Imager’s Intrigue

37

On Samedi morning, I did do nearly the full version of Clovyl’s exercises, as well as the run, which I hadn’t done before, and the resultant tiredness convinced me, more than Seliora’s insistence, that I had a ways to go before I was fully recovered. I didn’t tell her that. Then, the way she looked at me when I returned to the house, I didn’t have to.

So I was careful over the weekend, although I did spend more than a few glasses in my Collegium study going over reports-and maps-and older reports buried in the bottom drawers of the two cases. I also spent time taking care of Diestrya so that my very tired wife got some rest as well, and during the one time when they both were sleeping, I checked over the repairs that the imagers had made to the rest of the furniture-adequate, but I wouldn’t have wanted Shomyr or Shelim to have seen it.

On Solayi, we attended services at the anomen, and one part of Isola’s homily had Seliora quietly nodding. I agreed as well, even if I didn’t nod.

“…the Nameless is neither young nor old, but eternal and everlasting. The Nameless is neither finite nor infinite, but stands beyond our measurements. Nor is the Nameless man or woman…These descriptions of the attributes of the Nameless have been set forth for centuries. Then, why is it that people think of the Nameless as a powerful male figure? Could not the Nameless be powerful and female? Or powerful and both male and female? Or powerful without gender?

“For all that is said, we bring our own concepts to the anomen, and because the Nameless is powerful and because in our world men are powerful, all too many assume that the Nameless must, in some fashion, resemble a powerful man. Why? Is not a lightning bolt powerful? Are not the storms of the ocean powerful? Are not the rays of the summer sun filled with power and heat? But who of sound mind and common sense would assert that lightning, storms, or the sun are a man of power?”

Isola went on to assert that the Nameless, by definition, was beyond mere human labels and descriptions. That might well have been true, but it didn’t stop people from labeling and describing what they had never seen or never might-or describing badly what they had seen.

As we walked back to the house, under the pale reddish light of a full Erion, an image flashed in front of me…or in my mind, but it was so vivid I knew it was another Pharsi farsight flash. Yet, in some ways, it was anything but vivid, because all I could see were what looked to be a mille of large stone buildings, and over them to the right, huge hulking cranes rising on the far side of the structures. Nothing flashed. Nothing flared. Stones didn’t fall around me. Then the flash was gone.

I had to stop for a moment and check where I was, but I was still on Imagisle, with the River Aluse to my left, and the stone walk leading north to our house before me.

“Rhenn? Are you all right?” asked Seliora.

“I had a flash…but it was just a scene, some sort of endless manufactory. Nothing happened. No explosions, no fires, nothing like that.”

“Then…you saw it just before something could happen. Was it familiar?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I’ve never been there.”

“Maybe you need to go there.”

Seliora was probably right-except I had no idea where “there” might be.

Later that evening, after Seliora had sung Diestrya to sleep, we sat side by side on the settee in front of the stove in the family parlor.

“Rhenn…?”

I smiled and put my arm around her, but she sat up straight.

“I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?”

“Odelia and Kolasyn. It’s more than that.” She paused. “We were so close for so long. Even now, she’s so wary when we talk.”

“I know how close you were.” I laughed softly. “I couldn’t ever get to be alone with you except on the small terrace at NordEste Design.”

“It hurts. I didn’t do anything at all.”

“She knows that I couldn’t do more than I did. But what we know and what we feel aren’t always the same. I wouldn’t be surprised if she still feels that, if I’d done something more, Haerasyn would still be alive. She may believe that if you’d pressed me I might have changed things.”

“You’ve done more than anyone else. She knows that. She even said so.”

“That’s not the question, really, is it?” I asked gently.

“No. You’re right. What we know and what we feel, deep inside, aren’t the same. People are like that. Sometimes it’s the ones closest to you-especially the close friends and family-who hurt you the most. But…it’s so sad. It shouldn’t be that way.”

“No…it shouldn’t. But it is. It always is.”

“You’re thinking of your brother, aren’t you?”

“I did what I thought was right…and he paid for it, and he never even knew why.”

“It was all Johanyr’s fault…and everyone in his family paid. He got off the easiest.”

“And now no one even knows where he is, except that he’s likely stolen thousands of golds from his sister.”

“Why did he wait so long…if he could have done it all along?” asked Seliora.

“Maybe he couldn’t have. He can’t see well enough even to write a cheque or a fund transfer request, and no one else is missing from Mont D’Glace.”

“Will anyone ever find him?”

“Not unless whoever helped him betrays him, and if he managed it alone, he won’t be found if he doesn’t want to be.”

“That seems wrong.”

I didn’t say anything. I only knew I wouldn’t want to be almost blind and in hiding, even with two thousand in golds.