Imager's Challenge (31 page)

It wasn’t, but her tone was forgiving.

“I owe you a dinner for all your hard work.”

“First, you owe me some time on horseback,” she reminded me.

“Can we go to dinner afterward? Somewhere like Chaelya’s,” I suggested. “That would be family-approved, would it not?” I followed my words with a grin.

“Aunt Staelia would be pleased, and the food is good.”

“You have some reservations? Or were we supposed to meet Odelia and Kolasyn somewhere?”

“No . . . they’re having dinner with Shomyr and someone he’s interested in. Haelya is her name.”

“You’re more interested in torturing me on horseback, is that it? Or do you have a feeling it wouldn’t be good to have dinner there?” That was a guess, but with Seliora’s Pharsi farsight, that was always a possibility.

“Not farsight . . . but a feeling.”

“Azeyd’s, then? We went to Terraza last week.”

“That might be better. Next week we could go to Chaelya’s with either Odelia and Kolasyn or Shomyr and Haelya.”

“Besides, I’m growing very fond of Pharsi fare, all kinds of Pharsi fare.” I didn’t quite leer.

“Rhenn . . .” She laughed and shook her head.

For a number of reasons, including my inability to hold shields for long, we walked over the Bridge of Desires and hailed a hack on the west bank of the Aluse. The wind had turned chill during the course of the afternoon, and Seliora’s jacket wasn’t that heavy. She was shivering by the time we got into the coach. As the coach crossed the Nord Bridge, I looked out at the river, its dark gray water topped with whitecaps, thinking that we might be in for an early snowfall.

Back at NordEste Design, I got a lesson in saddling and putting a bridle on a very gentle mare, who snorted only once or twice at my incompetence. Then I managed to mount and ride around the courtyard until my thighs ached and my ears were numb, and my nose began to run.

Finally, my task-mistress relented and let me dismount, but I still had to stall and unsaddle and curry the mare. Then I had to wash up as well. We were both cold by that time.

It was well past sixth glass when we finally ended up at a cozy corner table at Azeyd, close enough to the hearth that Seliora stopped shivering, but not near enough to roast me.

“Do you want some hot mulled wine?” I asked.

“No, I’m already warm enough. A red Cambrisio, please,” she told the server, a black-haired Pharsi girl several years younger than Khethila, “and I’ll have the harvest greens, and the lamb pastry roll.”

“The red Cambrisio also,” I added, “and the harvest greens, but I’d like the cumin-cream lamb with the rice.”

“Yes, sir.” The server smiled and slipped away.

“She’s cheerful,” I offered.

“Her parents wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“She’s the daughter of the owners?”

“Martica and Chelaom are much stricter than Mama and Papa.”

I offered a wince.

Seliora laughed softly.

Once our wine and greens arrived, I began to explain, keeping my voice very low, what I’d learned over the week from Master Dichartyn, Maitre Dyana, and Master Rholyn, ending with, “. . . in short, I’ve been told that my problems with Ryel are mine and mine alone, and that I need to resolve them by myself and without any tracks leading back to the Collegium—or to you and your family.”

“My family? Oh, because too many people know we’re close, and that would lead back to you?”

“I don’t think we need both the Collegium and the High Holders after you and your family.” I tried to keep my tone dry. “Although I did hear from Lieutenant Mardoyt that you were more than capable of protecting yourself.”

“Grandmama said that would come up.” Her words were not quite defiant. “When did he tell you this?”

“This last week.” That was a bit of a stretch, but not that much.

“He’s an evil man and not to be trusted.” She offered a wry smile. “But it is true. Ricardio attempted to take some liberties with me. He ripped my blouse right off me. I shot him in the shoulder. Then I told him that if he said a word about it, he’d never say another. He said I was a bitch.” She sighed. “I didn’t want to shoot him. That’s why I had to.”

“What?” I didn’t understand that.

“I kept trying to discourage him gently. He wouldn’t discourage. I even warned him. He laughed and lunged for me. Some people only understand force. It’s best to avoid those altogether . . . if you can.”

“Because, in the end, you have to use force to stop them?” I asked.

She nodded.

By that token, if I’d had any sense, I should have avoided Johanyr totally—except he hadn’t given me that choice.

“Do you think I’m terrible for that?” Seliora asked quietly. “I suppose I should have told you, but . . .”

“You hoped I’d understand, and feared I wouldn’t?”

She nodded again.

“Dear one . . .” I smiled. “If anyone understands being pushed into doing something necessary and unpleasant, I’m certainly getting to that point. Sometimes, there aren’t any alternatives.”

“There are always alternatives,” she replied, “but if we accept them, we become less.”

I’d thought about that, if not in her case.

“What can I do to help you?” she asked after a moment, a question that also asked if we could leave the shooting behind.

“Could you find out what you can about Ryel’s commercial enterprises, especially in L’Excelsis? I’m fairly certain he has interests in or control of the Banque D’Rivages.” I paused. “But I’d rather have no information than have anything leading to you and your family.”

“I can see that. I can ask, and we’ll talk it over.” Seliora nodded slowly. “Can I ask what you have in mind?”

“In a general sense. I’m trying to figure out what might be called misdirection. I can’t wait too long, because the greatest pressure Ryel can put on me is through my family. If he presses your family right now, he offers an opportunity he doesn’t want to give.”

That was clear enough to me, because Seliora and I weren’t even betrothed, let alone married. If Ryel acted against them, now, they certainly could use their taudis contacts against him and his family, and it was unlikely that the High Holder—his heirs, especially—would get much support for attacking a crafting family not involved in his feud. That also meant that I had to deal with Ryel before I could even consider marrying Seliora.

“I see that. Still . . . I should tell Mama and Grandmama to be prepared if he does act against us.” Her smile was cold.

There wasn’t much more to say about that, not really, because I had only a vague idea of how I would actually attempt to carry out what I had in mind. So I looked at Seliora and smiled. “How are your greens?”

“Good. And yours?” The mischievous smile reappeared.

“Excellent, if not quite so good as those prepared by those in a certain kitchen off Hagahl Lane.”

We would enjoy the rest of the evening. About that, I was determined. I was also relieved to have heard Seliora’s words about the shooting. It did confirm what I already knew. She wasn’t about to be demeaned or abused, regardless of the cost. Her reaction also strengthened my own feelings about dealing with Ryel.

Because I was the duty master on Solayi, I could do more thinking and reading, and planning, but not much else. The day was uneventful, except for having to get up early. No would-be imagers appeared. No one reported any imagers killed or missing, and the dining hall was so deserted at midday that I was the only master there.

Even though I’d already told Shault that I’d delivered his coins and message on Meredi evening, I did motion him aside after lunch.

“How are your studies with Master Ghaend going?”

He didn’t quite meet my eyes.

“You’re having trouble with the reading?”

“Yes, sir.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that because, to me, reading had come almost naturally. “Is it the letters or the way they sound?”

“No, sir. It’s the words. I can sound them out, but there are so many that I don’t know what they mean.”

“Haven’t you heard of a dictionary?”

He looked absolutely blank.

“Come with me.”

As we walked, I began to explain. “A dictionary is a book that has all the words one could ever use, and it explains each word in smaller words, usually, anyway. . . .”

While the library was dark, as it always was on Solayi, I found a dictionary and signed it out to Shault, cautioning him that he’d have to pay for replacing it if he lost or damaged the book. Then I sent him on his way, but he seemed almost relieved.

A dictionary—something so simple that it was obvious . . . except to a very bright boy from the taudis and one who was still fearful enough that he didn’t want to ask anyone, and who would seemingly tell only me, and only if questioned.

Thankfully, that was the most eventful happening of Solayi.

I did have to get up earlier on Lundi to fit in both Clovyl’s exercises and
sparring, as well as report on the duty to Master Schorzat. But I managed to arrive at Third District station before seventh glass in time to meet Alsoran before the morning patrols began.

Alsoran had definitely been picked for his patrol round on the basis of physical appearance and capability. He stood a good ten digits taller than me, and his shoulders were far broader. There wasn’t the faintest trace of extra flesh or fat around his midsection. His black hair was cut short and still faintly curly below his visored cap, and his eyebrows were thick and bushy, almost meeting above his nose.

“Good morning, Master Rhennthyl.”

“Good morning, Alsoran.”

“You ready?”

“As ready as I can be.” That meant that I was only holding very light shields, with triggers, because anything more caused a pounding headache. That wasn’t exactly ideal, but letting anyone know I was less than fully able would have been worse. I
thought
that it was unlikely that Mardoyt or Harraf would try anything too soon after the last incident, and I hoped I was right.

Without another word, we walked out of the station and headed southwest on Fuosta. We’d almost reached Quierca before Alsoran spoke again.

“I heard about what happened when you went with Huerl and Koshal.” Alsoran’s slightly high-pitched voice was mild. “I recall something like that happened to a first patroller out of headquarters, except he got killed instead of the brigands.”

“I’d heard that. I was assured it was an accident.” I laughed. “I’m not fond of accidents.”

“Being as you’re an imager, I’d wager you aren’t, sir. It does seem strange that they’ve got you walking rounds, not that I’m complaining, mind you.” The bushy eyebrows rose.

“The commander wants me to understand everything that you patrollers do. I got the feeling that he worries that if I don’t have that understanding, I might recommend something that might cause more problems than doing nothing.”

Alsoran shook his head. “Doesn’t hold on this round. In the taudis, someone’s always doing something wrong. You do something, and you got problems. You do nothing, and you got more problems.”

“You’re speaking from experience. How long have you had this round?”

“On and off, for six-seven years. They rotate us, but I always get rotated back here.” He laughed. “Suits me. The elvers and the taudischefs in my round know the rules, and they don’t give us problems. It’s always the young toughs,
and most of them don’t last.” He shook his head good-naturedly. “Some of them get it, and they work out, but the others . . .”

I let a moment of silence pass before I asked, “How do you set up your round?”

“Always do a circle on the edges first. That way, you get a feel for the day and what’s happening before you get really inside the taudis. We go out South Middle or Quierca, doesn’t much matter, and then along the Avenue D’Artisans. The stretch along the avenue and the two streets behind it are the only part of the round that aren’t in the South Middle taudis. From the plaza or from Quierca, depending on which way we go, we head back to Mando—that’s the west end of the round. Lyonyt always says that Mando’s the border between nasty tough and really evil.”

“And your round takes in all the really evil side?”