Praise for Colors of Chaos
“The ninth novel of the Saga of Recluce series will please fantasy readers who have made the series a genre favorite. Colors of Chaos is a coming-of-age novel that traces the adventures of Cerryl, following up on the story of his boyhood, told in The White Order.”
—Amarillo Globe-News
“L. E. Modesitt, Jr., has been building a world that seems fantastic, with magic and feudalism rampant, but is riveted pretty thoroughly to the rigors of science fiction. There’s a consistency across this universe that makes the magic, the science, the politics, and the economy seem plausibly well-integrated.”
—San Diego Union-Tribune
“The author’s skill in portraying the humanity of characters who possess the power to destroy others with a thought adds a level of verisimilitude and immediacy rarely found in grand-scale fantasy.”
—Library Journal
Praise for The White Order
“Another entry in Modesitt’s popular Recluce series, one that upholds the saga’s reputation for intelligence and increasing originality…. This volume in the series stands unusually well on its own as a classic and competent coming-of-age story.”
—Booklist
“More than a story about the battle between good and evil, the Saga of Recluce is as rich and complex a creation as Tolkien’s Middle-Earth…. Up until now, both in flashbacks and flashforwards, the conflict in this parallel world has seemed to be between ‘good’ Order and ‘evil’ Chaos. With the present novel’s focus on Cerryl’s training in white magic, Modesitt changes this emphasis. In doing so, a brilliant new facet appears.”
—BookPage
“There’s no denying the appeal of the intriguing Cerryl.”
—Romantic Times
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In thanks and appreciation to Nesby Cornett Janes,
for all she made possible for others,
and especially in thanks for her daughter
Characters
Nall
Cerryl’s aunt
Syodor
Cerryl’s uncle
Dylert
Sawmill master, with whom Cerryl first apprenticed
Brental
Dylert’s son
Tellis
Scrivener in Fairhaven
Benthann
Tellis’s mistress
Pattera
Weaver girl
Mages
Cerryl
Mage of Fairhaven
Sterol
High Wizard of Fairhaven
Kinowin
Overmage of Fairhaven
Jeslek
Overmage of Fairhaven
Anya
Chief aide to Jeslek, niece of the factor Muneat
Broka
Master of anatomie
Derka
Disarj
Esaak
Master of mathematicks
Eliasar
Armsmaster of Fairhaven
Fydel
Gorsuch
Mage adviser in Hydolar (Hydlen)
Huroan
Assistant chief Patrol mage, Fairhaven
Isork
Chief Patrol mage, Fairhaven
Myral
Master of sewers
Redark
Sedelos
Mage adviser in Lydiar
Shyren
Mage adviser in Jellico (Certis)
Sverlik
Mage adviser in Fenard (Gallos), killed by Prefect Lyam
Leyladin
Black healer, daughter of Layel
Bealtur
Apprentice mage
Faltar
Former apprentice mage with Cerryl
Heralt
Former apprentice mage with Cerryl
Lyasa
Former apprentice mage with Cerryl
Rulers
Berofar
Duke of Hydlen
Estalin
Duke of Lydiar
Lyam
Former prefect of Gallos, killed by Cerryl
Syrma
Prefect of Gallos
Rystryr
Viscount of Certis
Factors
Layel
Leyladin’s father, factor and trader in scarcities
Muneat
Richest factor in Fairhaven, Anya’s uncle
Jiolt
One of the five wealthiest factors in Fairhaven, son Uleas is consort of Anya’s sister, Nerya
Scerzet
One of the five wealthiest factors in Fairhaven
Chorast
One of the five wealthiest factors in Fairhaven
Felemsol
One of the five wealthiest factors in Fairhaven
Loboll
Wealthy Fairhaven trader
Contents
Characters
Colors of White
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXII
Chapter XXIII
Chapter XXIV
Chapter XXV
Chapter XXVI
Chapter XXVII
Chapter XXVIII
Chapter XXIX
Chapter XXX
Chapter XXXI
Chapter XXXII
Chapter XXXIII
Chapter XXXIV
Chapter XXXV
Chapter XXXVI
Chapter XXXVII
Chapter XXXVIII
Chapter XXXIX
Chapter XL
Chapter XLI
Chapter XLII
Chapter XLIII
Colors of the Guild
Chapter XLIV
Chapter XLV
Chapter XLVI
Chapter XLVII
Chapter XLVIII
Chapter XLIX
Chapter L
Chapter LI
Chapter LII
Chapter LIII
Chapter LIV
Chapter LV
Chapter LVI
Chapter LVII
Chapter LVIII
Chapter LIX
Chapter LX
Chapter LXI
Chapter LXII
Chapter LXIII
Chapter LXIV
Chapter LXV
Chapter LXVI
Chapter LXVII
Chapter LXVIII
Chapter LXIX
Chapter LXX
Chapter LXXI
Chapter LXXII
Chapter LXXIII
Chapter LXXIV
Chapter LXXV
Chapter LXXVI
Chapter LXXVII
Colors of Candar
Chapter LXXVIII
Chapter LXXIX
Chapter LXXX
Chapter LXXXI
Chapter LXXXII
Chapter LXXXIII
Chapter LXXXIV
Chapter LXXXV
Chapter LXXXVI
Chapter LXXXVII
Chapter LXXXVIII
Chapter LXXXIX
Chapter XC
Chapter XCI
Chapter XCII
Chapter XCIII
Chapter XCIV
Chapter XCV
Chapter XCVI
Chapter XCVII
Chapter XCVIII
Chapter XCIX
Chapter C
Chapter CI
Chapter CII
Chapter CIII
Chapter CIV
Chapter CV
Chapter CVI
Chapter CVII
Chapter CVIII
Chapter CIX
Chapter CX
Chapter CXI
Chapter CXII
Chapter CXIII
Chapter CXIV
Chapter CXV
Chapter CXVI
Chapter CXVII
Chapter CXVIII
Chapter CXIX
Chapter CXX
Chapter CXXI
Chapter CXXII
Chapter CXXIII
Chapter CXXIV
Chapter CXXV
Chapter CXXVI
Chapter CXXVII
Chapter CXXVIII
Chapter CXXIX
Chapter CXXXI
Chapter CXXXII
Chapter CXXXIII
Chapter CXXXIV
Chapter CXXXV
Chapter CXXXVI
Colors of Change
Chapter CXXXVII
Chapter CXXXVIII
Chapter CXXXIX
Chapter CXL
Chapter CXLI
Chapter CXLII
Chapter CXLIII
Chapter CXLIV
Chapter CXLV
Chapter CXLVI
Chapter CXLVII
Chapter CXLVIII
Chapter CXLIX
Chapter CL
Chapter CLI
Chapter CLII
Chapter CLIII
Chapter CLIV
Chapter CLV
Chapter CLVI
Chapter CLVII
Chapter CLVIII
Chapter CLIX
Chapter CLX
Chapter CLXI
Chapter CLXII
Chapter CLXIII
Chapter CLXIV
Chapter CLXV
Chapter CLXVI
Chapter CLXVII
Chapter CLXVIII
Chapter CLXIX
Chapter CLXX
Chapter CLXXI
Chapter CLXXII
Chapter CLXXIII
Chapter CLXXIV
Chapter CLXXV
Chapter CLXXVI
Chapter CLXXVII
Chapter CLXXVIII
Chapter CLXXIX
Chapter CLXXX
Chapter CLXXXI
Chapter CLXXXII
Chapter CLXXXIII
Chapter CLXXXIV
Colors of White
I
CERRYL SHIFTED HIS weight. He stood in the west corner of the small second-level rampart of the guardhouse before the north gates to the White City of Fairhaven. That was the only corner where the sun touched. His white leather jacket was fastened all the way up to his neck, and even with the heavy shirt and white wool tunic of a full mage underneath, he was cold.
He glanced out at the white granite highway that stretched north and, just beyond where he could see, curved eastward toward Lydiar. As the day had passed, it had warmed enough that his breath no longer formed a white cloud, but the north wind still cut through his white woolen trousers. His eyes went down to the armsmen in red-trimmed white tunics who stamped their boots and walked back and forth in front of the gates, waiting for travelers.
The rumbling of another set of wheels—iron ones—on the stone alerted Cerryl, and he looked up and out along the highway to study the approaching vehicle, a high-sided wagon painted cyan and cream, escorted by a full score of lancers in cyan livery, ten preceding and ten following the wagon. Cyan was the color of the Duke of Lydiar.
Cerryl couldn’t help but wonder what was being conveyed to Fairhaven with so many lancers: Chests of golds owed for road taxes? Trade goods from the port at Lydiar as some sort of repayment? The ponderous approach of the wagon and the four horses indicated the load was heavy.
Slowly, slowly, the teamster in cyan eased the wagon up to the gates and the White armsmen. The Lydian lancers reined up on each side of the wagon and behind.
“Tariffs and goods for Fairhaven. Bound for the Wizards’ Square,” announced the captain of the Lydians, a squarish black-haired and bearded figure. He extended a scroll to the man in charge of the inspection and guard detail.
Cerryl took a deep breath and let his order/chaos senses study the wagon. Metal—coins in chests, as he had suspected, although there were but three chests. Under the dark gray canvas were also a dozen small barrels, more like quarter-barrels. Salt perhaps. Most salt came from Lydiar, the closest port, for all that it was two long days or three short ones.
The head gate guard glanced up at Cerryl, his eyes questioning the mage. Two of the lancers behind the Lydian officer followed his eyes. One swallowed as his eyes took in Cerryl’s whites.
“That’s what the scroll says, ser!” the detail leader called up to Cerryl.
“It’s as they say, Diborl,” Cerryl answered.
“You may pass,” the head guard announced.
The wagon rolled past the guardhouse, and Cerryl listened. Listening was the most interesting part of the duty, at least usually.
“…always have a mage here?”
“Always…Sometimes you see someone get turned to ashes…”
“…you’re jesting…”
“No…not something to jest at.”
Cerryl hadn’t had to use chaos fire on any person yet in his gate-guard duties, but he’d turned two wagons carrying contraband—one had iron blades hidden under the wagon bed—into ashes and sent the teamster and his assistant to the road crew, where they’d spend the rest of their lives helping push the Great White Highway through the Westhorns.
The young mage shrugged. He doubted that either man had been the one who had planned the smuggling—or would have benefited much—but he’d seen Fenard and Jellico and grown up in Hrisbarg in the shadow of the played-out mines. He’d been a mill boy, a scrivener’s apprentice, and a student mage under the overmage Jeslek. All those experiences had made one thing clear. Strict as the rules of the Guild were, harsh as the punishments could be, and sometimes as unfair as they had been, from what he’d seen the alternatives were worse.
After stamping his white boots again, Cerryl walked across the short porch, four steps, and turned back, hoping that keeping moving would keep him warmer. Sometimes, it did. Most times, it didn’t.
He wanted to yawn. He’d thought sewer duty had been tiring, but it hadn’t been half so tiring as being a gate guard. At least, in cleaning sewers he’d been able to perfect his control of chaos fire. As a gate mage, mostly he just watched from the tiny rampart on top of the guardhouse just out from the north gate. Also, the sewers were warmer in winter and cooler in summer. The sewers did stink, he reminded himself, sometimes a great deal.