Imager's Intrigue: The Third Book of the Imager Portfolio (47 page)

My shields held, but they didn’t stop the wagon from pushing the lighter coach right over the narrow river promenade to the low wall. Then, with another sickening crunch, the coach’s wheels ripped loose, and the remainder of the coach plunged down toward the gray water. I couldn’t help but brace for the impact. There wasn’t much of one, because the river below the wall was deep enough that once the coach struck the water it just kept descending, and icy water began to pour into the crumpled space around me. Both doors were jammed shut, and so were the window mechanisms.

I took a deep breath, then concentrated, imaging out the window glass from the door that seemed to be the one closest to the surface. More icy water poured over me, filling the entire inside of the coach, which seemed to be bobbing along under water or bouncing up from the bottom. I held my breath and grabbed the edges of the window fame, levering myself out, except my left boot became stuck and I found myself being caught and stretched as the current pulled me downstream and the sunken coach held me fast.

Somehow, I managed to pull my boot free, but my lungs felt like they were bursting by the time my head finally broke above the water. After a moment, I located the river wall. Then I started to swim toward it. That didn’t do much good, because all that was there was a sheer expanse of icy smooth stone stretching upward some five or six yards, and the current was carrying me southward.

I must have been swept two hundred yards downstream before I managed to locate one of the ladders, even if there wasn’t a platform at the bottom. I lunged and grabbed it, then got my boots on the bottom rung. It didn’t get any easier. The iron ladder was icy and slippery, and after I’d climbed three or four rungs, my hands were numb. I kept forcing myself up. I finally pulled myself over the wall and took several steps away from the river. I was shuddering almost uncontrollably.

As I stood on the still narrow river promenade, a thought occurred to me. Could I image the water out of my garments? Then I shook my head. They needed some residual water, or they’d likely turn to dust, and, with the water on my skin, and my exhausted state, I might end up injuring myself.

“Sir! Sir!” A patroller came running toward me. “Are you all right?”

“For the moment. If I don’t get out of these clothes, I’ll turn into an icicle.”

“This way, sir!”

Less than half a quint later, I was wearing borrowed baggy brown wool trousers and a blanket, standing in the kitchen of Aelys’s—a bistro I’d never known even existed.

“Can you tell me what happened, sir?” asked the patroller.

“What happened to my driver?” I worried about Desalyt.

“We haven’t found him, sir. One of the women who saw it said he went into the river.”

“Why didn’t the horses go into the river?”

“The traces broke, we think, sir. We had to put one of them down. Could you tell me what happened, please, sir?”

Along with my questions, that took almost a glass, enough that my boots, set near the stove, were only damp, as opposed to soaked. Then, after I took a hack to Imagisle, I had to tell the duty second about the accident, and then meet with Ghaend, who was in charge of transportation, so that he could tell Desalyt’s family, and Reynol, who handled losses of property for the Collegium. I also left a brief note for Maitre Dyana, who was at the Council Chateau, presumably meeting with Chief Counselor Ramsael.

It was nearing a quint past fourth glass before I finally left the administration building and made my way across the quadrangle and northward. As I walked swiftly up the front walk to the house, I caught sight of the Maitre’s dwelling, where Maitre Dyana would eventually take residence, and realized that the exterior looked to be complete. Work had slowed considerably, given the imagers who had left Imagisle to accompany Dartazn, but there were still enough, obviously, to continue with the repair and rebuilding.

Klysia stepped into the hall and looked at me, wrapped in a patroller blanket and baggy trousers, and carrying soaked grays and my winter cloak. In escaping from the coach, I’d lost my visored cap.

“Master Rhennthyl!”

“I took an unplanned swim in the river.”

By the time I had handed off the soaked garments, washed up, and donned fresh garments and dry boots and sat down in front of the family parlor fire for a quint or so, Seliora and Diestrya arrived. I stood and went to the foyer.

“Rhenn…you’re home early.”

“That’s because I took an unplanned swim in the River Aluse.”

“What? How did that happen?”

“Dada went swimming?” asked my daughter.

“I did. The water was cold. It wasn’t a good idea.” I turned to Seliora. “Let’s get Diestyra settled in the kitchen for her dinner, and then I’ll tell you.”

Seliora understood.

Once the two of us were back in the parlor, I went through the whole thing, grateful that, by the end of my tale, the combination of hot tea and warmth from the stove finally lifted the last lingering chill from my bones.

Seliora said quietly, “Cydarth wanted you dead.”

“That’s likely, but the way it was set up will make it difficult, if not impossible, to prove it. There are also a number of people who might want me dead, and all of them would know enough to pick ways that would be hard for an imager to escape.”

“Most imagers wouldn’t be able to image away a widow under water and swim through an icy river.”

“Oh…all of those Clovyl trains could do that part.”

“What? All ten of you? And who knows that?”

“Very few,” I had to admit.

After a long silence, she asked, “Will it always be like this?”

“For a time,” I temporized. “Until it becomes clear there are other powerful imagers.”

“That could be a very long time, dearest.”

Unless I could do something about that…

On Jeudi morning I woke up only sore in a few places, not enough to change my morning routine, a routine that had doubtless contributed to my surviving the events of the previous day. I did hurry to the administration building, since I wanted to brief Maitre Dyana as soon as possible. I was there before she was. So I sat in her anteroom with Gerard reading the morning newsheets.

Both reported on the story of my river swim, but on the second page. The front page of
Tableta
featured a story based on “unauthenticated information” that suggested that the northern fleet was preparing for a major offensive against the Ferran fleets. A number of highly placed sources suggested that such an effort, if indeed true, was incredibly risky in midwinter, given the potential for storms and high seas. The lead story in
Veritum
was about the military situation in Otelyrn, and how the lack of Solidaran fleet presence had allowed Stakanar, an ally in all but name of Ferrum, to seize the most valuable territory of Tiempre.

The story about my accident was short and direct in both newsheets. A coal wagon had been stolen right on the streets of L’Excelsis, the driver coshed and trussed up, but somehow, the hitches had been loosened and the wagon released and hurtled downhill into the Collegium coach. The team had been found a block away, largely unharmed. Civic Patrol Captain Subunet of First District suggested that the thieves had panicked after the wagon had gotten away and headed downhill. The damage had been limited to the coal wagon and to the imager coach and its occupants. The single passenger in the coach had been thrown into the river with the coach, but had escaped and swum through the icy waters to safety. The driver was still missing and possibly drowned.

I couldn’t help but feel guilty. Once again, as had happened too often in the past, an innocent man had died because people were trying to kill me. Yet, with all that was at stake, I didn’t see that my becoming a recluse on Imagisle was in anyone’s interests, except Cydarth’s and Vyktor’s…and the Ferrans’.

At a slight cough, I set down the newsheets and rose to greet Maitre Dyana. “Good morning, Maitre.”

“Good morning, Rhenn. Do come in.”

I did follow her into her study. I also made sure the door was firmly closed.

She set several folders on the desk, then looked at me. She did not sit down, but flipped the end of the gold and green scarf back over her shoulder. “I am glad you left a note, Rhenn. It would have been rather disconcerting to discover those events in
Veritum
this morning.”

“Since escaping from a coach in icy water, swimming a quarter mille in that water, and climbing an ice-encrusted iron ladder does have a tendency to exhaust and chill one, I trust you might understand why I did not choose to wait for you, especially since Gherard had no idea when or if you would be returning, and especially since I had already waited almost a glass.”

“It must be the position. If I closed my eyes, I could easily have been talking to Maitre Dichartyn.” She sighed and seated herself. “You might as well sit down.”

I took one of the chairs before the desk.

“Please tell me what was not in the note.”

I did, all about Cydarth and his sudden and out-of-character cheerful stalling and the link to the Banque D’Ouestan.

When I finished, she said, “You’re doubtless correct, but there’s no proof at all. Exactly what do you have in mind?”

“Looking farther. I need to see if I can find out more about the Banque D’Ouestan, especially about their agent here. I have some indication that he lent Glendyl 25,000 golds almost a year ago.”

“Is there anyone Glendyl doesn’t owe?”

“I don’t think he owes the Banque D’Rivages or the Banque D’Excelsis,” I replied dryly.

“Glendyl isn’t likely to hold onto his works or anything else, except he won’t let go of anything willingly, and that won’t be good for Solidar or the Navy.”

“From his behavior and attitude…it shouldn’t be surprising if he loses everything. Besides, it might be better if someone else took over the engineworks.”

Dyana shook her head. “Nothing good is going to come of that. Be very careful.”

“I don’t intend to do anything else dealing with Glendyl.” I didn’t point out that I’d already done all I could.

“That would be best.”

“Oh, there is one other matter concerning the Banque D’Ouestan. This was discovered by Maitre Khalasa…” I went on to summarize the findings Kahlasa had presented to me.

“What do you intend to do?”

“I’d like to look a little farther. Like so many things, there’s little enough direct proof.”

“Isn’t it always? Let me know when you find out more.” Dyana shook her head, ruefully. “I trust you read the other stories in this morning’s newsheets?”

“I did.”

“How would you interpret them?”

“As an indication that the retirement or ill-health of Sea-Marshal Valeun might be beneficial to all Solidar.”

“What good would that do if his successor feels the same way, or, more important, that most of the junior marshals feel that way?”

“Then I need to determine what our options are.” I could be wrong, but, after having met Deputy Sea-Marshal Caellynd, I had the feeling he had to be an improvement over Valeun, but that was another thing I needed to determine.

“Or if we have any. Change for the sake of change is not a particularly good policy, especially if it creates even greater distrust of the Collegium.”

“Greater distrust would not be good.” I nodded politely, even as I worried about keeping what we had when it didn’t seem to be doing that much good for either Solidar or the Collegium.

After I left Maitre Dyana, the first thing I did was have Schorzat send a message requesting a meeting with Sea-Marshal Valeun for Vendrei, suggesting a certain urgency. Then I met with Kahlasa and asked her if she could check what she had discovered with the false transport companies to see if there happened to be anything in common with the false barge lease for the vessels used in the attack on Imagisle.

Next, I went back to my study to think.

On Vendrei morning,
Veritum
featured a story about the northern fleet and about how the fast frigate delivered to the Navy last week from the Suyrien shipworks was the only half-modern ship in the fleet, and how even the Collegium, once known for its concern about matters military, was silent on the need for fleet modernization. There were also a few lines about how the lack of better ships required a greater reliance on innovative and often desperate tactics, tactics that could only go on for so long. I thought that touch was particularly clever on Valeun’s part. I couldn’t help but wonder how Maitre Dyana was taking it all.

Then I found a note from Maitre Jhulian that said High Holder Haebyn had filed a motion to stop Broussard from rebuilding his impoundment dam, on the grounds that such reconstruction prejudiced Haebyn’s ancillary water rights. Jhulian had added that Haebyn’s legal actions were obviously the beginning of a salvo designed to keep the dam from being rebuilt until after the height of the spring runoff.

I could only shake my head.

Moments later, there was a knock on the door, and Schorzat stepped inside. “We did receive a reply from his highest excellency Sea-Marshal Valeun.” His voice was emotionless.

“Does he condescend to see me?”

“Only at the first glass of the afternoon, and only for two quints. He will expect you then, unless you send a messenger declining. He can see you on Mardi or Jeudi next week.”

“He’s playing position gaming. I’ll see him today. Timing’s more important than bureaucratic maneuvering.”

“If it were anyone but you, I’d suggest not seeing him until two weeks from now.”

“Waiting only benefits him, and he knows it. That’s what he’s playing for.” I couldn’t help shaking my head—again. I was doing that all too often. “Thank you for setting it up. I’ll let you and Kahlasa know what happens.”

When he left, I went and checked with Ghaend about Desalyt, but so far no one had reported any sign of him or his body. It was a certainty he was dead, and Ghaend had already talked to his wife, most likely his widow.

“It wasn’t exactly an accident, was it?” he asked.

“I don’t think so, but I don’t have any proof, either about whether it was or about who might have done it.”

“You were leaving Patrol headquarters, weren’t you?”

“I was. I’d just paid a call on Cydarth.”

“There are all sorts of rumors about him.”

“I know, but I’ve never found a single shred of proof to support any one of them.”

“Be nice if the Namer finally claimed him.”

I could agree with that.

When I left the Collegium in the duty coach at two quints past tenth glass, heading out to the Naval Command, I had a fairly good idea of what awaited me. I wasn’t that far off. When I reached the anteroom of the Sea-Marshal’s study just before first glass, I had to wait. Not long enough to be truly insulting, perhaps less than half a quint, but just enough, and when the door opened, a junior ensign emerged.

Valeun appeared behind the young officer, beaming. “Maitre Rhennthyl, I had no idea you were waiting.”

“Neither did I,” I replied with a smile equally false.

“Do come in!”

“Thank you.”

Once I was inside the study, the aide closed the door, and I didn’t bother with being invited to sit. I just took the middle chair across the desk and waited for Valeun to seat himself.

“What can I do for you, Maitre Rhennthyl?”

I waited a few moments. “What news do you have from the northern fleet?”

“I received a dispatch this morning. The
Lyiena
arrived in good stead on the evening of the fifth, and dispersal of imagers began on the morning of the sixth.” Valeun smiled politely. “If we assume that dispersal and positioning are on schedule, the attacks could have begun on Mardi. But we don’t know the weather or the state of Ferran defenses. It may be that Fleet-Marshal Asarynt will need to wait or that he commenced earlier.”

I nodded politely. “What about matters with Assistant Sea-Marshal Geuffryt?”

“That is a most delicate situation. You must understand that situations such as those cannot possibly be rushed, Maitre Rhennthyl. If there were more concrete evidence…it might be easier.” Another smile followed. “I had hoped that by now you might be able to present such.”

“You did receive considerable indication of the involvements and difficulties created for the Naval Command.” I kept my voice pleasant, almost dispassionate.

“Ah…but as you well know, Maitre Rhennthyl, those difficulties and involvements pose a problem only if they become known, whereas the replacement or removal of an Assistant Sea-Marshal only upon the recommendation of the Collegium might be construed as infringing on the prerogatives of the Council.”

“Not necessarily, and not if the Sea-Marshal did so on his own initiative.”

“To do so on his own initiative requires cause. Cause requires proof. In cases such as policy differences, the affected Assistant Sea-Marshal would be able to raise other issues, and the Sea-Marshal would be required to justify his actions to the Council. I do trust you understand.”

I did indeed. What Valeun was saying was that if he removed Geuffryt without hard evidence, he’d be questioned, and the questions would raise issues that would have him removed as well. Therefore, he had no intention of doing so without hard evidence. I could indeed force the issue, but forcing it would reveal that the Collegium was directly infringing on the Council’s territory. He was also implying that Geuffryt couldn’t be removed over differences in policy, because Geuffryt had no compunctions about bringing Valeun down.

“And I do understand,” Valeun went on smoothly, “that the Assistant Sea-Marshal has pointed out that he is in excellent health and most unlikely to suffer any natural ailments.”

“He is most astute, as I have known.” I smiled politely. “Perhaps we should defer such matters until after events in Ferrum have taken their course.”

“That would seem the wisest of courses.”

We passed a few more pleasantries before I departed.

When I returned to the Collegium, I went up to see Maitre Dyana, but she was out, and I headed back to my study. It wasn’t that long before Gherard appeared.

“Maitre Dyana can see you now, sir.”

“Thank you.” I left the latest reports unread.

Maitre Dyana remained behind her desk as I walked into her study and closed the door. “You went to see Valeun, I heard.”

“I did. He’s stalling on Geuffryt, and strongly suggesting that he needs some hard evidence. He doesn’t believe that we’ll let people know about all the strange occurrences that have involved the Naval Command.”

“We’d be better off if we didn’t.”

“He also made the point that Geuffryt has spread the word among the Councilors that he is in excellent health and very unlikely to suffer any strange or sudden illnesses. I have the feeling that Geuffryt may know things about Valeun.”

“That’s very possible.” She raised an eyebrow. “What will you do?”

“Nothing…not for a bit. We agreed to defer dealing with Geuffryt. It’s unlikely we’ll get any news on what’s happening in Ferrum for another week. It could be more. The imagers arrived safely and were being shifted to the fast gunboats at the time of the last message.”

“Do you think he was telling the truth about that?”

“Yes. That’s one thing he has no reason to lie about, and I don’t think he’s the type to lie without a reason that benefits him.”

She nodded. “Keep me informed.”

I would, although it was clear that I would have to take a different tack in dealing with Valeun, since he had once more proved that he was not to be trusted, not that I’d had any great faith in him to begin with, but that meant re-thinking a number of things.

Nothing of great import happened during the rest of the afternoon, and I was home by fifth glass, just after Seliora. For a moment, I almost called for Diestrya, before realizing she was spending the weekend at NordEste Design.

I had to admit that I took some time embracing her, enjoying the lack of interruptions. She definitely didn’t seem to mind, although she did finally disengage herself.

“I do need to get ready for tonight’s reception. Arriving disheveled is not a good idea.”

It was a very good idea, actually, but not for a reception.

As we walked upstairs, I broached another subject. “Dearest…I hate to ask yet another favor of your family…”

“I think we can manage that.” Her tone was wry.

“I need a Navy officer’s sidearm, one in good condition, with a full magazine.”

Seliora stopped at the top of the stairs and frowned. “You’re thinking about something very dangerous. Imagers don’t need sidearms.”

“I am. I hope I won’t need it, but…I have this feeling that it may be necessary.”

“For what?”

“As evidence.”

“It might take a few days, since we won’t see anyone until Lundi.”

“Whenever you can.”

“Do you want to tell me why?”

“Not unless I have to use it.”

That was all she asked, and we got dressed. Seliora wore green and black, and I wore black, not that I had much choice. We did take the Collegium coach I’d reserved—that was another three silvers from my pay, plus another for Elreyt.

We arrived at High Holder Fhernon’s town home, located on the highest point in Martradon, just behind a gray coach with brass trim. The three-level dwelling—and the high walls around it—had to have been more than a century old, since most High Holders’ dwellings were outside L’Excelsis. The fluted green marble columns echoed the elegance of that time.

The various servants all wore white-collared maroon livery, and we were ushered into the main floor receiving room. Madame D’Fhernon stood at the doorway.

“Maitre Rhennthyl, Madame D’Rhennthyl…it is so good that you could join us this evening. You must try the vintages that Fhernon had brought from Faemyra. I do recommend the white.” She smiled conspiratorially. “Even if Fhernon insists the red is better.”

“We may try both,” I replied.

“Thank you for including us,” added Seliora.

As we entered the room, I glanced up. The ceiling was all off-white plasterwork, with a maroon and gold border separating the ceiling from the aged walnut panels and maroon and gold hangings that flanked the wide windows.

Standing by the window looking down on the Theatre District, were Frydryk and Alynkya. Alynkya’s face held a strained and polite smile, and I belatedly recognized the couple across from them as her father, Chief Councilor Ramsael…and Cyana D’Guerdyn, dressed in pale blue. From the way that Cyana positioned herself, I had the feeling that she was now Madame D’Ramsael, and that might well have explained the strain in Alynkya, since Cyana could not have been more than five or six years older than Alynkya. The former Ferran envoy to Solidar had once escorted Cyana to a Council Ball, and that she was apparently now Madame D’Ramsael disturbed me slightly.

Ramsael turned as we moved toward them. “Oh…Rhenn…and this must be your wife.” He inclined his head to Seliora. “You are indeed as so many report.”

“You’re very kind,” Seliora replied.

“I’d like you both to meet my wife Cyana.”

We both nodded politely, and I said, “I’ve been so occupied with other matters that I had not heard of the happy event.”

“It was a quiet affair, overshadowed by what happened afterwards,” offered Cyana.

“If you will excuse us,” said Ramsael, “I do believe we are being summoned.”

I could sense the relief in Alynkya as her father and her stepmother moved away.

“Rhenn, if I might have a word with you?” Behind Frydryk’s pleasant look was something more.

“Of course.” I looked to Seliora. “If you will excuse us, ladies?”

Seliora smiled. “I’ve so wanted to talk to Alynkya…”

I winced, as I was expected to.

They both laughed.

Frydryk eased us toward the corner, between the pianoforte that no one was playing and two unoccupied armchairs. “I’m so glad you two came at that moment.”

“I could see Alynkya was less than pleased.”

A bitter chuckle was his response. “Cyana is manipulative and then some. That’s not why I needed to talk to you.” He paused. “Have you heard about Glendyl?”

“No.” I had a feeling the news wasn’t good.

“I’d better tell it as it happened. After we talked, I decided to meet with Glendyl to tell him that I was calling the notes. He said that calling the notes was a poor idea, and went on to suggest that you were behind all of his difficulties, that you wanted to destroy him…that you were worse than any High Holder.”

“He clearly doesn’t care for me,” I replied, since I sensed Frydryk wanted some response.

“No, but I trust your judgment. Before I went to see him, Alynkya insisted that I hold firm, that extending him more time or credit would only harm us both. He went on to tell me that I could call the notes, much good it would do, and that he’d be there to laugh at any attempt to get anything from him. Still, it was my privilege and that his advocate would be in touch with mine. Then he ushered me out, saying he had another urgent appointment.” Frydryk shook his head. “Then, just before we left for this engagement, I received a message that he’d killed himself. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Who sent the message?”

“Kandryl. He’d been meeting with Lhoryn, because Lhoryn had expressed an interest in some properties in Mantes that Iryela and Kandryl wanted to sell—they’re too far from anything else, something her father had picked up as a settlement on a debt. A messenger delivered the message to Lhoryn. Kandryl sent me the message because he knew I’d met with Glendyl.”

“How did he do it? Did Kandryl’s message say?”

“Apparently, sometime shortly after I left, he shot himself with a heavy pistol, through his right temple. That’s what Kandryl wrote. Quite swift, but rather messy.”

That stopped me, but I didn’t say anything for a moment.

“I can see you’re as stunned as I am,” Frydryk said.

“I’m definitely stunned.” But not for the same reason as Frydryk. “I don’t know what to say.” After a pause, I added, “We should rejoin our wives before they divulge too much about us.”