Imager's Intrigue: The Third Book of the Imager Portfolio (31 page)

When I returned to the Collegium, I gave Schorzat and Kahlasa a quick summary of what had happened and then went upstairs, glad that Maitre Dyana was in her study.

She motioned for me to close the door, not that she needed to, since I was already doing just that. I took the chair on the end, the one closest to her and the one not in the sunlight.

“I hear that someone shot Glendyl. How did that come about, and what, exactly, were you doing at the Council Chateau?”

“It came about because everything that I’ve discovered doesn’t make much sense, and I wanted to see Glendyl’s reaction. I also wanted him to see me. First, I asked him about his concerns about the Naval Command’s efficiency…” I went on to tell her exactly what had happened.

When I finished, she nodded slowly. “Glendyl thought you’d be the target, and he’d been assured that what ever weapon was used would penetrate your shields. But that was never their intention. What haven’t you told me about the shooter?”

“Under a tattered brown cloak, he was wearing the same black, light-absorbing clothes that the agents killed in Third District wore. Most likely all were Ferrans, and Glendyl had to have known something.”

“Even if that’s true, we can’t make a charge like that without proof.”

“I’m not charging anyone,” I pointed out. “I’m merely observing.”

“You can’t say a word about the implications involved there, not without actual proof.”

“I know.” I smiled. “But if Glendyl gets better, he won’t be able to avoid my questions, not since he’s in our infirmary. He should stay there until he’s better, don’t you think?”

“I would agree to that, but you can’t question him until Maitre Draffyd says he’s up to it.”

“Does this make Caartyl acting head of the Executive Council?”

“In theory. After what’s happened to Suyrien and Glendyl, he may not be so anxious.”

“If he is, that might say something.”

“He’s too politically astute to show enthusiasm,” Dyana replied.

“But it’s a month before the Council is scheduled to convene.”

“I’ve asked Maitre Rholyn to have Caartyl issue a call for a special meeting of the Council a week from today. Caartyl declined, unless the meeting could be two weeks from now.”

“The thirtieth?”

“I would have liked it to be earlier, but he felt that they couldn’t get a quorum with a week’s notice. The call should be on its way tonight.” Her eyes hardened. “None of this explains who was behind the bombardment of the Collegium. What else have you found out about that?”

“The barges didn’t come from this section of the river. We should know where they did come from in the next few days.”
I hope
.

“You aren’t telling me everything.”

“No, Maitre. I’m only telling you what I know and what I can reasonably suspect.”

“You still don’t do finesse as well as you should, Rhenn.”

“I probably never will, Maitre.”

She shook her head. “Let me know whenever you find out anything.”

I stood and made my way back to my study.

I was still trying to sort out matters when, at just after half past the second glass of the afternoon, Kahlasa and Schorzat appeared at my study door.

“Come in. You both look grim.”

They did, and Kahlasa closed the door. They sat down.

“We have a very good regional in Solis,” Schorzat said.

I concentrated to recall who the regional was, then nodded. “Eslyana. She’s even a Maitre D’Aspect. I take it that she sent some information on barges.”

Schorzat looked to Kahlasa.

She put several sheets on my desk. “Here’s her report. There are only three barges and a tug that can’t be accounted for. That’s of the ones large enough to carry the weight of a bombard. It’s not just the weight, but the deck and hold strength for that much weight concentrated in a single spot. They were leased from one Leavytt, a transport factor in Solis. They never returned. Leavytt put in a claim with L’Excelsis Indemnity. They’re still investigating, but…”

“They have a problem since someone blew up their main building here?” I suggested.

“No…” Kahlasa said slowly. “They’ll have to pay, but Eslyana managed to find out a bit more. The lease contract was forged. That is, it was a standard Naval Command contract. It was on the right paper and with the correct watermarks, and with the correct names and seals, and the signatures were also apparently by the right people—except they don’t match the real signatures. They’re close, unless you examine them carefully.”

“There’s more, isn’t there?”

“It’s a real contract, and all the formalities and procedures were perfect. Leavytt’s been through this for years. He did say that he didn’t recognize any of the crew who took the tug and barges, except for the tug captain. He’d seen him before, but he doesn’t recall the man’s name. Leavytt didn’t know the subcommander who handled it for the Naval Command, but the subcommander knew everyone. He even mentioned the last lease and the Commander who had handled it. He said that the Commander was his superior. The contract deposit cleared before they took possession of the tug and barges. It was a draft on the Banque D’Rivages for five thousand golds. Leavytt said lease drafts were usually drawn on the Banque D’Excelsis, but he’d had one or two over the years on the Banque D’Rivages.”

“Whoever leased the tug and barges had considerable background in setting up this sort of thing,” I said blandly.

“There’s no way to prove it, but someone well-placed in the Naval Command or the Naval Bureau had to be involved,” suggested Kahlasa. “It’s more likely to be the Naval Bureau, because they handle supplies and leases and transport.”

Or someone who knows the Naval Bureau well.

“They also had access to five thousand golds, and we’d know if five thousand golds had been recently transferred from Ferrum or elsewhere or converted to a draft by someone…unusual…” observed Schorzat.

“You mean by someone who isn’t a High Holder or a wealthy factorius?” I asked.

“All large fund deposits from foreign sources have to be reported in time of war.”

“They could have done it years before.”

“That’s possible.”

After they finished, we all trooped back up to see Maitre Dyana, where I let Kahlasa and Schorzat report what they’d told me. Then she excused them and, after her study door was closed, looked to me. “The Naval Command will deny any involvement.”

“I know. I don’t plan to talk to them yet, not before I look into other aspects of it first.”

“How long will that take?”

“As long as it takes.” I offered a smile. “You know I’ve never been one to dawdle, even when I should.”

Once I was back in my study, I just sat at my desk, thinking. If the Naval Command happened to be involved, would Valeun have taken such pains to avoid Glendyl so obviously at a time when it was clear that Solidar needed more ships? Or was the avoidance merely to buy time before something else happened? Or had the Ferrans infiltrated the Naval Command at a lower level years before and transferred those funds equally early?

There was another possibility, and I wrote a quick note to Iryela asking to call on her. She was one source who might be able to answer some questions I didn’t want others knowing I was asking, and she wouldn’t say a word. I had Beleart send it by special messenger.

After that, I decided there was little enough more I could do, and I left the study.

As I walked back across the quadrangle and turned toward the house, and Seliora, I couldn’t help but think about Seliora’s words.
The ones closest to you are the ones who hurt you the most
. But…closest in what ways? That was another question.

First thing on Mardi morning, I was at the infirmary, looking for Draffyd.

As soon as I walked toward him, before I could speak, the medical imager said, “Clovyl said you’re exercising. That’s fine, but don’t push.”

“That’s not why—”

“I know. Yes, it’s likely he’ll recover. No, you can’t talk to him. Maybe late tomorrow. Maybe.” He paused, then asked, “Is it that urgent?”

“I don’t know,” I replied honestly.

“If you, of all imagers, aren’t certain, it can wait. Besides, he’s not awake, and waking him to talk to you would put too much of a strain on him. It would on anyone.”

“You’re not going to let him leave?”

“Maitre Rhennthyl,” Draffyd drew out my name and title, “the most honorable Councilor Glendyl isn’t in any shape to go anywhere and won’t be for weeks. If you hadn’t been beside him and acted in instants, he would have died on the Chateau steps. I will make certain he knows that, when he’s awake enough to understand…which he is not at present.”

After that, I went back to my study, looking to see if I’d received any more reports. There were only two. One was from the Collegium at Mont D’Glace, and that merely confirmed that they knew nothing more about Johanyr’s disappearance. The other was from the Civic Patrol Commander in Alkyra, reporting that a grain freighter scheduled to leave for the Abierto Isles had burned at the pier. Unfortunately, there were no details about what had caused the fire or who owned the vessel.

That led me into thinking about the lack of information, especially the lack of consistent information. The Council and the Collegium received reports from all over Solidar, but they varied greatly in the quality and even the types of information. Both the Council and I, and presumably Maitre Dichartyn before me, had to guess and fill in with estimates. Both the Council and the Collegium needed better information. I doubted that the Ferrans had that problem.

And, as for the Ferrans, why, for the sake of the Nameless, would Glendyl have gotten involved with them? He was influential and wealthy, possibly wealthier than even some High Holders. What could they possibly have offered him? That didn’t make any sense, either.

A knock on my study door interrupted my pondering.

“A message for you, Maitre,” announced a young voice, most likely the duty prime.

“Come in.”

“Yes, Maitre.” The youngster, perhaps all of ten and looking most serious in his grays, scurried in, bowed his head, slipped a striped envelope onto my desk, bowed again, and hurried out. I only knew that his name was Petrion from the duty roster.

Inside the outer envelope was another envelope with a note card inside. Iryela had written simply that she would be available to see me any day of the present week at any time before the first glass of the afternoon, except on Jeudi, when she would be unavailable after midday.

Since I wasn’t getting anywhere by sitting in the study and waiting for inspiration to strike me and since I had no idea where else I might go to find out more information, I immediately pulled on my winter cloak and headed for the duty coach station, stopping only briefly to let the duty secondus know where I was headed.

I crossed the quadrangle against a bitter biting wind from the northwest. Although the sky was clear, I had the feeling we might have snow by evening—or sometime during the night. The inside of the coach was only chill, but I felt sorry for Lebryn, although he was well bundled up. The roads were clear, but it took almost a glass to reach the Ryel estate north of L’Excelsis.

The footman who greeted me at Iryela’s estate bowed and said, “Maitre Rhennthyl…if you’ll be long, there’s a place in the carriage house for your coach and driver.”

“Thank you. I’ll be long enough, and they could stand to get out of the wind.” I turned to Lebryn. “They’ll direct you to the carriage house.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

I had to admit that I was surprised to find Iryela, attired in deep blue trousers and tunic, standing in the foyer to greet me. “It’s good to see you, Rhenn. Kandryl was pleased that you came to his father’s memorial service.”

“Suyrien was an honorable man, and he was Kandryl’s father.” I paused. “And it has been a trying time for you as well.”

“It has…and for you.” After a moment, she added, “The private drawing room is most comfortable in the morning, with the sun and the stove.”

“What ever you think best. I do appreciate your seeing me on such short notice.”

“How could I not?” Her tone was light, with seriousness beneath, as she turned to head toward the left-hand corridor. “Besides, it’s very quiet here in the mornings, even with the children, since they’re at their lessons, and Kandryl is spending the day at the main estate—Frydryk’s, that is. They’re going over the finer points of their father’s bequests and settlement.”

I moved up beside her. “That’s fairly set, isn’t it.”

“Oh, the bulk of everything will go to Frydryk, but there are apparently a number of smaller bequests.” She smiled. “There’s even a small one for Seliora, although it’s really for both of you.”

That there was such a bequest surprised me as well, but not the fact that it was to Seliora, because, as an imager, I could inherit nothing from anyone, and Suyrien had to have known that. “She will be pleased, if sad that she will receive it so much earlier than she should have.”

“You and Seliora impressed Suyrien. He was always pleased that Kandryl and I were married.”

“And you?” I asked gently.

She smiled. “It couldn’t have worked out better.”

I’d always thought that, but I still liked her to say it. “For both of us.”

“Indeed, and you make a better friend.”

As she entered the drawing room, she gestured to the small table. “Tea will be here shortly I thought you wouldn’t mind that on such a chill morning.”

I waited to say anything more until we were seated at the table. “I have some unusual questions…”

“That means they’re most serious, Maitre Rhennthyl.”

“Most serious, Madame Iryela D’Ryel.” I matched her tone before letting my voice turn serious. “I’ve been trying to find any traces of Johanyr. You haven’t heard from him?”

“No. I have warned all the guards that he’s not to be admitted, either here or at the main estates in Rivages. How could he have just…disappeared?”

“He wasn’t under guard, and he’d lost his ability to image.”

“He’s almost blind, isn’t he? How could he get around?”

I didn’t want to answer that directly. “With great difficulty, I suspect. But there are blind people in every town and city.”

“He isn’t the kind to beg or be helpless. You know that.”

I did indeed. “That’s very true. Has he ever written you?”

She shook her head.

“Was there anyone he was particularly close to?”

“No. He wasn’t even that close to me or to Dulyk or Alynat, and he wouldn’t speak or write to them after he…after he went to Mont D’Glace. He never wrote me, either.” The door opened, and an older woman appeared with a tray.

The tea was cardomom-flavored and welcome, since I wasn’t totally warmed after the coach ride, even with the gentle heat flowing from the drawing room stove. So were the simple morning cakes.

“I had tea sent down to your driver. I’m sorry you had to come out in such weather.”

“The sooner the better. Matters are not that good…oh…I forgot to tell you. An assassin shot Councilor Glendyl yesterday. He almost died, and he’s at the Imagisle infirmary, but Maitre Draffyd thinks it’s likely he’ll recover.”

“Was it the same person as shot Suyrien? Did he get away?”

“Ah…no. He’s dead. I don’t know as there’s any way to tell.”

“Couldn’t they capture him…” Her words died away as she looked at me. “Did you…?”

“I went to talk to Glendyl. He didn’t want to talk in his study and insisted on taking a walk…” I gave her a quick description of what happened.

She shook her head. “If only you’d been with Suyrien…”

“I don’t know it would have helped. They didn’t shoot Glendyl in the head.” I took another sip of tea and a bite of the morning cake. “Have you heard anything about why anyone would want to shoot Glendyl?”

“Me? A mere wife to High Holder Ryel?”

Behind the self-mocking tone was a certain sadness, I thought. “You’ve always seen and understood more than anyone else knew.”

“Except you.” She took refuge in sipping her tea.

I just waited, taking another swallow of tea.

Finally, she said, “There’s been talk for years about how he wants to do away with all the High Holders and break up the big landholdings by applying his so-called value-added tax to lands that don’t produce revenue. That’s foolish when you consider that you can only harvest timberlands once a generation, if that, but he’d tax the land every year when there’s only revenue from it once every thirty to a hundred years. I haven’t heard anyone who thought seriously about actually shooting him, but there’s not a High Holder out there who liked the idea of his being in charge of the Executive Council, even for a month. Even Caartyl would have been better, but I doubt any High Holder would commission an assassination that would hand the Executive Council over to a guildmaster.”

“I can see that. But even if Glendyl did head the Executive Council for the next month, he couldn’t pass tax or revenue matters. That takes two-thirds of the entire Council.”
And right now, the High Holder Councilors and the single Collegium Councilor constitute one vote more than a third of the full Council.
I also had the feeling that Suyrien hadn’t seen Ferlyn’s figures on the numbers of High Holders.

“What is it, Rhenn?”

I laughed ruefully. “Trouble, of a different kind. I just realized something. I’m sure Maitre Dichartyn knew it, but some of this is very new to me.”

“Why?”

At that point, I realized that I’d never told her what had happened, not in terms of my change of position. I’d assumed she’d known, but I’d never mentioned it, and my presence at the memorial service would have been considered normal, even if I hadn’t taken over Dichartyn’s duties. “Things have changed at the Collegium. Maitre Poincaryt and Maitre Dichartyn were killed in the bombardment. I’m no longer a Civic Patrol captain. The Collegium has recalled me, and I’m now a Maitre D’Esprit.”

“Oh…” For one of the few times since I’d met her years before, Iryela looked disconcerted. “You’re…one of the high imagers, then?”

I knew that was so, but I hadn’t let myself dwell on it. “By default. Maitre Dyana is now the Maitre of the Collegium.”

Iryela laughed. “No wonder Frydryk has been grumbling. A woman heading the Collegium. How did that happen?”

“She was the only Maitre D’Esprit left.”

“That means…you’re the second-ranking imager in all of Solidar. And you’re here having tea with me?”

“I said it was important,” I pointed out, trying to keep my tone light.

“What does Johanyr have to do with all of this?”

“I don’t know. It might be nothing. It’s just that he vanished just before all the attacks on L’Excelsis took place.”

She shook her head. “You think he’s involved, don’t you?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I worry that he is. Do you know if any of his acquaintances have heard from him?”

“Not that I know of. I used to ask, but he never wrote anyone. I’d think they would tell me if he did now, or if they’d seen him.”

“Do you know if he was friendly with Geuffryt, one of the Naval Command Assistant Sea-Marshals?”

“Geuffryt?” She frowned. “Geuffryt…” Then she nodded. “Geuffryt D’Laevoryn-Alte. He was the youngest son. He was…I suppose he still is…some sort of relative of Juniae D’Shendael. He was friendly enough to Johanyr when Johanyr was still a boy, but he was a good ten years older. He was like a distant uncle. Then his father…he made some bad decisions, and he went sailing one day and never came back. I suppose that was why Geuffryt stayed with the Navy.” She paused. “Why did you want to know?”

“I just wondered. I met Geuffryt several weeks ago and found out that he was a cousin of Madame D’Shendael. He seemed to know about your family.” That was more than a slight exaggeration. “So I thought I’d ask. I’m trying to think of anyone Johanyr might contact.”

“There really isn’t. You know he was always above everyone…until…”

“I was afraid that might be the case.” I smiled wryly. “I’ve also been watching on the other matter. So far nothing has turned up, but we have run across rumors of a few other odd funds transactions, and I can always hope that we can find out what happened.”

“I do appreciate it.”

“I do have one other odd question.”

“Oh?”

“Do you know if there is a complete listing of all the High Holders in Solidar anywhere?”

“The Collegium doesn’t have one?”

“If it does, no one knows about it.”

“I don’t think there is a current list. I remember my father talking about the last complete census of High Holders being done at the turn of the last century. There is a list in the library, and he did annotate it.”

“Might I borrow it? Discreetly?”

“Of course.” She smiled. “I will ask that you return it personally.”

“I can do that.”

“If you will excuse me…” Iryela rose.

I stood and watched her leave, but she returned immediately, handing a small bound volume over to me. “It’s just a listing of names and the locations of the main lands of each High Holder.” After a moment, she asked, “Do you have any other unusual questions?”

“No. I wish I did, because it would mean I knew more.”

She did laugh, if softly.

“I should leave. I’m sorry I don’t have better news.”

“You will let me know…if anything…happens?”

“I will.” I inclined my head. “And you will do the same? About Johanyr or Glendyl or anything else you think useful?”

“I will.” She stood. “Congratulations. I always knew you’d do well. I’m sorry for you that it happened the way it did.”

“So am I. I’m not as prepared for it as I should be.”

“No. We never are. That’s life. I’ll walk out with you.”

As we walked down the corridor, she added, “I told Kandryl times were changing, and we’ve been more careful than ever. He chided me for worrying…until all this happened. Now, he doesn’t say anything.”