Imager

41

The next several days were slow, long, and tedious. Master Dichartyn checked on me briefly each morning, as did Master Draffyd. Besides that, all I did was some walking, with Obern accompanying and watching me, some reading, some eating, and more than a little dozing and sleeping. On Jeudi morning Master Draffyd and Master Dichartyn both arrived at the same time. That could not have been coincidence.

First, Master Draffyd examined me and changed the dressing on my upper chest and shoulder. “It’s already healing well. You can leave here, but stay on Imagisle and keep the dressing dry. No strenuous exercise, only walking, and no exercise with that arm except for light things. Don’t pick up anything heavy . . .”

The way my shoulder felt, I wasn’t about to lift anything more than a pen. Certainly not anything as heavy as the Jurisprudence text.

“. . . If there’s any sudden pain or soreness, or redness or swelling, come back here immediately. If I’m not here, Obern or one of the others will find me. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

Master Dichartyn waited until Master Draffyd left.

“You’re very fortunate. I need to make one thing very clear. Until you’re fully healed, and I do mean fully, you are not to leave Imagisle. Do you understand why?”

“Anyone with enough coin and desire to hire someone to kill me won’t likely stop at losing one bravo.”

Master Dichartyn nodded. “We-you, actually-will put a stop to it, but since you will not be able until you’re well, and that is likely to be at least a month, according to Master Draffyd.”

“A month?”

“The outward wounds and the worst of the damage will heal in another week, two weeks at the outside. Then you’ll have to regain strength in that arm and shoulder, and you’ll work with Clovyl on that-he knows what happened. He’ll be the one working with you to rebuild your strength and conditioning. Maitre Dyana and I will teach you a few more techniques when the time comes. For now, you are not to do any imaging-except in emergencies, and I do hope you can see your way to avoiding those. I’ll see you tomorrow at eighth glass. I won’t need your essay, but I want you to review the anatomy section of your science text, especially the section on the human chest and heart.”

I did force myself to walk back to my own quarters slowly, and I carried the Jurisprudence book in my right arm. I couldn’t help but worry over his words about my being the one to put a stop to matters.

When the time approached tenth glass and lunch, I made my way to the dining hall slowly and deliberately. Even so, I saw that Claustyn had gotten there earlier. He waved for me to join him at one end of the long table. When I reached him, so had Menyard and Reynol.

I was more than happy to sit down.

“We haven’t seen you for almost a week,” said Claustyn. “Word is that some assassin attacked two imagers, and killed one. Was that why we haven’t seen you?”

Two imagers? “I don’t know about anyone else. I did get shot-right outside Felters. Do you know who the other imager was?”

“Some are saying it was Jacques,” Reynol replied. “No one’s seen him, either, but you never know for a while when these things happen. The Collegium doesn’t like to acknowledge publicly that any imager was attacked-or killed, especially.”

“Did he get away?” asked Menyard.

What could I say to that? After a moment, I laughed, gently. “I managed to disable him, or that was what I tried. He died, though.”

“If I might ask,” ventured Reynol, “how badly . . .?”

“Two shots. Here and here.” I pointed with my good hand.

Claustyn and Menyard looked at each other.

“You imaged him after you were hit?” asked Claustyn.

“I didn’t know he was shooting at me until I got hit.” That wasn’t quite true, but close enough.

Claustyn nodded and said to Menyard, “That’s why.”

“Why what?” I asked.

“Why Master Dichartyn is your preceptor. He only takes imagers who have that kind of reaction. None of us can figure out how he knows that, but he seems to sense it whenever a new imager who has that ability arrives. Do you have a duty assignment?”

“I know what it will be, once I recover and finish my training.”

“Did you like the dinner at Felters-before what happened?” Claustyn asked. “Was it as good as people say?”

Obviously, some questions were pursued only so far-another of the unspoken rules. “I had a marinated flank steak stuffed with buttered parsley and mushrooms. It was excellent, and they had a Cambrisio that was very good.”

“Was it that expensive?”

“It wasn’t bad . . . four silvers, I think, but we had salads, and dessert and wine.”

“That’s not too dear,” reflected Reynol, “if you don’t do it too often.” He grinned. “Was she worth it?”

“How would he know?” asked Menyard. “He got shot before he could find out.”

I smiled. “She was very worth it. She was the one who got me to the infirmary in time.”

“That’s very worth it,” said Claustyn, “if not exactly what Reynol had in mind.” He laughed.

So did we all.

“Where’s Kahlasa?” I asked after several bites of a fowl casserole.

“She got called back to field duty early,” said Reynol. “She didn’t say why, but a Caenenan cruiser sank one of our merchanters on the high seas-more than fifty milles off the Caenenan coast. The Council ordered a blockade of Caena, and the Fourth and Fifth Fleets are steaming south now. That’s what they say, anyway.”

“What are the Jariolans going to do?”

“The Council sent a strong message suggesting that they keep out of it,” Menyard added. “But their Oligarch-Khasis III, I think, is his name-is supposedly massing forces on their border with Ferrum. That’s because Ferrum has been arming Caenen, and has been receiving favored trade.”

“So we’re looking at war in Cloisera and in Otelyrn?” I asked.

Claustyn shrugged. “It’s possible. We control the seas, but we don’t have an army big enough to fight in both places.”

“Couldn’t we help Ferrum and just blockade Caena?”

“That’s up to the Council, but . . .” Reynol drew out the words: “Ferrum doesn’t like Solidar, and particularly the Collegium, much more than Jariola does, and if we blockade Caena, the High Priest is likely to turn on Tiempre to get some of the resources he needs because he knows we don’t want to invade Caenen . . . or any country in Otelyrn.”

Why Tiempre? I almost asked, but then realized why. Tiempre had banned imagers almost a century earlier. That had ended up driving out many of the wealthier and more creative types. More than a few had come to Solidar. I doubted that Tiempre could stand up to Caenen and the High Priest’s religious hordes, and I couldn’t see the Council sending troops to Otelyrn.

“So . . . if we blockade Caena . . . we’ll start a war between Tiempre and Caenen, and if we don’t, the Caenenans will feel free to keep firing on our merchant ships?”

“I’d venture to say that about sums it all up,” said Claustyn cheerfully. “Unless the High Priest changes his mind.”

“That doesn’t seem likely,” I pointed out.

“No,” Menyard said. “True believers-or those who depict themselves as such-seldom change their minds. They’d rather die first, and, if they do change their minds, someone else in the hierarchy is likely to see that they die.”

“Did you get that from Master Dichartyn?”

“Master Jhulian. For all his legal knowledge, he’s almost as cynical as Dichartyn.”

In the end, our discussion led to nothing more, and afterward I returned to my quarters and wrote a note to Seliora thanking her and asking if she could visit on Solayi afternoon . . . and telling her where to meet me if she could. After that, I wrote a shorter note to my parents, telling them I’d been injured and that, while I was healing well, I wouldn’t be leaving Imagisle soon.

Then, after taking them both to the administration building to be sent, I walked slowly back to my room, once more, and stretched out-gingerly-on my bed to rest. Jurisprudence and the two essays would have to wait.