Madness in Solidar (49 page)

“That's an … interesting observation. Why do you think I might have it?”

“Because it's clear the talent for imaging runs strongly in your blood. The farsight might as well.”

“You are persistent.”

“I've been reading the journals of the first chorister of the Collegium. He mentions that Vaelora had that talent. He also mentions that she said it was far less useful than people supposed, that it only allowed one to prepare somewhat. She must have been quite a woman.”

“I imagine she was.”

“Just as you are.”

Alyna looked directly at Alastar. In the waning light, her black eyes seemed almost to see through him. “What do you want from me?” Her words were quiet but firm.

“Right now, the chance to know you better.”

“That cuts both ways. You already know far more about me than I do of you.”

“What would you like to know?”

“To begin with, anything you'd care to share.” Her smile was warm, if reserved.

“I'm in my thirty-eighth year. I've been married and widowed. I have no children. I was born to a factor's clerk. He lost his position when the factor died. My father went to work on the docks … and doing other things. His leg was injured, and he could barely walk. No one would give him work. He became a beggar. My mother went to work as a scull at an inn. Then my father was run down by a drunken son of a shahib—that's what they call the old High Holders, the ones whose lands date back before the unification. The son was more upset that his horse had to be put down than that he'd killed a man. The death gold helped, but it didn't last that long. Ma … my mother was never the same after that. She found out that I was an imager, because I could image coppers. Sometimes, those were all we had, and…” Alastar stopped for a moment. He didn't like remembering those times. “Well … then she got consumption and insisted I go to the Collegium. Maitre Voltyn—he was in charge then—he let her spend the last year at the Collegium instead of giving her the two golds. He wanted to do both, but she wouldn't have it. Until the night she died, she insisted I do my best.” He offered a shrug. “I've tried. After that, I was a student imager, and then a full one … nothing that much different from other maitres.”

“More than you think, I'd say. How old were you when you first imaged coppers?”

“Six, I think.”

“That's young.”

“I had no idea about it. I just knew we needed the coppers.”

“And you weren't caught?”

“I practiced for what I thought was a very long time.” He managed a soft laugh. “Maybe two weeks or so. That's a very long time when you're that age.”

Alyna nodded. “Then … you were an only child?”

“No … I had a younger brother and sister—Dyel and Mahara. They died of the red flux a year or so before I went to the Collegium at Westisle.”

“You didn't have it?”

“I did, but I was fortunate.”

“I wouldn't call your early years all that fortunate.”

“In one way, they were. I was loved.”
And appreciated.
“That counts for a great deal.”

Alyna was silent, and Alastar wondered if she had actually been loved, but he wasn't about to ask that question.

“You were widowed…” The way Alyna said the words was clearly to give Alastar a choice of whether he wanted to speak of that.

“I was. We weren't married all that long, not as marriages should go…” Alastar paused, wondering how much he should say. “We were both Maitres D'Aspect then … Thealia … she was two years older. I was flattered…”

“What was she like?”

“She was tall and slender, almost swan-like. Silver-blond hair. Her eyes were gray.”

“Was she beautiful?” asked Alyna quietly.

Not in the way you are.
“I can't answer that fairly … or honestly. Sometimes, I thought she was. She was good-looking. Everyone said I was fortunate.”

“Are you trying to please me?” Alyna's voice was even.

“I'd like to … but no, I'm not. When you first love someone, or think you do, it colors what you see. And when you're young, when it's first love, you see what you want to. As you get older, you see things differently. I know more about you, right now, than I ever did before Thealia and I were married.”

“You sound like you weren't that happy even then.”

“I thought I was. It was only after she died … years after … that I began to see things differently.”

“You don't think that you've made yourself see them that way?”

Alastar offered a wry smile. “That's always a danger … for anyone, but I don't think so.” He paused. “I'm not saying she wasn't attractive or that she secretly disliked me, or that she married me just because she thought I was the best catch.”
Although there was some of that.
“She did want to be admired and loved, and I did both.”

“What happened?”

“Something that I should have seen. Something that I've already seen here.”

“That doesn't tell me much,” observed Alyna, a touch of humor in the way she spoke the words.

“It was becoming clear that I'd be a Maitre D'Structure before long. Zhelan had just become Maitre of the Westisle Collegium. There's an understanding that, in order to be considered, you have to undertake certain assignments that require more than … normal imaging. Mine was to rebuild the stone piers in the west harbor. The west harbor is some five milles from the main harbor. I left early that morning. Sometime after I left, without telling anyone, Thealia went out to the east harbor and re-imaged the stone piers in the old east harbor … and dredged some of the channel as well. She was certainly capable of it, except for one thing.” Alastar glanced at Alyna.

Her face was impassive.

“I didn't know she was pregnant. She must have known. She didn't tell anyone. She came back. She told Maitre Zhelan, then went to our cottage to rest. She never woke up.”

Alyna did not speak for several moments. “But … didn't she know?”

“Limitations were for everyone else. She always said that women imagers couldn't ask for favors. She was right. She should have been a Maitre D'Structure before that.”

Alyna's face tightened.

Alastar could almost see her thoughts and spoke quickly. “I didn't insist on making you a Maitre D'Structure to redress the past. I didn't do it out of guilt.”
Or not too much.
“I didn't have the power to insist she have what she deserved. You have the abilities and skills of a Maitre D'Structure. Every senior maitre here knows and admits that. I didn't present you with something undeserved. And I did it … well, frankly, I did it, if you must know, because I never wanted to be like Zhelan or, as it turns out, like Maitre Fhaen. That might not be the noblest of motives, but it's the way it is.”

“You did it for your mother, too, I think.”

Those words stopped Alastar cold. For several moments, he was speechless.

“She never got what she deserved, either, did she?”

“No,” he finally admitted.

Her smile was gentle and warm. “You're not at all like Fhaen. I don't think you could be.” The smile faded. “How did you feel after she died?”

“Numb. I couldn't believe it. Not then. Later … I understood. Isn't life often like that, understanding too late?” He gave a soft laugh. “Perhaps that happens more often for young men.” At that, Alastar glanced around the now almost dark salon, then imaged flame into the wick of the nearest lamp. He stood and walked to the wall sconce, where he adjusted the flame, then turned back to face Alyna. “I didn't mean to…”

“I'm glad you did. I don't believe in secrets, not if I want to trust someone.” After a pause, she said, “You haven't told many people, have you?”

“Not since it happened. You're the only one, really.”

“Thank you.”

For what? For telling you about thoughtless love, stupidity, and blindness?

Almost as if he had uttered his thoughts, Alyna stood and moved toward Alastar, stopping a yard away before she went on. “In a High Hold, nothing is quite what it seems. Words have two meanings. At times, they can have more. For a girl, or a woman, it is dangerous to reveal who you are. It is more dangerous to share confidences or dreams.”

“That can be true anywhere.”

“It can. I'm glad you trust me.” She took his hand and squeezed it. Then she let go, not abruptly, but almost as if she did not wish to.

“You trusted me first,” he pointed out, “for which I'm glad.”

“So am I.” She smiled, this time, almost sadly. “We need to talk like this more often … if you're willing.”

Alastar understood all too well. “I would like that.”

“So would I.” After another pause, she said, “I think I'd better go now.”

Without saying more, Alastar walked to the front door with her, then out onto the porch. They stopped at the top of the steps.

“In the morning,” he said.

“I'll be here.” She smiled, an expression both warm and worried, Alastar thought, before turning and heading down the steps and south toward her cottage.

He stood on the porch and watched as she disappeared into the deepening twilight.

 

27

On Vendrei morning, even before sunrise, a chattering against the windows roused Alastar. He was half glad to be roused, given that the rattling dragged him from a dream in which he was riding through a darkness so deep that he could see nothing, searching for something absolutely essential—and he had no idea what that might be. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, then stood and walked to the window, where he saw small white pellets bouncing off the glass.
Large sleet … or small hail.
That was all the Collegium needed—bad weather even before they could begin to organize the rebuilding.

By the time he had decided he'd had more than enough exercise in the past few days, didn't need a run, especially over sleet or icy walks, and washed, shaved, and dressed, the hail-like sleet had stopped, leaving a thin blanket of white on the ground and grass, and the stone roads and walks wet, but not icy. He walked down the staircase to the main floor, where already Akoryt stood in the entry hall foyer, although it was barely sixth glass.

“The first students should be here in a few moments. Some are already nearing the walk. You could eat in the study…”

“I can eat with the students.” Alastar grinned. “It might keep them quieter than usual.”

“It might. For some.”

“It will be fine.”

Akoryt nodded, if dubiously.

Alastar smiled in return and made his way to the dining room, where he sat down at the head of the table and was immediately served by a second whose face he recognized, but whose name he could not recall. On his platter were cheesed scrambled eggs and ham strips, plus a small loaf of bread. A large mug of tea followed.

As he began to eat, two seconds entered the dining room. Recognizing one of the seconds as he took a place near the end of the table, Alastar asked, “How is your arm, Dylert?”

Dylert looked up, clearly surprised, then replied, “It's much better, sir. There's only a light dressing. That's just because the new skin is tender, Maitre Gaellen says.”

Alastar smiled. “And you haven't been doing any more imaging in the bushes?”

“No, sir.”

The student imagers who next seated themselves at the table were Arion and Taurek. Alastar definitely hadn't expected to see the two together.

Nor had either expected to see Alastar, because both were silent for an instant before Arion said, “Good morning, Maitre. Thank you for hosting us.”

“Yes, sir,” added Taurek.

“You're both welcome.”

Alastar continued eating, but tried to listen to the low conversation between Arion and Taurek, even though he could only catch fragments.

“… manners … good as golds … better sometimes…”

“… don't deserve the respect…”

“… not just … respect … makes life more pleasant…”

Alastar almost nodded, but caught himself.

Another secondus—Borlan—hurried in, nodding immediately to Alastar. “Maitre.”

After Alastar finished eating and downing the last drops of tea from the mug, he slipped from the table and returned to the front hall, hoping that Akoryt was still somewhere near, and saw the younger maitre standing on the porch talking to two girls. One was Linzya, but Alastar did not recognize the other, a slender sandy blonde who looked very composed. There was something about her … but he couldn't quite place it, and he was still musing when the two entered the hall foyer.

“Good morning,” he offered, “the dining room is to your left.”

“Good morning, Maitre,” replied the blonde, politely and clearly, inclining her head respectfully. “Thank you. We appreciate your sharing your house with us.”

“We really do, sir,” added Linzya.

“You're more than welcome.”

Once the two passed him, Alastar went out to the porch.

“Sir?” asked Akoryt.

“I didn't recall the blond student…”

“That was Thelia.”

At that moment, Alastar realized why the student he'd somehow never met seemed familiar, and the similarity of names chilled him.
Thank the Nameless she's not any more like her …
“The very competent daughter of Factoria Kathila?”

Akoryt nodded.

“I also noticed that Taurek came with Arion. Your doing?”

“I did ask Arion—he's a good and thoughtful sort—if he'd mind taking Taurek under his wing, so to speak, in terms of teaching him how to recognize what people aren't saying. It seems to be working, but we'll see.”