Imager’s Intrigue

62

On Samedi, Seliora and I were totally de cadent. I skipped the early morning exercises and running, and we enjoyed each other and had a leisurely breakfast all by ourselves, for the first time in I couldn’t remember how long. It didn’t matter that the day was chill and gray. We even walked across the Bridge of Desires and had a late midday meal at Patryce’s, one of the better small bistros just off the Boulevard D’Council.

Before we knew it, we were dressing for the winter ball of High Holder Almeida. This time, Seliora was in red and black, in a sleeveless gown with a crimson top over a not-quite-full black skirt and a black silk jacket, trimmed in crimson, with black lace sleeves. She wore long black gloves and a black formal cape, necessary for the walk from the house to the coach stand.

The Almeida estate was situated west of the river and to the north of L’Excelsis, not all that far from Frydryk’s “city” estate, but a half-mille closer to L’Excelsis. There were a good ten coaches lined up on the drive when we arrived at what was truly a chateau, with stone carvings, and antique crenelated parapets topping the garden walls. It took more than a quint before we disembarked and went through the removal of cloaks and being escorted to a ballroom comprising most of the west wing of the chateau. Everyone was announced, of course, and I was slightly surprised to hear “Rhennthyl D’Imagisle, Maitre D’Esprit, and Madame D’Rhennthyl.” That was the older and more formal address, and not much used anymore.

Beyond the ballroom door was the receiving line, consisting of High Holder Almeida and his wife Ruisa, and their eldest son and his wife. As we entered the ballroom, I could see close to a hundred people, not that the ballroom looked at all crowded. I caught a glimpse of Kandryl and Iryela dancing, but they were obscured by others. I did see Justicer Symmal and Chief Councilor Ramsael, not that I really wanted to talk to either man or his wife.

“Would you like to dance, dearest?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

The orchestra was on a permanent low dais, framed by octagonal faux marble pillars with deep green velvet hangings, trimmed in gold, clearly an attempt to replicate the decor of the Charynan Period. As we began to dance, I had to admit that the musicians were far better than those who played for the Council Balls.

After we had enjoyed several dances, when the music paused, I asked, “Are you ready for something to drink?”

“Are you tired already?”

“No, just thirsty.”

“So long as this wasn’t the last dance,” she said teasingly.

“It wasn’t.” It wouldn’t be, not given how much I enjoyed dancing with her.

As we walked toward one of the sideboards, Seliora nudged me. “There’s Alhyral and his fiancee, in the off-blue.”

Knowing her feelings about Alhyral and given mine about his sire, we eased toward the sideboard farther from them, easily enough, since they were talking to another couple. I did see Juniae D’Shendael, but not Geuffryt. I didn’t see any uniforms. That did surprise me.

As we neared the sideboard with an array of wines and crystal goblets, and a server in green and cream livery, a thin man in formal blacks turned, and I recognized Artois. “Good evening, Commander. I don’t believe you’ve met my wife, Seliora.”

Artois smiled warmly and inclined his head. “I have not, but it’s a pleasure, and I can see why your husband has always been careful and dutiful.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Commander. Rhenn has always commented on your dedication to the Civic Patrol.”

“He was equally dedicated, and we will miss him greatly. The Collegium’s gain is our loss. If you will excuse me, my wife is waiting.” He inclined his head once more, then slipped away, carrying two goblets of the white vintage.

I secured two goblets of the white, a Grisio, and offered one to Seliora. We both took several swallows.

“Not bad,” I said.

At that point we were joined by Iryela and Kandryl.

“Good evening,” he offered.

“The same to you,” I returned. “I saw you dancing, but you disappeared.”

“You two didn’t,” returned Iryela. “Everyone was watching you.”

“Oh?” I had to admit I hadn’t noticed.

“You dance well, Rhenn,” Iryela said, “but Seliora is incredibly impressive, and you two are such a handsome couple. When beauty, grace, and power appear on a dance floor, people will watch.”

“She does have all three,” I said blandly. “I just accompany her.”

“Be careful, Seliora,” cautioned Iryela. “He’s verging on the difficult.”

“For that, dearest,” said Seliora, “you may dance with Iryela.” She handed me her goblet and turned to Kandryl. “If you would?”

Kandryl bowed, and as he straightened, offered me a quick and knowing smile.

As they entered the swirl of dancers, Iryela looked at me holding the two goblets and said, “At our wedding, I did tell you that she was more than a match for you.”

“Every time I forget that, she reminds me.” I took several steps and handed both goblets to a server passing with a tray. “Since we are abandoned, would you honor me with a dance?”

“Why, of course. Who would dare to refuse a Maitre D’Esprit?”

“Between the two of you, there’s no way to escape the Namer’s clutches.”

“It’s good that you see that.”

We moved out to join the other dancers in a stately waltz.

“I can’t say that I know more than a handful of people here,” I said with soft laugh.

“No, but more than a few want to see you. That’s why you were invited. A handful or more will find ways to put themselves in your path as the evening progresses.”

“I can hardly wait.”

“Frydryk’s worried, you know. So is Kandryl.”

“Because of Glendyl’s death?”

“You didn’t call it suicide, I notice,” Iryela murmured.

“I’m not sure it was, but I don’t think Kandryl and Frydryk have anything to worry about. The damage is done. It will be years before Frydryk’s shipworks can complete a modern fast battlecruiser, even if the Council gets around to agreeing to build more ships. Slowing down fleet modernization was what the Ferrans intended.”

“You’re not finished, are you, Rhenn?”

“Iryela, dear, how could you possibly ask that?”

“Because you don’t leave things undone.”

“I’m not having the best of fortune. I still don’t know anything about Johanyr. No one we’ve contacted does, either.”

“That may be for the best.”

I couldn’t help but agree, but I wasn’t about to say that.

“I hated to send Kandryl to deal with Lhoryn, but he did well. The man makes Dulyk look like the Nameless.”

Considering the vices of her late younger brother, that was quite a statement, although I’d never heard much good about Lhoryn. “You were selling some land?”

“Only a thousand hectares, but we still wanted a fair price.”

Intellectually I understood that a thousand hectares was small for a High Holder, but emotionally was another matter. “That was when Kandryl found out about Glendyl’s death.”

Iryela nodded. “He said that Lhoryn smiled.”

How many people had Glendyl alienated? I didn’t dwell on that. “How are the twins?”

“Kyana takes more after her father…”

When the music ended, I escorted Iryela back to Kandryl, who had obtained two goblets of the red wine. I turned back toward Seliora, who was talking to Juniae D’Shendael, when a man with a supercilious smile and back silk formalwear appeared in front of me. Unfortunately, I recognized him.

“Maitre Rhennthyl…I apologize for the intrusion, but I’ve wanted to make your acquaintance for some time. I’m Alhyral D’Haestyr.”

“You come from a noted lineage, and I understand that your fiancee has excellent taste.”

“Ah, yes, and I hear that you’re a most deadly fellow.”

The jocular informality grated on me, as I was certain Alhyral intended. “I’m certain that’s overstated.”

“I’ve been thinking, Maitre.” There was the slightest emphasis to my title, one that bordered on scorn, and I wondered how much he’d already had to drink…or if he happened to be that obnoxious without the aid of wine. “Sea-Marshal Valeun was saying that the Navy needs more modern vessels.”

“That’s true. Assistant Sea-Marshal Geuffryt has also voiced the same concerns. Has he mentioned them to you?”

After the tiniest hesitation, Alhyral replied, “Only in passing. If that is true, as you seem to indicate, why is the Collegium so opposed to spending on them?”

“We’re not opposed at all. Might I ask who would think we’d be opposed to that when we lost two of the highest-ranking imagers to Ferran machinations?” I smiled.

“Yet you have done nothing.”

“The Council does not meet until next week, and we have but one vote of fifteen in the Council. It might well be that the Council’s votes will change after the Councilors begin to meet next week. Not your sire’s, of course, since he has always supported better ships.”

“Do you expect me to believe that anything will change?”

“I have no expectations for your beliefs at all. What will be, will be. Some Councilors opposed building new ships when Suyrien the Elder was Councilor because they thought he would take advantage. Others thought Councilor Glendyl might…”

“Terrible thing, there, with Glendyl…but that’s what happens when one gets too ambitious…or too greedy.”

“…And too overextended,” added another voice, that of another man I didn’t know.

“Oh, this is Petryn D’Lhoryn, my friend.”

“Pleased to meet you,” I said pleasantly.

“The same.” Petryn offered a minimal nod. “There are those who believe that the Collegium supports the factors, discreetly, notwithstanding the fact that the current Maitre comes from a High Holder background. Your background is from factoring, as I recall.”

“My family is in factoring; I was a portraiturist.”

“My condolences,” offered Alhyral.

“And mine,” added Petryn.

“That portraiture training has enabled me to read beyond words and faces, and to realize that ability often has little relation to the grace with which words are uttered, or the indirectness of the insult couched as flattery or condolence. But then, not having had training in verbal hypocrisy, I am afraid that my comments are hopelessly direct. I do hope you enjoy the ball, both of you. Good evening.” I offered the barest hint of an inclined head, as taught by Maitre Dyana years before, and turned, still holding shields on the off chance that one of them might stoop to physical violence. They had enough sense not to.

After departing Petryn and Alhyral, I returned to Seliora and Juniae D’Shendael.

“Greetings,” offered Madame D’Shendael. “Your wife is most charming, as well as perceptive.”

“Far more so than I.”

“You are both observant, I think.” Juniae smiled. “What do you think of those here?”

I waited to let Seliora speak, but she glanced to me. So I replied, “It would seem an odd grouping. Among others, I’ve noted the Chief Councilor, a high justicer, the Commander of the Civic Patrol, several heirs of impeccable breeding and with courtesy less than that…”

“Not to mention the second-highest-ranking imager in Solidar, and the youngest ever to hold that position,” added Juniae. “There are also no Sea-Marshals present, although several were invited, but not, of course, Caellynd.”

“He seemed quite pleasant the other night,” Seliora offered innocently.

“He is intelligent and exceedingly perceptive. The former is forgivable; the latter is not.”

“I only thought that being concerned about the state of the fleet and those serving in it was unforgivable,” I countered.

“All Sea-Marshals are concerned about the state of the fleet. Did you not know that, Maitre Rhennthyl?”

“I must have misunderstood. I was under the impression that concern went beyond mouthing words.”

The faintest smile crossed Juniae D’Shendael’s lips as she looked to Seliora. “You are most courageous, Madame, to appear in public with him.”

Seliora laughed softly. “But he is so much better behaved in public, especially when others are watching.”

“You two are so well matched,” said Junaie to Seliora. “His other name could well be Erion…to match yours.”

“My family has noted that,” replied Seliora, “as has Rhenn’s sister-in-marriage.”

I didn’t wince at the Pharsi references that linked the daughter of the greater moon to the red moon, the one that symbolized conquest and unrest-or truth and power-although my mother wouldn’t have been able to avoid such a reaction, and Remaya had made that very same observation the first time she’d seen Seliora and me together.

“Truth and power are a dangerous combination,” observed Juniae.

“For whom?” asked Seliora lightly.

Madame D’Shendael laughed gently. “I will not take more of your time, as I see my husband fretting, but it was very good to spend a few moments with you.”

After that conversation, I immediately eased Seliora onto the dance floor where I took refuge in her charms.

“When you were talking to Alhyral,” she said, “you had that slight stiffness that suggests you’d like to be done with the matter.”

“I couldn’t escape immediately without being excessively and unpardonably rude, and then they were so obnoxious that I was anyway, in the politest manner of which I was capable. I can see why you detest him. From what I can tell, he’s worse than his father, although Madame D’Shendael told me that Haestyr wasn’t as difficult as he now is before Geuffryt’s father seduced his first wife.”

“If the father was a fraction as bad as the son, I doubt much seduction was required.” Seliora’s voice was syrupy sweet.

“Are you suggesting that I need pay more attention to you?”

She laughed. “No, and today has been wonderful.”

As we continued to dance, this time to a pavane, I just hoped life would remain that way…even as I knew that was most unlikely.