Imager’s Intrigue

46

According to the old saying, “the Namer’s fingers knot the details.” As soon as I returned to my study after returning from the Naval Command, I started to become far more aware of how long and how clutching those fingers were…and how the details might well come back to bite one. Just to start implementing my plan, Schorzat, Kahlasa, and I would have to compile the list of all the junior imagers at Imagisle who had the necessary ability and strength to image flame at a distance. The Collegium had a listing of all junior imagers, with their birth date and where they were born. What it didn’t have was any sort of written or recorded assessment of the abilities of each of those imagers. Only the preceptor of each imager knew that, and not in all cases. With the exception of Shault, I certainly didn’t know any of the abilities of those imagers for whom I was preceptor, and not all of Shault’s capabilities. I’d been so occupied in other matters that I hadn’t had a chance to spend more than a portion of a glass with each one.

So I immediately sent off notes to all five of “my” imagers, telling them to meet me at the Collegium’s steamer pier at a quint past fourth glass that afternoon. After that, to deal with that part of the problem for the entire Collegium and not just the imagers for whom I was preceptor, and to try to obtain some sort of roughly equivalent standards for evaluation, I immediately drafted an “abilities form,” obtained Maitre Dyana’s corrections and approval, and had the duty primes begin to set up the letterpress to make enough copies of the form so that we could then provide a copy with each junior imager’s name on it to his or her preceptor with the notation that the completed form was to be returned to Maitre Dyana no later than noon on Vendrei.

I also had to draft letters for Maitre Dyana’s signature to the three heads of the regional collegia, requesting their cooperation and sending a copy of the form to them, although it was questionable whether we’d receive the information from them in time to be useful for the Naval operation against Ferrum.

While the primes were using the cumbersome letterpress to print off the forms, just before fourth glass on Lundi, I pulled on my heavy gray cloak and hurried through the chill air to the Collegium’s steamer pier near the northeast tip of Imagisle. It was cold enough that there were no mothers or children playing in the park north of the various family dwellings.

Shault was already standing on the pier, as were Eamyn and Ralyea, when I neared the foot of the southernmost stone pier of the three. I heard fast boot steps on the stone walk and turned to see Marteon running toward us.

I couldn’t help calling out, “You don’t have to run. There’s time.”

“Yes, sir,” puffed the muscular and round-faced tertius as he slowed to a walk less than five yards away.

“Just wait here,” I told the four, glancing south toward the quadrangle. In the weak late afternoon sun, I saw no sign of Haugyl, but the glass had just emptied four. I walked up the pier, crossed the short plank gangway, and stepped onto the river steamer, a boat of only fifteen yards in length with a single deck, and the steam engine and the paddlewheel in the rear.

Faeldyn, the obdurate pilot, stood outside the wheel-house, set forward of midships. He nodded as I approached. “Maitre…what will you be having them do today?”

“Some imaging exercises. I’d like you to take us just off the northern tip of Imagisle, as close to the point of the riverwall there as is safe, and hold there while I have them work on something.”

“Water’s a bit rough today. We shouldn’t get much closer than twenty yards.”

“Thirty or forty would be fine.”

The pilot and single crewman nodded.

“Let me get them on board.” I glanced back toward the pier. Still no sign of Haugyl, but I motioned for the four others to cross the narrow plank to the boat.

At that moment, I saw Haugyl sauntering along the walk, a good hundred yards south of the pier. Even when he saw the other four junior imagers begin to board, he made no move to hurry. I thought about calling out to him, then decided against it, since I had said a quint past the glass. We just waited for him. The moment Haugyl crossed the plank, I pulled it onboard and stowed it in the heavy iron brackets attached to the gunwale. Behind me, I heard a low exchange.

“…Watch it. Maitre Rhennthyl didn’t look too happy.”

“…Made it before the end of the quint, didn’t I?”

“You made the rest of us wait…”

“…No real hurry…”

I turned and looked at Haugyl. “No, there wasn’t a real hurry, but since everyone else was here, we could have started earlier, and finished earlier, and that would have saved five of us some time. Is your time so much more important than that of five others?”

Haugyl didn’t meet my eyes.

“Is it?”

“No, sir.”

“You might keep that in mind, especially if you ever hope to be more than a tertius.” I looked toward the pilot. “We’re all ready, Faeldyn.”

“If you’d not mind the line, sir?” asked Faeldyn.

“I can do that.” I jumped back to the pier, untied the line fastened around an iron cleat, then scrambled back aboard before Faeldyn backed the boat out into the river channel. I quickly coiled the line and headed back aft. As soon as we headed upstream away from the pier, the boat began to hit the uneven river waves, and small gouts of spray sleeted back from the bow. That was why I stood just forward of the pilot house.

We were still several hundred yards from the northern tip of Imagisle when Haugyl leaned over the railing and loosed the contents of his stomach. He was pale when he finally straightened up.

Eamyn tried to conceal an amused expression, while Marteon looked concerned. Ralyea, for all his apprehensive looks at me and at the small white-caps on the gray waters of the River Aluse, stood facing into the light but chill wind and seemed to be almost enjoying himself. Shault only watched, his eyes measuring the distances from the boat to the eastern shore and then to Imagisle.

When we passed the tip of Imagisle, Faeldyn swung the river steamer to port, angling north of the gray granite triangle that marked the northernmost point of the isle. The engine hissed and rumbled slightly as he slowed the paddlewheel, then reversed it to bring us to a stop.

I stepped toward the five. “You see the stone triangle there? When I call you by name, I want you to image something that will burn fiercely and set it on the very end of the stone closest to us, then set it afire.”

Eamyn frowned. “Sir…you want us to image fire?”

“Fire isn’t enough. You need something to sustain it. Like this.” I imaged a small pool of lamp oil onto the stone tip, followed by flame.

A burst of red and orange appeared, followed by black smoke, then slowly died away.

“Or this.” The second time, I did a lighter oil, then imaged a mist of black powder into the flame. That was more impressive. “Any more questions?”

There weren’t any.

I pointed to Eamyn. “You first.”

He squared his shoulders and looked southward. After a moment, an oval flame appeared and flickered out.

“You need something more to sustain it,” I commented. “If you’re going to image flame, there’s no point in doing it unless it can last long enough to catch something on fire. Try again.”

The second time he had a flame flaring out of a small pool of something, either oil or bitumen or alcohol.

“Much better.” I turned to Marteon. “Your turn.”

The round-faced imager came up with something that looked like a candle, and only showed a tiny point of flame.

“We need a bigger flame.”

Marteon’s next effort had a bigger flame feeding off what I suspected was a lump of oil and wax.

The other three also managed sufficient flame images, although Haugyl’s was a bit shaky.

When Ralyea finished, I called to Faeldyn. “Take us up short of the Nord Bridge, but where we can see the tip of the isle.”

“Yes, sir.”

The water got a bit rougher, and Haugyl turned from pale to slightly greenish, suggesting that he might not be suited to any sort of shipboard duty.

Once Faeldyn brought us to a stop some fifty yards south of the bridge, I repeated the whole process again, making sure that I could image a flame large enough to be seen.

“Shault, you go first.”

“Yes, sir.”

From a little more than a half mille away, four of the five could manage the flame. Haugyl could not.

Then I had Faeldyn take us to the other side of the bridge, positioned where we could see Imagisle through one of the arches. At a mille, only Shault, Eamyn, and Ralyea could manage the flame imaging. Ralyea’s face was covered in sweat, and he looked shaky. Shault and Eamyn might have been able to do more, but the river turned more northward, enough so that, given the Nord Bridge, I couldn’t have seen the riverwall anyway. So I had Faeldyn head downstream.

On the way back to Imagisle, I had each of them demonstrate their skills in every item on my form, from imaging a ball into an open space in the middle of a hoop to imaging air bubbles into the middle of a curved glass tube.

Shault was the only one to ask, although the others doubtless wondered, “Could you tell us what all this is for, sir?”

“It’s because the Collegium needs to know what all the seconds and thirds can do. A number of you may be required to take a trip and use your skills. If you’re selected, you’ll learn more about it in a few days, and you’ll get more training and learn more.” More than you may want. “That’s all I’m going to say right now.”

I didn’t have to say more, because Faeldyn was easing the boat up to the Collegium pier, and I took the mooring line and jumped to the pier and tied the boat fast. Faeldyn had the plank out, and Haugyl was the first off. His steps were shaky.

“Good day, sir,” offered Shault as he stepped onto the pier. He didn’t raise any more questions, but I knew the rumors would be flying across the quadrangle and the juniors’ quarters within moments after they were out of sight.

“Good evening, Shault.”

Once I thanked Faeldyn, I turned and walked southward and then through the gardens and past the hedge maze toward our house. I noted that the imager-builders had finished re-creating the exterior of the Maitre’s dwelling. Maitre Dyana’s previous house still remained a pile of gray stone and shattered roof tiles, as did what had been Maitre Dichartyn’s. I couldn’t help swallowing when I looked at that rubble.

Thankfully, after I reached our house, Seliora was preoccupied with both Diestrya and the loss of two commissions as a result of financial setbacks caused by the Ferran bombings in L’Excelsis, and she didn’t ask me any detailed questions on my day. I really wasn’t ready to explain, although I’d have to soon enough.