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We can take the warehouse road south from here, and then, after one check,
go east toward the avenue. We ll have to cross the avenue to get to the
second, but it s not too far.
As you say, ser. Jyantyl nodded, and Ullan and Dientyr fell in behind the
other lancers, another pair Cerryl didn t know, since those who remained on
the street with Jyantyl changed almost daily, while Ullan and Dientyr always
accompanied Cerryl. He wondered for what they were being punished, but didn t
think it was his place to ask the head lancer.
Ullan s lance dragged intermittently for a time, until Jyantyl glanced over
his shoulder. Always it was Ullan s lance, never Dientyr s.
Cerryl almost missed the first secondary grate he was looking for because
it was actually in a niche in the wall, as if the stable wall had been
extended almost to the edge of the sewer tunnel.
Cerryl knelt and turned the bronze key, smelling both manure from the
stable behind him and the odors of sewage drifting up from the grate. Ignoring
the smells, he confined the chaos around the lock within order and unfastened
the lock. He lifted the heavy grate and locked it open before starting down
the brick steps.
Even before he had taken three steps into the gloomy secondary tunnel, he
could sense a strong residual of chaos everywhere. The steps were still clean,
as were the walkways and the glazed brick walls.
At the bottom of the steps, recalling his subterfuge, he turned and
examined the level of sewage in the drainage way-flowing smoothly a good two
spans below the edge of the walkway.
With a nod, he turned and walked back up the steps, where he reversed the
process to relock the grate in place, ensuring that the chaos protected the
relocked grate. Even in the brief time he had been underground, he could feel
that the wind was stronger, and somewhat cooler, although the coolness was
welcome after the early spring heat of the past few days.
One more, he said to Jyantyl. Across the avenue and then two long blocks
east of here. After a pause, he added, I m sorry.
This be no problem, ser. A few extra steps, we can do that. Jyantyl shook
his head.
Two women bearing baskets of laundry on their heads looked at Cerryl and
the lancers and darted into an alleyway.
Cerryl smiled faintly-amazed that an orphan mill boy could generate concern
simply because he wore a white tunic trimmed in scarlet. Was that power? Or
did people do the same when the carriage of someone like Muneat passed?
He studied the side street as they crossed the avenue, realizing that,
although it was not all that far from Tellis s shop, he had never walked down
the narrow street before. How many streets and places were like that? So close
and yet unvisited?
All the shops seemed to be either those of weavers or basketmakers, and
cloth of all shades hung in unshuttered windows. A bolt of bright green was in
the third window, and for some reason, it reminded Cerryl of Leyladin.
He tightened his lips and kept walking. The grate he wanted was off the
second side street from the street of weavers, not more than fifty cubits
south.
The second tunnel was like the first, nearly immaculate except for the
excessive residue of white dust, and reeking of chaos. Cerryl walked along the
walkway southward nearly a hundred cubits from the steps-well into the
darkness, but with the leftover chaos, his senses let him see almost as well
as in full light.
Scattered raindrops began to splat on the stones of the street and the
white-plastered walls as he finished relocking the sewer grate. Back to the
halls. That s it.
Not a moment too soon& came a mutter from the rear of the lancers.
Jyantyl stiffened but did not turn.
As they rejoined the avenue on the side street that passed just south of
the grain exchange, Cerryl tried to keep his face blank.
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Both tunnels reeked of chaos, so much so that he knew Kesrik could not have
scoured them-not the Kesrik that Cerryl knew. While Cerryl couldn t be sure,
Kesrik didn t feel the way Sterol did, and that indicated to Cerryl that
Kesrik probably wasn t shielding his control of chaos.
So& who had cleaned the tunnels-and how and why? How had Kesrik managed to
avoid having the guards see whoever it had been?
Cerryl almost groaned as it hit him. Anyone strong enough to use that much
chaos was probably able enough to use the same technique Anya had in visiting
Faltar s cell.
That raised a few other questions, but all of the questions Cerryl had were
not ones he dared surface, not while he was but a student and Kesrik was
Jeslek s favorite.
Once back in the Halls of the Mages, Cerryl stopped by the washroom, where
he stripped to the waist and scrubbed off the grime and odor from his hands
and face and arms. A touch of chaos helped remove some of the odor from his
tunic and trousers.
Cerryl was actually entering the meal hall when the last bells announcing
dinner rang-off-key and jarring. Kesrik s stocky blond form was at the serving
table already, but no one else had been served.
Heralt and Faltar were lined up at the serving table, and Cerryl slipped in
behind them.
You re early. The curly-haired Heralt turned.
Sometimes it happens.
Not often, said Faltar with a grin. The grin faded as he regarded the
bowls and the steaming pot presided over by a serving boy. Soup?
Barley and mutton, ser. Mostly barley. The youth offered a smile of
sympathy.
Barley? What have I done to deserve barley?
You re a student mage, suggested Heralt.
You re a glutton, added Cerryl.
What have I done to deserve friends like you? Faltar filled a mug with
the lighter ale. I ve been faithful and good.
His words were so mock-plaintive that both Cerryl and Heralt laughed.
And you laugh at me. Faltar turned and walked to one of the circular
tables.
You laugh at us, countered Heralt as he followed Faltar.
Cerryl took a healthy chunk of the dark bread, then filled his own mug
before joining them.
I don t like the damp. Heralt shivered.
None of you Kyphrans do. Faltar took a sip of ale.
How did you get here? asked Cerryl. I didn t know you were from
Kyphros.
Kyphrien. My father was a wool merchant there. I went with him one day
when he went to sell some white wool to the white wizard who was the advisor
to the subprefect. Heralt shivered again.
And he saw you could handle chaos, and packed you off here? asked Faltar.
What did your father say?
He wasn t allowed to say anything. Heralt broke off a piece of bread.
It s better than dying.
Cerryl nodded, then took a spoonful of the hot soup, grateful for its
warmth after the damp of the rain. Spring was like that-too hot and then too
damp. His eyes flicked to the table where Kesrik sat alone.
As Kesrik ate, Bealtur slipped into the hall, but instead of heading
directly to the serving table, he went straight to Kesrik and whispered
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