Imager's Intrigue: The Third Book of the Imager Portfolio (40 page)

My sleep on Vendrei night was scarcely sound. I awoke twice in chill darkness from nightmares where lists swam out of the blackness, and each name was written in fire and blood that burned my hands when I tried to blot out the flames. When I finally roused myself on Samedi morning, I was relieved to see that at least I hadn’t imaged fire or letters into the stones of the wall, although some heat would have been nice, since the windows were thoroughly frosted. Each breath puffed steam into the air. With their construction designed primarily to protect everyone else in the house from inadvertent nightmare or dream imaging, imagers’ sleeping chambers were not designed primarily for warmth.

I did slip out and hurry down to the exercise building, but not before I loaded the stoves. While I managed Clovyl’s entire work-out, I decided against running on the icy ways and walks, except for a careful and gentle jog back to the house.

Seliora and Diestrya were in the breakfast nook of the kitchen when I returned.

“I’m glad you didn’t run in this weather.” Seliora poured me a mug of steaming tea.

I just held it up to my chin and let the steam wreathe my face. “I ran back…carefully.”

“We haven’t talked about Year-Turn.”

“We went to my parents’ last year. That means we’re going to yours this year…if they’ll have us.”

“I told Mother that, but…we hadn’t actually talked.” Seliora poured herself a second mug of tea.

“We’ll have to have dinner with mine the next Samedi, I imagine.”

“We can do that. On Year-Turn day, do you want to attend services with the family or here before we go?”

“What ever you prefer.”

“Are you humoring me, dearest husband?”

“No. It’s your choice.”

She smiled. “Isola does an afternoon service on that Solayi, and it’s much shorter. That would be better, since we’ll have Diestrya.”

I nodded. I didn’t mention that Isola also offered better homilies than the chorister at the anomen attended, if infrequently, by Seliora’s family. We had a more leisurely breakfast than was usually the case, before I had to leave for the junior imagers’ briefing.

At the ninth glass of the morning on Samedi, twenty-seven seconds and thirds sat at the long tables in the dining hall. Maitre Dyana, Dartazn, and I stood at the head of the table, with her in the center. Ferlyn, Kahlasa, Ghaend, and Chassendri stood against the wall behind the masters’ table, observing.

Maitre Dyana began. I couldn’t help but notice that she was not wearing a brilliant scarf, but one of a gray so dark it verged on smoky black.

“You have been selected to help defend Solidar. Some of you may have grasped what is not in the newsheets and understand that a great deal is at stake. For those of you who have not, I would like to point out that our northern fleet has suffered heavy losses over the past months. Here in Solidar we have suffered attacks by Ferran agents, and most recently, their attacks destroyed the only significant engine works in Solidar. This means a delay of at least a year before we can even begin to build more ships to replace those that have been lost. There have been other attacks and events as well, and unless the Collegium acts, these will increase. You will join the northern fleet to take part in a unique operation designed by Maitre Rhennthyl and Sea-Marshal Valeun. Maitre Dartazn, here, will be your immediate superior from this moment until you return to Imagisle…”

As Maitre Dyana finished her brief speech, I studied the faces of the junior imagers I knew. We’d only excluded one imager for reasons other than lack of ability, and that was Tomai. While she was one of the most accomplished seconds, putting a female on any Navy ship would have created too many problems. Even Kahlasa agreed with me on that, but we both regretted it.

“…And now Maitre Rhennthyl has a few words.” Dyana stepped back.

I moved forward. “Some of you may ask why you were selected. You may also ask why you have to face dangers at an age far younger than those who came before you. Unfortunately, that is not true. The older ones among you may recall that almost a quarter of the younger imagers were assassinated by Ferran agents in the years 755 and 756. The difference between them and you is that you will know and face the dangers before you. You will have an opportunity to confront, if indirectly, those who have brought war and destruction to our shores and lands. You will be led and trained by Maitre Dartazn, and you will be leaving L’Excelsis tomorrow evening on the ironway. He will give you the details, particularly what you will need to pack in the duffels you will pick up outside the dining hall when you leave. I will leave you with one thought. You are imagers, and you are fortunate enough to live in a land where imagers are respected, even protected; and for that position, we should be both grateful and understanding. For in much of Terahnar, imagers are little more than criminals, if not executed on the spot. Appreciation, however, is not enough. Throughout your lives, each and every one of you will be called upon to repay the faith the people of Solidar have in you. At times, we are called to do more than repay that faith on an individual basis. This is one of those times.”

I eased back and let Dartazn take over.

Dartazn smiled, then started to speak. “While some of you may know this, many of you do not. Maitre Rhennthyl just spoke of the need to back faith with acts, and even with one’s body and life. Unlike most of us, he, and Maitre Kahlasa as well, have defended the Collegium, the Council, and Solidar with both. He has broken more ribs than any of you have, and lost more blood than flows in the veins of any three men. He walked the streets of Solidar as a common Civic Patroller, and he has saved Councilors and imagers alike, often suffering near-fatal injuries. This is true of every Maitre D’Esprit who has ever served the Collegium. Why am I telling you this?” Dartazn paused.

I was stunned. I hadn’t realized he was going to mention me.

“I’m telling you this so that you don’t even begin to think of feeling sorry for yourself. As imagers, we have a better life than most, and all advantages and privileges must be paid for. Our payment—and yours—is to defend the only land in all Terahnar that has respected and supported us.” He stopped, again for a long moment. “There are duffels outside, as Maitre Rhennthyl said. I’m about to tell you what to pack. Before you get aboard the coaches to take you to the ironway station tomorrow, I will inspect each duffel. Anything that is missing will be supplied at our next destination, but you will have double the amount it costs deducted from your imager pay, as well as a one-gold fee. Do you understand?”

The one-gold fee definitely grabbed their attention.

Dartazn was a good speaker, and he held their attention.

Afterward, as Maitre Dyana and I left, I asked her, in a very low voice, “Where did he learn all that about me? I never told him.”

“I did. He needed to know, in detail, so that he understands that you’re not asking anything of him that you haven’t suffered, if under differing circumstances.”

“So have you, and Maitre Dichartyn…”

She offered an amused smile. “Unlike the officers of the Navy, as imagers rise in rank and responsibility, the level of personal dangers also increases. That may be why only the most cautious and very best die of old age.”

It might also be why the Maitres of the Collegium were seldom arrogant, also unlike the senior Naval Commanders.

For the next several glasses, I remained in the background, helping Dartazn and his juniors as necessary. Then I went home.

Needless to say, on Solayi evening, neither Seliora nor I attended services at the anomen, because I was at the ironway station to see off Dartazn and his charges.

The first imager I went to see was Shault. Although he stood confidently beside Ralyea, the eyes of both juniors darted from the train carriages that had not been opened to boarding to Dartazn and then to me as I approached.

“Maitre Rhennthyl, I thought you weren’t going,” offered Ralyea.

“I’m not. I came to see you all off.”

“Where are we going?” asked Shault.

“On the ironway.” I paused, then added, “This is the express to Westisle.” I pointed. “It even says so on the carriage sign.” After a moment more, I went on. “Both of you need to practice your shields when you’re not working with Master Dartazn. Remember to do that in the open. You can hurt yourselves if you work too hard inside places like train compartments. No, they’re not lead-lined, but there’s enough metal there to drain you more than you realize.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I expect both of you to do your best.” With a nod, I turned and eased down the platform to where Dartazn stood.

“Good evening, Maitre,” he offered.

“Good evening. You seem to have everything well in hand.”

“They’re still shocked. Most of them anyway.”

“They will be for a time. They’re not used to sudden changes, but when you’re training them, try to upset them so that they get used to it, and practice as much as you can at night.”

“I’d thought so.”

I stepped closer and lowered my voice, so that none of the juniors ranked to his left could hear. “Remember, you have to make sure that the gunboats get close enough. Marshal Valeun understands that. He knows we’ll lose some, and we’ll lose imagers. You’ll have almost two weeks onboard the fast frigate to give them instruction in how to image to a target most effectively. Just make sure they’re imaging over water.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And make certain that your sample cases get on the frigate as well.”

Dartazn looked at me and offered his boyish grin. “You have a hard time when you have to order someone else into danger, don’t you, Maitre?”

“How could you tell?” I replied dryly.

He laughed, and then, so did I.

Before long, the train carriage doors opened, and they boarded, and I departed, trying not to think of all that could go wrong.

Once again, on Solayi night, I didn’t sleep all that well. I’d told myself that, while I couldn’t help but be worried about Dartazn and all the juniors, I’d done what I could do. Either my plan worked, or it didn’t. If it didn’t, my name might well go down as the most inept and misguided Maitre D’Esprit in the history of the Collegium, but I still couldn’t do more about it. None of that helped. Neither did exercise and running early on Lundi. Nor did a good breakfast and a cheerful wife and daughter. The plain fact was that I’d launched a plan that was a tremendous gamble. That Solidar really had few other options didn’t matter, because what I’d done was designed to deal with a long-term problem before it got worse, and possibly unresolvable, rather than an immediate crisis. If my plan worked, people were going to be furious, and if it didn’t, they’d be even angrier…and for far longer.

After spending a glass or so in my study catching up on the latest reports from across Solidar, I walked to the duty coach stand, where I took one to the Council Chateau. The Council was meeting more than three weeks before its normally scheduled date, and Baratyn was short-handed and might need some help. I also wanted to see what I could find out, even if I had no precise idea of what I sought.

I hadn’t even gotten much through the side door used by Collegium security before I was face to face with Baratyn.

“Maitre Rhennthyl,” he said with a wry smile, “I should be surprised to see you here, but I find that I’m not.”

“I thought it wouldn’t hurt to be here today, especially after I left you even more short-handed than usual.”

“We’ll work it out somehow. Dartazn needed new challenges. But…I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your eyes open for a good third.”

“After all this is over, there might be several who are suitable. We’ll have to see. Are there lots of petitioners waiting outside at the gate?”

“Not that many. Most of those who might wish to ask something of a Councilor know that today’s meeting will deal with officially choosing a new Chief Councilor and seating Councilor Fhernon.”

“Is Glendyl here?”

“He isn’t here yet.”

“He may not come,” I suggested, “but I’d wager that Caartyl’s here.”

“He was here before seventh glass.”

“Is ninth glass still the time they’ll meet?”

Baratyn nodded.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“I hope not,” he replied with a laugh.

I couldn’t help smiling. “Then you don’t mind if I just sort of wander around?”

“That might help Ramsael.”

“He’s still in his old study, then?”

“He’s not Chief Councilor yet. The Council does try to follow its own rules…”

The way he let the sentence dangle suggested what we both knew. I nodded and headed for the north circular steps up to the upper level where the Councilors had their studies. Outside the Councilors’ lounge, I saw two men talking. One was High Holder Ramsael. I didn’t know the other, but since I did know all the Councilors by sight, it was almost a certainty that the other man was High Holder Fhernon, the one who would replace Suyrien on the Council. Since he had not, as of yet, he was doubtless in the awkward position of having neither study nor clerk, but only for less than a glass.

“…Find the Council a very different place…”

“So I hear.”

Ramsael saw me and gestured. “Maitre Rhennthyl, I thought it might be possible that you would be here. Have you met Councilor Fhernon?”

Why did everyone think I would be at the Council Chateau? Because Master Dichartyn had been…or because rumors were beginning to swirl around about me?

I stepped forward. “I have not.” I turned to Fhernon as I halted. “I have heard of you and your scrupulous fairness, however.” That was close to what Seliora had said.

“You see, Fhernon,” said Ramsael with a laugh, “your reputation precedes you. Because the Collegium is less than forthcoming, I might also point out that Maitre Rhennthyl is now the second-ranking imager in all Solidar.”

That was definitely a pleasant warning to Fhernon.

“I had not heard.” Fhernon inclined his head. “I am certain, then, that we will be seeing more of you.”

“Not too often,” I replied. “You’re far more likely to see Maitre Dyana or Councilor Rholyn. They are the ones who speak for the Collegium.”

“While you act for it,” added Ramsael.

“Only occasionally,” I said lightly, “and when I have, it’s often been for the benefit of various Councilors.”

Ramsael nodded to Fhernon. “If you will excuse us, Fhernon. Since I see Maitre Rhennthyl so seldom, I’m going to prevail upon him for a few moments of his time.” Then he turned back to me. “If you would not mind?”

“It would be my pleasure.” I wasn’t certain that it would be, but there was little else to be said, and I’d learn something. Whether it would be useful to my own interests was another question.

Ramsael gestured, and I walked alongside him toward the study that would become Fhernon’s in a few glasses, when Ramsael became Chief Councilor and took over the large corner study that had been Suyrien’s.

“I was sorry to hear that the Collegium was shelled.” He opened the study door. “I presume it was by Ferran agents.”

“Since we have not found those who did it,” I replied as I followed Ramsael into the study and closed the door, “all we know for certain is that they were accomplished gunners.”

Ramsael did not seat himself behind the desk, but stood beside the closed window.

I could feel a slight draft that suggested the window was not so tightly fitted as it might have been.

“You may not know this, Maitre Rhennthyl, but I was not the heir to Ram-sealte. So I took a commission as an officer and spent four years at sea.” He turned from the window. “The more I’ve learned about the bombardment of the Collegium, the more concerned I’ve become. The most senior and able of the imagers were targeted. As you noted, the gunnery was excellent. More than excellent. Outstanding, I would judge.” He paused. “Could that have been done by an imager? Certainly, there were no vessels remaining in the area.”

“The shells were fired from barges north of Imagisle. Quite a few people saw the barges burning and exploding before they sank. As for an imager creating that destruction…no. The best of imagers might be able to create and detonate one or two shells in that fashion, but there were something like eight fired quickly.”

“I thought as much, but it is best to ask. I must confess that I do not understand the motivation behind such an attack.” He held up a hand. “Oh, I can understand how the Ferrans well might wish to cripple Solidar by striking a blow at the Collegium, but by far the best way to do so would be to have targeted the quarters of your junior imagers. They represent the future, and one could kill far more of them with each shell. Whoever was behind the attack wanted to take out the leadership of the Collegium.”

“That is very clear,” I agreed. “But there have never been that many senior imagers, and I have no doubts that Ferrum knows that.”

“Might I ask what you intend to do about that and these other attacks on Solidar?”

“Might I ask why you’re asking me, rather than Councilor Rholyn or Maitre Dyana?”

“You could indeed. The truth is that you’re known not to imply one thing while meaning another or to say nothing at all in most elegant phrases.”

“I might not say anything at all.”

“You might not, but you will not waste my time.”

“Let us just say that the Collegium is well aware of the need to act.”

“Will the Naval Command support you in what ever you plan?”

“They will…either in the near-term…or later.”

“Your words contain implications…” He cocked his head slightly.

“All words do, Councilor.”

“Pardon me if I am unseemly in my bluntness, Maitre, but when might we know of the…implications?”

“As we both know,” I replied politely, “we are effectively at war with Ferrum. Until the Ferrans are dissuaded, that conflict will continue. We are working on such dissuasion. At the moment, I would prefer not to say more.”

“You are every bit Dichartyn’s successor.” Ramsael laughed. “Let me change the subject to another that will affect us all, if not quite so immediately. Like all the High Holders who are Councilors, I opposed the ‘reforms’ that the late Chief Councilor managed to have enacted in the last session of the Council.” Ramsael smiled politely at me. “I presume you understand the measures to which I’m referring.”

“If you’re referring to those contained in the low justice changes, I do.” I didn’t see any point in denying that I knew very well. First, to do so would have been lying, even if I did so by evasion, rather than by outright prevarication. Second, all that would do would be to delay matters, and not for all that long, while irritating Ramsael. And third, it would just make the eventual resolution more difficult.

“These changes could have far-reaching effects. I trust you understand that as well.” He looked at me directly.

“The changes would come, regardless of those provisions,” I pointed out.

“How will the Collegium act if efforts are made to reverse those so-called reforms?”

“I can’t speak for the Collegium, Councilor.”

“I would have expected no other response, you understand? Yet, I had to ask.”

“If the Collegium speaks or acts, Maitre Dyana will be the one with whom you will deal…and no one else.”

Ramsael frowned. “Given that, as a friend of my daughter and her husband, then, how would you advise me?”

That made it difficult. “Let me just say that I suspect your efforts would be better directed elsewhere.”

He nodded slowly. “How much time do we have?”

“You know what the law said. I would judge, and it is only my opinion, that if the Council follows the law and the original charter, the Collegium would see no reason to speak or act.”

“That will not set well with some.”

“Not following the law and charter will set less well with even more, I fear.”

“The Collegium stands where?”

“Behind the law. Where else could the Collegium and its Maitre stand?”

“Not all laws are for the best, some would say.”

“I would agree. I would also say that a land that does not live by its laws will not long endure. It may change those laws, but to flout them will destroy it far more quickly than following bad laws.”

“You have me there, Maitre Rhennthyl, and best we leave it at that. Is there anything I might be able to help you with?” Ramsael did not smile, but his voice was quietly earnest.

“Several matters, possibly. What can you tell me about the Banque D’Ouestan?”

“Very little directly, except that they’ve recently opened branches in Kherseilles and Estisle. They also appear to be offering favorable terms for loans to factors.” Ramsael seemed relieved at the change in subject, even though he’d brought up the initial questions.

“They wouldn’t be touting the fact that they’re not beholden to or owned by High Holders, would they?” I asked.

The faintest hint of a smile crossed the Councilor’s face, then vanished. “There are rumors to that effect.”

“Do you know what factors of import might have had dealings with them?”

“Know? No. There was word that Veblynt played off the Banque D’Excelsis against them to finance his new paper mill south of Rivages. Glendyl avoided talking about them, and that suggests he knew more than he wanted to reveal. Reyner warned everyone to avoid them because they were backed by outland golds. Someone suggested that troublemaker Broussard had dealings with them…”

I asked a few more questions, listened, and then took my leave. I was intrigued that Ramsael was familiar with Veblynt, but then the paper factor had come from a High Holder family, and because he was a friend of my father’s, I could certainly talk to him…when I had some time. In the end, I stayed at the Council Chateau through the opening glass, while the votes were taken to confirm Ramsael as Chief Councilor and to seat Fhernon as the High Holder Councilor replacing Suyrien.

Rholyn made an eloquent speech in support of Ramsael, but the only words that stuck in my memory were: “Like any good Chief Councilor, Councilor Ramsael will be mindful of our heritage. He will understand and accept the present, while planning for a better future that neither rejects the past nor blindly embraces change for the sake of change…”

I couldn’t help feeling that Rholyn was trying to be all things to all Councilors.

When I finally got back to the Collegium a quint or so after the first glass of the afternoon, I knew I had to concentrate on the links between Glendyl and the other factors and the Banque D’Ouestan.