Madness in Solidar (44 page)

“Isn't it a bit … early, sir?”

“It is, but that will make what needs to be done somewhat easier.” Ryen was an extremely early riser, but Alastar didn't want to reveal any more than necessary. He ignored Shaelyt's puzzled expression.

Once they crossed the bridge and turned north on the West River Road, Alastar studied the row of shops that had contained the one holding the cannon, but there was no trace of fire, although the two joining structures were definitely the worse for wear, with sagging walls and slanting roofs. Farther along, a few crafters and shopkeepers were up and out, sweeping or cleaning, as the four rode up the West River Road, but those out scarcely looked at the riders.
Likely more out of fear than disinterest.
When they neared the point, Alastar studied the area closely, but there were no signs of troopers. The blast had leveled enough of the trees and bushes that he could see that the disabled cannon had not yet been removed.

There were more shopkeepers out along the Boulevard D'Ouest by the time the four imagers reached the ring road north of the Chateau D'Rex. Alastar turned in the saddle. “Belsior, Neiryn, you're to hold shields until I tell you to release them. If you cannot hold them after a time, let go, and then resume when you can. You are not to say one word, during this time. The only exception is if Maitre Shaelyt is in danger.”

“Yes, sir.”

Alastar could see the question. “We have some unpleasant duties to undertake. They may be dangerous. That's all you have to know for now.”

When they turned onto the ring road, heading south, Alastar raised a blurring concealment, then after they had ridden perhaps a hundred yards, shifted to a full concealment. At that point, he said, “We're under a concealment now. Make sure you don't run anyone down, because they won't see you.” That warning was likely unnecessary, since the road was almost deserted except for a few farm carts most likely headed to the market square south of the Chateau D'Rex, a square Alastar thought was almost squalid and definitely unbecoming.
It really ought to be used for something more imposing. How can Ryen demand an imposing avenue, and then tolerate such a squalid square so close to his chateau?
But then Ryen was a mass of anger and contradictions.

Alastar did not see any army troopers near the chateau, nor were any guards stationed at the foot of the paved lane that led to the rear of the chateau. Two guards stood outside the closed iron-grille gates to the rear courtyard.

“A slow and quiet walk from here,” said Alastar, turning in the saddle to address Belsior and Neiryn, before adding, to Shaelyt, “Clamp shields around the guard on your left when I say shields. Make sure they cover his mouth. We don't want him yelling. You'll have to hold him until he passes out. Then we'll tie them up, gag them, and blindfold them.”

“What next, sir?”

“I'll see if I can get into the courtyard without being seen or heard. You keep anyone from seeing the three of you.”

Neither guard moved as the four imagers rode up the paved lane toward the gate, not until Alastar was about fifteen yards from the nearest guard.

“Sammel? You hear horses?” The guard looked from side to side.

“Hunh?” Sammel shook himself, as if he'd been half asleep.

“Horses … I said.”

“Shields,” Alastar said quietly, clamping his around the guard on the right, the one who had spoken. He immediately dismounted and handed the gelding's reins to Belsior, grabbed several lengths of rope from his saddlebags, as well as some cloth strips, handing some of each to Shaelyt before hurrying toward the unnamed guard. He stopped far enough back so that the concealment lay between him and the guard. He did not move until the man's eyes rolled, then held the shield several moments longer while he readied the rope. He began trussing the man before he released the shield. Even so, the guard was beginning to rouse himself by the time Alastar gagged and blindfolded him, then dragged him away from the gate and next to the wall.

He looked to Shaelyt, but the younger maitre had finished with Sammel not much after Alastar had blindfolded the first guard. Alastar walked away and motioned for Shaelyt to join him next to the gelding, then said in a low voice that would not carry beyond the other maitre, “Shaelyt, you'll need to conceal your presence once I enter the courtyard. I suspect a blurring concealment will suffice at this glass. But no one is to know we are here or have been—even if that means you have to kill someone. This is important for the safety of all imagers. Do you understand?” As he spoke, Alastar took two more two lengths of rope from his saddlebags and wound them around his midsection under his riding jacket and stuffed several lengths of cloth inside his tunic.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I'd tell you to wish me luck, but we can't depend on fortune. Wait over there under the chateau wall.” Alastar turned and climbed the gate, comparatively low, at little more than two yards. He was glad for the heavy riding gloves. As he suspected, the rear courtyard held no guards, but a kitchen scull carried out something to one of the refuse barrels.

After she dumped it and headed back toward the kitchen door, another guard, standing outside the side door used by guards and servitors, called out, “You never stop to throw me a kiss, Cethana.”

“Like you deserve one,” snapped the woman.

“Every man deserves one now and again.” The guard moved several paces from the door.

“Not at this Namer-early glass of the morning.”

Taking advantage of the guard's distraction, Alastar slipped behind him, eased the door open and stepped inside, then flattened himself against the wall as another guard hurried down the narrow back hall and grabbed the door, opening it wider.

“Poelo! Don't leave the frigging door open! You want us both gutted!” The words were almost hissed.

The outer guard turned back. “I didn't open it.”

“It was open…”

While the two argued in low voices, Alastar made his way to the grand staircase. He'd thought about taking the private back staircase, but it was so narrow that there was no way to avoid someone if he went that way. After he climbed the steps, he had to dodge a serving maid, carrying a tray back toward the kitchen, once he reached the upper hall, but the only person in the north corridor was the guard who was always posted outside Ryen's study. Again, he used shields to immobilize the guard.

When the study guard crumpled, Alastar trussed him quickly, gagged and blindfolded him with the strips of cloth he'd brought, and then opened the door and stepped into the study, dropping the concealment after closing the door and walking toward Ryen, seated at his desk and reading a sheet of something.

The rex's mouth opened, if only for an instant. Then he smiled. “I thought you might be here. I didn't expect you quite so early. Or so quietly.”

“Imagisle is a mass of rubble.” Alastar offered the exaggeration blandly. “I take it that was what you meant by bringing your wrath down on the Collegium.”

“What else did you expect? You disobeyed my orders.”

“Now … you're ordering the Collegium?”

“If I pay you, you'll take my orders.”

“Even if they're unreasonable?”

“I'm the rex. I'm the one who decides what's reasonable and what's not.”

Alastar nodded. “I see. Then I have one last question. Did you order Demykalon to fire on the Collegium with his cannon?”

“Of course. I don't make idle threats.”

“And after that becomes known, to start destroying High Holder chateaux until they agree to your tariff terms?”

“What else? None of you seem willing to act unless forced.”

“I'm glad to hear you confirm that.”

“So you can make some threat you won't carry out, just like your predecessor.”

“No. I don't make threats at all.” With that, Alastar clamped full shields around the startled rex. “Neither you nor the High Council would see reason. The Collegium suffered, and there are too many dead imagers and staff. Enough is enough. One way or another, your successor will be more reasonable.”

Alastar did not remove the shields until it was more than clear that Ryen would not take another breath.

On the way out, he used another concealment, and again clamped shields around the guard lying in the corridor until the man passed out once more. Then he untied him and removed the gag before making his way, still under concealment, to the grand staircase and then down and back to the rear entrance, waiting until the guard patrolling the lower hall moved out of sight, just so the man would not see the doors open. He still had to deal with the door guard, but that was easier. He just imaged a pair of coppers into the air several yards from the door and let them fall to the stones.

The outside guard looked around, then up, and quickly darted toward the coins. Alastar opened the door, stepped out, and closed it, then sidled away and along the walls until he reached the gate. He stopped, not seeing either Shaelyt or the thirds, then shook his head. He wouldn't, not with Shaelyt's concealment.

Even knowing where he'd told Shaelyt to be, he almost ran into the maitre's mount before he was inside the other's concealment.

To his credit, Shaelyt did not speak, but raised his eyebrows.

Alastar moved closer and explained. Then they shield-stunned the two gate guards and untied them, but left the gags and blindfolds in place before mounting and riding down the lane to the ring road. Alastar did not speak until they were well north of the chateau.

“We're still under a concealment, and we're headed northwest” was all he said.

“The army High Command?” murmured Shaelyt.

Alastar nodded.

By the time they turned off the ring road onto the north pike, the predawn gray had given way to the pale yellowish light that immediately preceded sunrise. When they neared the low walls that surrounded the army headquarters, the old gates were closed, and Alastar could see at least a squad of troopers mustered in the area behind them. The wall itself was brick, and clearly dated back to when the headquarters had been a private estate, most likely of a High Holder, since it was barely two yards high, if that.

He smiled. “I think we need a diversion, Maitre Shaelyt. I'd like you and the thirds to ride about a quarter mille west along the wall there. Under a concealment, of course. Then I'd like you to remove part of the wall and set fire to something just inside the wall. Make it flamboyant. Then head back down the pike and wait by the old warehouse just north of the ring road. Use a blurring shield if you can still manage it once you get there, or have the thirds alternate. I'll meet you there.”

“Sir?”

“If I'm not there in two glasses, head back to Imagisle and inform Maitre Cyran and Maitre Alyna.”

Alastar turned and rode eastward close to a third of mille, until he found a spot where several trees just inside the wall blocked the view of the wall from a good many of the buildings, especially the old chateau where Alastar suspected Demykalon had his study. The odds were that the marshal would be there. Even from Alastar's limited interaction with the marshal, he doubted that Demykalon would be the type to handle unpleasant duties in person, especially when he would be likely planning to lay the blame on someone else.

He looked back, then saw a column of fire.
Shaelyt did make it impressive.
With that, Alastar imaged away a part of the wall, a section just wide enough for him to ride through. Holding shields and a concealment, he did just that, then angled the gray across the grounds toward the old chateau. Since there was an empty hitching rail outside the chateau's main entrance, Alastar rode right up to it, dismounted, and then waited until the guard standing in the open entry portico looked the other way before moving away from the gelding and leaving it unconcealed. He moved up the stone steps quietly, then waited as the trooper saw the mount and moved forward to look more closely. Then he slipped behind the man and through the double doors. Once inside he continued into the main hall, where he paused to one side of the table desk where a squad leader sat, looking bored. He eased himself against the wall and watched for several moments, as first several rankers passed, and then an undercaptain, but no one spoke.

After a bit, he waited until a ranker hurried toward a side hall and followed the man, saying, “Pardon me,” firmly but quietly, easing forward enough that the ranker was inside the concealment. He hoped to take advantage of the fact that imager grays and his visor cap were cut in the same style as the uniforms of army officers.

The man half-turned, looking surprised, but before he could utter a word, Alastar said, “I have an urgent message for the marshal, but I can't find his study. Is it in this wing?”

“No, sir. It's just off the small circular foyer on the other end.” The ranker started to say more.

“Thank you,” Alastar said quickly, preempting the ranker's words, and then stepped back quickly and to the man's blind side so that the ranker could not see him appear to vanish. The ranker looked from one side to the other, but Alastar kept moving back toward the main hall and then, as quietly as he could, circled behind the squad leader and into the west wing of the former chateau.

Less than thirty yards farther on, a fresh-faced undercaptain sat at another table desk outside a set of double doors.

Alastar paused, debating his next move. Then, as he heard footsteps, he saw the ranker he'd accosted a few moments before hurrying down the hallway. With a smile, Alastar eased along the wall until he was beside the study door … and waited.

The ranker stopped before the desk. “Sir, there was a courier with a message looking for the marshal, but I can't find him.”

“There's been no one here. Did you check with the duty squad leader?”

“Yes, sir. He's seen no one.”