Imager

39

When I woke on Solayi, barely after dawn, with gray light seeping into the gray room, I ached all over, and my head was pounding. I’d barely opened my eyes when an obdurate in a plain black uniform appeared, holding a tall glass filled with clear liquid.

“Master Draffyd said you are to drink all of this.” He held it to my lips.

I drank. So far as I could tell or taste, the liquid was just water, but water with no taste whatsoever. Water or not, in less than a quarter glass, the worst of the pounding in my head had subsided to a dull ache. That was a mixed blessing, because I was still strapped in place, and most uncomfortable, as well as able to think about it.

Before all that long, thankfully, Master Draffyd appeared. “I’m going to remove your restraints, but please don’t move until I tell you to.”

“Yes, sir.” I would have agreed to anything to get clear of the straps.

I forced myself to look down as he changed the dressing. There were two wounds, less than four digits apart. The area around each was bruised. Both were sutured with wide stitches.

“So far, so good. You’ll have some interesting scars there, Rhennthyl.”

Whatever he used to clean the area stung. Then his face tightened in concentration, and I could feel stinging in my chest, then stabbing pain that slowly subsided.

“You were carrying some shields, weren’t you?”

“Just ones with triggers against imaging. I tried to raise full shields, but I was too slow.”

He nodded. “The shields you did have saved your life. Those bullets would have gone right through you, and the exit wounds would have bled even more.”

“I wouldn’t be alive if we hadn’t come here.”

“No, but please don’t test your luck again.”

I had no intention of that-except I hadn’t been testing anything.

“Obern will be here and help you clean up and get into a set of dry sleepwear and get you some clean bedding. Just lie here quietly for at least a glass. After that, you can move, but only slowly and carefully and not often. And don’t use the arm on your wounded side. Not at all. You’ll get something to eat in a while.”

“Yes, sir. When I can return to my quarters?”

“That won’t be for several days, possibly a week.”

After Master Draffyd left, Obern-the very same obdurate who had given me the water earlier-reappeared with linens, sleepwear, and bedding, and before too long I was cleaner and drier. I tried to rest, but too many thoughts kept running through my head. Who could possibly have wanted me dead? The most likely possibilities were the High Holder Ryel or some former friends of Diazt, but how would they have known where I was? That left someone to whom Seliora had talked . . . or someone that Odelia had talked to . . . or . . . someone they had talked to who had talked to someone else . . . That was pointless. Gossip in L’Excelsis went everywhere.

Another thought struck me. If I’d really wanted to get clear of the restraints, couldn’t I just have imaged them elsewhere? That thought alone told me that I still wasn’t thinking as clearly as I thought I was. I also realized that I would have been safer against an imager, because I’d have gotten full shields without thinking. I needed more work on shields, so that I barely had to think to get them.

Why was it that I could figure out things afterward, when it would have been so much better beforehand? I didn’t have an answer to that question either, but then Obern came back with breakfast on a tray, actual egg-fried toast with a syrup and tea. I ate all of it.

I was feeling better-until I saw Master Jhulian walk into my infirmary room.

“Good morning, Rhennthyl.”

“Good morning, sir.”

“You had quite an evening, I hear. I’ve heard quite a bit from everyone else, but it might be best if you told me exactly what happened. Talk slowly, please, and take your time. Stop whenever you want. I’ve asked Obern to bring you more tea. That will help relax you, and it will also help the healing.” He pulled up the single chair beside the narrow bed. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“I had taken a friend-Seliora-to dinner at Felters . . .” I went through the entire story, including Seliora’s notice of the man in the brown cloak, and ended when I lost consciousness outside the infirmary.

“Did you ever see the man closely?”

“No, sir. Well . . . just for a moment. He didn’t look familiar.”

“Did the young woman know him? She saw him more clearly, didn’t she?”

“She didn’t know him. I teased her about him looking at her, not me, but she said she didn’t know him.”

“Rhennthyl, keep this in mind. No matter how pretty the woman at your side, if a man looks in your direction, the odds are that he’s looking at you or for you. Don’t ever forget that.”

His voice was firm, almost cold.

“No, sir. I won’t.”

“Did you say anything to the man?”

“No, sir. Seliora saw him and whispered that he was there, and I turned and saw him raise the pistol. That was when I tried to increase my own shields. But I never said anything.”

“Someone in the bistro saw it, and they summoned the civic patrollers. They had close to the same story.” He frowned. “You said you imaged caustic at him. He died in great agony. He might have been blinded, but that doesn’t usually kill someone. What exactly did you do?”

I started to answer, then coughed, and almost doubled over even more in pain before I could reply. “I guess I wasn’t clear, sir. I imaged caustic into his eyes and somewhere into his chest. At least, that was what I was trying to do.”

“You did it well enough to kill him.” Master Jhulian held up a long-fingered hand. “There’s no question that it was self-defense, and the man you killed was already being sought for two other murders, and is thought to have committed a number of others. The civic patrollers were happy not to have to keep looking for him. So is the Collegium.”

“He killed another imager?”

“A very junior one over a year ago. That is what we know. There have been two other killings of junior imagers over the past three months, and his act against you might raise several other questions, except for one thing. He was definitely looking for you. Do you know why?”

“The only thing I can think of is the business with High Holder Ryel-you know, with his son Johanyr?”

“Oh . . . that?” Master Jhulian frowned. “That is possible, but most unlikely. The High Holder would not wish there to be any traces to him, and that particular assassin was one . . . not suitable for someone like Ryel. Nor would Ryel act so quickly.”

“At the moment, sir, I really can’t think of anyone . . . well, except Diazt came from the taudis, I think, and I suppose it could have been some relative or friend of his.” I couldn’t think of any other possibilities, but that might have been because I was still most uncomfortable at best, and in some considerable pain at other times.

“That is more likely, but still unlikely.” He stood and closed the small black book in which he had been writing. “Once you can write, you will owe me that final paper.” He set a book on the chair. It was a copy of Jurisprudence. “I took the liberty of retrieving this from your desk. Your outlines are tucked inside. I would suggest that you consider that there are two meanings of’presumption.’ The legal definition is not the same as personal presumption, and your notes do not reflect that.”

“I’ll . . . keep that in mind, sir.”

“After you get some rest.” He nodded and slipped out of the room.

Obern entered immediately with a large mug of steaming tea. “The master said . . .”

“I know. I need to drink it.” I felt like there were so many things I needed to do . . . but I wasn’t feeling up to doing any of them.