Imager's Intrigue: The Third Book of the Imager Portfolio (52 page)

“What about the Civic Patrol?”

“They don’t come into it. The Naval Command is a military establishment. They handle their own offenses. In the cases of capital crimes tried by court martial, cases can be appealed to the high justiciary.”

“Maitre Dichartyn would be proud of you,” she said.

“No. He’d have been telling me there was another way. There probably was, but I couldn’t find it, and we were running out of time. Besides, the Navy doesn’t need to reveal what Geuffryt really did. They’d never get the ships they need, not for years, and it would be years before the suspicions settled down. Caellynd is the kind of Sea-Marshal all the senior officers want and the kind that the Council can deal with.”

“He’s not stupid.”

“Neither was Valeun, but he still didn’t see the dangers. Caellynd is basically honest, but he’s also a realist.”

Maitre Dyana nodded. “I need to think about this. See me first thing in the morning. Since it’s Samedi…half past eighth glass.”

“I’ll be here.”

She just looked at me, and I looked back.

“Good-night, Rhenn.”

“Good-night.” At least, she hadn’t made a fuss about my disobeying her instructions about Geuffryt, but that might have been because there wasn’t any point to it and because matters would only have gotten worse with the Naval Command if I hadn’t acted. Besides, she had once mentioned that we might need a new Sea-Marshal if Valeun proved uncooperative, and he’d proved not only uncooperative, but corrupt.

As I left Dyana’s study, I shook my head. One of the aspects of it that bothered me the most was that Valeun would most likely end up venerated and respected, his death thought to be a tragedy.

I returned to my study and locked away the evidence folder, then left and walked slowly back toward the house.

Seliora met me in the foyer. She gave me a sad smile. “You’re late. I had to put Diestrya to bed.”

“That’s probably better.” I took a deep breath, then took off my cloak and hung it up. Then I walked over to her and put my arms around her. I held her tightly for a while, then finally released her.

“It was hard, wasn’t it?”

“Yes…I had to do what needed to be done. Do we have any wine?”

“I brought up the Cambrisio. I thought you might need something.”

I didn’t say more until we were sitting in the parlor in front of a stove that was barely emitting any heat. Then I began. “You knew I was meeting with Valeun and Geuffryt. I told you how Valeun never wanted to deal with Geuffryt, and how Geuffryt killed the clerk and probably Johanyr, though that’s something I can’t prove…” From there I told her the “official” story, ending with, “and while you know how things really are, there’s no point in even talking about that. Sometimes, it’s just better to leave things the way people see them, because they don’t want to hear or see what really happened. Just like Valeun. He didn’t want to admit that he’d made a mistake with Geuffryt. He’d rather have let the man continue to do all sorts of evil things than have any of it come out. I’m not much better, because I don’t want some of it to come out because it will hurt Solidar and the Council and the Collegium and accomplish nothing.”

“There will be enough of the truth out there that people will be satisfied.” Her smile in the dim light was ironic. “They never want the whole complicated truth. Never. They say they do, but they always run from it.”

And I was afraid she was right about that as well.

Before I went in to see Maitre Dyana on Samedi morning, I did read the newsheets so that I’d know how the incident was being presented.

Veritum
and
Tableta
both had stories on the deaths of Geuffryt and Valeun.
Veritum
reported the “Navy” version, but speculated that Geuffryt had been about to be removed for incompetence, because of his failure to discover all the Ferran infiltration that led to sabotage and explosions.
Tableta
noted that a high-ranking imager had been present and suggested that the Collegium had been demanding Geuffryt’s removal because of his failure to stop the Ferran bombardment of Imagisle. Both stories showed Caellynd’s ability to deal with the newsheets.

Gherard wasn’t in the anteroom, and the door to the Maitre’s study was open. So I walked in and sat down.

“Caellynd sent me a note.” Dyana wasn’t wearing a scarf of any sort, and those were her first words. “By Navy courier.”

“Might I ask what he had to say?”

“You can. It was very polite. He wrote that he appreciated your tactful handling of what could have been a difficult situation for the Naval Command, and that he hoped that the Collegium and the Naval Command could resume working together constructively and cooperatively.” She leaned forward and handed me the heavy notecard with the Navy seal.

I read it slowly and carefully, but what Maitre Dyana had said was almost word for word what Caellynd had written, except for the last words, which were:

“You doubtless understand what lies behind the words,” she went on, “but I feel compelled to point it out. He understands fully that you, and the Collegium, will not allow the Naval Command to hide behind procedural niceties to avoid acting when acting is necessary.” A brief and wintry smile followed. “That creates a secondary problem. Would you care to describe it for me?”

I would have preferred not to, but some things had to be faced. “We can’t afford to be wrong about anything for a long, long time. Otherwise, we’ll become feared for our power alone, and everyone will turn against us.”

“Exactly, and that will limit what we can do. That may mean that at times we will have to let minor offenses against imagers or others go unpunished, especially if there is no hard evidence, or if punishing the offender will create the impression of unbridled or arbitrary power on our part. What else?”

“I need to become even less visible.”

“How do you plan to do that? You haven’t been noticeably successful thus far.”

“I’ve thought about that. If matters in Ferrum go well, I intend to follow the example set by my preceptor some years ago.”

“You seem rather confident,” Dyana said. “What if your plan doesn’t work?”

“That’s not the question. The question is how well it’s worked and how many junior imagers and gunboats we’ve lost.”

“If it has worked poorly?”

“It might be best if I took Dhelyn’s position in Westisle.”

“That would be acceptable.” A wry smile followed. “Not perfect, but acceptable. If…just if…Dartazn succeeds in implementing your plan in Cloisera in a moderately successful fashion, what would you suggest I recommend to Caellynd and the Council?”

“Send two communiqués—one to the Ferrans and one to the Oligarch of Jariola.”

“I assume the one to Ferrum should state that they surrender immediately or face greater consequences and the one to Jariola should tell them to reclaim their own territory and nothing more…or face the consequences.”

“Something like that.”

“You know that over time, Ferrum will try for the coal fields again.”

I nodded. “But if they kept the coal fields, then they’d try for something else.”

“I can’t take anything like that to the Council yet,” Dyana pointed out. “Not until we know the results.”

“I know, but I thought you’d like my thoughts before you have to act.”

“Rhenn…we don’t need any more action.”

I merely nodded. I knew we didn’t, but sometimes what one needed wasn’t what life, and survival, permitted. Maitre Dyana, for all her words, knew that as well, and knew I knew it.

I stood. “Unless something else comes up, I’ll see you on Lundi.”

“I hope it’s Monday. I’m moving to the Maitre’s dwelling this weekend.”

“The rebuilding is finished?”

“Mostly. The main floor and the bedrooms are completed. That’s more than enough for me, and the Collegium needs the symbol of the lights in the Maitre’s domicile.” She rose from behind the desk.

“Do you need help? We could—”

“What you could do is spend time with your wife and daughter.”

I didn’t argue.

Enjoying Diestrya and Seliora was harder than it should have been over the remainder of the weekend. I kept wondering what had happened with Dartazn and the imagers, as well as whether Caellynd—or the newsheets…or someone—would decide to press the issues around the deaths of Geuffryt and Valeun…and whether I’d still have to testify before a Navy court martial. Lundi came and went, and I heard nothing more.

On Mardi morning, I had barely walked into the administration building when Beleart ran toward me. “Maitre Dyana is looking for you.”

I dropped my cloak in my study and hurried upstairs, where Gherard motioned me into her study, then closed the door behind me.

Maitre Dyana stood, brushing a pale blue scarf back over her shoulder. “Sea-Marshal Caellynd just sent over a copy of the communiqué he received late last night.” She extended the single sheet of paper to me. Her face was somber as she sat back down behind the desk.

I felt like wincing, but I just said, “Thank you.” I sat down in the middle chair and read.

I lowered the sheet and looked at Dyana.

She looked back at me. “Your methods were effective, Rhenn.”

“I’d thought they would be. My concerns were getting the imagers close enough to be able to image the targets…and whether too many would be killed in the attempt.”

“You were even right about the casualties. It would appear that the Collegium lost close to twenty promising young imagers.”

“We lost that many imagers. Some of them might have been fleet imagers.”

“The fleet imagers expect that possibility. The young ones don’t understand. Not really.” She paused. “I’ll make a statement at the midday meal.”

Neither of us spoke for a moment. Finally, I said, “More than a few older imagers are going to feel that the whole operation was a terrible waste of young imagers.”

“Do you?”

“It wasn’t a waste. It was a sacrifice of blood and youth on our part because the High Holders and the factors couldn’t bear to pay the cost of remaining strong. It was a terrible waste of life in Ferrum because they couldn’t understand that we would pay that price.”

Dyana shook her head. “No…you decided that the price had to be paid. I agreed, and, in retrospect, so will the Council and the Navy, but you decided, and, had the operation failed…”

“I’d be fortunate to spend the rest of my life as an isolated regional or in Mont D’Glace.”

“No one could force you, Rhenn, but if that had happened, you’d find no one would spend more than moments in your company.”

“Some won’t, anyway.”

“Not most imagers, but few Councilors will.” She paused. “You will accompany me to the meeting tomorrow with Ramsael, Sebatyon, and Caartyl. I doubt it will be pleasant.”

“You want me to press them on change.”

“Only on the need for change.”

I couldn’t help smiling, if wryly. I was to be the reminder of the need for change, and then Maitre Dyana could seem oh-so-reasonable.

“Speaking of the Council,” I pointed out, “Dartazn can’t go back to the Chateau.”

“That’s true. What do you suggest?

“Make him a Maitre D’Structure and the direct Collegium liaison to the fleets. Give him Dhelyn’s position in Westisle and have him train all the fleet imagers in the tactics and weapons he developed. If any of the juniors showed a real flair for that, make them his assistants.”

Dyana raised an eyebrow.

“If they’re that good at destruction, they’re better off dealing with the fleet and some of the senior officers. It also might head off the kind of problems we had with Geuffryt and Valeun.”

“That’s similar to a rationale I heard years ago.”

I shrugged. “There’s no reason not to steal from the best.”

“He would have been both appalled and proud of you.”

“He always was appalled. I’m not sure about proud.”

“He was proud of you as well.”

I had my doubts, but I just nodded.

“There’s one other matter.”

“Yes?”

“The Naval Board of Inquiry has found that Valeun was murdered by Geuffryt, that Geuffryt attempted to murder you, and that your actions were justified in self-defense.”

“I’m relieved to hear that.” What was ironic about the board’s findings was that they were all accurate…just not in the way they doubtless had thought in making those findings.

“I thought you would be.”

After I left Maitre Dyana, I went to find Schorzat and Kahlasa. They needed to know before Maitre Dyana informed the entire Collegium. I found Kahlasa leaving the conference room where she’d been talking to Aismeya, one of the youngest female imagers, and asked her to join me in Schorzat’s study.

When all three of us were gathered there, I said, “I just read the communiqué from Fleet Marshal Asarynt. It appears that the operation was successful, but casualties were high. Maitre Dyana will be making a statement at noon in the dining hall.”

“How high?” asked Schorzat.

“Ten out of twenty-eight gunboats carrying imagers were lost, eight with all hands.”

Schorzat winced. Kahlasa nodded slowly, if sadly.

“What do you mean by successful?” Schorzat’s tone was hard.

“There’s not much left of the fifteen largest coastal cities in Ferrum, according to Asarynt.”

“That seems a little hard to believe, don’t you think?” Schorzat’s doubt was clear.

I shook my head. “We taught most of them to image a mixture of jellied lamp oil, etherperoxides, and dry guncotton…as well as some other incendiaries Chassendri and I worked out.” That wasn’t quite true. I’d asked Chassendri to work those out with Dartazn, but it had been my idea, and the blame, or some of it, needed to come back to me. “Ferrum’s heavily forested, and they’re a factoring and profit-seeking nation, and that means they use much more wood in their cities than we do. Asarynt said that Ferran casualties were high. He’s asking for complete surrender.”

“Did he say how high?”

“No.” But Ferrial held more than a million people, and with eighty percent destruction or more in a day or so, I didn’t see how the death toll couldn’t have been less than a hundred thousand, not that anyone was going to be able to count accurately, which might be for the best. That didn’t count the other fourteen cities with populations greater than fifty thousand.

“Will the Ferran fleet surrender after that?” asked Kahlasa.

“I’m sure that their initial reaction will be to continue to fight. That won’t last. They have no place left to resupply or refuel.”

“You’ve definitely taken a scorched earth stance, Rhenn,” Schorzat said, his voice flat.

“There wasn’t a practical alternative. Between them, the Council and the Navy left the rest of us in an impossible long-term position. We had Ferran saboteurs all over Solidar, and I have no doubts that many are still here.” I could tell that Schorzat really didn’t understand. Like so many, he believed that once you fell behind it was always possible to catch up. The problem was that every advance in engines and ships, in manufacturing and in trade, fueled yet another advance, and the only way to catch up was to sacrifice comfort and personal wealth, in part by allowing greater competition and change—and neither the factors nor the High Holders had been willing to do that. That failure was why Ferrum had overtaken us in warship design and construction and would have as well in manufactures and machinery. “You heard how they infiltrated the engine works, the Banque D’Ouestan, and worked with the Stakanarans to bring the nastier elveweed to Solidar. They blew up buildings all over the country, and killed thousands. That doesn’t include what they did in Jariola. Exactly what did the Jariolans do to merit being invaded—except to possess coal fields and mines that the Ferrans wanted? Or was it because they have a form of government the Ferran factors dislike?”

“The Jariolans aren’t exactly paragons of the Nameless.”

I looked directly at Schorzat. I didn’t say anything. I just looked.

Abruptly, he swallowed. Then he forced a laugh. “You know, Rhenn, while you act for the best of the Collegium, there are times when you make Bilbryn look peaceful, kind, and sympathetic.”

That was all I needed, to be compared to the warrior imager champion of Rex Caldor, the man historians claimed was responsible for the bloody unification of Bovaria half a millennium before Rex Regis unified all Solidar the same way. All too often, I’d heard Bilbryn described as Namer-evil-incarnate. I managed a smile. “I’m not sure that comparison is fair to poor Bilbryn. He’s not here to defend himself.” I paused.

Kahlasa smothered a brief smile.

Schorzat looked appalled.

“Life isn’t neat and orderly, Schorzat. It’s messy and bloodier than anyone would like. Politics and personal agendas make it worse than that at times. I cut through all that, and I’ve managed to give us a chance to tidy up things. The only problem is that, like with everything, there’s a cost, and most people want to pretend that there isn’t. Pretending that there isn’t a cost to maintaining what is good only results in matters getting worse. That’s how all this happened. No one wanted to pay, and everyone wanted to keep their personal advantages and the restraints on those who might compete with them, from the artisan guilds to the High Holders. Even in the Collegium most imagers didn’t want to pay, and the irony is that the two who did—Maitre Poincaryt and Maitre Dichartyn—were the first ones killed. They were both probably too good. I’m not. I’m no martyr. I’m young enough and arrogant enough to want to share that cost.” I smiled broadly. “So that’s the way it’s going to be.”

After I walked out of his study, leaving him to think over what I’d said, I laughed, softly and bitterly. Now all I had to do was overhaul the entire economic and political structure of Solidar before Ferrum recovered.