Imager’s Intrigue

51

My sleep on Vendrei night was scarcely sound. I awoke twice in chill darkness from nightmares where lists swam out of the blackness, and each name was written in fire and blood that burned my hands when I tried to blot out the flames. When I finally roused myself on Samedi morning, I was relieved to see that at least I hadn’t imaged fire or letters into the stones of the wall, although some heat would have been nice, since the windows were thoroughly frosted. Each breath puffed steam into the air. With their construction designed primarily to protect everyone else in the house from inadvertent nightmare or dream imaging, imagers’ sleeping chambers were not designed primarily for warmth.

I did slip out and hurry down to the exercise building, but not before I loaded the stoves. While I managed Clovyl’s entire work-out, I decided against running on the icy ways and walks, except for a careful and gentle jog back to the house.

Seliora and Diestrya were in the breakfast nook of the kitchen when I returned.

“I’m glad you didn’t run in this weather.” Seliora poured me a mug of steaming tea.

I just held it up to my chin and let the steam wreathe my face. “I ran back…carefully.”

“We haven’t talked about Year-Turn.”

“We went to my parents’ last year. That means we’re going to yours this year…if they’ll have us.”

“I told Mother that, but…we hadn’t actually talked.” Seliora poured herself a second mug of tea.

“We’ll have to have dinner with mine the next Samedi, I imagine.”

“We can do that. On Year-Turn day, do you want to attend services with the family or here before we go?”

“What ever you prefer.”

“Are you humoring me, dearest husband?”

“No. It’s your choice.”

She smiled. “Isola does an afternoon service on that Solayi, and it’s much shorter. That would be better, since we’ll have Diestrya.”

I nodded. I didn’t mention that Isola also offered better homilies than the chorister at the anomen attended, if infrequently, by Seliora’s family. We had a more leisurely breakfast than was usually the case, before I had to leave for the junior imagers’ briefing.

At the ninth glass of the morning on Samedi, twenty-seven seconds and thirds sat at the long tables in the dining hall. Maitre Dyana, Dartazn, and I stood at the head of the table, with her in the center. Ferlyn, Kahlasa, Ghaend, and Chassendri stood against the wall behind the masters’ table, observing.

Maitre Dyana began. I couldn’t help but notice that she was not wearing a brilliant scarf, but one of a gray so dark it verged on smoky black.

“You have been selected to help defend Solidar. Some of you may have grasped what is not in the newsheets and understand that a great deal is at stake. For those of you who have not, I would like to point out that our northern fleet has suffered heavy losses over the past months. Here in Solidar we have suffered attacks by Ferran agents, and most recently, their attacks destroyed the only significant engine works in Solidar. This means a delay of at least a year before we can even begin to build more ships to replace those that have been lost. There have been other attacks and events as well, and unless the Collegium acts, these will increase. You will join the northern fleet to take part in a unique operation designed by Maitre Rhennthyl and Sea-Marshal Valeun. Maitre Dartazn, here, will be your immediate superior from this moment until you return to Imagisle…”

As Maitre Dyana finished her brief speech, I studied the faces of the junior imagers I knew. We’d only excluded one imager for reasons other than lack of ability, and that was Tomai. While she was one of the most accomplished seconds, putting a female on any Navy ship would have created too many problems. Even Kahlasa agreed with me on that, but we both regretted it.

“…And now Maitre Rhennthyl has a few words.” Dyana stepped back.

I moved forward. “Some of you may ask why you were selected. You may also ask why you have to face dangers at an age far younger than those who came before you. Unfortunately, that is not true. The older ones among you may recall that almost a quarter of the younger imagers were assassinated by Ferran agents in the years 755 and 756. The difference between them and you is that you will know and face the dangers before you. You will have an opportunity to confront, if indirectly, those who have brought war and destruction to our shores and lands. You will be led and trained by Maitre Dartazn, and you will be leaving L’Excelsis tomorrow evening on the ironway. He will give you the details, particularly what you will need to pack in the duffels you will pick up outside the dining hall when you leave. I will leave you with one thought. You are imagers, and you are fortunate enough to live in a land where imagers are respected, even protected; and for that position, we should be both grateful and understanding. For in much of Terahnar, imagers are little more than criminals, if not executed on the spot. Appreciation, however, is not enough. Throughout your lives, each and every one of you will be called upon to repay the faith the people of Solidar have in you. At times, we are called to do more than repay that faith on an individual basis. This is one of those times.”

I eased back and let Dartazn take over.

Dartazn smiled, then started to speak. “While some of you may know this, many of you do not. Maitre Rhennthyl just spoke of the need to back faith with acts, and even with one’s body and life. Unlike most of us, he, and Maitre Kahlasa as well, have defended the Collegium, the Council, and Solidar with both. He has broken more ribs than any of you have, and lost more blood than flows in the veins of any three men. He walked the streets of Solidar as a common Civic Patroller, and he has saved Councilors and imagers alike, often suffering near-fatal injuries. This is true of every Maitre D’Esprit who has ever served the Collegium. Why am I telling you this?” Dartazn paused.

I was stunned. I hadn’t realized he was going to mention me.

“I’m telling you this so that you don’t even begin to think of feeling sorry for yourself. As imagers, we have a better life than most, and all advantages and privileges must be paid for. Our payment-and yours-is to defend the only land in all Terahnar that has respected and supported us.” He stopped, again for a long moment. “There are duffels outside, as Maitre Rhennthyl said. I’m about to tell you what to pack. Before you get aboard the coaches to take you to the ironway station tomorrow, I will inspect each duffel. Anything that is missing will be supplied at our next destination, but you will have double the amount it costs deducted from your imager pay, as well as a one-gold fee. Do you understand?”

The one-gold fee definitely grabbed their attention.

Dartazn was a good speaker, and he held their attention.

Afterward, as Maitre Dyana and I left, I asked her, in a very low voice, “Where did he learn all that about me? I never told him.”

“I did. He needed to know, in detail, so that he understands that you’re not asking anything of him that you haven’t suffered, if under differing circumstances.”

“So have you, and Maitre Dichartyn…”

She offered an amused smile. “Unlike the officers of the Navy, as imagers rise in rank and responsibility, the level of personal dangers also increases. That may be why only the most cautious and very best die of old age.”

It might also be why the Maitres of the Collegium were seldom arrogant, also unlike the senior Naval Commanders.

For the next several glasses, I remained in the background, helping Dartazn and his juniors as necessary. Then I went home.

Needless to say, on Solayi evening, neither Seliora nor I attended services at the anomen, because I was at the ironway station to see off Dartazn and his charges.

The first imager I went to see was Shault. Although he stood confidently beside Ralyea, the eyes of both juniors darted from the train carriages that had not been opened to boarding to Dartazn and then to me as I approached.

“Maitre Rhennthyl, I thought you weren’t going,” offered Ralyea.

“I’m not. I came to see you all off.”

“Where are we going?” asked Shault.

“On the ironway.” I paused, then added, “This is the express to Westisle.” I pointed. “It even says so on the carriage sign.” After a moment more, I went on. “Both of you need to practice your shields when you’re not working with Master Dartazn. Remember to do that in the open. You can hurt yourselves if you work too hard inside places like train compartments. No, they’re not lead-lined, but there’s enough metal there to drain you more than you realize.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I expect both of you to do your best.” With a nod, I turned and eased down the platform to where Dartazn stood.

“Good evening, Maitre,” he offered.

“Good evening. You seem to have everything well in hand.”

“They’re still shocked. Most of them anyway.”

“They will be for a time. They’re not used to sudden changes, but when you’re training them, try to upset them so that they get used to it, and practice as much as you can at night.”

“I’d thought so.”

I stepped closer and lowered my voice, so that none of the juniors ranked to his left could hear. “Remember, you have to make sure that the gunboats get close enough. Marshal Valeun understands that. He knows we’ll lose some, and we’ll lose imagers. You’ll have almost two weeks onboard the fast frigate to give them instruction in how to image to a target most effectively. Just make sure they’re imaging over water.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And make certain that your sample cases get on the frigate as well.”

Dartazn looked at me and offered his boyish grin. “You have a hard time when you have to order someone else into danger, don’t you, Maitre?”

“How could you tell?” I replied dryly.

He laughed, and then, so did I.

Before long, the train carriage doors opened, and they boarded, and I departed, trying not to think of all that could go wrong.