Imager's Intrigue: The Third Book of the Imager Portfolio (35 page)

Once that was taken care of, I took the hack back to the manufactory where I waited in the administrative building for Huesyt to return. I did more than a little thinking while I waited.

It was close to three glasses later, when he trudged into the foyer. More oily smoke and grit followed him.

His mouth opened when he saw me. “You…you’re still here…after all this?”

I stood. “Where else would I be? There wasn’t anything I could do after all the explosions and fires.”

He looked at me again. “Why? Our own workers fired at us. One of the foremen saw them set the explosions. He couldn’t do anything because one of the first blasts broke his leg. Our own workers…why?”

“Because they weren’t your workers,” I said quietly. “They were Ferrans, sent here to destroy the turbine works and what ever else they could damage. When they saw me, they were afraid that I’d do something to stop them, and they immediately did what they could.”

“The locomotive works…they were mostly untouched.”

I just nodded. Whether that section of the works had been spared because they’d run out of explosives or because they’d run out of time, I had no idea. I doubted we’d ever know.

“Do you keep detailed records on your workers?” I asked.

“There’s maybe a page on each. Their name, address, their date of birth, their work area and skills, when they were hired, any commendations or warnings, and their pay rate. And their wife or next of kin. That’s about it. What else would we need?”

“Once you put the works back together you might check on those you hired in the last year. I’d wager that a number of them will be nowhere to be found.”

Huesyt looked at me. “Pardon my shortness, Maitre Rhennthyl. That isn’t much help now.”

“No, I imagine it’s not. I’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll need to report on what still works here, and how long you think might take to rebuild.”

He just looked at me. I looked back, and he eventually looked away.

Then we left.

Claudyn and I found an inn that was acceptable some two milles from the manufactory—and found that it even had an imagers’ chamber, for which I was thankful, because I wasn’t looking forward to another night of troubled sleep and headaches.

When we clambered out of the hack outside the stone walls of Glendyl’s manufactory on Samedi morning, a smoky haze blurred the outlines of more distant structures, and the acridity of the air was more than noticeable with each breath that I took. Claudyn and I walked toward the gates, now guarded by four men, but the guard in charge took one look at my imager cap and insignia and waved us through. From what I could see from the gate plaza inside the walls, the buildings that held the turbine assembly and testing were burned-out hulks, as were a number of others. The big drop forge structure seemed untouched, as did the locomotive works, but all of the other larger buildings seemed damaged, in some cases being little more than rubbled heaps of stone. What had doubtless saved some of the buildings was their stone construction and the fact that Glendyl had spaced them far enough apart that the fires hadn’t been able to spread easily from building to building.

Even so, given Glendyl’s precarious financial position, both the Councilor and Solidar faced close to insurmountable problems and certain and significant delays in building new warships…or any other kind of modern vessel.

When I walked into the administration building, Fardyl was again behind the table. He jumped to his feet. “The director was hoping to see you, Maitre. He and the subcommander are in the conference room.”

“Thank you.” I walked down the narrow hallway, opened the door, and stepped into the chamber.

The uniformed Civic Patrol officer stood easily, if slightly languidly, and, after a moment, so did Huesyt.

“Subcommander Steyfyl, Maitre.”

“Rhennthyl, Maitre D’Esprit, from the Collegium in L’Excelsis. I was sent to look into the possibility of problems with the works here. Apparently, we discovered that possibility a little too late.”

The subcommander looked to me. “Maitre Rhennthyl…you’re the imager who’s a District Patrol Captain in L’Excelsis, aren’t you?”

Huesyt glanced sharply in my direction.

“I was, until Maitre Dichartyn was killed when his house was bombarded. The Collegium recalled me to take over his duties. That was less than three weeks ago.”

“Much has happened since then,” said Steyfyl.

I gestured to the chairs and took the one across from the subcommander, leaving Huesyt at the head—or foot—of the table.

“The locomotive works and the drop forge building appeared intact.” I looked to Huesyt.

“The foundry didn’t suffer much, either. Could have been worse.” He paused, then finally added, “I have to say, it probably would have been if you hadn’t come. We discovered places in the undamaged buildings where they were beginning to place explosives.” After a short silence, he went on. “Would have been better if you showed up earlier, though.”

“They would have destroyed the turbine works anyway,” I replied. “That was the principal target.”

“Because the turbines go to the warships?” asked the subcommander.

“They would have already, if the Namer-flamed Council had ever gotten off its collective rump,” snapped Huesyt. “Wouldn’t be surprised if the frigging Ferrans had something to do with the delays, too.”

I wouldn’t have been, either, but I had no proof of that. “I sent an urgent message to the Collegium yesterday, and I’m certain that the Maitre of the Collegium will make certain Councilor Caartyl knows what happened.”

“It’s not as though he can do anything.”

“Since Factorius Glendyl is also at the Collegium, he’ll also have learned,” I added.

Both men looked confused.

“After he was shot early this week, he was taken to the Collegium infirmary to recover. It was also felt he would be safer there.” That was an assumption on my part, but I thought saying so was best to preclude questions.

“Take a lot of golds to rebuild,” offered Huesyt.

“I’m certain it will,” I replied. “That’s something the factorius will have to work out.” I wondered how much Huesyt knew about Glendyl’s financial situation, but the moment wasn’t the time to bring up that question.

“Did you capture any of the saboteurs?” I asked.

Huesyt glanced at the subcommander.

“No. We only found the bodies and the weapons of the two men who attacked you and Director Huesyt. I must say that I’ve never seen weapons such as those. They fire what look to be miniature artillery shells.”

“They used similar weapons in L’Excelsis last week.” I probably should have followed up on the weapons when Seliora and I had been attacked, but I hadn’t been thinking as clearly as I should have been, I realized in retrospect. “Have you found any undetonated explosives?”

“More than enough. Bags of poudre. We stored them away from the other buildings. It’s got Army and Navy markings. You have any idea how that happened?”

“Not in detail, but the Navy was already investigating some explosive thefts. Some of them date back a year or so.” I paused, then asked, “Is there anything else I should report to the Collegium and the Council?”

The two exchanged glances, but neither spoke.

“Then I’ll be returning to L’Excelsis. Best of fortune to you, Director, and you, Subcommander.” I stood.

It would be another long trip on the ironway.

I couldn’t get a compartment on an ironway carriage back to L’Excelsis until the late night express that left at eighth glass. That might have been better, since I was tired enough by then and went to sleep easily enough, but I still woke with a pounding headache at fifth glass, and the dining carriage didn’t begin serving breakfast until sixth glass. I wasn’t in the best of moods by the time I arrived at the administration building of the Collegium at half-past eighth glass.

After releasing Claudyn, since I was no longer traveling, I went straight to the duty desk. The duty secondus was Cholsyr.

“Yes, sir?”

“Do you know where I can find Maitre Dyana?”

Cholsyr swallowed, then said calmly, “Maitre Dyana has gone to Rivages. She won’t be back until Lundi. She left this for you.” He extended an envelope.

I took it and opened it. The note was brief.

The missive was also signed and sealed, and that bothered me. What was she doing in Rivages? That was where Kandryl’s and Iryela’s main estates were, but there were several other High Holders located in that general area. I didn’t know any reason why Dyana would go there, unless she’d discovered something new about the shootings and explosions, but she did nothing without a reason.

“Did she say why she was going, or where she might be found?”

“No, sir. She only said she was visiting relations, if on duty.”

Relations? I knew that Maitre Dyana was one of the few imagers to come from a High Holder family, but she had never revealed what that family had been. About all I had ever been able to discover was that she had known Juniae D’Shendael when they had both been younger.

“Who is the duty master, Cholsyr?”

“It’s Maitre Chassendri, sir.”

“Is she around?”

“She was in the conference room a few moments ago, sir. I don’t believe she’s left.”

“Thank you.” I turned and headed toward the conference room—usually where the duty masters stayed on Samedi or Solayi if they didn’t have a study in the administration building.

Chassendri stood as I stepped into the open doorway of the conference room.

“I’m glad you’re back. When Maitre Dyana told me about the explosions in Ferravyl…”

“I was wise enough to just use my shields. Do you know why she’s in Rivages?”

“No.” Chassendri shook her head.

“What High Holder family does she come from?”

“She doesn’t like to let that be known…but you should know. Her brother is Zaerlyn D’Alte.”

For a moment, the name didn’t register. Then I winced.

“What’s the matter?”

“Oh…it’s not…it’s just that her niece is going to marry Alhyral D’Haestyr.”

Chassendri looked at me blankly.

“Let’s just say that…” I shook my head. “It’s none of my business.”

She laughed softly. “I’d hate to be the father of anyone who wants to marry your daughter.”

“No one will have to worry about that for years. Did she tell you when she might be back?”

“Late this evening. That was all.”

“Has anything else happened?”

“Besides some inappropriate imaging of an ice sculpture in the quadrangle…no.”

“Not by one of those who I’ve taken over, I hope?”

“No. Young Scammyl attempted to replicate female anatomy that he clearly doesn’t know that well.”

I just shook my head. After a few more words with Chassendri, I left, reclaiming the valise I’d left by the duty desk before walking through the light snow toward our house.

Knowing that it was possible that Diestrya just
might
be taking a nap, when I reached the door, I eased it open as quietly as possible, almost tiptoeing inside before gently shutting it.

Seliora was reading in the family parlor, and I could feel the welcome warmth of the stove. I just looked at her for a long moment.

Then she looked up, and the book went down, and I had my arms full of a very beautiful woman.

Somewhat later, we settled before the fire, and Seliora asked me what had happened, since the newsheets had only a short story about an explosion.

“Almost as soon as I got there, when someone caught sight of me, they lit off a series of explosions. Most of Glendyl’s works is little more than rubble. Some of the fires burned for almost a full day, and that was in stone-walled and tile-roofed buildings.”

“Did he have any indemnity?”

I hadn’t even thought of that, although I should have. “I don’t know. I’ll have to see.”

“We do. It’s not cheap, either. Years ago, Grandmama worked it out with L’Excelsis Indemnity. She got a whole group of artisans and shop-keepers to go together…” Seliora caught the look on my face, and asked, “What is it?”

“One of the buildings that was destroyed here was their building.”

“They don’t hold their golds there. Their accounts are with several banques.”

“You still might want to have your mother look into it, if she hasn’t already.”

“I’ll ask her.” She paused, then asked, “Was it the Ferrans? The ones who destroyed Glendyl’s works?”

“I’d guess so, but there’s no real proof, except the act itself and the way it was planned.”

“Where did they get the explosives?”

“It appears as though they were stolen from the Navy depot in Ferravyl.”

“That seems rather convenient.”

“Oh…it’s no coincidence. It’s probably why they picked that depot to raid. Glendyl has guards, but he didn’t ever think—or his director didn’t—about the fact that his workers might not be working for him. All the security was directed at keeping outsiders from doing damage, but not much thought was given to those inside.”

“That’s not something most people think about. Look at Odelia and Kolasyn. The only losses they’ve had are from his brother, not from strangers.”

“That’s probably true of Iryela and Kandryl, too.”

“Will you ever be able to prove that?”

“I have no idea. No one’s seen Johanyr since he left Mont D’Glace. He’s vanished.”

“That’s not like him, from what you’ve told me.”

At that moment came a loud cry from upstairs, and our conversation was postponed.

We did not attend anomen services that night. Perhaps that wasn’t showing thanks to the Nameless, but at that point my gratitude was directed to one special other.