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

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Just about ready, ser," Vykay announced, straightening, placing the medallion on the sideboard,
and slipping the rivets/pins through the holes in the medallion and in the cart sideboard. Then
came the offset clamps and two quick blows with the hammer. The guard glanced at Cerryl.
The White mage nodded and concentrated, raising a touch of chaos and infusing the medallion and
rivets. He could feel the heat in his forehead, not enough to raise a sweat, but noticeable to
him. "There." Cerryl turned to the farmer. "Your cart is allowed on all White highways for another
year, ser. I must warn you that if anyone tampers with the medallion, you will need another. And
... they could get hurt."
"I'd be knowing that, but I thank you." The farmer offered a brusque nod and took the leads to
the mule, flicking them and leading the cart away, walking beside the mule, rather than riding.
Cerryl glanced at the second vehicle-a long and high gray wagon with bronze trim. The painted
emblem on the side read: "Kyrest and Fyult, Grain Factors."
The hauler stood by the wagon. "If you could just replace ..."
Vykay nodded and looked at Cerryl.
Cerryl extended his senses and bled away the remaining chaos, although there was so little left
that no one would have been hurt, even if Vykay had removed the old medallion.
Vykay produced a chisel and, with two quick snaps, removed the old medallion and then replaced
it with the new.
Cerryl added the chaos lock, then looked at the guard. "Is that all for now?"
"Yes, ser."
With a smile, Cerryl slipped away and back up to his perch on the second level of the
guardhouse. He glanced back northward over the highway, momentarily empty near the gates, though
he thought he saw another wagon in the distance making its way through the gray-leaved hills
toward Fairhaven. Because of the alignment of the city, he found it strange that the north gate
actually controlled the travelers from Hrisbarg and Lydiar and the far east of Candar. It was also
strange, as he reflected upon it, how much straighter the Great White Highway was in Gallos and
western Certis than near Fairhaven itself-yet Fairhaven was the home of the Guild and the mages
who had labored centuries to build the great highways of eastern Candar.
Stamping his feet again, he walked back and forth on the walkway behind the rampart several
more times, but his feet remained cold, almost numb.
The bell rang, its clear sound echoing on the rampart, but Cerryl had already stepped forward
with the sound of wheels on stone once more.
A farm wagon stood before the guards. Three men in rough browns stood by the wagon. Three and a
driver?
"What have you in the wagon?"
"Just our packs. We're headed to Junuy's to pick up some grain for the mill in Lavah."
Cerryl frowned. Lavah was on the north side of the Great North Bay, a long ways to go for
grain. His senses went down and out to the wagon, and he nodded to himself, marshaling chaos for
what would come, knowing it would happen, and wishing vainly that it would not. "There's something
in the space beneath the seat. Oils, I'd guess."
The driver grabbed an iron blade from beneath the wagon seat, and the gate guards brought up
their shortswords automatically but stepped back.
Cerryl focused chaos on the driver, holding back for a moment, hoping the driver would drop the
blade, but the man started to swing it forward.
Whhhsttt! The firebolt spewed over the figure so quickly he did not even scream. The blade
clunked dully on the white granite paving stones beside the wagon. White ashes drifted across the
charred wagon seat. The other three men did not move as the guards shackled them and led them into
the barred holding room to wait for the Patrol wagon. The patrol would hold them until they were