Imager's Intrigue: The Third Book of the Imager Portfolio (44 page)

“You still have not indicated what I might contribute to this…situation.”

“Madame…I would prefer not to press you.” I emphasized the word “prefer” ever so slightly. “Yet any information you might provide that would assist me in dealing with matters would be appreciated.”

Juniae smiled politely. “Let us say that, were I to write a novel, not that I would ever stoop to anything so frivolous, I might posit as a villain of sorts a character of great charm and wit, one whose hair might be that mixture of fire and age that can so lead men astray. As with all too many who end up deviating from their heritage, this villain’s family would have fallen from high places, through cruelty and villainy of another and through no fault of his own. He believes that, because no one offered mercy or assistance to his mother and her children, he is under no obligation to reciprocate to others. He places himself where he can learn much about everyone, and he charms men and women alike, generally using them gently, often so gently that they do not know they are being used. Some who do not bend to his whim face ruin if they reveal what they know, yet they are powerful enough that he cannot destroy them without risking his own position, and useful enough that there is no reason to try. Yet never are there any firm links back to him. It pleases him to use seduction equally on men and women, as if to illustrate his control, and those he has seduced range from young and potentially powerful High Holders to clerks, and all tend to regard him with fondness. Such a villain, of course, cannot be brought before the bar of justice, because he has compromised so many that were such even contemplated, either the villain or the accuser, if not both, might well soon be found dead.” She paused. “Do you not think that such a fiction would result in a marvelous villain?”

“I do indeed. Except…what would motivate such a villain? Most villains seek wealth or positions of power, yet…”

“Oh, such a villain would be wiser than that. Wealth and position are merely means to controlling others. Few suspect one who serves his land faithfully and never seeks to stand in the light, even as he destroys those he views as enemies.”

“Who would he see as enemies? Everyone?”

“Oh, no. Perhaps an officer of the Civic Patrol who receives a regular…retainer…for once not looking into certain irregularities, but who may not remain…bought…or a Councilor who is a supporter of that officer’s superior…or an imager who pursues the patterns that few others see and whose revelations, were they to come to light, might destroy all he has wrought.”

“Would such a villain have allies, not just those whom he controls, but others with coinciding interests? How could he?”

Juniae D’Shendael shrugged. “Everyone, even villains, thinks they have friends and allies. I suppose such a villain might seek allies among those with similar interests or those associated with outland banques or investment houses. Or flatter his superiors into thinking they are friends.”

“Have you any other thoughts about such a marvelous villain?”

“One has many thoughts, but none that bear on such a villain.”

“Have you thought, were you to write such a novel, what might happen to such a villain?”

“That is why I do not write fiction, Maitre Rhennthyl. In fiction, some improbable hero would charge up to such a villain, attack, and destroy him, and all would live happily ever after. In life, such charges usually result in the death of the would-be hero, and the continued success of the villain in his devious ways. Yet, if an author were to have the villain merely…disappear, the readers would feel deprived of some sort of moral victory, voyeuristic and improbable as that victory might be. Alas, in real life, such open confrontations result in wounds for all involved, sometimes worse than the defeats and degradations already suffered.” She smiled politely once more. “Those are the other reasons why I do not write fiction.”

“I can see that you have a more realistic view of life than most.”

“I doubt that it differs markedly from yours, Maitre Rhennthyl, not if even a fraction of the rumors that surround you are correct.”

“If they are rumors, their truth is false, and their deception true.”

“That is a lovely phrase. I might just borrow it.”

“But not for fiction,” I replied with a laugh.

“Of course not. Perhaps for an essay on rumors.”

While we shared another half quint of polite conversation, she had said what she would say, and my other hints were turned aside gently. As she had implied, I had limited leverage.

After I departed from Madame D’Shendael’s, I returned to Imagisle where I was late to lunch at the dining hall. Interestingly, not a single Maitre mentioned Maitre Dhelyn…or much of anything concerning the Collegium, although there was much speculation about how long our northern fleet could maintain the blockage of the Ferran ports. I refused to comment, just saying that I did not know enough to make an accurate judgment.

When I returned to my study, I found a bud get report on my desk, from Reynol, detailing security expenditures for the previous year and requesting an estimate for projected expenses for the coming year. I didn’t have time to read it in any detail before I had to leave for my meeting with Valeun. Budgets, yet. At least, I’d had some considerable experience as a district captain.

After more than a half glass in the duty coach, I arrived at the Naval Command and was escorted up to Sea-Marshal Valeun.

He rose but slightly from behind the wide desk as I entered and the door closed behind me. “Greetings, Maitre.”

“Greetings, Marshal.” I took the middle chair across from him.

“I thought you might be interested to know that I received word the first thing yesterday morning that the
Lyiena
left Westisle ahead of schedule, due in part to the organization and the leadership of Maitre Dartazn.”

“He is most capable.”

“He’s older than you, is he not?”

“By two years or so,” I replied.

“I wouldn’t be surprised to see more of him. The communique mentioned his ability to communicate effectively and smoothly.”

“He’s very good in that respect, and in others.” I understood exactly what Valeun implied, but what the Sea-Marshal didn’t understand was that dealing with me was far easier than dealing with Dartazn would have been, because Dartazn was far more adept in the skills of intrigue and diplomacy. Ten years in the Council Chateau had honed those abilities. “How long before the
Lyiena
reaches Ferrum?”

“If she doesn’t encounter heavy weather or a Ferran flotilla, sometime late tomorrow or early on Jeudi.”

“And several days to get the imagers to the gunboats after that?”

“And as much as a week to get all of them into position.”

“As we discussed, they don’t all have to attack at the same time.”

“No. I’ve made it quite clear that the timing is between the senior imager on each gunboat and the ship Commander.”

I nodded to that.

“You realize that this operation will reduce our effectiveness in Otelyrn?”

“You were transferring ships from there before we developed this plan,” I pointed out. “That was bound to happen, especially with the destruction of the engine works.”

“Why is it, Maitre Rhennthyl, that no one has been able to capture Ferran agents alive? That they either escape or end up dead?”

I laughed. “Every operation has been developed so that, if they succeed, they escape, and if they don’t, they set themselves up to be killed or destroyed. It’s fairly clear that they’ve been working on these plans for years, since the truce ending the war that never was.”

Valeun tapped his fingers on the desk. “And the Collegium never discovered anything about any of this?”

“Maitre Poincaryt or Maitre Dichartyn might have known, but…”

“Most convenient.”

“But far more effective,” I replied. “There’s always a trade-off between open communications and effectiveness, as you certainly have shown.”

After that, we discussed ship deployments, bemoaned the Council’s past lack of understanding about the need to modernize the fleet, and were courteous to each other.

I’d thought about mentioning Geuffryt, but decided against it. If Valeun didn’t deal with that matter, I might have to…but I didn’t want to do anything until the Ferran operation was concluded, one way or the other.

When I left the Naval Command, I had Davoryn take me out to Frydryk’s town estate, since I was more than halfway there, and since his chef d’chateau had indicated he’d be back.

Once the coach came to a halt, I hurried out and walked up to the front doors. Before I reached them, one door opened.

Alynkya stood there. “Rhenn…I thought it might be you.”

“I’ve been trying to get in touch with Frydryk. What are you doing here?”

“We wanted to do some redecorating before the wedding, so that everything’s different when I come here. I was looking at the drawing room and the master bedchambers.”

“When will he be back?”

“He sent a note. He went from Laaryn straight to Solis.”

“Because of the fires?”

Alynkya nodded. “He hopes to be back on Vendrei.”

“I’d like to see him on Vendrei…”

“I’ll leave a note in his book that you’ll be here at the first glass of the afternoon. That way, if he can’t see you, we can send a message before you leave.”

“Thank you…” I paused. “Have you talked to your father about all this? The fires and the destruction of the engine works?”

“He doesn’t like to say much. He’s not pleased with the Ferrans, or with Councilor Glendyl’s failure to take better precautions. He thinks you’re a strong imager, and one that the Council and Collegium need now…”

“But he worries about my lack of experience?”

“He didn’t say that.”

I laughed softly. “I worry about my lack of experience, especially in dealing with all the intriguing.”

“Frydryk doesn’t. Neither do I.” After a moment, she went on. “I’d like to redo the master suite. Do you think…Seliora? I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“I think Seliora’s family would be pleased, but the way to do it is to first talk to Betara—Seliora’s mother. Tell her what you told me, that you don’t want to impose on friendship and that’s why you’re contacting her. She’ll understand.”

Alynkya nodded. “Thank you.”

A gust of wind swirled around us, and I realized she wasn’t even wearing a cloak. “You’d best get inside before you freeze.”

“Thank you. Give my best to Seliora.”

“I will.” I waited until she was inside before I turned.

As I rode back to the Collegium, I wasn’t sure what I’d accomplished in a long day, except to confirm two suspicions, still without proof, and destroy one senior Maitre whose death I could have probably avoided, with a bit more forethought.

Except…Maitre Dyana had already known about Dhelyn’s pride.

I shook my head. Once again, I’d been played like a plaque, but so had Dhelyn.

Maitre Dyana had informed all the masters of the Collegium in L’Excelsis of a mandatory meeting at eighth glass on Meredi morning in the Maitre’s conference room. I was there a quint early, as were Dyana and Jhulian, because she’d asked me to be.

Dyana turned to Jhulian. “I will tell what happened. Rhenn will affirm or correct the details, and you will tell them how our acts fall within the Collegium procedures…or how they fail to comply.”

Jhulian nodded, and so did I.

“We might as well take our places,” she suggested.

The first of the remaining masters to arrive were Chassendri and Baratyn, followed by Quaelyn and Ferlyn, then Heisbyl and Ghaend. Draffyd slipped in behind Kahlasa and Schorzat, followed by Isola. Several moments later came Rholyn, always one for the entrance. The only one missing was Dartazn, and that left fourteen of us around the long table, six on each side, with Maitre Dyana at the head and Isola at the foot, and Maitre Jhulian seated to Dyana’s right, and me to her left.

Once everyone was seated. Maitre Dyana waited several moments before speaking. “I’ve called this meeting because of a serious occurrence yesterday here in my study.” She paused. “As some of you know, Maitre Dhelyn appeared yesterday morning. He appeared most civil initially, but he wanted to know why thirty imagers had been sent to Westisle under another master without the courtesy of informing him why they were there and what their purpose was. Since their purpose involved Maitre Rhennthyl, I suggested that, before we proceeded, Maitre Rhennthyl be asked to join us. He did. Immediately, Maitre Dhelyn began a verbal assault on Maitre Rhennthyl, insisting that, as the most senior imager in all Solidar, excepting me, he should have been informed…” Dyana went on to detail exactly what had happened, all the way to Dhelyn’s attempted imaging attack and the unfortunate results. Then she turned to me. “Maitre Rhennthyl, do you have any additions or corrections to what I have said?”

“Only a few points. Maitre Dhelyn was extremely discourteous when I entered the Maitre’s chamber, and when Maitre Dyana pointed out that even she did not know all the details of the planned operation against Ferrum, and stated that, if she did not see the need to know the details, she trusted that he did not need to know them either. She then suggested that with his interest in rules he might be better suited to take charge of the Collegium at Mont D’Glace. At that point he stiffened in what I thought was rage, and I clamped protective shields around him, nothing that would injure him, or that he would necessarily even feel if he intended no harm. I made certain that they were a full yard away from his person on all sides. Even so, he summoned so much power that he turned into a pillar of ice, and when I released the shields, a gout of steam flared into the ceiling and ripped away all the plaster down to the laths.”

Ferlyn winced, but I was more worried about the frown on Rholyn’s face.

“Before we discuss this further, or answer questions,” Maitre Dyana added smoothly, “I would like Maitre Jhulian to offer his observations on any rules or precedents that may apply.”

Quaelyn nodded at that, but Rholyn frowned even more deeply.

“The rules governing the Maitres of the Collegium are few and comparatively simple,” began Jhulian. “All offenses that can be placed in front of the Collegium Justiciary must be so handled. In the event of immediate danger, where such a trial is not feasible or possible, the Maitre has the absolute power to discipline any member of the Collegium, including other Maitres, but any discipline that results in more than superficial physical injury must be placed before the council of all available Maitres for review in no less than one week from the date of the punishment. Those present will hear of the events and may ask questions before any action on a decision is taken. Unless eight out of every ten Maitres present, and there must be ten or more able to vote, disapprove of the punishment, the punishment stands. The Maitre and any other Maitre involved may not vote. There are fourteen Maitres here, and two cannot vote. A quorum is present. Are there any questions on the procedures?”

No one said anything.

“Are there questions on the events?”

“Did Maitre Dhelyn offered any verbal threats?” Quaelyn asked.

“No threats were uttered,” Maitre Dyana said.

Quaelyn looked to me.

“As Maitre Dyana has said, he did not offer any threats, but he was very politely belligerent. Several times, he invoked seniority and insisted that as a senior Maitre his right to know was more important than other considerations. Even after she stated that he would be among the first to know the details of the operation when it was appropriate, he flushed and stated quite firmly that he could not believe that Maitre Dyana would deny him the right to know. She stated that her first priority was the safety of the entire Collegium, but he persisted.”

After a moment, Rholyn cleared his throat. “But there were no threats?”

“No.”

“Why did you feel compelled to place shields around him, then?”

“I was worried. He was not interested in what Maitre Dyana said. He dismissed every statement she made, and his tone got sharper with each question or demand that he be informed. I did not place tight shields around him. They were set a good yard away from his body, yet the ice filled them.”

“A good yard?” Rholyn turned to Dyana. “Is that correct?”

“That would seem to be about right. I didn’t have time to measure. There was a column of ice close to two yards across. The steam that followed was in the center of that.”

“I beg your pardon,” Rholyn said, “but to hold shields of that strength against a Maitre D’Structure suggests far more than—”

“Exactly,” interjected Draffyd quickly. “You might recall that Maitre Rhennthyl erected shields against ten stone shells and hurled them back close to a mille. He also possesses the ability to image things back to the point from where they came without seeing their path.” He looked hard at Rholyn.

The Collegium Councilor paused then nodded. “I had not thought of that. I have no more questions.”

Heisbyl coughed, and Rholyn glared at him.

The older Maitre murmured, “No questions.”

I had understood what had happened, and I thought I knew why, but I wasn’t about to raise those questions, not in an open meeting.

“Then the matter comes to a vote,” announced Jhulian. “Maitre Rhennthyl and Maitre Dyana may not vote. All others will do so. All who agree that Maitre Dyana’s actions were within the purview of a Maitre of the Collegium please raise their hands.”

Twelve hands went up instantly.

“Thank you,” Dyana said quietly. “Maitre Jhulian, if you would document the meeting and place the record in the sealed archives.”

“Yes, Maitre.”

“You may all leave.”

Those were her words, but the quick glances to me and to Jhulian indicated that we were to linger, preferably without making a show of doing so.

I dawdled, and so did Jhulian, not that it was particularly difficult, because most of the others seemed all too ready to leave, and in moments, the three of us were the only ones remaining in the conference room.

“You seem to know what happened here, Rhenn, but I’d like some confirmation,” Dyana said pleasantly.

“I’m going by recall, but as I remember the rules of the Collegium, the Maitre is always either the most senior of the highest rank, or selected among those with the highest rank, with the consent of the most senior. It would appear that the shields I erected around Dhelyn, along with the ability with the shells…” I decided not to voice more.

“Those skills are, frankly, those of a Maitre D’Image,” Jhulian said. “You may or may not have all of them, but Rholyn does not wish you to become Maitre, and he doesn’t want the issue opened.”

“I don’t want to be Maitre. It takes more than imaging ability. Nor would it be good for the Collegium or for me.” Skills of a Maitre D’Image? That was far more worrisome than encouraging.

Jhulian chuckled and looked to Dyana. “I told you so.”

“Are you renouncing any claim to be Maitre?” asked Dyana.

“No. I’m agreeing with what you indicated earlier, that I’m not ready for any higher position at the moment. I don’t even know enough about what I’m doing now.”

The two nodded.

“There’s another reason why it would not be wise for you to become Maitre,” Jhulian offered. “Do you know what that might be?”

“I have several thoughts on that. Do you wish to hear them?”

“It might not a bad idea,” suggested Maitre Dyana dryly.

“First, if people suspect that I might be the next Maitre, they’re likely to be more reasonable with Maitre Dyana. Second, trying to remove Maitre Dyana resolves nothing. Third, there’s a certain deniability. In crises, I can act, and Maitre Dyana can either ask if they’d like to deal with me or offer to step down. There may be others, but those the ones that come to mind.”

“There’s one other,” offered Jhulian. “You’ll have more freedom to act in your current position, and fewer people will be questioning and watching you.”

“More people are already watching me.”

“More than you know,” added Dyana. “But less than watch the Maitre.”

That wasn’t exactly comforting.