Imager’s Intrigue

36

Vendrei morning I actually woke without a headache and with the feeling that, despite all the bruises, some of which were slightly sore to the touch, I might actually be nearing a full recovery. That assumed that I could anticipate troubles before they impacted me personally. Otherwise, I’d end up injured or worse once more. I did do a few more of the morning exercises, and they didn’t hurt all that much.

After seeing Seliora and Diestrya off in the duty coach, I hurried to my study, getting there a quint before seventh glass, because I wanted to look over the recent reports to see if I’d overlooked anything about High Holder Ruelyr. I’d barely finished confirming that there weren’t any recent reports on Ruelyr when Ralyea arrived. He was the only one of the imagers whom I had not yet met since becoming his preceptor.

Ralyea didn’t quite look at me as he came into the study. “Good morning, sir.”

I laughed at the timidity of his presence and speech. Dichartyn’s notes had indicated that both were a problem. He appeared paralyzed at my reaction.

“Ralyea…I don’t bite. I don’t even nip, and I’m not nearly so clever with words or arguments as Master Dichartyn was. What I’m interested in was what he was interested in. I want you to become the best imager that you can. Do you know what one of the first things he said to me was, years ago?”

“No, sir.” His voice still trembled.

“He told me that there were bold imagers and old imagers, but there were no bold old imagers. He was right. But that’s only half the story. The other half is that an excessively cautious imager accomplishes absolutely nothing.”

The young third said nothing.

“Have you ever watched a turtle walk, Ralyea?”

He frowned. “Ah…yes, sir. Not in years, sir, I mean.”

“Tell me. Can a turtle go anywhere by keeping its head inside its shell?”

“No, sir.”

“And what happens if a giant land lizard or a heron comes upon a turtle in the open, even inside its shell?”

“Ah…”

“Yes?”

“It probably flips it over and kills it.”

“On the other hand, what happens if the turtle hurries out of the open into shelter before any predators appear?” I smiled. “What’s the point of talking about turtles? As applied to you?”

He didn’t answer, and I forced myself to wait, just looking at him.

After what seemed a full quint, he finally stammered, “You’re…saying that even with shells…or shields…there’s a time to move…to act.”

“And?”

“Sometimes…doing nothing behind shields…” He looked at me.

“Let me put it simply. Even a turtle has to stick its neck out to get anywhere. An imager who isn’t willing to stick his neck out-cautiously, mind you-won’t get any place and will end up in as much trouble, if not more, than an excessively bold imager. Keep that in mind.”

After that, we went over his assignments and readings, and I asked him to re-read the section of the history dealing with the events leading to the formation of the Collegium and the first Council. When he left, I almost felt as though I’d been doing manual labor, but I had half a glass to check the reports Kahlasa brought me after Ralyea left. There was nothing more on either Ruelyr or Johanyr.

At least the walk across the quadrangle to the duty coach station refreshed me, even with the chill blustery wind.

As I sat in the duty coach, headed northward on West River Road, I realized why Master Dichartyn had often been so hard to find-and I was far from doing all that I probably should have been. Ferlyn’s words, or their implications, still nagged at me. The drive took only slightly less than a glass, since the “L’Excelsis” estate of the Suyriens was three milles from Imagisle, although it was closer to one and a half as a raven flew, because both the road and the River Aluse wound their way north. Still, that was far closer than Suyrien’s main estate, some fifteen milles south of L’Excelsis, if also on the river.

The “smaller” L’Excelsis estate was located on a hill overlooking the river. Surprisingly, to me, the walls were less than three yards in height, and there was but a single guard in the gate house, who opened the gates and waved the gray Collegium coach through for the drive to the mansion-not quite a chateau, since it was a comparatively modest two-story gray stone structure on the hillcrest a mere hundred yards from end to end. The trim was crimson, and the roof tiles well-kept but weathered slate.

A single footman stepped out from the portico to greet me, and Frydryk was waiting in the hexagonal foyer.

I inclined my head to him. “I’m sorry to intrude at this time, but I’m afraid that your father’s death will not be the only one if we can’t track down those responsible quickly.”

“I understand.” He gestured to the door on his left, then turned.

I followed him into a study whose front windows, their pale blue hangings drawn back, overlooked the River Aluse and its gray swirling waters. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases covered the inside wall facing the windows. A small writing desk was set before the windows, with three yards of polished parquet flooring between the desk chair and a circular table with four chairs.

Frydryk took the chair facing the windows. I took the one to his right.

“What would you like to know?” he asked.

“Several things. First, when we had dinner with you and Kandryl, you alluded to why your father had paid a visit to High Holder Ruelyr. I’d appreciate it very much if you’d expand on that. You’d mentioned his problems with low justice, but it wasn’t just that, was it?”

“It is a High Holder matter, Rhenn.”

“Was it about the elveweed traced to his lands? And the fact that his lands were so heavily mortgaged that he had no other way to meet the banque’s terms but to accept a questionable lease and turn the other eye?” The last part was only a guess, but I couldn’t see any other reason for a High Holder to get involved…except by ignorance or stupidity.

“I shouldn’t say. Really.”

I smiled pleasantly. “There’s already an investigation under way, and possibly a justiciary inquiry, you know. It will come out, and you wouldn’t want more holders or factors to die when everyone will know before long anyway. Was he gaoling tenants under low justice to keep them from reporting the elveweed?”

“Father didn’t know. He had heard that Ruelyr, and some others, had been incarcerating malefactors longer than they should have. He wanted to find out more.”

“Did he?”

“He didn’t say much when he came back, except that he couldn’t help Ruelyr any more. He was worried. He said that Ruelyr blamed him for his troubles. Father didn’t say why. He only said that Ruelyr was living in the past, and that he wouldn’t listen. He told me to avoid him because Ruelyr’s actions would bring him down, sooner or later.”

“He didn’t say any more than that?”

Frydryk shook his head.

“Isn’t most of Ruelyr’s worth tied up in land?”

Frydryk nodded. “He has a few manufactories, but they’re really just to supply his lands.”

“What does Alynkya think about him?”

“Ah…I haven’t asked her.”

“You should ask her…about many things. Women often see what we miss. Her eyes may be the only pair besides your own that you can trust.” I paused, then asked, “How are the shipworks doing?”

Frydryk blinked, as if disconcerted by the apparent change of subject. “We’re doing well enough with building merchanters and the like. We’re finishing up a fast frigate for the Naval Command in a few weeks, but it will be the last, until…” He shrugged.

“Despite your father’s position, he had great difficulty in persuading the rest of the Council of the need for more modern vessels. That’s what I understood.”

“That’s true enough. Father even agreed to a fixed-price contract for the first fast battlecruiser. We would have lost tens of thousands of golds on it, and the Council still wouldn’t agree.”

That was something I hadn’t known. “Who was the most opposed to the contract?”

“Councilor Glendyl, in spite of all he said in public.” A touch of bitterness shaded his words.

“Wouldn’t he have supplied all the engines and boilers?”

“He had a contract with father, splitting the profits.”

“And he would have shared in the losses?”

Frydryk shook his head. “He would have broken even. Father would have taken the losses.” He paused. “Just on the first ship. That was so the Council could see how much better it was.”

“What did Glendyl say?”

“He said that he’d be Namer-cursed if he’d forgo a profit because the Council was too stupid to do what was right. He told father that he and the other High Holders either had to change the way Solidar was governed or that the realities of modern technology would take care of it, one way or another.”

“That sounds like a threat of sorts.”

“Father just laughed afterwards. He said that Glendyl understood golds, but not people, and that was why he accomplished so little in the Council.”

“Whereas Caartyl understands people, but not golds?”

“I suppose you could put it that way.”

“Have you ever spent much time with either Glendyl or Caartyl?”

“No. I’ve exchanged pleasantries. That’s about it.”

“Did your father ever deal with Sea-Marshal Geuffryt?”

“I don’t know. He never mentioned that name.”

“Juniae D’Shendael?”

Frydryk raised his eyebrows. “It wasn’t a good idea even to mention her name around father.”

From what I’d heard, I wasn’t surprised.

Abruptly, he looked at me, then frowned.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I hesitate to say this, but…. Rhenn, do you know how many High Holders aren’t…how should I put it…extraordinarily effusive when your name is mentioned?”

I managed a wry smile. “Besides you, Kandryl, Alynkya, and Iryela…I’d be amazed if any were even politely effusive.”

“Father alluded to matters…”

“Your father was a thoughtful High Holder, especially in considering the interests of all the people of Solidar. Intelligent as most High Holders are, few approach his breadth of understanding.” I was probably overstating the case, but, if Suyrien hadn’t told his sons, except indirectly, how Kandryl had come to be Ryel D’Alte, I wasn’t about to. In such matters, I trusted Suyrien’s judgment about other High Holders. Unhappily, it meant that the Collegium would have more High Holder resentments to deal with because I was more visible and more senior.

I didn’t want to press Frydryk, nor to answer his implied question, and I replied by saying, “There were some High Holder matters that affected the Collegium, and some of them weren’t pleased with the way I was involved. Your father felt that I’d done the best I could, given the situation. He was always fair-minded that way.”

“Yes, he was.”

“Did he ever mention Glendyl being pressured by Haebyn?”

“The only thing I can recall along those lines was when he said Glendyl didn’t understand that Solidar wasn’t Ferrum, and that he’d have to learn to deal with Haebyn and the others.”

I asked a few more questions, and when it was clear that I wasn’t learning any more, I stood and thanked him, profusely, and then departed.

By the time I got back to Imagisle and my study, it was second glass.

Schorzat appeared before I had my winter cloak off and hung up.

“Rhenn, after we talked about Geuffryt last week, I got to thinking. I remembered that Maitre Poincaryt had mentioned something about him, and I dug out my notes. It’s not much, but I thought you’d like to know. This was two years ago, at a reception here in L’Excelsis. Maitre Poincaryt didn’t say where, even when I asked him. Geuffryt was talking to the top Sea-Marshal-Valeun. He only said a few words before Valeun glared at him.” Schorzat smiled.

“They must have been interesting words.”

“Geuffryt said something to the effect that he was tired of High Holder control and stupidity because they didn’t understand either war or economics, and that the Collegium didn’t help matters. Valeun said maybe three words. Geuffryt turned pale and left the reception right then.”

“I didn’t see anything about that in the files.”

“Maitre Poincaryt mentioned it to me when Maitre Dichartyn was out of town on an inspection trip. I told Maitre Dichartyn, but I didn’t give him a written report.”

“I appreciate your tracking that down. Thank you. Have you or Kahlasa found out anything about barges?”

“We probably won’t get a report on them until Lundi.”

When Schorzat left, I thought about what he’d told me. By themselves, Geuffryt’s words meant little, but I had the feeling there well might be more.

I left my study a bit early so that I could ride out with the duty coach to pick up Seliora and have the driver drop all three of us at my parents’ house for a dinner that was more obligation than anything else.

Seliora looked tired when I collected them. So I carried Diestrya to the coach and played with her. Seliora closed her eyes. She might have been dozing, or just resting.

Mother was the one who opened the door, and her eyes went straight to me. “Your face-what happened to you?” she demanded.

“A few stones,” I replied.

My mother immediately looked to Seliora. “A few?”

“Quite a few. He got bruised protecting us. He couldn’t leave Imagisle until a few days ago.”

“Let them get in the house, Maelyna,” groused Father from the rear of the foyer.

Once we were in the family parlor, where Culthyn waited, Father looked at me. “That was a Collegium coach, and the word is that some senior imagers were killed in the attack on the Collegium.”

“I have a new position at the Collegium,” I admitted. “I’m no longer a Civic Patrol captain.”

“Did you get promoted?” interjected Culthyn.

“Yes. I’m a Maitre D’Esprit now.”

“Do you get paid more?”

“I do. Enough.” I managed a laugh. “We’re here for dinner, not an interrogation.”

“Are you sure you’re all right?” asked Mother.

“I’m fine,” I insisted. Thankfully, Seliora didn’t comment on my slight exaggeration.

While I answered Father’s and Culthyn’s questions about the state of L’Excelsis, Solidar, and the Collegium, Mother slipped away. She returned shortly with a tray of beverages. I was given hot spiced wine-apparently my bruises removed my choice.

Rather than keep answering, or avoiding answering, I took a sip of the wine, then looked at Father and said, “I’ve been hearing that some of the factors aren’t exactly pleased with the High Holders after what’s happened here in Solidar and in the war with Ferrum.”

My father laughed. “There’s no such thing as a happy factor. If times are bad, he worries that they’ll get worse. If they’re good, he worries that they won’t last.”

“What do you think about Councilor Glendyl?”

Father snorted. “He just thinks he’s a factor. He’s wealthier than most High Holders, and he acts worse than they do. The High Holders provide lodging to their tenants and workers. Glendyl pays his workers but a pittance more and provides nothing, and complains about that.”

“Councilor Caartyl has hinted at that,” I offered.

“He’s almost as bad,” Father went on after a swallow of his Dhuensa. “To hear him talk, you’d think that everything produced by hand was a work of high art. The artisans just want to keep things comfortable for themselves, like the spinners and the carders did in my father’s time. There’s a place for solid goods everyone can buy, and a place for art, but most people don’t want to pay for art when they buy work-day garments or potatoes. Caartyl thinks the factors should pay higher taxes so everyone can have art…the Navy isn’t much better…some of those Sea-Marshals aren’t beyond scuttling their own ships if it would get them a new battlecruiser, and Glendyl would probably sell them the tools to do it….”

I just sipped and listened.