NOTE: towards the end of this chapter it starts to spoil the end of White Order. later on, it might even go into Colors of Chaos. i dunno. depends if i get any reviews and if i still feel like writing. i'll only continue a lot farther if ppl start reviewing. if not, i'll write about five or six more chapters, wind it up, and conclude the plot. if ppl start reviewing, i have plenty of other ideas to keep this going...

"... still pretty bad..."

"... lucky..."

"... out of it... almost five days... wake up?"

"... not many... that much cold iron... live to tell the tale..."

"Healer woman... unconscious... gave everything... save him..."

Cerryl moaned. He couldn't see. He could barely hear. He could tell he was in his room, though. Someone touched a cold cloth to his burning forehead.

"... will be alright, Cerryl... shh."

That voice... It was Lyasa... He felt several other presences in the room. The others he could not even try to feel out, except for Faltar. Faltar was there. But Cerryl could only say one name. "...Leyladin..."

He heard Faltar give a brief chuckle. "... fine... calm down..."

Cerryl managed a painful nod and slipped back into darkness.

"Come in."

Kinowin entered the study of Sterol. "You told me to inform you of young Cerryl's progress."

"Yes. Please, sit. I know you have hardly left the lad's side. Is he conscious?"

"He woke up for a while less than an hour ago. He is out again, though. He cannot seem to be able to either see nor hear very well."

"As is to be expected. Anyone subjected to so much order for so long--especially after just then using so much chaos--would have such difficulties, not to mention the effects of his wounds. Next time he wakes up, send word to me immediately. Try to keep him conscious until I get there."

"Yes, ser."

Cerryl woke up with a start. He could not move very well, but his mind was almost as sharp as every. Those men! Those faces! The one who hurt me--he was one of Kesrik's cousins. He visited once... The other must be a relative of Ullan... I know they want to kill me, but who could have told them how, where, and when I would be most vulnerable (outside of the tower gates and in a crowd that would burst into confusion...) . . . No... someone wants me dead; and I have a good idea who--only I cannot voice that opinion . . . not now at least... and maybe not ever...

"Cerryl? Are you awake?"

He knew that voice. It belonged to a beatiful, strawberry-blonde, green-eyed healer. "Leyladin..." he croaked.

"Hush now... hush. How are you?"

"Still can't see... Can hear better. ... How... are you?"

"A lot better."

"... strong magic... You should be in bed..."

"It has been almost an eightday since it happened. I am alright now. It is you everyone is worried about. ... We--... we didn't think you would... live..."

"He can't beat me that easily." He let out a horse laugh, which cost him dear pain from his chest and stomach. "... ohh..."

"Shh, shh. Take it easy... Who, Cerryl? Who can't beat you?"

"Nevermind... not impor--"

"Is he awake?" asked a rough voice.

"Yes, ser, overmage Kinowin."

"Young Cerryl, I need you to try and stay awake a moment longer, if you can."

"... try..." And he did try, but did not succeed.

It had been one and a half eightdays, and Cerryl was barely managing to stay awake. "So," prodded Sterol again, "this Tellis cannot be blamed? At all?"

"No, ser... please... don't hurt him... good man..."

"He still cannot go unpunished. You know that."

Cerryl looked up at the blurry image of the High Wizard. "Yes... ser... but please... no death or road..."

"We will put him in a Patrol cell for a few days then. We must not let people think we are going soft."

Cerryl nodded.

"I was told in great detail what you did to the bandits seized from Fasse's shop. Very good, very good. Now the people have assurances that Fairhaven's interest lies with them."

His words struck Cerryl as... off... though he nodded to the High Wizard nonetheless.

"Go back to sleep, lad. You need your rest."

Sterol and Derka--a sometimes-advisor to Sterol--departed from Cerryl's room and made their way up the tower steps to Sterol's study. "What will you do, Sterol? That punishment is not strict enough. Now everyone will claim that someone else threatened their family and forced them to attack a wizard."

"Put him on the Patrol sewer cleaning duty for a month. Cerryl won't be out of here until then, at least not to go far. I am making him Jeslek's full assitant, and Jeslek agrees that this is what is best... No, Cerryl will remain near the Tower for a while yet..."

It had been almost a month since the attack. Cerryl lay awake in bed, wondering who had tried to kill him. While he strongly suspected Jeslek, he also knew that Anya was somehow involved in it all... But there was no way to really be able to tell before becoming a full mage... But will that ever happen? I come from such a meager background... Either way, I must try...

However, all of that would have to wait. In an eightday, he was setting out to Gallos. Cerryl didn't know much, only that they were going to scare the prefect of Gallos, Lyam--or some such nonsense... And he couldn't forget the bronze--and rather expensive--razor that Leyladin had given him as a strong hint that she thought him better without the beard that he had so painstakingly finally managed to grow.

As Cerryl rubbed his chin, he reflected on the dreams he had been having of late... In most was large forest, a forest of darkness, order--but pure order, not the symbiotic order with chaos that was prominant in life and in Fairhaven--and the forest choked him. The other was of a red-headed, curly-haired youth, younger than he himself was. He was deffinately of order... and of Recluce--the dreaded isle of the Blacks. When the merciless Blacks decided that Candar was not fit for them, they all traveled to the isle of Recluce, where they ruthlessly shifted the weather so that Recluce became a paradise, and the once peaceful weather of Candar became harsh and unforgiving. There were the druids of the forest of Naclos, but--from what Cerryl had heard--the forest was the home of the druids, and most of them were Grays... Life had been so much easier when he was a pauper, millhand, or scriveneer's apprentice; now, things were getting more and more complicated by the day, and Cerryl had only see the tip of the mountain above the fog . . . .

Cerryl looked up from The Colors of White (Manual of the Guild at Fairhaven).

Thrap. There came a second knock from the door.

Cerryl rose and, before even opening the door, he could smell the scent of sandalwood and trilia. Anya? What does she want? "Ah, hello, Anya, ser. Please, come in."

She pranced in, swaying seductively, and flashing him a brilliant--and very false--smile. Cerryl didn't know what Faltar saw in her. Actually, he did: sex. Cerryl's thoughts went to something that Benthann had once said to him: "Sex is the only power a woman has in Fairhaven... Even if she has a strong room full of coins, or, light forbid, she's a mage, sex is the only real power a woman has..." And then something about how all that men can offer is power, and all they want is sex. All that women can offer is sex, and all they want is power. Sex for power. Power for sex.

"Can I help you, ser?"

"I heard a little more about your little... mayhap... in town. Horrible thing. Four daggers was it?"

She was trying to trap him, but he still answered truthfully. What else could he do. "Five," he replied without emotion.

"Oh, my!" she exclaimed in mock surprise. "You really ought to be more carefull, young Cerryl." She leaned forward, her white tunic taut around her hourglass figure.

"I thank you, lady mage." Cerry began to shift from foot to foot.

"You seem in a rush."

"The evening bell has rung and I am supposed to meet with Faltar and Lyasa for dinner in the Hall. They're serving mutton again." He flashed a hopefully convincing smile.

Anya scrunched her nose, but whether it was from the thought of the Hall's horrible food, or the fact that Cerryl was blowing her off for the Hall's horrible food, Cerryl couldn't tell. The redhead promptly stood and left.

Cerryl hated riding horses. They hurt him soo much. The first day of travel always seemed like the worst... until the next day came, and the days after that. At least we're about to break for the night... Then I can clean up, maybe shave--oh, no! I forgot the razor! The first real present I have ever received from anyone--and from Leyladin at that--and I forget it! Cerryl shrugged. At least he would be home soon.

Cerryl's bedroll was set slightly apart from the others that night. He just felt odd around Jeslek. Cerryl kept looking out into the darkness. Something was bothering him again, but exactly what, he did not know.