Treachery's Tools

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “I’m here to see what can be done to put down an unwise rebellion with the least fuss and loss of life.”

  “A rebellion about which I know nothing.”

  “You do know the grievances voiced by Cransyr and others.”

  “I do. I understand how they feel—or felt. I told them they could not turn back history, not without destroying the Collegium … and that seemed unlikely.” Meinyt barked a short laugh.

  “Did Cransyr say anything to that?”

  “He said that there might be ways around that…” Meinyt smiled sardonically. “When I asked him how he planned that, he said it was unlikely that even the Collegium would be able to go against the will of the rex, the Army High Command, and the High Council.”

  “Even assuming that,” Alastar mused, “it would only postpone the difficulties with the factors.”

  “Although he did not say so, I think Cransyr would have begged to differ, Maitre.”

  “You’re likely right about that. What did you say to him?”

  “That I had my doubts, just as I have doubts you will be able to resolve the matter without more bloodshed.”

  Alastar smiled coolly. “I’m only aiming at the least bloodshed possible, since there are already close to two hundred High Holder riflemen dead.” And there might even be more than that. “There is one other small detail you might be able to help with. One of my scouts noted a rider—a messenger, it would seem—rising into the grounds of the Chateau D’Council several days ago. It might mean nothing, but the rider was in livery of scarlet and black. The historian of the Collegium could find no record of such livery, but he noted that many High Holders do not have hereditary colors. He also confessed that, with something like fifteen hundred High Holders, he was far from conversant with any sizable number. I wondered if you might know.”

  “You have been watching the chateau?”

  “It would not have been prudent to do otherwise,” Alastar pointed out.

  “Then what did your scout see … yesterday? About the explosion?”

  Alastar shrugged. “Less than what I imagine all the retainers here saw. He heard an explosion. He rode closer. He saw flames. He heard guards yelling that the Council had been attacked … or words to that effect. He reported that it appeared likely that the High Councilors had been either wounded or worse. I read the accounts in Veritum this morning and decided a visit was in order. We are here.”

  “I see.”

  “And about the scarlet and black livery?”

  “The only livery that I know of that embodies scarlet and black is that of High Holder Regial—scarlet for the regial blood, and black for the disgrace. He wrote that he wanted those colors to flaunt his lineage, or something like that, I understand. He didn’t have to inform the Council, but he did.”

  Alastar felt like nodding. Another piece of the puzzle. “When was that?”

  “Years ago. Before I was on the council. Olefsyrt told me about it.” Meinyt frowned. “You’re certain about the colors?”

  “My imager was close enough to the messenger to be very sure.”

  “I can’t say I’m happy about that.” Meinyt shook his head.

  “Regial’s lands aren’t that far from Cransyr’s, I imagine. They’re both in Montagne.”

  “You are sure about the colors and the messenger.”

  “The scout was one of my best.”

  “I don’t imagine you have many that aren’t,” said Meinyt wryly. “I’m certain you’ve thought about the possibilities, then.”

  “Only in the last few moments, when you informed me of Regial’s colors. The attack on the Chateau D’Rex…”

  “What else?” asked Meinyt.

  “Two imagers also left the Collegium in haste after they heard about what happened here. They’ve never met High Holder Regial, or even been anywhere near him.” Alastar didn’t want to lie outright. “But the timing disturbs me.”

  “It would disturb me, too, in your position. As I recall, a renegade imager caused the Collegium considerable difficulty when you first became Maitre. To have that happen again…”

  “Exactly,” agreed Alastar.

  A knock on the parlor door was followed immediately by a retainer in green and gray easing the door open and saying, “High Holder Meinyt, Maitre Alastar … Maitre Cyran and Factorius Elthyrd have arrived.”

  Meinyt looked to Alastar. “Your doing?”

  “I admit to it. You both have your positions because your predecessors were killed. In the case of Elthyrd, definitely by a High Holder. In the case of the High Council, the killer or killers remain to be found and identified.”

  “I doubt that any proof will ever be found identifying whoever it was.” Meinyt looked openly at Alastar. “It’s been like that before, I understand.” He rose and turned toward the retainer. “Have them join us.”

  Alastar stood.

  The door opened wide, and Cyran stepped inside, gesturing for Elthyrd to enter, and then closing the door and joining the other three.

  Elthyrd looked from Meinyt to Alastar. “Why did you insist on my being here?”

  “Because I wanted both of you together,” Alastar replied. “As soon as possible. You’re both very practical, and you both see that times are changing in Solidar, even if you, Elthyrd, think the changes are too slow, and you, Meinyt, worry that they are coming too swiftly for most High Holders.”

  “You do have a way with phrases.” Elthyrd’s words were tart.

  “I also would like us to share knowledge and information in order to keep the coming bloodshed to a minimum.”

  “Coming bloodshed?” Elthyrd glanced in the direction of the burned-out receiving study. “Hasn’t there been enough?”

  “There may have been,” replied Alastar, “but it’s less than what’s about to happen.…” He went on to explain about Commander Aestyn, the extra two thousand heavy rifles, and more than two thousand armed troopers, with the rebel units most likely consolidating forces and then heading back to L’Excelsis. “And to add to that, there’s a possibility that two imagers might have thrown in with the rebels, if for reasons that are anything but clear. I say they might have, but they might not have. Right now, we don’t know, and it’s better to assume the worst.”

  “Two imagers … that doesn’t sound that bad,” offered Elthyrd dryly.

  “The presence of one renegade imager thirteen years ago resulted in the death of almost a regiment of largely innocent troopers, the fracturing of the regial family, and the death of most of the Army High Command,” replied Alastar in an even drier tone. “That’s an example of why imager justice is far more stringent than that of the rex or High Holders.” He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d erred on the side of being too lenient with Bettaur years before. But you can’t undo what’s done … and besides, you don’t know why he left or what he’s doing.

  “How strong are the two imagers?” asked Elthyrd.

  “A junior maitre and a third,” replied Alastar. “Now that over three hundred men with heavy rifles manufactured by Vaschet have attacked both Imagisle and the Chateau D’Rex, I trust the Factors’ Council will drop the idea of bringing me in front of a justice for borrowing Vaschet’s account ledgers.”

  “We haven’t discussed the matter. Not formally.”

  “It might be best not to discuss it. I’d rather not be forced to bring Vaschet before a justicer for aiding and abetting revolt and treason, and I’m certain he’d prefer that.”

  “He might. He won’t be happy.”

  “He’ll be a lot less happy if all the details come to light in a justicing hearing.”

  “I thought you might say something like that, Maitre.”

  “It might also be best if he disclosed which High Holder or Holders provided him with prisoners for his ironworks.”

  Meinyt half-opened his mouth and then closed it before speaking. “Is that true?”

  “He had fortified walls and prisoners, and the prisoners did not come from the Civ
ic Patrol, which means…”

  Meinyt and Elthyrd exchanged glances.

  “I have another unpleasant task,” announced Alastar. “I suggest that you two discuss how you intend to work out a means whereby High Holders will pay their debts, both to factors and to banques, and how factors will refrain from destroying High Holdings by excessive charges for grain and other crops.”

  “You’re not offering a choice, are you?” asked Meinyt.

  “No. I don’t expect you to come up with an immediate solution. I do expect an agreement to work out that solution. Cyran will escort Elthyrd back to his factorage when that agreement is reached.”

  “Might we ask your task?” inquired Meinyt.

  “I need to confront Rex Lorien about certain matters, before the details slip his mind.” Alastar smiled at Meinyt and then Elthyrd. “Good day.” He turned and walked out of the parlor, then out of the chateau toward his mount and his escorts.

  Less than two quints later, the three were riding up the entry lane to the Chateau D’Rex, toward the main entry, now guarded by a squad of troopers.

  The squad leader looked at Alastar, almost helplessly. “Sir…”

  “I know. You’re not supposed to allow anyone inside without permission or something like that. I’m Maitre Alastar. Chateau Guard Captain Churwyl knows who I am. So do Rex Lorien and Lady Chelia.”

  At that moment, Churwyl hurried down the white stone steps. “That’s Maitre Alastar. He’s always welcome here.” The guard captain looked to Alastar. “I had a feeling you might be here today, Maitre.”

  Alastar looked to the army squad leader. “Maitre Taurek will remain here with your men and our mounts. Maitre Seliora will accompany me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Alastar turned to Churwyl. “We’re here to see Rex Lorien.”

  “I’ll escort you.” The guard captain offered a sympathetic smile.

  Alastar dismounted, as did Seliora, slightly awkwardly, reminding Alastar that she had not ridden that much. He just hoped she wasn’t too sore on Samedi, but he also had the feeling that a number of the maitres might be riding more than they usually did over the coming weeks.

  “Might I ask why you need me?” asked Seliora softly as the two walked up the steps behind Churwyl.

  “I may need you to fetch someone, and you may need shields to require their presence. Also, you’re said to be perceptive, and I definitely need another pair of perceptive eyes. It should go without saying that you’re to maintain shields at all times in the chateau.”

  Seliora nodded.

  As they made their way through the main entrance and foyer, then up the grand staircase, Alastar was reminded again of just how tall the blond maitre was. He also wondered about her parentage, although the Collegium records only showed that she had been a foundling raised by a Pharsi couple in Mantes.

  The chateau guard posted outside Lorien’s private study stiffened as he saw the group approaching.

  “Both of you?” asked Churwyl.

  “Just me for the moment. Maitre Seliora will wait here in the north corridor until she’s needed.”

  “Maitre Alastar,” announced the guard captain, opening the door.

  Alastar stepped inside the study, amused at how quickly the door was closed behind him.

  Lorien looked up from the goldenwood desk. He did not stand.

  Alastar took the middle chair across from the rex, but did not speak as he seated himself.

  “So you finally decided to explain matters. I am rex, you know?” Lorien’s jaw trembled, most likely a sigh of suppressed rage, Alastar thought.

  “Explanations go two ways, Lorien,” replied Alastar. “Let’s start with your telling me which High Holders were informing you of matters like the death of Paellyt’s son, well before I found out … or the fact that the Collegium was having trouble stopping the shooting of innocent student imagers … or my difficulties with Factor Vaschet…”

  Lorien did not answer, but looked toward the window.

  Alastar waited.

  After what seemed a quint, but was perhaps a tenth of that, Lorien looked back at Alastar. “No one informed me directly. Chelia got messages. Not too often, except in the last few weeks. She doesn’t know from whom.”

  “But she suspects who the sender might be.”

  “You’d have to talk to her.” Lorien tightened his lips and jaw.

  Alastar stood up again and walked to the study door and opened it. “Seliora, please find Lady Chelia and bring her here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Alastar left the door ajar and walked back to the goldenwood desk. He did not sit, but stood with his back to the window so that he could watch Lorien and the study door. “What else haven’t you been telling me, besides the fact that you knew very well that Hehnsyn was Cransyr’s son and that he had deliberately ordered those extra thousand rifles?”

  “Am I supposed to tell you everything?”

  “I generally don’t care to hear what you had for breakfast. I do think I should hear when you decide to do a favor for the head of the High Council, especially since he’s been plotting with other High Holders to replace you with someone else as rex.”

  “That wasn’t obvious at the time.” Lorien’s voice was sulky.

  “No, it wasn’t,” agreed Alastar, “but it was obvious even then that Cransyr had anything but your best interests in mind, and when his son does something suspicious … You should at least have allowed Wilkorn to shift his duties.”

  “Given him a battalion, perhaps? To lead against me?”

  “He took a battalion anyway,” Alastar pointed out, “but it would have reduced the number of heavy rifles in the hands of High Holder private armies.” He looked up as the door opened, and Chelia entered the study, followed by Seliora. Two very different blondes.

  “You requested my presence, Maitre Alastar?”

  “I did.” Alastar saw Seliora turning to leave the study and said gently, “Maitre Seliora … it would be best if you remained.”

  “Not exactly an impartial witness,” sneered Lorien.

  “Rather a perceptive observer,” countered Alastar.

  The sneer vanished from Lorien’s face, as if Alastar’s words had unsettled him, but, after a moment, he said, “You’re acting like you’re the rex. Again.”

  “That happens when you don’t.” Alastar could see Chelia stiffen ever so slightly and turned more toward her. “Chelia, Lorien has indicated you received messages about the death of Paellyt’s son and about the shootings of student imagers.”

  “I did.”

  “Why didn’t you let me know?”

  “Whoever wrote the notes said that it would be best if I didn’t … that Charyn, Bhayrn, or Aloryana could just as easily be shot as a student imager … more easily, in fact. The writer said that what he was disclosing was information already known to the Collegium, but not known to the rex.”

  “Suggesting without saying so that I was not to be trusted in informing Lorien and not-so-subtly encouraging him not to share information with me.”

  “I never suggested that.”

  “You didn’t have to. All you had to do was show the notes to your husband.”

  “What was I supposed to do?” snapped Chelia. “If you couldn’t protect your own imagers, how could I count on you to protect my children?”

  “You couldn’t. That was exactly what the writer wanted you to think. Who is the writer?”

  “The notes were never signed.”

  “How did you receive them?”

  “They were left in the stable in my saddlebags. I had one of the guards watch them, but they never saw anything. Never. But the messages were there.”

  Alastar nodded slowly. “That also reinforced your concerns.”

  “You would have felt the same.”

  “Now … back to my question. Who was the writer?”

  “I told you. They weren’t signed.”

  “I think you have a very good idea who the wri
ter is, even without his signature, even if his hand happened to be disguised.”

  “If you know … then why ask me?”

  “I suspect … and what I know points to only one person … but I don’t know.”

  Chelia did not speak.

  “Does he want to be chief councilor?” pressed Alastar.

  “For the sake of the Nameless, no. That would be too obvious. He’s never liked being obvious, unlike…”

  “His sire?”

  Chelia gave the faintest nod. “I’ve said nothing.”

  “No … you haven’t,” Alastar agreed. Not that it will make much difference now. “Your children will likely be as safe as you are for the present.”

  Chelia frowned.

  “There’s a rebel army that will soon be headed toward L’Excelsis. I wouldn’t be surprised if High Holder Regial happened to be the titular commander.”

  Lorien gaped, if but for an instant. “He wouldn’t dare.”

  “You think not? The day before the receiving study at the Chateau D’Council holding some of the High Holder conspirators exploded, a messenger in scarlet and black livery either delivered to or received a message from the High Council, if not both. I doubt it was coincidence.”

  Chelia paled. “He wouldn’t … couldn’t.”

  Alastar knew to whom she was referring. “I’m afraid he likely has, Lady Chelia.”

  “I knew he was an untrustworthy bastard, but treachery like this…”

  “He is willing to use anyone,” Alastar pointed out, “including his sister.” And both half brothers. “So is Ryentar. The two of them are a match made in the Namer’s parlor.”

  “What are you going to do?” Chelia demanded.

  “Work with Marshal Wilkorn to defend you and your husband—and L’Excelsis—from that army.” And its allies. “When that is done will be the time to reduce further the power of the High Holders.”

  “None too soon,” declared Lorien.

  “No, it’s not,” agreed Alastar. Let’s hope that it’s not too late.

  What also worried him was how much he had not seen, and the fact that the High Holder behind the rebel plot had foreseen too well what had happened thus far. Someone that bright had to know just how powerful imagers were—and planned for that as well. And Alastar had no idea what that part of his opponent’s plan was. That was another reason why he needed to meet with the marshal once he left the Chateau D’Rex. He could only hope that Wilkorn could shed some light on events, but that might prove to be a vain hope.