“Thank you.”
“It be little enough.” Myral coughed, but only once, and smiled briefly.
Cerryl eased down the tower steps slowly, hoping he would be able to follow Myral’s suggestions, carrying the box of ointment back toward his cell.
Bealtur nodded as the two passed in the corridor by the commons, but the goateed student mage did not speak, and Cerryl didn’t feel like always being the one to offer greetings first.
Cerryl eased down the corridor and slipped into his cell, still feeling somewhat stiff and wondering how long before he’d really get used to riding. He stepped over to the desktop.
A soft gray leather case lay there. With a frown, he opened it, then began to smile as he lifted out the white-bronze razor. Then he laughed. “She does care.” And she has a sense of humor in making her points . . . He laughed softly again as he replaced the razor in the case.
LXXXVI
A LIGHT WIND blew out of the northwest, right into Cerryl’s face, carrying faint bits of dust and grit raised by the riders in front of him. He shifted his weight in the saddle, wishing he could get more comfortable on the big chestnut, then glanced westward.
Jeslek rode at the front of the column, bareheaded, his white hair almost glistening in the late morning sun. Beside him rode the lanky Klybel, the white lancer captain. Behind them rode the red-haired Anya, and beside her, the square-bearded Fydel. Behind the two mages rode the three students—Cerryl, Kochar, and Lyasa. Following the mages was a detachment of white lancers—more than fourscore, Cerryl thought, although he hadn’t tried to count them.
The only sounds were the breathing of the horses and the clopping of hoofs on stone. Again, Cerryl shifted his weight in the saddle in an effort to get less uncomfortable. Riding he could do without, save that it was faster and easier than walking.
The wind that blew out of the clear green-blue north-western sky carried a chill that suggested the coming winter, though the sun was warm, warm enough that Cerryl was still sweating slightly.
Abruptly, Jeslek leaned toward Klybel, then lifted his arm.
Klybel turned his mount out to the raised shoulder of the road and ordered, “Lancers . . . HALT!”
Cerryl found himself reining back the chestnut, then almost lurching forward in the saddle into his mount’s mane.
Jeslek then circled around Anya and Fydel and eased his mount up beside the apprentice mages. “You see the road?”
“Yes, ser,” answered Kochar and Cerryl. Lyasa nodded.
“Do you not think it is somewhat . . . exposed?” A smile crossed Jeslek’s thin lips.
“Anyone can see it,” offered Kochar quickly.
Lyasa remained silent. Cerryl nodded, barely.
“You do not agree, Cerryl?”
“It is exposed, ser. I do not know if that is good or bad. It is good for someone who wishes to avoid brigands, but it could be bad for other reasons.”
“You are cautious. Why?”
“Because I do not know. I have not lived in Fairhaven all my life, and I have not studied all that you and the other mages have.”
“At least you know your limits. Unlike some.” Jeslek laughed, then turned to Kochar. “You think the road would be better were it less exposed?”
Kochar tried to conceal a frown. “If it were less exposed, the white lancers could move without all Candar knowing where they went.”
“That is true.” Jeslek smiled. “Yet we are within a dozen kays of Fairhaven, and here it scarcely matters.”
Kochar’s face became stolid.
“On the other hand, beyond the Easthorns, where the road stretches across the plains of Gallos—that is another question. And that is why we may be headed there.” His smile faded. “In the meantime, I want you to use your senses to understand how the road is built and how it is held together. How a road feels is as important as all the calculations Esaak would have you make.”
Gallos?
They had yet to reach Certis, and Jeslek was talking about Gallos?
“Stop scaring them,” said Anya with a laugh as Jeslek turned his mount around and rode past the other two mages.
“You would do well to study the roads as well, Anya. Given your . . . inclinations,” suggested Jeslek with a smile. “You as well, Fydel. We will have much to do.” He eased his mount past the other two mages and rejoined the lancer captain. Klybel raised his arm again, and he and Jeslek resumed riding as if nothing had happened.
“We’re going to Gallos?” whispered Kochar.
“It would seem so,” suggested Lyasa.
Cerryl frowned, wondering why Jeslek had stopped the column. The white mage could have made his suggestion without halting the lancers, yet had made a point to do so, and to offer barbed comments to Anya and Fydel.