Imager's Intrigue: The Third Book of the Imager Portfolio (45 page)

Over the rest of Meredi and all Jeudi, not a single master made mention of the meeting, not even with allusions or hints. It was as though it had never happened, or that no one wanted to remember that it had happened. I mentioned it to Seliora.

Her response was simple. “You’ve just proved, without question, that you can destroy any of them. If you were in their boots, would you want to dwell on it, or offend you? Or even talk about it?” Then she had added, “You’re going to need to work very hard on convincing people that you want their honest views, because too many people with power only look for others to agree. You don’t want that, because it’s no help at all.”

She was right on both points.

I still did the morning exercises and was back to almost full speed on the run, but I had to push myself there, because Dartazn was no longer there to lead the way, and I was faster than most of the others. Both days were cold, and the ground frozen, but clear, since none of the recent snow had stuck.

On Vendrei morning, after meetings with Marteon and Haugyl, I met again with Schorzat and Kahlasa, because she was receiving reports from the covert imagers in Otelyrn that Caenenan forces were being mustered and trained for something—possibly an annexation of Gyarl, since Tiempre was so involved in trying to hold the line against the still-advancing Stakanaran invasion that the Tiemprans had moved most of their troops to deal with Stakanar. The shifting of ships from the Solidaran southern fleet to deal with Ferrum was another factor. We decided that there wasn’t much we could do—or advise them to do—except watch and report.

Right after that, I received a letter from Veblynt, informing me that he would be in L’Excelsis on Mardi, and that he would plan to meet me at ninth glass at the Collegium administration building, so that I would not have to drive so far south, unless he received word to the contrary from me. Although I was more than pleased not to have to make another trip to his paper mill, I half-suspected that he might well intimate, at least in places where he thought it might do him some good, that he was being consulted by the Collegium.

I smiled. It was true, and if that did him good, so be it. That was a price one paid for seeking information. Besides, he’d helped my father when times weren’t what they could have been.

Since I received no message from either Alynkya or Frydryk, I skipped the midday meal at the dining hall and took a duty coach out north to Frydryk’s “town” estate. He was waiting for me in the study when I arrived, just before first glass.

“Greetings,” I offered as I stepped inside after leaving my cloak with the footman. “You’ve been traveling more than you’d planned, I heard.”

Frydryk offered a rueful smile. “Much more. The advocates in Laaryn made matters more complicated than they needed to be, and then there was the business at the shipworks. By the way, I need to thank you for that. Right after you mentioned all the problems with the Ferrans, I sent word to the shipworks about the possibilities. They found some indications, and they were ready.”

“I’m glad.” At least I’d helped to save part of the Solidaran shipbuilding industry. “Have you heard anything from Glendyl?”

“He sent a long and laborious letter.”

“And?”

“He wants me to hold the debt, without requiring interest, until the Council acts on the measure to fund the capital ships. He was very insistent.”

I was getting more than a little tired of Glendyl’s arrogance and machinations.

“You have the plans, don’t you, and the right to build the turbines if he defaults?”

“You had said…”

“I was wrong. I thought he was more reasonable. I’ve since talked to him twice, and each time he has been less tractable.”

Frydryk laughed. “For that admission alone, Rhenn, I’d call the notes.” He paused. “I did follow your advice and talked to Alynkya. She said I was being too forbearing.”

“I also have some indirect indications that he may owe others, so you might want to register the lien with the judiciary before you notify him. But if you do so in person, don’t do it when he’s near a weapon of any sort. He’s not the kind to be indirect, like a High Holder.”

“I appreciate the advice on that.”

“Have you heard anything about High Holder Haebyn?”

“Is he the one who’s been making all the fuss about the eastern water rights?”

“Among other things.”

“That’s all I’ve heard.”

We talked for a time, and then I took my leave and had another cold ride back to the Collegium. I left the administration building a little before fourth glass because we had to go to Juniae D’Shendael’s reception.

When I reached the house and went upstairs, Seliora was in her chamber debating whether to wear red and black or black and silver. I didn’t have to debate. I either wore grays of formal blacks, and since it was an evening affair, I’d be in black with a silver imager pin.

“I think the black and silver,” Seliora announced.

“You look good in both,” I said.

“I like red,” declared Diestrya firmly.

Seliora shook her head. “With you two…”

“Want to go with you,” Diestrya announced.

“This reception is for adults,” Seliora said. “Tomorrow night you’re coming with us to Grandmother Maelyna’s and Grandfather Chenkyr’s. Your cousin Rheityr might even be there…and your Uncle Culthyn.”

“Want to go tonight.”

“Where you’re going now is down to supper.” I picked up Diestrya and carted her downstairs, ignoring the short-lived wailing and the small fists beating on my shoulders. She did settle down, and I fed her the meal that Klysia had waiting. Then I went back upstairs and dressed in formal blacks.

We arrived at the residence of High Holder Shendael at a fraction before seventh glass in a Collegium coach—social engagements were considered duty, provided they were not excessive, and with the unspoken agreement that the driver received one or two silvers, an arrangement that Elreyt appreciated more than many, because he had three children. The timing seemed appropriate, since a cream-and-silver coach had just arrived, and the footman who opened the coach door was the same young woman who had greeted me earlier in the week.

“Welcome, Maitre Rhennthyl, Madame.”

“Thank you.”

As we walked along under the covered portico to the main entrance, Seliora murmured, “You didn’t mention the woman footman.”

“I didn’t. I forgot. There are several.”

Once we entered the mansion, another liveried woman took our cloaks, and we were escorted to what looked to be a drawing room, modest for a High Holder, a chamber paneled in white birch with pale blue hangings, a mere ten yards by eight or so.

Juniae D’Shendael turned from where she stood talking to a white-haired woman in a flowing emerald-green gown, accompanied by a man in the uniform of a Sea-Marshal, and walked toward us.

“Madame D’Rhennthyl, you look as beautifully formidable as ever, and you, Maitre, so unassuming.”

“And you as beautifully brilliant as always,” returned Seliora.

I wasn’t about to claim I was or wasn’t unassuming, which was the point of her greeting.

“You must join me and Sea-Marshal Caellynd and his wife Rowlana.” With that she eased us toward the other couple.

I was trying to place the silver-and-blond-haired Sea-Marshal, whom I’d never met, then realized from his name that he was Valeun’s deputy, the second-in-command of the entire Naval Command. Did Juniae D’Shendael know every senior officer in the Navy? She well might.

“Rowlana, Caellynd, I’d like you to meet Maitre Rhennthyl and his wife Seliora.”

“Ah, yes, I’ve heard of your beauty, dear lady, but the descriptions do not do you justice…and the redoubtable Maitre Rhennthyl.” Caellynd smiled warmly.

I had to admit that I liked him instantly, although I wondered if that just meant I should trust him even less. After the reception, I’d have to ask Seliora what she felt. “Hardly redoubtable, but pleased to meet you.”

“You’re far too kind,” said Seliora sweetly, “but after a long day, I will take the compliment.”

Rowlana smiled. “You must have young children.”

“I do, but I also work as a design engineer in the family business. You may have heard of it—NordEste Design.”

Rowlana inclined her head slightly, then offered an empathetic smile. “You’re doing far more than I would ever have tried.” Her eyes turned to me, and her smile became more wary. “You’re the one who’s been giving Sea-Marshal Geuffryt fits.”

“Oh, no, Madame. He’s been the one giving me fits. No one could do that so well as he.”

Caellynd laughed. “I’m afraid Maitre Rhennthyl has the right of that, dear. Marshal Geuffryt is very good at what he does, but it can be a bit wearing on others.” He turned more to me. “Before I forget, I want you to know that I did send a communique to Fleet-Marshal Asarynt, instructing him to give all possible assistance to your Maitre-in-Command. All of us with fleet experience would like to see a quick resolution to this conflict.” He shook his head. “We can’t even call it a war, since no one on either side wants to declare it one.”

“I do appreciate that.” I definitely did, but why had he mentioned that he’d sent the communique, unless to suggest that Valeun had done nothing of the sort…and that Valeun didn’t fully appreciate the situation?

He glanced at his wife and then back to me, before saying with a laugh, “I think we’d best not talk any more about the Naval Command or the Collegium.”

I grinned. “Don’t you think we’re looking at a colder winter than we’ve had in years?”

“Absolutely,” he agreed.

“There is warm spiced wine at the serving table,” suggested Juniae.

“How is your latest book selling?” I asked. “The latest is
The Art of Conversation
, is it not?”

“It is. The publisher says that it’s selling as do all my books…slowly, but with just enough copies that they might publish another. If I don’t finish it too soon.” Juniae raised her left eyebrow, an ironic effect, before continuing. “Rowlana, have you finished that watercolor? Did you know that Maitre Rhennthyl is also a noted portraiturist?”

From the momentary surprise in Madame D’Caellynd’s eyes, it was clear that she had not known.

“For all of his military-like appearance, Rhenn has an artistic side, as does his wife, whose fabric designs grace many of the best salons in L’Excelsis.”

It became apparent, very quickly, that we were the exhibit of the evening.

Shortly, we were eased over to meet one of the high justices, Symmal D’Juris, and his wife Maedlynaie, a petite woman who barely topped Seliora’s shoulder and was most likely less than five years older than Seliora, who was the youngest of all the guests. Later in the evening, we met Madame D’Lhoryn, but High Holder Lhoryn was away dealing with estate matters, and Seliora and I both gained the impression that he was always “away” for Madame D’Shendael’s salon receptions.

By the time we left, my head was aching from the dual effort of being pleasant to all too many people I did not know, all of whom had heard about us, and trying to remember as much as I could. The only good sign about it all was that in the cold clear winter air, both Erion and Artiema shone down nearly full as the coach carried us back to Imagisle.

Dinner at my parents’ house on Samedi evening was quiet, and that was a relief. Since Khethila hadn’t traveled from Kherseilles, not that I expected any such travail, I didn’t mention much about the reception, except the feeling of being on display.

“That comes with the perquisites, Rhenn,” my father had replied, not quite brusquely. “Too bad you couldn’t ask about wool contracts from those Navy types.”

Mother had looked sharply at him, and the conversation had turned quickly to children.

The remainder of the weekend had been mostly quiet, although I did embark on beginning the actual painting of the portrait of Diestrya. That would take a number of short sittings, because she certainly couldn’t sit still for long. By Lundi morning, I couldn’t help but think that Dartazn and the imagers should be in the process of deploying to begin the attacks on Ferrum. What if what we had planned so meticulously didn’t work out? What if too many of the young imagers froze and couldn’t do what had been asked of them?

I did ask Schorzat what he knew about Caellynd.

His response was close to what I’d expected. “He’s been recently posted to the Naval Command. He was the senior Fleet-Marshal for close to seven years, and the one who was so successful in the first Ferran conflict. The Council picked him as Valeun’s deputy and successor.”

“Was that Suyrien’s doing?” I’d asked.

“Maitre Dichartyn never said anything. Neither did anyone else, but Caellynd was a successful Fleet-Marshal who pled the case for more modern warships before the Council.”

There was nothing in the records or files, and, again, all I had were suspicions. I was worrying even more about Dartazn and the imagers by Mardi morning. As soon as I’d entered the administration building, I’d asked Beleart if we’d received any dispatches. We hadn’t, of course, and I knew we shouldn’t have, but I’d still hoped and dreaded what might have arrived.

The reports that flowed in didn’t tell me anything new, but reminded me that I not only needed to standardize them, but to find a way to require Patrol Commanders to provide more details, and that would require Council action. I could require those changes of regionals and the collegia heads, but without improved Patrol data, there wouldn’t be a significant change.

Finally, at just before ninth glass, Ayma, one of the newest primes, knocked on my study door to inform me that a Factorius Veblynt had arrived.

I hurried out to the reception hall, where he was waiting. Every time I saw Factor Veblynt, I was surprised, because he made an impression in memory larger than his actual height. He was slender, although his carriage was perfect, and he was even a touch shorter than Seliora. He smiled, showing perfect white teeth. This time, the corners of his eyes lifted, as if he were truly glad to see me. Often they didn’t. “Rhenn! I understand that you’re a Maitre D’Esprit.”

“Due to the misfortunes of others,” I demurred.

“Nonsense. You may hold what ever position you do in the Collegium for that reason, but even I know that the ranks of the Maitres are due to ability alone.”

We walked from the reception hall back to my study, where I closed the door.

Veblynt surveyed the chamber, then settled into the chair in front of the desk. “Such surroundings aren’t designed to let you take yourself seriously.”

“No, but whether by design or custom or both, I have no idea.” I added quickly, “You are most kind to come here, and I appreciate it.”

“Anytime the son of a friend travels to my mill to see me, especially when he’s one of the highest imagers, it merits a return call.” He smiled. “Especially when I was already going to be less than a mille away.”

“It was kind, nonetheless, and appreciated.”

“You obviously had something in mind.”

“I did. I’d heard rumors that you sought competing bids for a loan in order to build your new paper mill.”

Veblynt shrugged. “I could have built it with my own capital, but that wouldn’t have left any reserves. Even so, the Banque D’Excelsis didn’t want to offer favorable terms, and I’d have been a fool not to seek other terms. They don’t like it when they can’t make more on their loans than the enterprises they fund make on their operations. Once I did get another commitment, they became more reasonable. By the way, I must congratulate you and Seliora on the training you provide the apprentices at your taudis mill. Some of them will be working at our new facility.”

“Thank you. Facility? It’s not a paper mill?”

“It’s a mill and a printing facility. We’ve been making blank documents for factors, everything from ledger sheets to printed forms for banques, but the demand was more than we could handle at the old facility. The new one will just make document paper, and the rest is for the printing side.”

“And you went with another banque to get the funds?”

He looked sharply at me. “Rhenn…are you after me for something?”

“No. I’m after information. From what I heard, you know some things that might fill in pieces of the puzzle.”

“Given what I’ve done for your father, I’m going to trust you on this.”

“I know. You helped him through a hard time with some Navy contracts. He didn’t tell me, either.”

He smiled wryly. “I might have known you’d figure that out. What are you looking for?”

“I’d heard you used the threat of going to an outland banque. I’m interested in that banque.”

“That’s not much of a secret. It couldn’t be if the threat were to work. It was the Banque D’Ouestan, but you already knew that, or you wouldn’t have asked.”

“They don’t have a branch here, though.”

He nodded slowly. “I dealt with a Vyktor D’Banque D’Ouestan. He has a place of business on the Avenue D’Theatre.”

“How did you find out about him?”

“From one of Glendyl’s clerks.” Veblynt smiled with a certain satisfaction. “Unlike some factors, I talk to more than a few clerks.”

“Do you know if they make many loans or advances here in L’Excelsis?”

“Very few, I suspect. Just enough to provide cover for Vyktor, I would guess. He was happy enough to write out a commitment, as if he knew he wouldn’t necessarily have to make the loan. He could have, but he’s no more a true banque representative than I’m a High Holder. He wasn’t in the slightest interested in buying forms, even at a very reduced price.”

“An interesting comparison,” I observed.

“But accurate.”

“How widely is that known, do you think?”

“Not all that widely, I would judge. He is knowledgeable enough about finance, and he does make loans and handle other funding transfers through the Banque D’Ouestan’s corresponding arrangements with the Banque D’Rivages and the Banque D’Kherseilles, and doubtless one or two others. He is often gone for periods of time, and I’ve never known a banque that allowed its representatives to be out of touch so much. I’d judge that he’s also a representative of either Ferrum, Jariola, or Stakanar. That’s just a judgment on my part.” He looked directly at me. “I don’t think I’m telling you much you don’t already suspect.”

“Do you know any others with whom he’s had dealings?”

“There are rumors that Broussard received funding through him, and I mentioned Broussard’s name in passing.” Veblynt offered a crooked smile. “Vyktor doesn’t like him. I couldn’t tell why from his reaction.”

“What do you know about Broussard?”

“He’s a freeholder. He’s also extraordinarily wealthy…and he would squeeze the last drop of water from a sponge in the desert and try to sell it to a man dying of thirst. He’d betray his first-born son or an infant daughter for a single gold.”

I found myself fingering my chin. “I haven’t heard anything about him since that explosion at the Place D’Opera.”

“That’s true. I hadn’t thought about that. It’s certainly not like him to be so quiet.”

I couldn’t help but wonder if Broussard had taken funds from Vyktor and double-crossed him in the process. I’d always worried about why a High Holder would use explosives against a factor. That simply didn’t follow the High Holder traditions of dealing with their enemies, as I’d discovered; but if Vykor happened to be representing Ferran interests…

I was also beginning to worry about Geuffryt. I’d heard nothing from Valeun, nor from any other source, and it would have been a grave mistake to have mentioned his name at Juniae D’Shendael’s reception. I’d never managed to arrange it so that I was alone with either Caellynd or Juniae, in the latter case certainly because she wanted to avoid any hint of personal closeness.

“Rhenn…” Veblynt interrupted my musing. “You have the strangest look.”

“I was wondering about Broussard,” I evaded, “and how he escaped being killed in the explosion.”

“He was looking for a way to do in Estyelle, anyway.” Veblynt shrugged. “You’re thinking that Vyktor had something to do with that?”

“I have suspicions.”

“Vyktor’s capable of it, I’d judge, but, if he did, Broussard outwitted him and turned matters his own way.”

“If Broussard did,” I asked, “then why has he been so silent?”

“You think he’s afraid of what’s behind Vyktor?”

“Broussard can’t be stupid.” I pointed out the obvious to see what Veblynt would say.

“He’s anything but stupid. He’s likely waiting for someone to act against Vyktor.”

“That would mean he either knows someone will or has a way to push someone into doing so. I haven’t seen either.”

“You’re looking,” Veblynt said with a faint smile.

“Looking doesn’t mean acting. Neither the Collegium nor the Civic Patrol is inclined to act if there isn’t some sort of evidence of wrongdoing. Suspicion isn’t enough. Nor is knowing. We have nothing to tie Vyktor to the Place D’Opera explosion or anything else, or even to Glendyl.”

Veblynt nodded. “That is often the problem with pure knowledge. You’ve gotten around that in the past, Rhenn. I’m certain you will this time.”

“It’s harder when everyone is watching you.” My words came out sardonically.

He laughed. “Then set it up so that they’re watching someone else.”

I couldn’t help but laugh myself, as I realized that he’d given me an idea for a solution. It was just too bad that it was for a different problem. “I will take your words to heart, and I thank you for coming.”

“If I find anything of value to you,” he said as he rose, “I’ll send it.”

“Thank you.” I stood as well.

“And keep on distrusting Cydarth. He’s tied up in it all somehow as well. I don’t know how, but…” He shrugged, then smiled. “It is a pleasure to see how well you’ve done after so much adversity has come to your family.”

“Friends help.”

“True friends help,” he replied.

I couldn’t disagree with that.

After I walked Veblynt to the main doors of the administration building and made my way back to my study, I thought about his last words. I’d always distrusted Cydarth, and Veblynt had always been right, if often veiled, in his assessments. Yet Geuffryt had tried to get me to attack Cydarth. Why? If…
if
Geuffryt happened to feel himself a “patriot” who was out to destroy the influence of the Collegium, was the idea to show that Cydarth had been spitefully wronged by Artois’s allies, such as the Collegium? That seemed rather frail. Yet…if Cydarth did happen to be getting Ferran funds through the Banque D’Ouestan, and Geuffryt had discovered that through Kearyk, was there any connection at all between Geuffryt and Vyktor? Or was Geuffryt trying to expose Cydarth as a Ferran plaque through me, because he couldn’t reveal how he’d found out about the transfers? Much as I disliked and distrusted Geuffryt, that appeared the most likely possibility…and that bothered me greatly.