Chaos filled the room, Kinowin raising almost the power of Jeslek, his gray eyes as hard as the granite stones of the tower.
“Enough!” snapped Sterol. “Enough of this charade.”
Cerryl wanted to protest that Jeslek’s chaos had not been a charade but a last-moment effort to destroy him. Instead, he waited.
“I said enough, Jeslek.” An aura of menace and dark red chaos enfolded Sterol—and Kinowin and Derka, and even Myral. “He has shields enough to stop your incidental rage, and that’s more than most of the young mages. You have just proved that he belongs in the Brotherhood. Again.”
Jeslek’s eyes hardened, even as he bowed.
Cerryl couldn’t escape the feeling that in some way Sterol had set him as a weapon against Jeslek. Maybe that’s what you’ve been all along.
“For once, Jeslek—you have gone too far. Cerryl may indeed be deficient in his mathematicks, as you have alleged. And he may not be the most powerful of the younger mages with chaos. But he can stand up to you for at least a while, and his actions prove he has ability and he is loyal to Fairhaven—and, unlike some, he has never lied.” Sterol laughed. “It would not hurt to have a young mage you cannot intimidate. Not at all.”
Jeslek’s sun-gold eyes raked across the group. Then he laughed.
Cerryl’s eyes crossed Jeslek’s, and at that moment Cerryl knew that Jeslek had known Cerryl had succeeded, and would return to Fairhaven.
“Ah . . . loyalty over ability,” Jeslek said. “Was it ever thus with you, Sterol. Still . . . you are the High Wizard, and you are supported.”
“Yes. I am.” Sterol’s smile was full and cold. “Cerryl will be inducted as a full mage at the next meeting, and so far as I’m concerned already has those privileges. The rest of us will discuss how to proceed to salvage the situation in Gallos.” Sterol glanced toward Cerryl. “You may go. You could use some food and some cleaning.”
Cerryl inclined his head. “Thank you, honored Sterol. And you, Myral.”
Jeslek’s eyes glittered. “Good day, mage Cerryl.”
“Good day, overmage Jeslek.” Cerryl smiled faintly. “I thank you for all that you have taught me.”
“Good day.”
Cerryl bowed to the older mages and slipped out through the ironbound oak door and onto the landing. His legs were not quite shaking as he made his way down the stairs.
Leyladin and Lyasa found him in the commons, where he was gathering himself together.
“When did you get back? What happened?” demanded Lyasa.
Leyladin merely smiled gently.
“Please sit down.” Cerryl gestured to the empty chairs across from him. “It’s almost impossible to explain.” He smiled. “Thank you both for getting word to Myral. Without that, things might have been . . . more complicated . . .”
“You still haven’t told me what happened.”
How much should he tell? Finally, he began, just as Lyasa opened her mouth to prompt him once more. “You know that I was supposed to be Sverlik’s assistant and then do something, and that it was a test.”
“You told me that in Gallos.”
“What I didn’t tell you was that the task was to kill the prefect of Gallos.”
“You? Why you?”
“I don’t know. I can guess, but I don’t know.”
Lyasa turned her head to Leyladin. Leyladin smiled briefly at Cerryl.
“You did it, of course.” Lyasa’s voice was matter-of-fact.
“The prefect had Sverlik killed, and a detachment of our lancers, and you were there when he sent an entire force against us.”
“I heard about that,” Leyladin said quietly.
Bealtur stopped dead in the archway to the commons, on his face an expression of alarm and consternation.
“I suppose you heard I had left,” Cerryl called to the goateed student. “That was just a story to cover the task Jeslek set for me.” He offered a broad smile.
Bealtur bobbed his head. “I am glad to see you have returned.”
“So am I. The last eight-days have been hard.” Cerryl smothered a grin as he glanced at Lyasa.
“Ah . . .”
“Don’t worry, Bealtur. I won’t be too much of a problem.” Cerryl grinned.
Bealtur bobbed his head, then turned.
“No,” said Lyasa. “They’ll have to make you a full mage.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for,” Cerryl admitted, deciding that he should not reveal too much.
“That’s all?” asked Lyasa. “You just killed the prefect and walked away?”
Cerryl sighed. “No. I sneaked in and out of Fenard. I ran out of coins. Most of the Gallosian guards were after me.” His stomach twinged at the exaggeration, and he added, “Those around the palace, anyway. The stable folk complained that I let the horse get too thin, and Jeslek wanted to say that the test wasn’t enough because . . . just because.”