Imager's Intrigue: The Third Book of the Imager Portfolio (25 page)

Solayi morning, we slept late, or as late as Diestrya would let us, then stumbled down to breakfast in nightclothes and robes. We needed the robes, because the wind howled outside and sleet pattered against the windows…and the stoves in the kitchen and parlor were cold because we hadn’t loaded them before we’d gone to bed. The first task was to get some heat. I did hurry things up slightly by imaging flame into the coal. Even that left me with a headache, but the kitchen and parlor began to warm far more quickly than they would have otherwise…and Seliora could start cooking sooner.

As we finished eating, Seliora fixed her eyes on me, with that determined look I understood all too well. “You’re not going anywhere, not even to your study at the Collegium. I saw how starting the stove hurt you.” She paused. “You are resting. You’ll never recover if you keep going out and getting into trouble.”

“I didn’t go out to get into trouble.”

“When you go out, you get into trouble, and you’re not strong enough to deal with something like yesterday again.”

“Dada is too strong,” observed Diestrya.

“He is, but he needs to rest.”

I took a last swallow of tea that had cooled to lukewarm. I couldn’t help but think about what had happened across L’Excelsis and the other larger cities in Solidar—explosions, riots, mobs, Civic Patrol officers being shot, the attack on the Collegium.

“Well?” persisted my dear wife.

“I surrender to your most reasonable proposition.”

“Good. You watch Diestrya while I wash up, and I will while you get dressed.”

I did clean up the dishes and the kitchen as I kept an eye on our not-quite-wayward daughter, but even that minimal effort took three times as long as it should have, because three-year-olds have insatiable curiosity, usually involving items such as coal scuttles, hot stoves, or grimy pokers followed immediately by dashes toward white table linens.

Once again, I was reminded why Seliora wanted to keep working as a design engineer for NordEste Design and not spend every waking moment with Diestrya. While Seliora didn’t dawdle in getting dressed, she also didn’t rush. But she did give me a grateful smile when she relieved me, and I carried the kettle of warm wash water up to the bathroom.

When I came back downstairs, wearing older, heavier, and more comfortable imager grays, Diestrya was peering out the window of the family parlor, entranced by the flow of water across the outside of the panes. Pleased with her absorption and hoping it would last, I settled onto the settee beside Seliora.

“You’re still thoughtful,” she observed.

“I’ve been thinking about yesterday. The hacker knew who we were. He was waiting. But…if they knew so much…?”

“Do you think they knew you weren’t up to full strength?”

“They might have guessed, but I think it was designed so that whoever came up with it couldn’t lose. They either killed me, or they got killed. If they got me, that weakens both the Civic Patrol and the Collegium. If they get killed, there’s no track back to who hired them, and they were using the kind of weapons that certainly would lead to one of those outcomes.”

“If Cydarth is involved,” mused Seliora, “he might want you to survive. Then he could suggest how strange it was that you are always surviving.”

“Another way of undermining me and the Collegium?”

“Well…if you get killed, he’s rid of you. If you don’t, he undermines your effectiveness by suggesting your survival is the result of something sinister.”

“My patrollers know differently.”

“They do, Rhenn. Who cares what they think, especially in the Council or in the Collegium?”

She had a point there. Even if I wouldn’t be returning as captain, those sorts of rumors wouldn’t help me, and especially not the Collegium. “There’s another aspect to all this. The more I discover, the more complications I find. The gunners on the barges were set up the same way. If they were successful, they’d have just ridden the barges downriver. By daylight, they’d have been fifteen to twenty milles downstream. At some point in deeper water, they could have scuttled them, and no one would have been the wiser, not any time soon.” The level of experience of the gunners still bothered me. That was one reason why I hadn’t mentioned that aspect of the matter to anyone, especially to Sea-Marshal Geuffryt.

“That took planning.”

“All of it took planning…and for years. But so many things happened. I can’t believe that any one group—even the head of Ferran spies or what ever they’re called—could have organized it all and kept it hidden and all on track.”

“Then they weren’t all done by the same people.” Seliora’s tone was matter-of-fact as she got up and intercepted Diestrya before she reached the coal scuttle.

Yet it couldn’t be coincidence that everything had happened at once. Or had the Ferrans merely analyzed the problems Solidar faced and woven their plot or plots inside problem areas we already had and hadn’t resolved? That was more likely, but why hadn’t Dichartyn or Poincaryt discovered that? Then again, if their actions didn’t involve deaths…or if the deaths happened years before…

I didn’t like those implications any more than the idea of coincidence.

Was I just trying to fit odd circumstances and a few Ferran-implemented acts into a grand scheme that didn’t even exist?

“Rhenn…what are you thinking? You have the strangest look on your face.”

“I’m trying to make sense of things that may not make any sense at all.”

“Things always make sense if you look at their patterns and not yours.”

I understood what she meant. Too often, I tried to impose what I thought should be the order or pattern of things, rather than seeing what was.

“That’s the engineer’s way of thinking,” Seliora went on. “When you design things, whether it’s a card reader for a loom or a design for fabric, you get in the habit of assuming that everyone designs the way you do, or that there’s just one designer, like the Nameless, that arranges everything.”

“But people aren’t like that,” I said with a laugh.

“You need to let your mind rest,” she said. “Sometimes that’s more useful than worrying it to death, especially when you’re as tired as you are.”

She was right about that, as she was with many things.

Given the cold and sleet, we didn’t go anywhere all day, not even to services at the anomen. We stayed home and enjoyed the warmth of the family parlor.

Seliora was right about my not pushing myself, and she’d never said anything about the less than perfect image-repairing by the Collegium of the furniture damaged by the attack…although I had managed to re-image her bed back into a better shape, at least the posters and headboard. Imaging just didn’t match crafting, unless the imaging was done by a master-crafter. By Lundi morning, I felt far better, at least until I stepped outside the house and again smelled the acrid odor of smoke and coughed at the bitterness in the air. I didn’t feel much better when I reached my study at the Collegium and began to read the newsheets.

Both
Veritum
and
Tableta
reported on a pitched battle between the Solidaran Northern Fleet and two smaller Ferran fleets. While the initial reports were sketchy, all three fleets suffered heavy losses, with possibly as many as a third of our vessels either destroyed or rendered incapable of further fighting. The Ferrans had been unable to break the blockade, but the implication was clear that, unless the Northern Fleet obtained reinforcements, another such battle, with similar results, would destroy the blockade.

I thought about Geuffryt’s observations on the shortcomings of our fleet, then made my way to Schorzat’s study, but he wasn’t there. Would Kahlasa know? She might. I walked two doors down to her study and knocked.

“It’s Rhenn.”

“Come on in.”

She had a stack of reports in front of her, but pushed them aside. “You have questions about something?” Her smile was sympathetic.

“How could I not? I know about Council security and Civic Patrol security and not a lot more.”

“Whereas I know little about either of those,” she quipped back.

“You read the newsheets about the Northern Fleet?”

She nodded. “If you believe them, and I do, it was the kind of victory that’s hardly better than a defeat.”

“I’ve heard that the Naval Command has been requesting capital ships for years and that the Council has yet to act on the request. What do you know about that?”

“I know that’s true.”

“Suyrien is the head of the Executive Council, and he owns the largest shipworks in Solidar…yet he couldn’t persuade the Council to build ships when the Navy is asking for them?”

“That’s a fair statement,” she replied. “It’s because he does own the shipworks. None of the factors or the artisans want to spend any more on ships when we already have the largest fleet in the world. They see it as another play by a High Holder to enrich himself at everyone else’s expense. To build those ships the Naval Command is requesting would require an increase in taxes—”

“Don’t tell me. The way the taxes on goods and services are levied means that they fall more heavily on the factors and artisans?”

“That’s right. They don’t like it, and so long as they vote as a bloc…”

“No new ships. Is that why Glendyl has been pushing the value-added tax reform?”

“Exactly.”

“But since he supplies the engines and turbines, he’s suspect as well?”

Kahlasa nodded. “By everyone, including the High Holders.”

“How are we—the Collegium—viewed? Has Rholyn said?”

“He hasn’t told me that much, but Schorzat has relayed some things. He’ll be back in a glass or so.”

“I’ll take the relayed information now and talk to him when he returns.”

“Because Maitre Poincaryt had to work with Suyrien, we’re viewed as allied closely with the High Holders. Something you did, according to Master Dichartyn, left them cooler toward us, but didn’t help gain any support from the factors and artisans. You’re also known to be friendly with Iryela D’Ryel and Suyrien.”

“I’m a former artisan and guild member, and my family are factors. Everyone in my wife’s family is an artisan. The Councilors are seeing what they want to see.” I shrugged. “If my acts as a patrol officer over the past five years haven’t made an impression, it’s not likely that anything I say will. Do you think the reports of the battle will change anyone’s mind?”

“They’ll talk, but it will still come down to how to pay for the ships.”

“Have you ever had to work with Marshal Geuffryt?”

“I’ve talked with him briefly, but usually Schorzat or Master Dichartyn were the ones who met with him.”

“What was your impression of him?”

“He’s charming and well-spoken. He’s well-informed. He’ll do whatever’s necessary to rise to the top of Naval Command.”

I laughed. “I’ve only met him twice, but nothing I’ve seen would contradict that. Is there anything else I should know about him?”

Kahlasa shook her head.

“There’s one other thing…”

A certain wariness crossed her face. “Yes?”

“I’ve been thinking about barges. Surely, there ought to be some trace of where the barges—and a tug—came from. They had to have been bought, or chartered, or stolen. Not that many people handle large barges like that.”

“You want us to find out what we can?”

“I do, indeed.” I smiled politely. “If you see Schorzat before I do, would you mention that I was looking for him?”

“I will. Good luck, Rhenn.”

“Thank you.”

Once I returned to my study, I began to leaf through the back reports in the cabinet, looking to see if there was anything about the allocation of eastern water rights. Something, somewhere, had jogged my thoughts, and I recalled that someone, years before—it might have been Chassendri—had commented about the legal and economic issues and how the conflict between freeholders and High Holders might reduce the number of High Holders to below a thousand, triggering a change in the Council and those in control of the Executive Council.

I hadn’t found what I was seeking when Schorzat peered in through the half-open study door. “You were looking for me?”

“I was. If you’d close the door.” I gestured toward the chairs. “When I met with Geuffryt last week, he mentioned the need for more ships. This morning’s newsheets seemed to confirm that. I talked with Khalasa, and she indicated there was a power struggle in the Council…” I sat down behind the desk.

Schorzat took the chair across from me. “It’s been that way for years. I do know that the various Sea-Marshals have felt that the Council was sacrificing Soldidaran prosperity and security to petty politics and that the Collegium should use its influence to break the stalemate over financing fleet upgrading and expansion…”

“I can’t believe the Sea-Marshals said that. Exactly how did they manage to get that across without saying it?”

Schorzat laughed. “I wasn’t there. According to Master Dichartyn, Sea-Marshal Valeun said something like, ‘It would be for the best if an impartial party with influence could persuade them to move beyond their petty concerns…’”

“Power and golds aren’t ever petty concerns, especially if you’re the one facing the loss or either.”

“No…but the Naval Command types place a higher priority on control of the oceans than upon squabbles over control of the purse.”

I wouldn’t have called the struggle over control of the Council a squabble, not when the outcome might change the entire future of Solidar, but I just nodded.

Schorzat shook his head. “In some ways, you’re just like Master Dichartyn. When you give that nod, it’s acknowledgment without approval. What don’t you agree with?”

“We’re approaching a turning point. Solidar is changing. The High Holders won’t be able to hold on to control of the Executive Council for too many more years. The entire world, and not just Solidar, has a stake in how that change is handled. It’s more than a squabble over how to fund our Navy.”

“You think the Ferrans don’t want a solution?”

“The longer it takes the Council to work it out, the longer before we get new and better ships and the more likely they’ll be able to do what ever they want in Jariola.”

“Jariola isn’t exactly a place where either of us would want to live.”

“No,” I agreed, “but Jariola is just the first step toward Ferrum supplanting Solidar. I think most of Terahnar would prefer that not occur. Don’t you?”

“I wish I could be certain of that,” Schorzat replied.

“Remember, the Ferrans killed scores of young imagers, and they’ve attacked Jariola twice in less than ten years. I don’t recall us starting any wars recently.”

“You’re right. I do worry that all this could get out of hand.”

“That’s possible,” I said. “It’s always possible.” Personally, I had the feeling that matters were already well out of hand and that we didn’t know how far out of control they were.

“Is there anything else?” he asked.

“Not right now. I’m sure there will be…as soon as I think of it.”

He nodded and slipped out of the study.

I had barely returned to seeking a report that might not have even existed when Gherard appeared at the door. “Sir, Maitre Dyana would appreciate a word with you.”

“Thank you.” I closed the cabinet, imaged the hidden catches locked, and headed upstairs.

Her door was open. I stepped into her study and closed it behind me, then settled into the center chair across from her desk.

“You wanted to see me?”

“I did. How did your meeting with Geuffryt go?”

“He’s concerned about the state of the fleet and worried about Cydarth. He also admitted that the Navy is missing several tonnes of Poudre B.” I went on to tell her almost everything—except for my suspicions about why he had a certain hold on Juniae D’Shendael, although I did mention he was a cousin.

“Did he explain any more about Cydarth?”

“No, he didn’t. He just said he had a trusted source who’d never been wrong, but that he had no proof.”

“Is there anything else I should know?” she asked quietly.

“The Civic Patrol is getting very short of captains…” My explanation of the events of Samedi was as brief as I could make it.

“Do you think Cydarth is involved?”

“I have no idea. He would certainly remake the Civic Patrol if he became Commander, but there’s no certainty that the Council won’t reappoint Artois.”

“They don’t like change.” Dyana’s voice was dry.

“Speaking of the Council…can you tell me the situation there…or should I be arranging meetings with the Executive Council myself?”

She shook her head. “Normally, Rholyn would be briefing you, but he was called away, and I’ve been meeting with those Councilors still in L’Excelsis. So I thought I’d tell you what’s been happening and get your thoughts as well.” She cleared her throat, then went on. “The High Judiciary issued an immediate ruling. The rules of succession mandate that Glendyl becomes the head of the Executive Council until the next formal meeting of the Council, at which time the Council can name whoever it wishes to succeed Suyrien. They made it clear that the Charter of the Council does not mandate a High Holder as head of the Executive Council, but that such is the default choice if there is not a unanimous choice, and that, in the event or death or incapacity of the head of the Executive Council, the order of succession follows the precedence set up in the Council Charter…until, of course, the Council meets and makes its will known.”

“So you’re dealing with Glendyl.”

“For the next month.”

“You look worried,” I said. “What else has happened?”

“There were a score of explosions in Thuyl last Samedi. One of the grain freighters caught fire. Half the piers are unusable.”

“Thuyl? Is that a High Holder–controlled port?”

She frowned. “None of them are controlled that way.”

“Is it one used more by High Holders?”

“I’d judge so. The ironway line south from Cheva to the port is owned by Ealthyn.”

“Some sailors suspected of being Jariolan agents have been tracked to his lands, according to Schorzat.”

“You’re suggesting that their conflict is also being played out here.”

“That would be to the advantage of Ferrum.”

She nodded slowly.

“Do I dare ask what else has gone wrong?”

“I’m certain there’s more, but even with the express trains on the ironway, it takes time for reports to get here.”

I rose from the chair, inclined my head politely, and headed back down to my study.

I really wanted to get out to Third District station, but I wasn’t recovered enough to hold full-strength shields. Yet I didn’t want to meet with either Artois or Cydarth until I’d actually talked to Alsoran and some of the patrollers about what had been going on in Third District…as well as to Horazt or Jadhyl, if I could.

Waiting felt like the Namer’s game, and I didn’t like it at all.