Treachery's Tools

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Heisyt didn’t know of any.”

  “I’d wager that our High Holder rebels don’t like the news that Veritum has been reporting.” If that were the case, it wouldn’t have surprised Alastar. “And it’s likely the attempted raid on Imagisle was also to keep us busy.”

  “I’d thought that myself,” said Cyran.

  “What else?”

  “At some time around ninth glass last night, more of the shooters in brown uniforms attacked Factor Naathyn’s factorage and coach works. They killed Naathyn and his wife and three of their children. Then they burned everything.”

  “How does Heisyt know it was the brown-shirts?” asked Alyna.

  “Some of the servants and an apprentice escaped. Heisyt’s certain that it’s because the Civic Patrol hasn’t been able to find Naathyn’s oldest. He’s the one who slit Paellyt’s son’s throat.”

  “Did they find him last night?”

  Cyran shook his head. “None of the servants has seen him since the night Paellyt’s son used a coach to run down Naathyn’s next-to-eldest son.”

  Alastar frowned. If we’d only removed all of the shooters who attacked Imagisle. But he hadn’t expected them to act so boldly against others, such as Factor Naathyn, or even against Imagisle. But that you should have expected. “How many men were there?”

  “The servants didn’t know, except it was a lot. They burst into the house and shot everyone in the bedrooms, Naathyn, his wife, and the rest of the children. Two boys. One of them was only seven. Three daughters, too.”

  “Were there any threats?” Alastar felt like he was repeating himself.

  “Heisyt didn’t know of any.” Cyran paused. “He told me that there are broadsheets being posted by High Holder Paellyt. They say that he will pay two hundred golds, no questions asked, for anyone who turns young Naathyn over to him … or to the Civic Patrol. The broadsheets also promise that Paellyt will insist on a fair hearing before the High Justicer.”

  “That’s very interesting,” said Alastar.

  “Interesting?” Cyran’s eyebrows lifted. “The young man wouldn’t live to see the hearing.”

  “You think the Civic Patrol is that corrupt?” asked Alyna.

  Before Cyran could answer, there was a knock on the door, and Dareyn announced, “Maitre Akoryt.”

  “Have him come in.”

  As soon as Akoryt closed the door, he asked, “You all know about the fires?”

  Alastar nodded. “They were both set by the brown-shirts, according to the Civic Patrol, and they killed a watchman at Veritum and all of Naathyn’s family except for the son they wanted. That’s all we’ve discussed. Cyran was telling us about Paellyt’s handbills. Did you hear about those?”

  “Yes, sir. They’re everywhere.”

  Alastar gestured to the chairs. “We might as well sit down. Do either of you think Paellyt really wants young Naathyn alive?”

  “I think Paellyt would rather have him in the Civic Patrol gaol,” replied the Senior Imager. “Otherwise he’d have to make sure he stayed alive.”

  “Where, if something befell him in gaol, Paellyt could blame it all on the Civic Patrol,” said Alastar.

  “Two hundred golds? That’s a great temptation,” Akoryt pointed out.

  Except for someone very wealthy, with other objectives, reflected Alastar, but all he said was, “It is indeed. We’ll have to see if anyone is tempted.”

  “You don’t think someone will turn him in?” asked Akoryt.

  “I think many people would like to in order to get those golds, but that’s not the question. The question is whether the person sheltering him is going to be tempted.”

  “Or would trust Paellyt to pay,” added Alyna dryly. “Paellyt may not have two hundred golds to spare.”

  That brought another thought to Alastar’s mind. “What if someone else put up the golds? Knowing that the factors might not want to give him up?”

  “Another way to stir up more High Holders against the factors and the rex?” suggested Alyna.

  “The thought had crossed my mind. Printing up all those handbills wasn’t without a cost, either.”

  “When were they printed?” Alyna asked.

  “Heisyt said they started seeing them yesterday,” replied Cyran.

  “Before the attack at Naathyn’s,” said Alastar. “That’s also interesting. It could be that the handbills were posted to divert attention from Paellyt … or to provide an alibi of sorts so that he could claim that he had nothing to do with the attack and that he just wanted justice for the death of his son.”

  “Or,” suggested Alyna, “the attack was carried out to make the point that mere justice was insufficient to remedy the loss to the High Holders … that a single dead High Holder youngblood was worth the lives of the entire family of the factor whose son revenged the death of his brother.”

  “By the time we sort that out,” said Alastar dryly, “the whole rebellion may be over, one way or another.” He looked to Cyran, then Akoryt. “Have Alamara and Tyndaal had any more problems?”

  “They’ve both added more guards outside,” replied Cyran.

  “All that will do is keep problems from happening near their gaming,” observed Alastar, “not that you could expect more from them. They’re interested in business, and they cater to money, not either High Holder or factor youngbloods exclusively. Is there anything else you’ve discovered … about the fires or that bears on the rebellion?”

  “Vaschet has closed the gates at his ironworks,” said Akoryt. “He’ll only receive ore or send out iron by water.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “The word is that he’s furious the Factors’ Council won’t support him against you, Maitre. He’s also working the rifle factorage twenty glasses a day.”

  “Those rifles aren’t going to the army or other factors, I’d wager,” said Cyran. “You think we should sink some of his barges headed downriver? That’s where the rebels are.”

  “I don’t much care for Vaschet, but we’re likely to be facing the rebels before Vaschet can make that many more rifles, and another action against him really won’t set well with the factors.”

  “Do the factors matter that much, sir?” asked Akoryt.

  “They don’t. Elthyrd does. He’s backed the Collegium. If we undercut him, we may be back to dealing with another hothead like Hulet. If the rebellion drags out … then we’ll have to reconsider. The question is what we need to do next … and the supplies we’ll need to do it.”

  At the mention of supplies, Akoryt looked puzzled.

  “If we have a rebel army marching toward L’Excelsis,” replied Alastar, “it might be a good idea to stop them before they get in cannon range of the Chateau D’Rex or Imagisle. That means we’ll need to have enough horses and supplies to accompany Wilkorn’s battalions when they leave in a few days. We also need to discuss how many imagers should comprise our force and who exactly those imagers should be.”

  “Are you thinking about sending all the senior maitres?” asked Cyran.

  “A goodly number, but not all. I was thinking you and I would definitely go, and Maitre Alyna and Maitre Gaellen would definitely stay. We need to talk about the others.”

  “If I’m staying on Imagisle,” declared Alyna, “then out of Tiranya, Seliora, and Celiena, two of the three should go.”

  “Which two would you suggest?” asked Alastar.

  “Tiranya and Seliora—they have the strongest shields and the most experience.”

  “I should go,” declared Akoryt.

  “Also,” Alastar said, turning to Cyran, “Alyna will need to show you how to image some special bullets. She’s already been imaging some.”

  A frown creased Cyran’s forehead.

  “She’ll explain later. It’s a possible way of making the rebel leaders pay in the same way we have. It may also offset some of the numerical advantage that the rebels have.”

  In the end, the four decided that the twelve imagers who would
accompany Alastar in support of Wilkorn’s forces would be Cyran, Akoryt, and all the other senior maitres except Gaellen, Obsolym, and Shaelyt, Shaelyt being excepted because Tiranya was going and they had a five-year-old son. From the junior maitres, they decided on Belsior, Chervyt, Dylert, Julyan, Seliora, and Taurek. After that, Alastar divided the imagers into two groups, one under Cyran, and the other under Akoryt, although Alastar knew he’d likely be in command of that group most of the time.

  Then came two quints of discussion about supplies, and additions to the early list that Alastar had given Thelia.

  When Cyran and Akoryt had left, Alyna turned to Alastar. “I could do as much as Cyran could.”

  “You can do more,” replied Alastar. “But the Collegium will need a strong maitre if we fail or even if we succeed and don’t survive. Cyran isn’t that strong in standing up for the Collegium, and we both know it. If I send others out and don’t accompany them, then I’ll be faulted for not having used the full strength of the Collegium … and … there are Lystara and Malyna.”

  “At least you put them as the last reason.”

  “Do you disagree?”

  Alyna sighed. “I don’t. It’s necessary. I understand that. But I don’t have to like it. I’d feel better going and leaving you here.” She shook her head. “We both know that wouldn’t work.”

  “Would you suggest I do something differently?”

  “Just make sure Cyran shares every risk that you do. You’ve protected him from his shortcomings for years. If necessary, let him make the sacrifices.”

  “One way or another that won’t be—”

  “Alastar!” Alyna glared. “Would you please listen to me? Don’t dismiss my concerns. The Collegium can do without Cyran. If you won’t save yourself for the good of the Collegium, just think of what my life would be like both missing you and having to deal with Cyran as Maitre … and just how much sadness your daughter would feel.”

  Alastar was silent for several moments. While he had no doubts that Alyna was strong-willed, even he was surprised, not so much by the words themselves, but by the vehemence behind them.

  “Now … do you understand, dear one?” Alyna said gently as the silence dragged out.

  Alastar did.

  28

  Solayi morning was quiet, and there were no messages from the duty maitre, for which Alastar was most grateful. He and Alyna did enjoy breakfast later than usual, and took a leisurely walk around Imagisle with the girls—still with full shields—and he finally was feeling that he could again carry them without strain.

  Later, he spent time in their personal study, considering and refining the details of the plan for the imager force to accompany the army … including trying to consider as many possible contingencies as he could, while Alyna went to visit Linzya.

  That time was to be not entirely quiet, as he discovered when he heard raised voices from the parlor. Rather than just burst in, he raised a concealment and tiptoed out of the study and across the hall where he peered into the parlor. There, Malyna and Lystara sat across the folding plaques table they had set up.

  “You can’t play an imager when you still have blues in your hand,” insisted Malyna. “You have to play a blue or another chorister.”

  “You can play imagers anytime,” replied Lystara testily.

  “You cannot.”

  “You can, too.”

  Malyna folded her plaques and set them facedown on the worn but time-polished goldenwood. “I’ll play with you when you want to play by the rules.”

  “You imaged that chorister,” declared Lystara.

  “I did not.”

  At that point, Alastar dropped the concealment. “Lystara, you’re accusing Malyna of cheating by imaging.”

  “She did.”

  “Turn all the plaques face up. Now.”

  At the chill in Alastar’s voice, both girls turned their plaques up.

  “Spread the discard pile.” When they had done so, Alastar asked, “Are there two blue choristers?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Malyna, count the plaques aloud and slowly.

  “Yes, sir. One, two, three…” The last plaque she counted was number fifty … as it should have been.

  “Now … there are no extra cards, and every suit has ten plaques. Is that correct?”

  Both girls nodded.

  “Watch.” Alastar concentrated.

  Three more chorister plaques all appeared—all blues. A moment later, one was red, another black.

  “Pick up the new choristers, and handle each of them, both of you.” Alastar waited, then asked, “Do they feel any different?”

  Malyna shook her head, and then Lystara did.

  “Why did I stop your game, and why did I do what I did?”

  Lystara frowned.

  After a moment, Malyna spoke. “You showed us how easy it would be for an imager to cheat at plaques.”

  “It’s not quite that easy, but a good imager could keep track of what plaques have been played and what have not, and in some cases, change the plaques in his hand in order to win. But that is cheating, and there is always the risk of duplicating a plaque in someone else’s hand. Besides being unfair, why is playing plaques for any stakes—gambling—absolutely forbidden to imagers?”

  “Because people would think an imager was cheating even if he wasn’t?” asked Malyna.

  “Wasn’t that what you did, Lystara?” asked Alastar.

  “Yes, sir.” Lystara’s voice was resigned, just short of being sullen.

  “How many young men have been killed in the last month because someone thought they were cheating.”

  “Five?” questioned Lystara.

  “Between three and five, depending on whether you count the retaliation as caused by the charge of cheating.” Alastar was guessing on the exact number, but felt he was close enough. “Now what would be the reaction if imagers were doing it?”

  “It wouldn’t be very good,” admitted Lystara.

  “Now … you can play plaques, if you play by the rules, or you can go to your rooms and read. It’s up to you. If you don’t want to play plaques, you need to put away the table and chairs.”

  “I’ll be good,” said Lystara.

  “Promise?” asked Malyna.

  “I promise.”

  Alastar managed not to sigh and eased back to the study. He hadn’t wanted to mention that there was an imager party game that involved seeing who could image and re-image plaques while match-wager was played. Any player could strike a bell—and if the plaques didn’t match up, the bell-ringer won points, but if they did, every other player received a point. It had been popular at Westisle. Alastar hadn’t seen it played at Imagisle, but he suspected something like it had probably developed.

  Less than a glass later, Alyna returned.

  “I see the girls are still playing plaques.”

  “They are now. Lystara accused Malyna of cheating by imaging. We had a lesson. I hope it took. They had a choice of reading in their rooms or playing nicely.”

  “I’m sure the lesson took. You have a way of doing that.”

  Alastar had his doubts about that. If his lessons took so well, he wouldn’t have had to give them so often. Except most young people need repetition … and more repetition. “How is Linzya doing?”

  “As well as you might expect. She doesn’t understand why he left without a word to her, but she can’t believe that he’s part of the High Holder rebellion.”

  “What else could it be? We’ve gone over the possibilities. Nothing else makes sense.”

  “It doesn’t seem to, but sometimes what makes sense is how things turn out, and sometimes, if far fewer times, what seems to make sense is totally wrong.”

  “You’re withholding judgment?”

  “I suspect you’re right, but I’m leaving open the possibility that Bettaur might not be as bad as we think.”

  “I’d like to think so, but in even the best case, he’s going off on his own, a
nd that’s not exactly encouraging.”

  “You’ve often gone off on your own, dearest.”

  “But not without telling you,” Alastar replied before quickly adding, “Not since we’ve been married.”

  “You were older when we married, and so was I.”

  Older, but not necessarily wiser. “That’s true, and there’s little we can do. Bettaur could be anywhere.”

  Before Alyna could reply, there was a knock on the door. “Mother … you promised you’d play plaques with us when you returned.”

  Alyna looked to Alastar and murmured. “Four-hand?”

  He nodded.

  “Your father and I will both play.”

  “Good!”

  Alastar couldn’t help smiling.

  After a glass or so of playing plaques, followed by dinner, it was time for the evening services at the anomen.

  As the four left the house, Lystara said, “I wish we didn’t have to go to services on Solayi. They’re so long.”

  “They’re very short here,” said Alastar. As he saw Malyna nod, he asked, “How long are they in Rivages?”

  “Much, much longer. Chorister Aumyn never stops talking.”

  Lystara looked at Malyna, almost unbelievingly, before saying, “Doesn’t everyone fall asleep?”

  “We couldn’t,” replied Malyna. “Father would ask us about the homily when we got home.”

  “Maybe we should do that here,” said Alastar, managing to keep the smile out of his words.

  “Father…”

  “That actually sounds like a very good idea,” added Alyna.

  Lystara shot a glare at Malyna, then began to walk faster, as if to leave the older girl behind. Malyna continued at the same pace. After a hundred yards, Lystara stopped and waited for her parents and Malyna to catch up.

  When they did, Alyna looked hard at Lystara and said one word. “Enough.”

  Lystara seemed to shrink. “I’m sorry, Mother.”

  “Your apology is accepted. I expect no more displays like that.”

  “Yes, Mother … Father.”

  Alastar kept the nod and amusement he felt to himself. He never wanted to receive one of those looks from Alyna.