“Seliora?”
“She and Diestrya have been staying in one of the empty rooms here. You can see her after Maitre Dyana.”
Draffyd hadn’t been gone more than a tenth of a glass before Maitre Dyana walked in—without one of her colored scarves.
She looked tired, but her words were as crisp and cutting as ever. “Some finesse would have made it easier on you, Rhenn, not that finesse comes that easily in the middle of the night when someone is dropping shells on you and your family.”
I just looked at her. “The shields and the finesse were the easy part. Imaging those shells back to their firing points was what hurt.”
For the only time in the seven years I’d known her, Maitre Dyana didn’t seem to have words. She studied me. Finally, she said, “From all the ice on the river, I wondered about that. How did you manage it?”
“I don’t know what happened, but, yes, I imaged some shells, two, I think, back to their starting point.”
“You never saw them.”
“I can do that. I’ve always been able to. I’ve done it with bullets before. I never tried it with anything that big. Just ask Draffyd or…What happened to Master Dichartyn?”
“Unlike you or me, he had no warning. The first shells hit his dwelling, and then Maitre Poincaryt’s. Dichartyn still managed to shield Aelys and the children.”
Dichartyn? Dead? How…? I swallowed. “Maitre Poincaryt?” I paused. “Then, you’re the Maitre of the Collegium?”
“Apparently, you should be. No one else can image ten-stone shells back a half mille and explode a floating battery. That’s the sort of thing that only Maitre D’Images can do, and not all of them.” The tired irony vanished from her voice “No one could figure out why the barges that held the bombards would suddenly explode after a handful of rounds. There was enough powder and shells to reduce the entire Collegium to rubble.”
“I was angry,” I admitted. “I really didn’t think.”
“It wasn’t the best for you that you reacted, but it doubtless saved most of the Collegium…Maitre.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know enough. I don’t even know enough to handle what Master Dichartyn did. Let them think you did it. You’ll need that leverage anyway.”
Dyana actually smiled, if but for a moment. “You won’t escape that destiny, Rhenn. You might be able to postpone it…but not escape it.” Her eyes took in my arms and chest. “It’s still a wonder you’re alive.”
“If any other masters need to know, tell them that it took both of us…or better yet, imply that without saying it.”
“You’ll still have to become a Maitre D’Esprit.”
“Can’t Schorzat take on…”
“No. He knows it. Dichartyn and he already discussed it. His shields won’t take the kind of beating yours can. Frankly, I’m not certain anyone else’s can.”
“Were they using the stolen bombards?”
“We think so. We really don’t have the time or the resources to dredge the Aluse to find out. They were set up on barges.”
I couldn’t help but wonder if the heavier barges I’d seen in the past weeks had carried the bombards upriver. There really wasn’t any point in saying anything about that. What was done was done, and the Collegium—or the river force of the Civic Patrol—couldn’t have checked every barge on the river for weeks on end.
“What else happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“It was all part of a plan, wasn’t it? The stronger elveweed, the Ferran or Stakanaran funding of explosions and violence. I’d guess that the Ferrans have invaded Jariola by now…”
“Is this a guess on your part? Did you—”
“I told Master Dichartyn that was what I thought. We’ve lost two good captains in the Civic Patrol, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the subcommander weren’t involved as well, not that I could prove anything. Oh…and if you haven’t already, you might check with a Sea-Marshal Geuffryt. He has some knowledge about payments to Caartyl and Cydarth. Master Dichartyn probably told Maitre Poincaryt about all that, but I left it to them to tell you, and since I only told some of it to Dichartyn on Samedi morning….” I left the sentence uncompleted, feeling slightly tired just from speaking.
“For someone who almost died, you’re sounding suspiciously like Dichartyn. And, no, they didn’t get around to telling me all of that. What else is there?”
“Did Ferrum invade—” I had to know that.
“Yes…we just got word this morning. It doesn’t look good for the Jariolans.”
“The Council…what have they done?”
“Suyrien announced, on behalf of the Council, that the Northern Fleet would blockade all Ferran ports until the Ferran forces returned to their own territory and would regard any attempt to break the blockade as hostile action against Solidar. The Council also declared that the attack on Imagisle was an act of war.” Her voice turned wry. “They didn’t name who committed the act.”
“So we’re not technically at war?”
“Not yet. We may never be. The Council hates to do that because it gives more power to the Chief Councilor.”
“What about Otelyrn?”
She gave me a sidelong look, then said, “The Stakanarans have invaded the southernmost province of Tiempre, where the gold and diamond mines are. The Tiemprans are appealing for aid. They likely won’t get it…”
“Is Suyrien all right?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because he and Artois are obvious targets. I don’t know more than that.”
“There’s one other thing. You remember Johanyr?”
“Of course.” How could I have forgotten?
“He disappeared from Mont D’Glace. Several weeks ago.”
“You’d better let his sister know.” I had the feeling that his disappearance just might be linked to Iryela’s missing golds, even if I had no way to explain it.
“I already have.”
There were other things I should have asked, but I was getting tired and sleepy, despite wanting to know more…and even with all the aches and sorenesses.
Dyana stepped back. “Thank you. All that will be of great assistance.”
As soon as she left, Seliora and Diestrya were in the gray-walled chamber.
Seliora set Diestrya next to the bed, then bent over and kissed my cheek. The closeness of her, despite how everything hurt, felt so reassuring. Tears were seeping from her eyes. “I wasn’t certain…no one was sure…”
“I’ll be all right.” Now…or at least in time.
“Dada!”
“Your father hurts all over, sweetheart. Don’t touch him.”
“You’re all right?” I managed.
“We’re both fine.” She paused.
“What?”
“There have been fires and explosions all over the city.”
I nodded, if only slightly. “…not surprised…”
“Your parents are all right. So is my family, and they all know we’re safe. I sent courier messages saying you were recovering from working hard after the explosions on Imagisle.”
“Good…wouldn’t want them…to worry.”
“They had the memorial services for Maitre Dichartyn and Maitre Poincaryt and Madame Poincaryt last night.”
“I…would have…should have…been there…”
“Isola spoke so well. You would have liked what she and Maitre Dyana said.”
“…Always…speaks…well…” I was having trouble keeping my eyes open.
Seliora took my hand and held it while the hazy blackness crept up over me.
27
When I finally walked slowly out of the infirmary on Jeudi morning, gray smoke hung over all of L’Excelsis, and that was four days after the attacks. I was headed toward the administration building, thankfully only fifty yards away, to meet with Maitre Dyana before she convened the remaining senior imagers of the Collegium.
Just before I’d dressed, Seliora had told me that the imag
ers who specialized in construction had already begun repairs to our house. Apparently, ours was the only one that was merely damaged. Those of Maitre Poincaryt, Maitre Dyana, and Maitre Dichartyn had been totally destroyed, and no other dwelling had been touched, with the exception of the Collegium’s boat house on the east side of the river, which had also been destroyed. That bothered me, and it took me a while to realize why. Whoever had used the bombards had been very skilled, had great experience, and had clearly measured the distances from where the barges had been anchored—they had to have been anchored—to the masters’ dwellings. That required a very professional gun crew, and that meant Naval experience and careful advance planning.
I’d allowed a little extra time because I knew I wouldn’t be moving that quickly, and the outer anteroom was empty, except for Gherard, who was sitting at the desk. Both the door to the conference room, to the right, and the door to the Maitre’s study were open.
I nodded to Gherard.
“Good morning, Maitre,” he replied.
“I hope you’re holding up,” I said.
“Yes, sir.”
I stepped through the open doorway into the study, closed the door behind me, walked to the middle chair of the three facing the desk and eased into it. “Good morning, Maitre.”
Maitre Dyana was seated behind the desk in the study that had been Maitre Poincaryt’s for the entire time I’d been an imager—until now. I couldn’t see that much had changed in the study, but it was definitely hers, with a few small items here and there and touches of colors. Finesse had always been her emphasis. She had recovered—she was wearing a brilliant blue scarf to complement her imager grays—although I had the feeling that her iron gray hair was turning more toward white.
“Good morning, Rhenn, pleasantry though it is. I’m sorry you missed the memorial services, but at the time, no one knew how long it might be before you recovered. I’d hoped you might be able to say a few words.”
“I would have liked to. I owe them both more than I’ll ever be able to repay.”
“We never repay. We only pay for those who follow, and what you did saved others, just as what he did saved you.”
There was truth in that, but I would have liked to have acknowledged the debt publicly. Still…was that because…I almost shook my head. Master Dichartyn wouldn’t have cared about the public statements. In fact, he would have asked if I’d have wanted to speak to show my gratitude in order to prove something about myself. He would have been right, I suspected.
“You’ve been reading the newsheets, I presume?”
“I have.” What I’d read had confirmed my worst suspicions, what with explosions occurring all over Solidar, targeting grain facilities, ports and piers, and several main ironway bridges, including the one over the Aluse just north of Solis, which would delay and restrict the shipment of iron to the shipworks there. In the cities that had been receiving the stronger elveweed, riots had occurred in both taudis and non-taudis areas—with the exception of L’Excelsis, but L’Excelsis had suffered half a score of explosions. In Cloisera, the Jariolans had been pushed back fifty milles, and their coal fields were now under Ferran control. In Otelyrn, the Stakanaran army had seized a large section of western Tiempre.
“What is not in the news is that Suyrien was shot yesterday. The assassin fired a sniper’s rifle from a distance at his estate. The shooter was never observed. Suyrien may not recover, but if he does, he will not be in shape to act as head Councilor.”
“Hadn’t Suyrien just returned from visiting High Holder Ruelyr? I’d heard that Suyrien was less than pleased with something Ruelyr had done.”
“Oh?”
“I don’t know what it was, other than that Suyrien felt it wasn’t in keeping with the responsibilities of being a High Holder. I wondered, though, because Ruelyr holds the lands that include some of northern part of the Sud Swamp, and that might be an ideal location for growing the stronger elveweed.” I watched Dyana closely as I finished.
She nodded slowly. “That is useful information, of which I was unaware. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Another problem is that Caartyl is acting as head of the Executive Council in place of Suyrien. That will not last, one way or the other. Caartyl claimed the post because Glendyl had to go to Ferravyl to deal with difficulties in obtaining iron for his rolling mills.”
“How does he stand on the blockade?”
“Caartyl supports it. He and the guilds don’t like the Ferrans any more than the Jariolans. He’s said that the factors of Solidar would prefer to replace all the guild members with steam-powered factorages manned by low-paid laborers.”
There was something about that…but I couldn’t grasp it.
“The High Holders have already selected Fhernon to fill Suyrien’s Council seat,” Dyana continued. “They’re petitioning the High Judiciary to have Councilor Ramsael take Suyrien’s position as head of the Executive Council. They claim that Caartyl was not selected in a formal Council session. To complicate matters more, several factors’ associations are petitioning to have the High Holders’ petition set aside until the next formal meeting of the Council, which is not scheduled until the eighteenth of Ianus.”
That was more than a month away. “They haven’t decided to meet formally any sooner?”
“That can only be decided by either the full Council or the unanimous vote of the Executive Council.”
I should have remembered that, but it had been several years since I’d last studied the Council’s parliamentary procedures. “I can’t say I’m surprised.” My greatest concern was that matters would get worse, especially without the moderating influence exerted by Maitre Poincaryt. No matter how capable and knowledgeable Maitre Dyana was, even as Maitre of the Collegium, the fact that she was a woman would weigh against her, particularly in dealing with High Holders. She certainly had the knowledge and understanding, because she’d come from a High Holder family, and she was a powerful imager; but she might have to use far more force, or the hidden threat of it, on the Councilors. I only knew that Ramsael was Alynkya’s father and had been slightly patronizing to me years before. Fhernon had commissioned several pieces from NordEste Design and had behaved with dignity and restraint, but that didn’t really tell me much about him.
“We won’t take an official position on any of those issues, except that the Justiciary rule quickly on the law itself. You present another problem. There is no way you can return to being a Civic Patrol captain and take on the duties before you here at the Collegium.”
“You don’t have to announce that immediately. Tell Commander Artois that I’m needed here for the time being, given the destruction and deaths here, and that in the interests of the Civic Patrol, Alsoran should act in my stead. Artois already has two lieutenants doing that for dead captains. I’m nowhere close to dead.”
“Why do you suggest that?”
“To keep Cydarth from replacing Alsoran. If they think I’m coming back, and even if they don’t, it will make that harder. Alsoran looks easygoing, but he’ll do what’s right. I can make it harder for them by dropping in to see Alsoran once. It doesn’t have to be for long.”
“That seems reasonable, and it will support Artois. Just don’t trot out there until you have full shields and full control.” Dyana nodded. “Aelys has already removed all of her husband’s personal items from Dichartyn’s study in the administration building, and it is ready for your immediate use. I suggest you settle in there as soon as possible.”
“Is she staying here?”
“No. She could, but neither of the girls is an imager, and she has a sister in Extela to whom she is very close. Also, the stipend she’ll receive, while not miserly, will go much farther there. She and the girls are leaving on the ironway later today.”
I suspected Aelys would just as happy to be away from Imagisle.
“You’ll also have to take over as preceptor for those junior imagers that Dichartyn was mentorin
g. You’ve effectively been doing that with Shault, but there are four others. Only Shault isn’t a tertius.”
I frankly hadn’t thought about taking on being a preceptor, since I’d only had to assist with Shault because of the circumstances of his past. Still…that wasn’t urgent. “Did you find out anything from Sea-Marshal Geuffryt?”
“Nothing anyone can act on. Not yet.”
“Would you mind I kept in touch with him?”
“I’d appreciate it if you would.”
“You’d like me to build and maintain contacts with the various military types, then?”
“Since Dichartyn did…” She raised her eyebrows.
“He didn’t mention those contacts. He did mention his liaison with the Civic Patrol. I’d prefer to wait a few days before dealing with Artois and Cydarth, though.”
“That might be for the best.”
“I’m still concerned about Caartyl.”
“You don’t care for him, do you?”
“From what I can tell, he’s been plotting since I was with Council Chateau security. You might see if Schorzat or anyone knows anything about a factor named Alhazyr—”
She looked at me, and I realized that was my job, among other things that I really hadn’t thought through. “More along your lines, Maitre, Juniae D’Shendael has been close to Caartyl—”
“I know. I’ve already talked to her. She was actually worried about you. She was playing Caartyl as part of her effort to change Council procedures to allow women Councilors.”
“You knew her when…before.”
“Yes.” The single word closed further discussion of Madame D’Shendael. After a pause, Dyana continued. “I’ve been able to avoid specifics about how the barges were destroyed.” Her voice turned wry as she continued. “Draffyd already suspected. He merely asked if I wanted the fact that you’d done it not mentioned. I asked him how he’d come to that conclusion. His answer was rather direct. He said you’re the only one who could have. He also said that if you weren’t a Maitre D’Image already, you would be soon, assuming you took better care of yourself.” She stopped, as if waiting for a response.
Imager's Intrigue: The Third Book of the Imager Portfolio Page 23