Imager's Intrigue: The Third Book of the Imager Portfolio (42 page)

“That’s always a question that the most senior imagers must consider.” I emphasized “most” just slightly. “At this point, however, revealing what the Maitre has approved would only endanger those involved without providing any other benefit…besides personal satisfaction at the possible cost of lives.”

That generally ended the discussion, and the ensuing silence did allow me to finish the casserole and the fresh-baked dark rye bread.

The first thing I did after lunch was to write a short note to Juniae D’Shendael, requesting permission to call on her. I could have shown up, but that could have been awkward, and it wouldn’t have had the effect that the note would. Besides, I wanted her to have advance notice.

Then I found another duty coach and directed the driver to take me to Glendyl’s L’Excelsis dwelling, which turned out to be a modest mansion a mille north of the Council Chateau. His four-level hillside dwelling some sixty yards across the front, set in a small park a quarter mille on a side, was modest only in comparison to the estates of the wealthier High Holders. It was also far enough outside L’Excelsis that it wasn’t under Civic Patrol jurisdiction, which was the only way a factor could obtain the equivalent of personal security that extended to all High Holders through their privilege of low justice. Of course, Glendyl couldn’t punish anyone, and if a crime occurred on his lands, he—or someone else—could petition the regional justiciary for punishment of the guilty party—assuming he could come up with proof and the person of that party.

The gate guard looked dubious, but clearly wasn’t about to refuse a Collegium Maitre. When I walked through the portico and reached the double doors of the dwelling itself, I came face to face with a pair of guards.

“Maitre Rhennthyl to see the Councilor,” I announced.

“He won’t be seeing anyone today,” announced the shorter and broader guard.

That seemed odd, but I persisted. “Is he here?”

“That he is, but not to anyone.”

“I’d appreciate it if you—or someone—would convey my presence to him.”

“That we can do, but he won’t see anyone.” The taller guard yanked on a bell-pull.

Shortly, a tall graying functionary opened the right door. He looked at me. After a moment, he spoke. “Maitre, the Councilor is not seeing anyone. He was specific. If you would like to leave a card…”

I didn’t feel like being shunted off by Glendyl’s functionaries. So I just raised concealment shields, and then imaged a pillar of flame in the middle of the stone portico behind me.

While they were gaping, I yanked open the door and stepped past the bewildered servant in his green livery.

Then I stepped to the side of the foyer, still concealed, and waited.

The flame died away quickly enough, and the functionary retreated, glancing this way and that. I followed him along the corridor to the right to a set of open double doors that filled an archway.

He stopped, cleared his throat, and spoke, “Sir…”

“I said I wasn’t to be disturbed by anyone.” Glendyl’s voice was cold and curt.

I stepped around the bewildered functionary and dropped the concealment, but held my defense shields. “Thank you.” I nodded to the servant. “You may close the doors. Now.”

He was shaking, but he did as I commanded. Then I stepped into the study. Although it had two large bookcases, there were too few volumes for the chamber to be a proper library.

Glendyl looked up from the armchair and the ledger in his lap. To say that he happened to be irritated would have been an understatement. His face was flushed, and his jaw was tight. The fingers of his left hand were white, so hard was he clutching the ledger.

“Maitre Rhennthyl…this is unbelievable…unacceptable…unprecedented…”

“Also unavoidable,” I said quietly.

“I will report this to the Council. I will have you charged with breaking and entering…”

“You won’t. First, I broke nothing. I announced myself and I didn’t force my way in.” I slipped in, but I really hadn’t used force. Surprise, but not force. “Second, I’ve taken nothing and will take nothing. Third, the last thing you want is to confront me before the Council.” I smiled. “I don’t have time for the niceties, and neither do you. I was hoping that you’d see that your story was not believable, but I see no sign that you intend to do anything but try to cover up your misdeeds.”

“Misdeeds? You’re the one—”

“Quiet.” I projected pure force at him, pressing him back into his chair. “Now…was Vyktor the one from the Banque D’Ouestan who came to you, or did he merely introduce you to the others…or suggest the others would be in touch with you?” I watched him intently as I dropped Vyktor’s name. There was enough of a reaction there.

“I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

“But you do. I intend to bring the whole sorry mess in front of the Council. I thought you ought to know. I’ve already confirmed the business of the bribes from Haebyn and the debts you owe Suyrien House, not to mention the explosives in your works. The bribes alone will have you removed from the Council, because the artisan and guild Councilors will vote for your removal, as will the Collegium Councilor, as will the High Holders. Of course, they’ll also have to discipline Haebyn because Ramsael won’t want to give the impression that they’ll stand for that sort of thing. With those votes, do you really think Etyenn, Diogayn, Sebatyon, and Reyner will stand up for you?”

“If you’re going to do that…why are you even here? You need something from me.” He reached out, his left hand holding the ledger awkwardly, and slid it onto the table adjoining the desk, which held little, except for a pen to the right of the leather blotter.

“You’re right. I do, and I’ve gotten it.”

That confused him, if only for a moment. “Oh?” A sardonic smile crossed his lips.

“I don’t like seeing Solidar being crippled because of one factor’s greed. I don’t like seeing poor workers being killed. I don’t like seeing the Chief Councilor being assassinated. I don’t like being lied to, and I don’t like being made a target.”

“That’s a rather long string of assertions, Maitre.”

“No. They’re facts, honorable Councilor, and any one of them is enough to have you removed.” I paused.

Glendyl just glared.

“Besides, I really don’t have to do anything. You can’t repay Suyrien, and that means he’ll get the engine works and the plans for the turbines. Oh, and I might point out that his brother is Ryel D’Alte, in case you’ve forgotten, and Ryel is a very good friend of mine. Of course, your failure was what your friends the Ferrans had in mind. That was why they set the explosives. For all their talk about wanting to further the cause of the factors, here all they wanted to do was hamper Solidar. Each of you wanted to use the other. You’ll both lose.” I smiled. “Good day.”

Then I walked to the door, making certain my shields were tight, and opened it. But there was no one in the corridor, and I walked out unhindered and down to where Desalyt and the coach waited.

Glendyl was right, in that I couldn’t bring up all the charges before the Council, but Frydryk wouldn’t hesitate to call his notes, once I pointed out that it was the only way he could possibly recapture a portion of his losses. No High Holder was going to be left bailing out a failed factor.

The only question was how exactly matters would play out. In that sense, Frydryk was fortunate that he was engaged to Alynkya and that Kandryl had married Iryela. That left Glendyl with few options.

Unfortunately, I still had to deal with Geuffryt, and I had no doubts that would be more difficult, because I had absolutely no proof and no real direct leverage on him. My only leverage had been on the Naval Command as a whole…and upon a very disgruntled Valeun.

I had barely walked into the administration building when Sorlyt, the very, very junior duty prime, hurried up to me. “Maitre Rhennthyl, Maitre Dyana would like to see you.”

“I’ll go right up.” I hoped that something else hadn’t gone wrong.

On the way, I left my winter cloak in my study. Once I entered the outer anteroom, Gherard waved me toward the half-open door to the Maitre’s study. I closed it behind me.

Maitre Dyana set down the folder before her. “You’ve been rather involved today.”

“Is anything else the matter?”

“Not that I know of. That’s why I wanted to see you. Is anything?”

“It’s been an interesting day.” I went on to tell her almost everything that I’d discovered during the day, but not what I suspected.

“You still haven’t linked all of this together,” she pointed out.

“Oh…I have. With Glendyl.”

She nodded. “You realize that you’ve just handled Glendyl in the same way any High Holder would have.”

“Is that so wrong?” I asked. “His greed has set up a situation where we’ll lose junior imagers, even if they’re successful in what we’ve planned, where the Navy will lose ships and men, and where all of Solidar has suffered to one degree or another.”

“I didn’t say it was wrong. It’s more effective…but it won’t help your relations with the Council. You’ve been head of security for the Collegium less than a month, and your actions have made your predecessor look mild by comparison.” Her smile was sympathetic. “Some of that is the times. Some is not.”

“I’m still worried about Valeun and Geuffryt.”

“You should be. You’ve forced Valeun into supporting your plan, and no Sea-Marshal likes that, and you’ve demanded that he deal with a subordinate who has some allies among the High Holders.”

“He has contacts. I’m not certain about allies. If I’d waited to act, or acted more…temperately…more lives would be lost, and more damage done.”

“That is quite true. That is also why you avoid politics and the Council as much as you possibly can. They’re far more interested in accomplishing matters without upsetting the Navy and those who put them in power. They always have been, and they always will be.”

“Even if it costs everyone else more?”

“Rhenn…it’s never been any other way. You know that.”

I stifled a sigh. “I know, but I’d rather not do things that way.”

“That is obvious. Can you not create any more havoc until we know how the action goes against Ferrum?”

“I don’t know. It will be two weeks before they’ll be in Ferran waters.”

She looked evenly at me.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“That will be all, then.”

As I walked out, I understood her position. The Council was unsettled. The Naval Command wasn’t happy, and we still had who knew how many Ferran agents in Solidar and L’Excelsis, and I’d dealt largely with those in Solidar that they’d corrupted, not the agents themselves.

And I still worried about Geuffryt and Cydarth.

Much as I’d hoped for an early reply from Madame D’Shendael, I didn’t get one, not on Meredi or on Jeudi. I’d planned to spend some time at the Council Chateau, helping Martyl and Baratyn, but I didn’t have to because once Ramsael was approved as Chief Councilor, he’d set the next meeting of the full Council for 18 Ianus. That was when the Council would have met anyway. On Meredi, I’d also taken a duty coach out to Veblynt’s paper mill south of L’Excelsis, only to discover he was somewhere north of Rivages, trying to work out an agreement for wood scraps and pulp timber. I left a note for him, saying I’d like to meet him, but because the mill was on a side stream south of Iron Road, the trip had wasted almost two glasses. I’d also had Schorzat set up a meeting with Sea-Marshal Valeun, but that wouldn’t be until the following Mardi afternoon because he was at the Naval yard in Solis.

The rest of Meredi and Juedi I spent catching up on all the odds and ends I’d neglected, including long session with Haugyl and Marteon, both of whom wanted to know why they hadn’t been selected and what the others who had were doing.

Vendrei morning dawned cold and windy under gray skies with light flakes of snow fluttering down, but the clouds were light enough that I doubted we’d get much snow. I checked the newsheets when I got to my study.
Veritum
reported an inconclusive naval skirmish off Ferrial that apparently resulted in our losing a frigate, and the Ferrans losing two ships.
Tableta
didn’t have that story, but did report that several fires had broken out at the shipworks in Solis, but that they’d been contained, and that the guards had captured several of the perpetrators.

I was glad to see that Frydryk had been right about his guards and security, but couldn’t help but worry where the next set of fires and/or sabotage might take place.

It had been over three weeks since I’d met with Commander Artois, and Dichartyn had met with the Commander weekly, sometimes more often. I needed to keep in touch with Artois more, no matter how awkward it might be. So I took a duty coach to Patrol headquarters. Even if he didn’t happen to be there, the gesture would help. I was going to need help, because too many problems were turning out to be the kind that imaging couldn’t solve. I supposed that had always been the case; I just hadn’t had to deal with those much. Now there wasn’t anyone else.

With that not-exactly-consoling thought I pulled on my gray heavy winter cloak and made my away across the quadrangle to the duty coach stand. The clouds had lightened some, and the snow had stopped, although the dusting on the grass had not melted. As I rode toward Civic Patrol headquarters, I tried to think of statements or questions that would lead Artois toward areas where I needed to know more without admitting totally my ignorance.

The Commander was in, and he even smiled and stood, if but for a moment before seating himself, as I entered his study and closed the door behind me.

“Greetings, Maitre. I’d thought I might be seeing you before long, now that you’ve settled back into the Collegium.” He paused. “I must admit that I’ve been pleased with the performance of Captain Alsoran. That has been a bright spot in a rather grim winter.”

“He was always very solid for me.” I sat down across from him. “What should I know about this grim winter for the Patrol?”

“I imagine you know some of it. The stronger elveweed is creeping back into the hellhole and the surrounding areas in Sixth District. Cydarth and I agreed on promoting Yerkes and Walthyr to captain, and we’ll have to see how that works out.” He fingered a chin that looked more pointed than I recalled, perhaps because he was even more gaunt than the last time I’d seen him, not that he’d ever been other than slender. “We still haven’t found any more Ferran agents, dead or alive…except for the one you killed that shot Councilor Glendyl. There haven’t been any more explosions in the last week or so, but there’s been a rash of counterfeit silvers—some sort of lead-tin alloy washed with silver. They’re always passed at crowded taverns or bistros. The workmanship is good, too.”

“Silvers…that makes sense. Everyone looks closely at golds.”

“You don’t think they’re the work of a renegade imager?”

“No. If the workmanship is good, it wouldn’t take any more effort to image real silvers, and an imager who could do that would be far better off copying jewelry and pawning it.”

“I thought as much, but I wanted your opinion.”

“I have run across something a bit…odd.” I smiled ruefully. “You remember the explosion at the Midroad Banque D’Excelsis? Well…there was a clerk there who drowned several weeks before the explosion, and I’d asked if there might be any connection. The director couldn’t find any, except that, after the clerk died, when his ledgers were audited as a matter of procedure, they discovered that he’d apparently embezzled a hundred golds. I was looking into something involving the Collegium, and I ran across the lover of the dead clerk, and he told me that the poor clerk was absolutely terrified of water, but that when he’d come down here to tell the Patrol, some patroller named Merolyn had threatened to charge him with murder.”

Artois nodded slowly. “That sounds…unlikely.”

He could have meant anything by that, but I just smiled. “Unlikely on all counts. A guilty lover wouldn’t try to get an accidental drowning classified as a murder if he’d done it, but I can’t see why Merolyn would need to threaten him, either.” I shrugged. “But it seemed so odd that I thought I should pass it on. Oh, the dead clerk’s name was Kearyk D’Cleris.”

“Kearyk D’Cleris…I don’t recall anything on that.”

“The other coincidence is that the subcommander is a client there. The director knows him by sight.”

“We all have to banque somewhere, Maitre Rhennthyl.”

“That we do. That we do. How is the subcommander?”

“As always,” replied Artois dryly.

“Does he have relatives in Ouestan?”

“Not that I know of. Why do you ask?”

“We’ve run across several strange connections to the Banque D’Ouestan, and one suggested a Cydarth D’Patrol. It’s nothing that I could verify, but I did wonder.”

Artois nodded. “You never know with that kind of information whether it’s real or a ploy to put one in a difficult situation.”

“That was my thought exactly.”

“Tell me, Maitre Rhennthyl. Do you think we’ll see more Ferran agents in L’Excelsis?”

“Like you, I don’t know. I have the feeling that those who might remain, if any do, are more likely to be involved in indirect attacks on Solidar. I don’t think we’ve seen the end of the events they may have set in motion or difficulties that may come from those events.” I shrugged. “You heard about the explosions at Councilor Glendyl’s engine works? Young High Holder Suyrien’s guards thwarted similar attacks in Solis.”

“I read that. You think others may occur?”

“I’d be surprised if they didn’t.”

“You have no idea where or when?”

“I wish I did.” And I certainly did.

We talked a bit longer, and then I took my leave. Artois did not suggest that I stop and see Cydarth, and I didn’t.

Lebryn pulled the coach up as I left headquarters.

“On the way back,” I told him, “I’d like to make a stop at 880 Avenue D’Theatre.”

“Yes, sir.”

The address, despite the street, was actually closer to Nordroad than to the theatre area or to the opera, and when the coach came to a halt, it was outside a yellow-brick structure only ten yards wide, if four stories high, sandwiched between two larger buildings, one of which proclaimed itself the River Association Building. I had no idea that there was a River Association, much less what it might do.

I made my way to the door and rapped on it with the slightly tarnished brass knocker. Although I waited for a time, no one answered.

From there, I had the coach take me all the way out to Frydryk’s “local” estate. He wasn’t there, but in Laaryn, tending to various legalities and property transfers. The chef d’chateau expected him back on Mardi. On the way back to Imagisle, it began to snow again.

I finally got back to the house at close to fifth glass. I’d barely stepped inside, dusted the light snow off my cloak and hung it up, when Seliora appeared, one hand firmly holding Diestrya’s left hand. Diestrya didn’t look at me.

“What did she do?”

“She threw her tea at the stove to hear it hiss, and when I took her mug away, she went into the wash room and got water from the pitcher to throw it at the stove. She broke the pitcher as well.”

“Someone is going to bed before dinner.”

Seliora nodded. “Oh…we received another invitation.”

“From whom? When?”

“It’s from Councilor Fhernon and his wife, on the thirteenth of Ianus. We’re going to that ball at the Almeida’s the next night.” She looked at me. “You need to be at both. I asked mother if Diestrya could spend the night on Vendrei and Samedi. There’s really no one here, now, to look after the girls, and Klysia has that Vendrei night off and the weekend.”

“Is that all right with your mother?”

“She was fine with it, and so were the twins. So was Aegina. She said the girls needed to see just what dealing with an active three-year-old was like for more than a few glasses. After this evening, I’m more than happy to give them the experience.” Seliora turned, then looked back. “The invitation is on the card tray. I’ll be back down shortly.”

Diestrya didn’t say a word as she trudged up the stairs beside her mother.