Imager

48

On Mardi, two letters were waiting in my box when I checked after lunch, but I was running so late that all I did was to see that one was from Seliora. I didn’t open it, because I wanted to enjoy reading it, and I didn’t have time for that. The other was from Mother. I had immediately recognized her handwriting. I didn’t open it, either, if for very different reasons, before I hurried back to my quarters and changed into exercise clothes and heavy boots.

Clovyl was waiting outside the exercise hall, with his usual patient smile, a smile that-I was convinced-concealed a hidden glee in at the thought of how hard he’d make me work.

“Good afternoon, Rhenn. You still have a lot more catching up to do.”

I followed him to the chamber, where I began on the loosening-up exercises, although my eyes did stray to the corner that held the free weights. It wasn’t that they were so heavy, but my muscles burned after I went through that routine-and I still had to look forward to another two glasses of special treatment.

Once he had worked me over thoroughly for slightly more than two glasses, Clovyl told me to stop by Master Dichartyn’s study after I cleaned up.

The one advantage of an afternoon shower was that the water was merely cool, rather than ice-cold, and before long I was sitting on the bench outside Master Dichartyn’s study. If I’d known that I’d be sitting there for close to half a glass I would have brought Mother’s letter, but I’d been hurrying so much that I hadn’t thought about that.

The study door opened, and a secondus stepped out. I stood, and his eyes flashed to me and then away.

“Good day, sir.” He fled as much as walked away.

I knocked.

“Come in, Rhenn.”

Once inside, I shut the door and sat down, waiting to see what else Master Dichartyn had scheduled for me.

“Clovyl says that you’re doing well, and that, if you keep at it, you’ll be close to where you should be by the time the Council reconvenes . . . where you should be in terms of physical training and conditioning. You’re still lacking in finesse in your imagery, but we need to get you some experience. On Jeudi morning, you’re to meet me here in the morning at half before fifth bell. We’ll be going to the prison for an execution.”

“Practice, sir?”

“Two kinds of practice. Subtlety and effectiveness. That night, you’ll have to work with Master Draffyd. Mostly, you’ll just be watching him do a dissection. Too much of your knowledge is text knowledge. That’s not your fault, but it’s something we need to remedy.” He stood. “You have to excuse me, but matters are pressing.”

“Caenen and Jariola, sir?”

“Partly. That’s mostly Master Schorzat ’s headache. It doesn’t help much that imaging is banned in Tiempre, and that its practice, if discovered, is punished by execution. Ferrum doesn’t ban it, but known imagers face great difficulties. That makes working in either land even more difficult, the Nameless knows, although neither Ferrum nor Jariola is a place we’d normally want to be. You’d think that we were the disciples of Bilbryn.” He shook his head.

Bilbryn? It took me a moment to recall the name. When Solidar had been warring states using bronze weapons, he’d been the imager champion of Rex Caldor, and his enemies called him the great disciple of the Namer, declaring him evil incarnate.

“I’ll see you on Jeudi,” Master Dichartyn said.

Our meeting had been short enough that I had a good glass left before dinner, and I hurried back to my quarters. Once there, I recovered the letters, opening Mother’s first, knowing full well what awaited me. I forced myself to read the words carefully.

Dear Rhennthyl,

I had hoped that we would be able to host a birthday dinner for you this Samedi and perhaps invite Zerlenya or another suitable young lady, if you did not find Zerlenya to your liking. I do hope that you are feeling better, but I cannot help but worry, since we have not heard from you since your last letter. I do hope that we have not done anything to offend you. I had only invited Zerlenya because she is a beautiful and intelligent young woman, and you had mentioned that there were few women at all on Imagisle. . .

I paused in reading, then shook my head.

. . . and you are now reaching the age where it will become more and more difficult to find someone suitable, as the most attractive ones from a suitable background will already have been spoken for. . . .

A suitable background was a polite way of saying someone who was at least from the factoring or full merchant class and most preferably not Pharsi.

. . . That is, of course, a matter with which you must deal, but we were only trying to be helpful.

That was doubtless true, but I didn’t need to be reminded of it.

We would still very much like to have a belated celebration of your twenty-fifth birthday. I do hope that this finds you in good health and that you will let us know when we may expect you or when I may visit you.

The last thing I wanted to do was write a reply, but doing so quickly would reduce the amount of guilt Mother would attempt to lay at my feet. I set aside the still-unopened letter from Seliora and wrote a quick reply to Mother, based on the truth, stating that while I had recovered physically, I was still restricted to Imagisle until certain aspects of my training were completed, but that, if she wished to visit, she was now more than welcome on either Samedi or Solayi afternoons, and should drop me a note to let me know when to expect her, and that I looked forward to seeing her.

Then I finally sat back in my study chair and opened the letter from Seliora.

Dear Rhenn,

At last, we have arrived in Pointe Neimon. The trip was hard for Grandmama, but she is in good spirits. She sends her best to you. So does Shomyr.

We have already toured four textile manufactories, and we have improved arrangements with two. Their fabric is excellent. One other is satisfactory. The other we will not use, but it is good to see what each can do.

I trust that you are well and will be fully recovered and able to leave Imagisle by the time we return. We have tickets on the Express for the fourth of Agostos. Grandmama says that we should invite you to dinner on the fourteenth. If you know that you can come then and let me know, I can write Mother and tell her to plan for it. If you do not know, then we can work out a time once we return to L’Excelsis.

You would find Pointe Neimon refreshing and beautiful. I do wish you could be here, but you must do what you must. I only ask that you take care in your duties, great care.

At the bottom was an address in Pointe Neimon, and, again, the signature was just her name, but the last two words before her signature, and the kiss when we had last parted, suggested far more than friendship.

I smiled. I did have time to write a response.