"08 - Colors of Chaos.palmdoc.pdb" - читать интересную книгу автора (Modesitt L E)

"That's because we push out those who are too poor or put them on road crews-or kill some of them if they make trouble."
"True. But what's the difference? In Fenard, the urchins live in the streets, and I'd wager most die young. Everyone has to worry about thieves and brigands, and there's flux and misery everywhere. There the prefect lets people die and others do the killing. Either way, the poor either find a way to make a living or die. Here, though, everyone else is better off as well, and I'm probably proof that an orphan has a chance."
"Don't you see, Cerryl, that's why you're a mage? So that Sterol and Jeslek can say that even a poor boy can rise to being a White mage?"
"What about Heralt? Or Kinowin? And I don't think Kiella exactly comes from coins."
Leyladin looked down at the polished white oak table. "It's the same thing."
"Maybe." He shook his head. "Maybe I am lucky. Am I supposed to turn away from it?"
"No. You have to make it better."
"Me? A junior mage who's a gate guard?"
"Myral said that you would be High Wizard."
"Me?"
"He has these visions."
Cerryl frowned again. High Wizard? A boy whose father was a renegade? That's hardly likely. "Once... he did mention that he'd seen the future, after the Guild had fallen, and that Candar was filled with mad chaos wielders ... I wondered."
"Trust him. He sees more than he says."
"So does Kinowin," Cerryl said wryly, not wanting to think too much about Myral's visions for him, not at all. "In a different way."
"He does. Did you know that Kinowin's a lot older than he looks?"
"Myral told me that." Cerryl shook his head. "I wouldn't have believed it."
"Believe it. He's like Myral. Very careful about how and when he raises chaos. You should follow their example about that."
Cerryl nodded. He didn't want to mention that he'd already patterned his use of order and chaos after Myral's precepts-and what he managed to figure out from Colors of White. He cleared his throat, not wanting to dwell on the matters the healer had raised, not until he'd had a chance to think more. "I remember when I ate here before and I said how good everything was. You and your father looked at each other. That was because what you fixed was a simple meal for you, wasn't it?"
Leyladin looked down, then at him. "Yes. I was afraid if you saw a real full-course dinner, you'd be so upset that you'd never see me again."
"I'd see you again," he protested. "I'm here."
"I don't know, Cerryl. You ... when we were at Furenk's ... you were pretty stunned."
"I didn't know about the rear dining area. I'd eaten in the front before."
"And you'd wondered at that." Leyladin offered a small smile. "Didn't you?"
"Ah ... yes," he admitted. "But I'm getting used to good food."
"Then you will stay for dinner?"
Cerryl flushed. "I'd be hard-pressed to leave, lady."
"I'm Leyladin, not lady." She grinned.
"I'm Cerryl, and I would be delighted to stay." He returned the grin. "Leyladin."
Her deep green eyes danced, and with her smile, warmth flowed up from within him.


XVI

The sun had barely cleared the low hills to the east of Fairhaven when the heavy wagon rumbled through the north gates and onto the highway. Cerryl watched. The entire wagon bed was filled with brass fittings, ship parts of various sorts, headed for Lydiar.
Fittings for the warships Sterol had mentioned? No... those were being built somewhere in Sligo. But could there be others being built on the Great North Bay?
He shook his head. Again, he didn't even know enough to conjecture. How could he find out? Without asking anyone directly?
Leyladin had offered one suggestion-become friendly with more of the other younger mages. Some of them had to know things he didn't, and most people would talk, he'd discovered, with a slight bit of encouragement. That hadn't been his style, but... the more he saw, the more he understood the danger of being alone and aloof.
He glanced down at the white stones of the highway, arcing out to the north and then east, seeing the fine white dust that was everywhere in Fairhaven slowly settle back onto the stone. Then he walked across into the sunlight to warm up, knowing that before midmorning he'd be seeking the shade to cool off.
Below, Diborl watched as the prisoners from the city patrol swept the stones clean. Then another guard escorted them back to the holding room where they were kept between cleanup duties.
Not for the first time, Cerryl wondered exactly what the pair had done. Smuggling, disturbing the peace?
The creaking of another set of wheels alerted him.
Coming down the road from the direction of Hrisbarg were two farm carts and, farther behind them, yet another-the beginning of the line of produce vendors that would fill the markets before many folk were fully up and about.
He stood on the rampart and waited.


XVII

Lyasa, Faltar, and Cerryl stood in the front foyer of the main Hall. Cerryl glanced toward the steps up to the White Tower, his eyes drifting momentarily to the upper ledge and the life-size statues of past great mages-most of whom he still did not recognize.
"Here he comes." Cerryl nodded to Faltar. "Let's ask him."
Heralt walked slowly down the steps from the White Tower into the front foyer of the Hall.