Imager's Intrigue: The Third Book of the Imager Portfolio (27 page)

“Not better ones, though,” I suggested.

“Not then, but they compete against each other, and with each passing year, their vessels are better, and so are their other goods. While I have not seen the actual land-cruisers, the newsheet reports note that the ones used in invading Jariola are far, far better than those they had but five years ago. We have nothing like them, because we see no need for such.” Quaelyn paused to take a sip of tea.

“What else?” I prompted.

“A second area that is seldom discussed is the comparative physical fragility of Ferran cities and industrial areas. Because their society is based on the greater creation of revenues and profits in the near-term, and because they are always changing things, they tend to build and rebuild all the time. They don’t build manufactories to last, out of stone and brick with walls that may last generations. They also do the same thing for housing for their workers. That means, over time, that they tend to waste golds because they have to rebuild more often. Part of that is that there are more fires, and they cause more damage. Their equipment tends to wear out quickly, but often that doesn’t matter, because the goods the equipment produces are changed quickly also.” Quaelyn took another sip of tea, then nodded, as if to say that he had said enough.

I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of almost-temporary housing that burned quickly, but that was their choice. I took a swallow of tea, hot and bitter, then turned to Ferlyn. “How else do you see the patterns of Ferrum as differing from ours? Are there other differences?”

“One Quaelyn didn’t mention directly is the legal structure. The Ferran assembly has changed and modified its laws so that the current economic and political patterns are generally consistent at all levels of society.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Kahlasa. “Can you give an example?”

Ferlyn shrugged. “They don’t have local laws that are different from place to place.”

“We don’t either,” said Kahlasa.

“But we do,” I pointed out. “The laws are the same in any city, but the High Holders retain the power of low justice on their lands, and that means it’s pretty much what each High Holder determines, so long as the punishments don’t exceed the maximum stipulated by the Council charter. That’s a thousand different systems.”

“Precisely…” said Ferlyn, drawing out the word. “The same thing is true in dealing with manufacturing. In Ferrum, everything is subject to the same levies, or the same scale of levies, where here, we have different taxation structures. There’s one for goods produced by guilds and artisans, another for factors, and another for anything produced by High Holders. This is designed to perpetuate the current division, but it’s not terribly fair or efficient.”

I wasn’t so certain about fairness. Because of the restrictions created in each group, taxing them the same might be less fair. “Should efficiency be the overriding goal?”

“That’s a political question. You asked about the differences. The Ferrans work toward maximizing efficiency and production…and making large profits quickly. Before long, if we don’t change, they’ll be able to manufacture ironway locomotives in Ferrum, ship them here, and still sell them for less. That’s why they’ll eventually conquer Jariola, even if they fail this time. They learn and improve. Even in terms of war and destruction, they’re trying to be efficient, to create the most destruction with the least use of resources.”

“The most destruction with the least use of resources…” I mused, half-aloud. “In a way, that’s a terrible way of putting it.”

“But that’s what war is about…in terms of patterns. The winner is the one who creates the most destruction for the other while minimizing the destruction he suffers.”

Even after I’d returned to my study, Ferlyn’s phrase about destruction kept running through my thoughts. There was something about it…

On Meredi, after a normal early morning, with somewhat more exercise and greater participation in getting Diestrya ready to leave with her mother, as soon as I got to my study, I met with Eamyn, only for about half a glass, just so that I could go over where he was in his studies. Then I read the latest reports from Patrol Commanders and from the various imager regionals. One thing stood out. There hadn’t been any attacks or explosions in any large manufactories or shipworks. At least, none of the reports mentioned any attacks on such facilities. That gave me yet another reason to visit Commander Artois.

I took a duty coach to Civic Patrol headquarters, not that I was looking forward to meeting with Artois. I’d already decided that I wasn’t about to discuss anything with Cydarth until after I’d spoken with the Commander. I did have the coach wait for me outside headquarters.

I stepped into anteroom outside Artois’s private study just after ninth glass. The older patroller who sat at the left-hand desk of the two small writing desks in the anteroom looked up.

“Captain…Maitre Rhennthyl…”

“I’m here to see the Commander.”

“Yes, sir. Let me tell him.” The patroller stood, opened the door to the study, and quickly closed it behind him.

In moments, the door reopened, and the patroller stepped out and to the side.

Artois stood behind him, just inside the study. “Maitre Rhennthyl, do come in. I was hoping to see you before too long.”

I stepped into the study and closed the door behind me. An ancient walnut desk was set at the end of the study closest to the river. On the innermost wall to the right was a line of wooden cases. On the wall opposite the desk was a tall and narrow bookcase, filled with volumes. Facing the desk were four straight-backed chairs. The two windows, frosted around the edges, were centered on the outer wall and offered a view of the various buildings on the north side of Fedre and some beyond, but not so far as the Boulevard D’Imagers. As had always been the case, there were no pictures or personal items on the desk, in the bookcases, or on the walls.

“You look a bit battered and bruised,” offered Artois, moving toward his desk. Somehow, he looked even thinner and shorter than I recalled, although he was probably only four digits shorter than I was.

“It does happen when someone fires bombards at you and stones crash down around you and your family.” I settled into one of the chairs in front of the desk, waiting for Artois to sit down.

He did, smiling genially, although his brown eyes remained flat and expressionless. “You may recall I once said that you could be a very powerful imager. Apparently, I was correct.”

“Ability does help some in survival.” I smiled politely, waiting to see what he might say.

“I understand that you may have other duties now.” Absently, one hand brushed back short gray hair that held but a few remaining strands of brown.

“Maitre Dyana is now the Maitre of the Collegium, and she has changed some duties. I will be taking over those handled by Maitre Dichartyn. In that regard, I would greatly appreciate it if I might receive any listing the Civic Patrol has of the structures damaged by explosions.”

“We’re still compiling that, but I will be happy to send that listing once it is complete.”

“Are you aware of any attacks on large manufactories or the barge piers or the ironway stations or freight terminals?”

“I haven’t seen any reports on those.” He frowned.

“Thank you.” I wasn’t about to explain. Not at the moment. “It appears that you face some of the same difficulties here, given the injuries to so many Civic Patrol captains.”

He nodded slowly. “We have lost some good captains.”

“You have some good lieutenants, some of whom would make solid captains.”

“You know, Maitre Rhennthyl, I have often asked myself what makes a good Civic Patrol officer. Is it ability? Intelligence? Or dedication? Motivation? Ambition? Ideals?” He paused and looked at me. “You have been a captain for five years. What do you think?”

I offered a smile. “If it were only the case of a single quality. Dedication is important, but it depends on what the captain is dedicated to. Ability is certainly necessary, but it’s not enough. Ideals are vital, but which ideals? Intelligence, but only if it is coupled with practicality.”

“You accomplished much in Third District, but you did so with abilities and contacts that no other officer possesses, and that leaves a certain problem.”

“That is true, and it would be true if you choose to promote another officer to captain over Lieutenant Alsoran.”

“Why do you think that?”

I shrugged. “It’s known that I favor Alsoran. It’s also known that Alsoran believes in patrolling the Third District in the same fashion as I did. Regardless of what my future duties to the Collegium may entail, I still retain certain ties to Third District. Lieutenant Alsoran, were he to become captain, could call on me upon occasion. Because he is a loyal and dedicated officer, he could not and would not do so if he remained as lieutenant under a new captain. If he were to be transferred to another district, the knowledge he has of Third District would be lost. You, of course, are the Commander and will make what ever choice you think is best.”

Artois shook his head. “You sound more like your predecessor than the captain of Third District.”

“It is your choice, Commander,” I pointed out.

He reached into the top drawer of his desk and withdrew a sealed envelope, then extended it to me. “That is his promotion to captain. While I could I do nothing else, I did wish to discuss the matter with you. I assume you would like to present it personally.”

“You mean that you wanted some commitment that I would retain an interest in Third District.” I took the envelope and slipped it into the inside pocket of my waistcoat.

“Of course.” He smiled.

“And in the Civic Patrol,” I added. “What is the worst probable fate for the Patrol?”

His smile vanished. “I would have thought—”

“What I think is what I think. You have been Commander for ten years. I would like your views. You have had mine on Third District.”

He frowned.

I waited.

“The worst fate?” He paused. “The worst fate for the Patrol would be to accept injustices as a necessary part of life in L’Excelsis. Injustices are often not preventable, but they should never be regarded as necessary for some good.”

“You have certainly made that clear. How might the Patrol come to accept injustices as necessary?”

“There are likely many ways. The Council could reduce our funding. That would result in accepting more injustices. Patrollers could become less honest and accept favors and worse. Patrol officers could become beholden to those with golds. All those have happened in the past, and the outcomes were never good for the Patrol or for L’Excelsis.” Artois shrugged.

“Or officers could just become more accepting of injustices among those without guild connections or golds?” I suggested.

“That is also possible, and perhaps the most likely if care is not taken.”

“It’s been suggested that justice in the cities has not always been to the benefit of the High Holders.” So far as I knew, I was the only one who had even voiced that, but I wanted a reaction from Artois.

Again, for a moment, he did not speak. “I had not thought of it in that way, but it is likely so. When there is more equal justice in the cities, those on the great estates may well have greater incentive to depart.” He paused. “Justice does not lie merely in the law, but in all aspects of life. A patrol officer cannot change what is beyond the law, and he cannot interpret the law differently because of what he cannot change. You understand that. That does not preclude legal action to improve matters. Your actions have shown that. Others have been critical of such actions, you realize?”

“I’m aware of that.”

“I shouldn’t keep you, Maitre. You might want to have a word with the subcommander before you leave.”

“I should. Is Alsoran’s promotion effective?”

“It is. As of today.”

“Thank you. I’m sure we will talk in the future.”

“I would hope so.”

After leaving Artois, I made my way down the upper hall to the next study, rapping on the door and then stepping inside.

Subcommander Cydarth rose from behind his desk. “I hear you may be leaving us.”

“In the more direct sense,” I replied. “I’m replacing Maitre Dichartyn.”

“I was sorry to hear about his death, but you have much more hands-on experience with the Patrol. That could benefit both the Patrol and the Collegium.”

“I would hope so.” I thought about adding something about benefit being in the eye of the beholder, but decided against it. “Have you had any success in tracking down any of those who destroyed so many buildings?”

“No. I can’t say that we have. The only ones we’ve ever caught were the ones you killed and those found dead in Third District. It was a pity you couldn’t bring one in alive.”

Those found dead in Third District? I’d have to ask Alsoran about that. “I did bring in some of the druggers. They were poisoned here in headquarters. That was a pity, too.”

“They wouldn’t have said anything.”

“We won’t know that, though,” I replied.

“No, we won’t.” He laughed in that deep rumbling voice. “There are always things we won’t know.”

I smiled. “There are things we can’t prove. That doesn’t mean we don’t know them.” I smiled. “I just wanted to let you know about the change personally. Oh, Alsoran has been promoted to captain of Third District, and, of course, I’ll be advising him as he feels necessary.”

“Of course.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you from time to time.” I smiled, nodded, and stepped out of his study, down the hallway and down the steps to the main entrance.

When I left Patrol headquarters, occasional flakes of snow were drifting out of a light gray sky. Even with my heavy gray winter cloak over an equally heavy waistcoat, I was grateful that the duty coach was waiting. Lebryn waited for my instructions..

“Third District station, please.”

“Yes, Maitre.”

As the coach carried me up Fedre, I could see, just short of Sudroad, an area of rubble to the right. Once there had been a line of row houses there. Another of the explosions set by the Ferrans? Why there?

We reached Third District station without difficulty, and, again, I had Lebryn wait. I wasn’t about to risk hacks at the moment.

Huensyn was on the duty desk, and he immediately stood as I walked in. “Sir!”

I gestured for him to take his seat on the stool behind the high desk. “Is Lieutenant Alsoran around?”

“The lieutenant stepped out for a moment, Captain. He said he’d be but a quint, and that was more than a quint ago.”

“I’ll wait. You can tell me about a few things. I noticed some buildings had been blown up in First District. Did we lose any here?”

“No, sir.” Huensyn smiled. “We did find a few dead bodies, fellows in black, though.”

“They must have run into trouble.” That was good and bad. I just hoped the taudischefs had disposed of the explosives, but most likely they’d sold them, not that there was anything I could do about it. I’d have to talk to them, but that could wait, because what was done was done, and even if there had been markings on the explosives, they would have doubtless been Solidaran markings.

“The lieutenant sent a report to the Commander that you’d stopped two groups already, and that another two had apparently run into difficulties.”

“I don’t imagine he got a response.”

“No, sir.”

At that moment, the station door opened. Alsoran smiled broadly as he caught sight of me. “Captain! I’d heard that some of the high-ranking imagers’ dwellings were shelled. We didn’t know…”

“I was laid up for a day or so, but here I am.” I nodded to Huensyn. “If you’ll excuse us, we need to talk over some matters.”

“Yes, sirs.”

We walked to Alsoran’s study. I let him close the door.

“Before we discuss anything, you need to open this envelope.” I withdrew the oblong and handed it to him.

He took it, then opened it slowly, as if he feared what might be inside. He unfolded the heavy sheet and read it, then read it again. Finally, he looked up. “You’re leaving, then?”

“I don’t have a choice. I’m needed at the Collegium.”

He nodded. “I didn’t ever expect this. Is it your doing, sir?”

I smiled and shook my head. “Commander Artois wrote it before I talked to him or met with him. It was sealed and waiting in his desk when I saw him earlier today. I did tell him that I’d be happy to offer you any advice or expertise you needed.”

He was the one to shake his head. “I still don’t…”

“You’re good at what you do, and the taudischefs trust you. They did back when you were a patroller first. They also know that I support you. What other lieutenant or captain could do as good a job here as you can?”

He offered a crooked smile. “No other officer would want to follow you, not so long as you’re still with the Collegium. You’re in charge of imager security, aren’t you?”

“There’s no such position, but I have duties along those lines.”

“I thought so.”

“Does following me bother you?”

“No, sir. I’ve never thought I was anything but a good solid patroller. I think I can be a good solid captain.”

“So do I, and L’Excelsis needs solid captains.” I smiled. “I can’t stay long, but I’d like to announce the changes to those here in the station.”

Alsoran smiled. “I can’t stop you.”

As I’d suspected, as patrollers had come in for various reasons, either between rounds or to report offenses, they’d managed to remain, and a half-score were scattered not-so-casually in the area around the duty desk. When I stepped out of Alsoran’s study, most eyes flicked toward the two of us.

I walked into the middle of the open area. “I have an announcement to make.”

The murmurs died away.

“Because of changes at Imagisle, I’ve been recalled to duty there. I’ve appreciated the effort all of you, and all those who are not here, have made. But I would like to tell you that from today on, Captain Alsoran will be the one running Third District, as he already has been in my recent absence.” I turned and inclined my head to Alsoran. “Captain.”