17
Diestrya was sick enough that, on Mardi, Betara and Seliora ended up trading off taking care of her at our house. While Diestrya was better on Meredi, Seliora told me that she and her mother would take care of her the same way, so I ended up taking the duty coach straight to Civic Patrol headquarters for the captains’ meeting ordered by Commander Artois. That gave me a little more time to help Seliora before I left. I just hoped that neither Seliora nor Betara caught what ever illness Diestrya had.
Because I got to headquarters more than a quarter-glass before the meeting, I slipped into the charging section, where I’d worked briefly years before. Back then, Gulyart had been the patroller first who had headed the charging section, but he now worked upstairs under Lieutenant Sarthyn, as one of the patroller clerks who dealt with all the administrative requirements for bringing a prisoner to trial. Now the patroller who ran the charging desk was Buasytt, a graying veteran whom I’d never seen smile. He’d finished the chargings for night’s prisoners, and the day’s offenders hadn’t appeared yet, doubtless because very few offenses occurred in the morning.
“Buasytt…what was the weekend like?”
The patroller ran a large hand through his thinning short hair. “A real mad house, Captain. That didn’t even count all the dead elvers.”
“What about this week?”
“Real quiet. Can’t say as how I’ve seen it this quiet in a long time.” He laughed. “Maybe the weekend was enough. Except for the elvers. Captain Subunet says we’ve got reports of a few more last night.”
I nodded. “We’ve all seen more elver deaths.” I smiled. “Take care.”
“You, too, Captain.”
I made my way up the back steps to the second level and then along the hallway, past the doors that held the various officers’ studies, including those of Cydarth and the Commander. Only Sarthyn’s door was open, and he wasn’t there.
Jacquet and Kharles were already in the conference room, standing beside the windows that looked east. They looked up. Kharles had dark circles under his eyes.
“It looks like you’ve been fighting the Namer,” I offered wryly.
“Haven’t we all?” replied Jacquet. “Kharles just has more of his disciples in his district…although I hear things haven’t been good in Fifth District, and you’ve had fires and other problems.”
“It’s not what you’d think,” Kharles said tiredly. “We haven’t caught or charged a taudis-tough in a week. It’s all amateurs or the Duodeans or the Puryons…or what ever the Tiempran religious types call themselves.” He stopped, looking past me.
I turned. Hostyn had just stepped into the room, trailed by Lieutenant Yerkes, who was apparently the Acting Captain of Fifth District. Behind them was Subunet, followed almost immediately by Cydarth and the Commander. The fact that Artois wasn’t waiting for his captains to settle in suggested, as much as the meeting itself, that he was more than professionally concerned. Commander Artois looked thin, almost gaunt, not that he’d ever been particularly beefy or muscular, and he sat down quickly, barely waiting for all the captains to take their places at the conference table.
As soon as the last rustle died away, he spoke. “You all know the subject of the meeting. You may not know that the Council has found the growth in the number of elveweed deaths distressing. Appalling, in fact. There have been more elveweed deaths in the past four weeks than in the entire previous year. There is one anomaly in the reports.” His eyes turned to me.
So did Cydarth’s, as well. I waited.
“Deaths in all districts are up, but in one district they’re up less than half the rate in any other. Captain Rhennthyl, I’ve studied your report, and it’s rather…remarkable. In addition to a much lower death rate, you have the only district where the elveweed deaths are barely higher in the taudis areas than outside them. Would you care to explain how you obtained that remarkable achievement? Especially in such a short time?”
“Sir…it’s not because of anything I’ve done in the past few weeks. When I first became a captain, there was a tremendous elveweed problem in the taudis in Third District, and the patrollers and I made a strong and determined effort to drive the dealers out of the area. We also worked on preventing schoolchildren from being used as runners. This is something that we’ve pursued for years, and I’ve made it very clear to the taudis-dwellers where I stand on this. We certainly haven’t been able to stamp out elveweed, but we have been able to restrict it.”
“Can you be sure that you just haven’t neglected the less…well-off areas in order to patrol the taudis?” asked Cydarth, his deep voice sounding more sinister than reassuring.
“If you would like to review the patrol logs, Subcommander, I’d be most happy to make them available to you. But I’m most certain that you will find no change in the patrol patterns and times in Third District over the last several years, and very little change from the patterns established by my predecessor.”
“If he says it’s so, Cydarth,” interjected Artois, his voice tired, “it’s so.”
“Of course. Of course.”
Only Cydarth could inject so much doubt into words of agreement.
Should I let him get away with it? I decided against it, this time. “With such doubt in your voice, Subcommander, I really do think you should come out to Third District and go over the logs. I wouldn’t want you to have any misapprehensions.” I looked at Cydarth and projected total assurance.
He sat back in his chair and did not speak for a moment. Finally, he said, “It’s been a rather trying business for all of us, Captain. I did not mean to suggest…”
“Good!” snapped Artois. “The question is what the rest of you can do about the problem…”
“We don’t have Rhenn’s…special contacts…” offered Yerkes.
The acting captain’s words confirmed some of my suspicions.
“Oh?” asked Artois. “Exactly what contacts do you think he has, Lieutenant?”
“He is an imager.”
“I haven’t seen the Collegium patrolling Third District,” Artois replied coldly. “I have seen that he has made an effort to discover the taudischefs and talk to them. That is not beyond your abilities, I don’t believe. Is it?”
“I think, Commander,” added Cydarth smoothly, “that what acting Captain Yerkes means is that the taudischefs are more likely to talk to an imager.”
Artois looked to me again.
I smiled. “Like all patrol officers, I started by walking rounds. Admittedly, it was as a liaison, but I did walk rounds, and, like some good officers, such as Captain Bolyet, I have kept walking rounds and talking to the people on the rounds. I have met every taudischef in Third District by walking rounds.” Except for the two who had avoided me and were dead. “I don’t think this is impossible. Lieutenant Alsoran continues to do the same, and I suspect that there are other Civic Patrol officers who do the same. It is more work. I’d be the first to admit it, and it’s hard on feet and boots.” I looked at Cydarth, as guilelessly as I could. “The problem is, Subcommander, that if an officer hasn’t been doing it all along, then people get suspicious when he starts doing it. My talent was in listening to the patrollers who were effective on their rounds, and following their example.”
Cydarth started to speak.
“Enough,” said Artois. “We’re not going into a discussion of how captains maintain the peace.” His eyes fixed on Yerkes. “Your task, Lieutenant, is to run Fifth District effectively, based on your abilities. Others have certainly done it, and they weren’t imagers either. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
Yerkes had paled, but I suspected there was more than a little rage beneath the subservience.
Again, I looked from Artois to Cydarth, the one tense and nervous and stressed, and the other calm, almost serene, and I knew, even if I couldn’t prove it, that Cydarth was somehow linked to the problems plaguing the Commander and the Civic Patrol. The problem was that Cydarth had never c
ared for me. And he’d certainly care a great deal less for me now.
Artois looked at the captains, one by one before he spoke again. “If you have to incarcerate every drug runner in L’Excelsis for the next week, do it. We can’t keep that up for long, but it might buy us some time…while other measures are being implemented.”
We all knew that implementing the Commander’s orders wouldn’t help much. Since he usually didn’t give those kinds of orders, the pressure on him had to be considerable. From there, the meeting dwindled away into a few minor changes in procedures and then a rapid closure.
I took my time rising from the conference table, letting Yerkes and Hostyn follow the Commander and subcommander. Subunet and Kharles followed, but Jacquet lingered slightly, murmuring as he moved away from the table, “Cydarth won’t forgive you. Neither will Yerkes.”
“I know.” I smiled. “But I don’t forget, either, and I only forgive honest mistakes.”
We both knew that Cydarth forgave nothing.
18
The fourth week of Feuillyt was definitely a time for unplanned meetings, because when the duty coach picked me up at Third District station on Jeudi afternoon, Lebryn had a message requesting my presence at half-past fifth glass in Maitre Poincaryt’s study. Then, when we reached NordEste Design, I discovered that Seliora had been through a long day with Diestrya, and the card-reader on one of the jacquard looms had broken. It had taken Seliora the afternoon to rebuild it, and that had meant Betara and the twins had been stuck with a very cranky, if recovering, Diestrya.
Seliora just looked at me after she read the card signed by Master Dichartyn.
“I didn’t plan it,” I finally said.
“It would be today.”
“I’ll get home as soon as I can.”
“Don’t hurry.”
I winced. I hated that tone in her voice.
“Rhenn…” Seliora said softly, shaking her head. “I’m not upset at you. But don’t hurry. If they need to talk to you, it’s important. If you’re worried about us, you won’t be thinking about what ever it is.” She leaned toward me and kissed my cheek.
That kiss helped.
After we reached Imagisle, I did have time to cart Diestrya to the house, and that was necessary because she wanted to sit down and dawdle and otherwise show that she was three years old and had a mind of her own. Then I hurried back to the administration building.
Both Maitre Poincaryt and Dichartyn were waiting for me in the comparatively capacious second-level study of the Maitre of the Collegium Imago situated on the southwest corner. I slipped into the vacant seat in front of Master Poincaryt’s desk, beside Master Dichartyn.
“We asked you to join us, Rhenn,” began Maitre Poincaryt, “because we believe that Solidar faces one of the most potentially dangerous situations in years. There are a number of matters that lead us to that conclusion, and we would like to describe them to you, as well as hear anything from you that may bear on them.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dichartyn turned to me. “From everything we’ve been able to determine, the Ferrans should have attacked Jariola before now. They have not, and it is extremely costly to hold large forces in readiness away from their normal bases for weeks. Yet that is exactly what the Ferrans have done, and they have always been conscious of costs.”
“Furthermore,” added Maitre Poincaryt, “our sources indicate that two Ferran field commanders have been summarily relieved over the past weeks. But there have been no official disciplinary actions taken.”
I’d never thought that avoiding war was a bad idea, but both Maitre Poincaryt’s tone and the statement itself suggested more. “You think they’re waiting for something else to happen? You’re concerned that it might be something here in Solidar?”
“Actually, Rhenn,” Dichartyn said mildly, “you’re really the one who suggested it…if you recall. Have you any more information about either factors or elveweed?”
“The number of elver deaths is up, and it’s affecting more and more young people outside the taudis. Commander Artois had a meeting of all the District captains yesterday….” After I explained that, as well as mentioning, again, the death of the woman who hadn’t been an elver, they both nodded, if as acknowledging something they already knew, if not in detail.
“There have been more fires and flooding of the freeholder grain and flour storage facilities, not only around Piedryn, but across much of the southeast of Solidar,” added Dichartyn. “Another grain silo of High Holder Haebyn also caught fire and exploded.”
“Are the southeastern freeholders and High Holders turning to arms yet?” My words were sardonic, yet I couldn’t help but worry.
“The Council has cautioned both the High Holders and the freeholders, and the ‘accidents’ have dropped off in the last week.” Maitre Poincaryt’s voice was dry. “Unfortunately, I just learned from the Naval Command that quite an amount of old munitions, as well three bombards, have been found to be missing from the Army Ordnance Depot outside Ferravyl.” Maitre Poincaryt’s voice was so calm he might have been discussing the duty maitre’s schedule—a task from which I was exempted so long as I served with the Civic Patrol.
Even Dichartyn looked surprised. “When did that happen? Is there anything linking Broussard or Haebyn to the disappearance?”
“There’s no link to anyone. Worse is the fact that they’ve apparently been missing for months. That may explain what was behind the Place D’Opera explosion.”
“The munitions make sense, but bombards? Who would want them? They’re essentially immobile siege guns. How old are they?” asked Dichartyn.
“So old that no one missed them, initially,” replied Maitre Poincaryt.
“How could anyone walk out with one of those?” I asked. Let alone three.
“They probably planned it months, if not years ago,” replied Maitre Poincaryt. “We don’t know, but I’d wager that they posed as an Army or Navy transport team and used official wagons or the like, then transshipped whatever they took in official crates and used the ironway or a river steamer. Several tonnes of older munitions are missing.”
“And the Army just found out?”
“A marshal and several generals have been relieved. An investigation is under way.” Poincaryt looked to me. “That’s another reason why we wanted to talk to you. Dichartyn has said you had an explosion at a branch of the Banque D’Excelsis in your district.”
“Whoever did it was an expert. It was designed to bend the outer doors open, but not to injure anyone. So far as I could determine, as I told Master Dichartyn, the entire idea was to get my attention so that I would believe the information handed to me.”
Dichartyn nodded. “We have been led to believe that the funds transfers were shifted from commercial accounts in overseas branches.”
“Both of them?” I asked.
“So we’ve been told; but without seeing the actual ledgers, we can’t prove whether Subcommander Cydarth and Councilor Caartyl are being set up or paid off.” Dichartyn’s lips pursed in an expression between disgust and frustration. “Without evidence, we can’t question either one.”
“Have you seen or heard anything more about the use of explosives here in L’Excelsis?” Maitre Poincaryt asked me.
“No, sir.”
“There’s one other matter,” observed Dichartyn. “No one has shot at you or attacked you, have they?”
“No.”
“That’s troubling…”
I understood why. The last time Ferrum had gone to war, they’d deployed assassins all across Solidar, and more than a score of imagers had been killed. If the Ferrans were considering war against Jariola, and the likelihood that Solidar would oppose Ferrum, then given the fact that the Collegium had created problems for Ferrum in the past, why hadn’t there been any resumption of attacks against imagers? But…there was one other thing. “Did you hear that Captain Bolyet was killed in an accident by a loose crane on Lundi? His lieutenant is acting
captain, and he’s definitely a backer of Cydarth.”
Poincaryt and Dichartyn exchanged glances, and the Maitre of the Collegium nodded ever so slightly before asking, “Have you heard anything from your other sources?”
“I told you about the Pharsi deaths. I still think they’re connected.”
“So do we, but we haven’t figured out how they fit in and why they’d benefit the freeholders, the factors, or the Ferrans.”
We talked a while longer, although they did most of the talking, largely about possibilities and cautions.
“Before you go, Rhenn, there is one other thing.” Maitre Poincaryt smiled pleasantly. “You also need several sessions with Draffyd. He’s expecting you on Lundi night at seventh glass for the first. If that interferes with your Civic Patrol duties, you can change the day.”
“Lundi night will be fine.” For me, though not necessarily for Seliora; but the sooner I got through what ever they wanted, the better.
When I met Draffyd for another grisly session of many was, I suspected, up to me; but now that I’d revealed that I had some talent for medical imaging, Maitre Poincaryt was determined it would be developed as much as practicable. And I’d need to fit that in with everything else at a time when both Seliora and I were handling more than either of us had planned on…not to mention a daughter who was clearly less than pleased with the diminished amount of attention available from her parents.
19
For all of the worrying and discussion that had taken place on Jeudi afternoon in Maitre Poincaryt’s study, absolutely nothing out of the ordinary occurred in Third District on Vendrei, although I had cautioned all the patrollers to be alert for anything unusual and to let me or Alsoran know. Not that there weren’t lawbreakers, because there were, including three out-of-work casual laborers who decided to grab at every wallet in sight around the Plaza D’Este. They hadn’t been exactly sober, but it took three patrollers and several bystanders to subdue them before they were carted off. Another elver was found dead, and Caesaro had to bring in a tart for blatantly soliciting on the sidewalk on the Midroad, and then for trying to cut him up with a dagger.
Imager’s Intrigue Page 16