could be, and a chance at happiness. .
Thrap!
He turned.
“Very nice quarters.” Leyladin stood in the open doorway, a broad smile on her lips.
“I. . just got them.”
“I know.” The bright green tunic and trousers shimmered, and she seemed especially alive.
Cerryl studied the blond young woman with red highlights in her hair, taking in the dancing green eyes. He couldn’t help smiling.
“I wanted to see your new quarters.” She smiled back.
Perhaps more than a mere chance at happiness. He crossed the room and took her hands.
After a moment, still smiling warmly, her green eyes melding into his gray eyes, she tightened her fingers around his hands.