Treachery's Tools (39 page)

“Maybe I should deal with the East Bridge before—”

“
We
should deal with the East Bridge.” Alyna turned in the saddle. “Tiranya, Shaelyt, get the others together for a senior maitres' meeting. Akoryt's at the Bridge of Desires. We'll go to the East Bridge.”

When Alyna and Alastar were somewhat farther from Tiranya and Shaelyt, she demanded, “Now … what happened at the Chateau D'Council?”

“A cannon shell apparently exploded in Cransyr's receiving study…” Alastar gave Alyna a brief summary of what he'd heard and done.

When he finished, she said quietly, “Then there's more, much more, about to occur.”

“Lorien and his family are in danger. That's for certain. But we need to disperse the shooters on the East Bridge quickly and then meet—a short meeting. I'd thought about just taking some maitres to the Chateau D'Rex immediately, but … well … I needed to think about it, and to make sure all the senior maitres understand what's involved. But it has to be quick.”

“Lorien doesn't deserve saving.”

“No, but Solidar deserves not having a war of succession, especially given who wants to succeed him.”

“I'll grant that.” Alyna's laugh was short and acerbic. “Ryel has to be behind this.”

“I'd judge so, but we haven't seen any sign of that.”

“Would we?”

Alastar didn't bother answering the question as he reined up well back from the East Bridge.

Cyran hurried toward Alyna and Alastar as they dismounted from the gelding. Standing closer to the bridge were three other imagers, including Taurek and Khaelis, and another man that it took Alastar a moment to recognize—Julyan. “They moved in iron shields all across the end of the bridge.”

“Have they shot at anyone?”

“They've hit my shields twice. I tried to suggest that they should leave or face the consequences. I didn't want to do more until I knew how you had fared with the High Council.” The Maitre D'Esprit raised his eyebrows.

“The meeting had an explosive conclusion. Something like cannon shell hit the study where they were meeting, just after they'd concluded an agreement to marginalize the Collegium and replace Lorien. Now … let's remove these annoyances.”

“You're not going to—”

“I hope not.” Alastar walked to the end of the causeway. Immediately, he felt the impact of a bullet on his shields … and it was painful.
Get this over.
He looked to Alyna, beside him. “Fine red pepper as thick as fog.”

She nodded, and the reddish mist seethed along the line of iron at the east end of the bridge. As had been the case on the western bridges, a minority of the shooters behind the shields staggered back. “White-hot iron needles, hundreds of them.”

More shooters retreated.

“Not enough,” said Alyna, concentrating.

Abruptly, a narrow pillar of oil-fueled fire flared directly behind the middle of the iron wall across the east end of the bridge, and a curdling scream followed.

Alastar image-projected his voice. “The rest of you have a count of ten to leave.”

More shooters departed, but not nearly enough.

“You're not imagining more right now. I'll do it.” Alyna's voice was hard.

Given how he felt at the moment, Alastar let her image two more pillars of flame. Screams followed.

The remaining shooters sprinted away from the iron wall.

Alastar turned to Cyran. “Do you have any other maitres besides the three?”

“Julyan and Taurek … and Khaelis. He was the only other senior I could find quickly.”

“Julyan and Taurek will have to keep watch. They can use iron darts if anyone's stupid to try to attack. I'm gathering all the senior maitres for a short meeting.”

“Yes, sir.” Cyran's eyes drifted from Alastar to Alyna, and then back to the greasy black smoke still rising from where the pillars of fire had been.

Alastar walked over to Julyan, who was slender, if muscular, with copper-red hair and green eyes, unlike the broad-shouldered and burly Taurek.

“Sir?”

“Did any shots hit your shields?”

“Just two, sir.”

“Did the impacts hurt? Are you having any trouble with your shields?”

“No, sir. Well … they were like a shove, but they didn't hurt. I was more concerned about keeping the students back. Some of the riflemen were shooting everywhere.” Julyan didn't quite meet Alastar's eyes.

“Did you get him with a dart?”

“Oh, no, sir. Maitre Cyran said we weren't to hurt them. I imaged away parts of the rifles of two of them. They mostly stayed behind those big shield after that.”

Alastar refrained from grinning, although it was hard, given the twinkle in Julyan's eyes. “Good thought. Very good thought.” He motioned Taurek over to join them. “You two will need to guard the East Bridge for a time. Don't let anyone you don't know personally cross. Try not to kill anyone—unless they do something foolish and try to shoot you or anyone else.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

With a smile, Alastar turned and walked back to rejoin Alyna.

Less than a quint later, and after having had some hard bread and lager, Alastar stood at the head of the table in the conference room.

“It has been an interesting day.…” After a sardonic grin, he swiftly outlined what the High Council had planned and revealed, then concluded, “When it was clear the meeting was ending, I slipped out. I had just reached the main entry when what appeared to be a cannon shell shattered the study windows. The ensuing fire spread quickly. Under the circumstances, Belsior and I did not choose to remain, especially given what I had learned. You all know what happened here.”

“How could they not have known what an imager could do?” asked Khaelis.

“What happened was thirteen years ago,” said Alyna dryly. “What did anyone who survived actually see? There was an explosion in the Anomen D'Rex, a short battle along the west bank of the Aluse, in which thousands of rankers no factor or High Holder knew or cared about, and some senior officers and a few High Holders died. We cleaned up most of it in days. There were no lasting scars, and while the names changed, and tariffs went up, everything stayed mostly the same. It didn't help that we cleaned it up too soon.”

“None of the present High Council saw any of that,” added Alastar. “People tend to forget or minimize what they haven't seen in person. That's likely why peace only lasts so long. Now, I need a small group to accompany me to the Chateau D'Rex. Cyran, I'll need your imaging strength, and Arion, Khaelis, Shaelyt, and Taryn. That should be sufficient for now. Maitre Alyna will be in charge here until we return. It's possible some of the army might attack; it's equally possible that nothing more will happen here. Any questions?”

“Might I ask—” began Obsolym.

“Whatever it takes to keep our rightful and not-terribly-perceptive rex upon his throne,” replied Alastar.
Though the Nameless knows it's a throne he scarcely deserves.
He stood. “Anything else?”

There wasn't.

 

22

At roughly two quints after fourth glass, Alastar and his group of senior maitres rode from the Boulevard D'Rex Ryen onto the ring road … and found the stretch between them and the Chateau D'Rex deserted. Alastar glanced back, his eyes lingering briefly on the saddlebags that contained the remaining water bottle of dark lager, then to the northern stretch of the ring road before centering on the chateau.

“Full concealment and shields!” Alastar ordered, even though all of the five other maitres should have been holding shields already. “Keep the concealment far enough out, and stay close enough that you can see me.” He turned the gelding toward the lane that led up to the Chateau D'Rex.

Before he had ridden even twenty yards south on the ring road, he could see more of the iron wall-shields, similar, if not identical, to those used in the attempt to blockade Imagisle. There weren't that many more than at Imagisle, perhaps half a score at most, and they were set at intervals around the Chateau D'Rex.

That makes no sense at all.
Why were perhaps two companies, three at most, besieging the chateau?
Because they're there to keep Lorien from escaping until reinforcements arrive?

“We need to rout those shooters immediately,” Alastar declared, “before any reinforcements arrive. We'll circle behind them and attack.”

“Red pepper, sir?” asked Cyran.

“Just to get them more out in the open. Then use iron darts or anything else that will kill them.”

Cyran's mouth opened. “We'll already be behind them.”

“They're attacking the ruler of Solidar. Their lives are forfeit anyway. Since it's likely they'd run off and join the other rebels, I really don't want to fight them twice. Do you? Or do you want them to sneak back to Imagisle and shoot more unsuspecting junior imagers?”

“No, sir.”

“We'll use red pepper fog to get them out from behind the shields, then iron darts,” ordered Alastar, raising his voice, “but not until we're closer. Remember, we don't want to fight them twice.”

He kept riding, studying the position of the iron shields as they neared the two lanes that led up to the chateau. “Cyran, you, Arion, and Taryn, take out the attackers around the rear of the chateau. Head up the lane to the stables. Khaelis, Shaelyt, you two join up with me. We'll take the ring road behind those in front and strike from the rear.”

As they rode nearer to the chateau, and then past the stone way that led up the gentle slope to the main entry, Alastar continued to survey the position of the attackers, spread across the lawn between the entry drive and the formal gardens that extended across the southern section of grounds encircled by the ring road. He also realized that he had not heard a single shot being fired. Just as he had observed that, several shots punctuated the comparative silence. He glanced toward the chateau, but couldn't see whoever had been the target. Then a chateau guard looked out the main entry, and more shots peppered the stonework, but the guard retreated, apparently untouched, and closed the door.

When Alastar reached the foot of the ring road, he turned the gelding through the stone posts and onto the path that split the gardens, motioning for Khaelis to move to his left and Shaelyt to his right. “When we reach the end of the gardens, we'll rein up and attack. First with a thick red pepper fog, and then with iron darts. Shaelyt … you take the two shields and the attackers on the right. Khaelis, you take the two on the left. I'll get the others.”

“Yes, sir.”

Despite the crunching of hooves on the gravel of the path, when Alastar reined up just outside the gateposts at the north end of the gardens, flanked by Shaelyt and Khaelis, none of the shooters stretched out behind the iron shields, rifles half ready, even turned, although they would have seen nothing.

“Image pepper fog,” ordered Alastar.

In moments, swathes of reddish fog filled the space behind the shields, and shooters began to stagger upright, most of them retreating away from the chateau and toward the imagers.

“Iron darts!”

As Alastar concentrated on taking out shooter after shooter, for an instant, he felt almost guilty, then shook his head. None of the shooters had felt guilty in killing innocent students, and they were now attacking the Chateau D'Rex.

“Imagers!”

“Where are they?”

“Behind us somewhere…”

Several of the attackers sprinted away from the gardens and toward the drive. Alastar's imaged iron darts brought them down, one after another. He could see several shooters behind the shields on his left lifting rifles and beginning to shoot in the direction of the imagers.

“Khaelis! Take out those shooters!”

One of the shooters firing toward the imagers collapsed, then another.

Alastar kept imaging.

In less than a quint, there were only bodies sprawled on the lawn around the iron wall-shields. Alastar doubted that even a handful of the company of snipers had survived, although he had seen one man in the dark brown uniforms dart into an alley to the west before he could react.

“Drop the concealment. Hold your shields,” Alastar commanded. His head throbbed so much he could barely keep his voice level. “Forward at a walk.” He was concerned that some of the shooters might have crept behind the iron shields on the chateau side, but there was no movement as the three advanced.

“Sir … maybe I'm missing something,” began Khaelis in a low voice, “but you went to some lengths not to kill the shooters who were attacking Imagisle…”

“And I had you kill every one that we could here?” replied Alastar. “Who were they attacking here?”

“The rex.”

“Exactly.” At the confused look on Khaelis's face, Alastar went on. “The Collegium is not part of the government of Solidar. It's barely mentioned in the Codex Legis, and largely only to allow the maitre to adopt laws for the Collegium that cannot be less strict than the laws promulgated by the rex, but may be more so. We can defend ourselves, but wholesale slaughter would not set well. Had we known that the rex was under attack, that might have been a different question. With the rex, however, there's no question. The rex is the ruler and head of state. An attack against Imagisle constitutes assault, murder, and various other offenses. An attack against the rex is treason and rebellion, and any response to those is largely justified.” Alastar was overstating the situation somewhat, but he doubted that anyone, least of all Lorien, was going to call him on the finer points. “Since they have committed rebellion, we no longer have to be so circumspect.”

When the three imagers reached the paved area at the bottom of the steps up to the main entry, a voice called from above.