Seliora inclined her head in response. “You’re most kind.”
Suyrien D’Alte was only slightly above average in height, several digits shorter than I, with thinning brown hair and a receding hairline. The only physical aspect that suggested why he was the Chief Councilor was the intensity in his pale green eyes, an intensity not entirely masked by his warm smile and pleasant voice. “Rhenn, Seliora, I’m so glad that you were able to come. Both Kandryl and Frydryk have told me how much they enjoyed spending the evening with you last Samedi. They and their ladies should be here shortly.”
“We’re very pleased to be here,” I replied. “We wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”
“According to Frydryk…I owe you more than I realized.”
“Only to the Collegium, sir. If I hadn’t been there, doubtless someone else would have been.” I truly doubted that, but the Collegium needed the credit more than I did.
“I have my doubts, but I appreciate your efforts and those of the Collegium.”
“As we appreciate yours and those of the Council.”
“Enjoy the ball.” Suyrien smiled again.
As we moved out into the hall, and toward the music and those dancing, I thought the Councilor’s smile was more than professional, but with a good politician, one could never be certain. Behind us, the announcements continued.
“Councilor Alucion D’Artisan and Madame D’Alucion!”
“Councilor Reyner D’Factorius and Madame D’Reyner…”
We stopped short of the dance floor and to one side, not that far from the sideboards that held various vintages, where uniformed servers already provided goblets to those who wished them.
“Would you like something?”
“Not yet.” Without seeming to, Seliora studied the dancers and those around us.
She didn’t need to. She was by far the most beautiful. I glanced toward the temporary dais at the south end of the Hall, where orchestra played music for a slower dance, muted enough for both dancing and conversation, although I didn’t recognize the melody. But then, music in any fashion had never been my gift.
“Shendael D’Alte and Madame D’Shendael.”
“Marshal Geuffryt D’Mer…”
I turned slightly to watch as Juniae D’Shendael smiled at each of the High Councilors, her expression gracious and her short-cut mahogany hair without a strand out of place.
“So that’s what she looks like,” murmured Seliora. “Khethila might be disappointed.”
“She’s seen etchings and paintings, and she looks like them.”
“The Honorable Dharios Harnen, Envoy of the Abierto Isles, and Madame Harnen.”
At past Balls, the envoy had brought his daughter, and the much younger woman with him looked more her age, suggesting that he’d recently remarried.
“Ryel D’Alte and Madame Ryel.” That announcement seemed wrong, perhaps because the first time I’d heard it had been for Iryela’s parents.
“Frydryk D’Suyrien-Alte and Mistress Alynkya D’Ramsael-Alte.”
I watched as the Ryels made their way into the Hall and over to the three Councilors. Iryela wore a gown of shimmering blue and silver, the same colors she’d worn at the first Ball where I’d met her—although Kandryl wore the Ryel colors of black and silver.
“Don’t move to them,” murmured Seliora. “They can join us. They will.”
I didn’t argue. If they did, it showed one thing, and if they didn’t, it showed another.
Matters didn’t turn out quite that way, because I could see Juniae D’Shendael was headed in our direction, accompanied not by her husband, but by the Naval officer who had followed her through the receiving line.
“You’re going to get Khethila’s wish,” I said in a low voice.
“I’ll make the best of it for her.”
Madame D’Shendael’s smile was warm as she inclined her head to us. “Maitre Rhennthyl…I do prefer that to ‘Captain.’ I hope you don’t mind.” Madame D’Shendael smiled and looked to Seliora. “Being a Maitre D’Structure is more distinguished. There are but six in all the world, and there are six Civic Patrol Captains just in L’Excelsis itself.”
I didn’t correct her, but just murmured, “You’re most gracious.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Madame D’Shendael,” offered Seliora.
“Juniae, please…”
“I heard so much about your books from Rhenn’s sister, and she would be so pleased to know that you are as gracious—and imposing—as your writings.”
Juniae D’Shendael laughed. “Imposing? That sounds like a statue. I hope I’m not quite that stiff and formal.” She looked to me. “Does your sister still retain her affection for my work, Maitre Rhennthyl, or was that a passing fashion of youth?”
“She still holds the deepest respect for you and your writing, Madame.”
A card appeared in the gloved hand of Juniae D’Shendael. “I’ve written the name of the latest book on the back. With fortune, it should be printed in the next month or so.”
I took the card. “Thank you. I’m certain she will get it. I will have to post the card and information to her, though. She is now running the Alusine Wool factorage in Kherseilles. She’s made it quite profitable, and as I told you years ago, she credits some of that to you.”
“You are both kind, but I’m certain it was mainly through her own ability. She’s a full factoria now, isn’t she?”
“That she is. One of the few.” I didn’t want to go into all the difficulties that had created.
“Good for her…and for your father in supporting her.” She smiled warmly, then inclined her head to the young-faced, but red-and-silver-haired man in the uniform of a Navy Sea-Marshal. “I did want you to meet Assistant Sea-Marshal Geuffryt. His official title is Director of Internal Operations.”
I inclined my head to the marshal. “I’m pleased to meet you. Might I present my wife Seliora?”
“Madame Rhennthyl, I’m delighted to meet you.” After bowing his head slightly to Seliora he straightened and said with a smile, “It’s always a pleasure to meet people who take their obligations seriously, but not themselves. You both have that reputation.”
“So does the Navy,” I replied.
“We try,” he replied with a laugh.
“If you will excuse us?” Juniae D’Shendael smiled again. “I see my husband beckoning.”
After she and the Sea-Marshal turned away, I read what she had written on the back of the card—“The Art of Conversation.” The writing looked familiar, near-perfect, so much so that it might have been calligraphy. I’d seen it before. I knew I had. Then I almost froze, realizing that the script well might be identical to the message I’d been given at the banque. I’d have to check, but I was certain that the writing was identical.
“What is it?” asked Seliora, leaning close to me and murmuring her words.
“Trouble…” The Assistant Sea-Marshal was clearly the head of Naval intelligence—spying, or the like, although I’d have to check with Dichartyn—and the entire purpose of the meeting and the card was obvious. What I didn’t understand was why Marshal Geuffryt couldn’t have acted on the information I’d been provided in the note at the banque. “I’ll have to tell you later.”
I half-turned and smiled as Iryela and Kandryl approached.
“There you are!” offered Iryela warmly. “We did want to join you, but Madame D’Shendael and that Navy officer were taking your time.”
“She was giving me a card with the title of her new book so that I could tell Khethila. It’s called ‘The Art of Conversation.’ I imagine it will be more than that. Her books go beyond the titles.”
Iryela smiled. “You’d never mentioned you’d read her books.”
“I haven’t read them all—just two, and not all of one of them,” I admitted. “It’s not that they’re not good…but…there’s never enough time.”
“With all that you two do, I’m not surprised.” Iryela’s eyes flic
ked to Kandryl.
Kandryl looked to Seliora. “I understand you’re a marvelous dancer. If you wouldn’t mind…” He looked to me.
Seliora offered a smile. “I’d love to, and Rhenn can’t tell me no.”
I shrugged helplessly, then turned to Iryela. “I fear you’re getting the worse of this, but might I have the dance?”
She smiled broadly. “That you may.”
As we slipped onto the dance floor, I murmured, “Nicely done. I take it you have a concern.”
“I do. It’s not something I’d want anyone else to know, except Seliora, of course. There are golds missing from a private contingency account, several thousand. It’s a coded account in the Banque D’Rivages. So far as I know, only my father had the codes until…. Mother didn’t even know about them, and she’s stayed on the lands ever since. They were always sealed, and the seals weren’t broken when…after things happened.”
“Can’t you change the codes?”
“Oh, we did, and that stopped the losses. We can handle a few thousand golds…but it’s still worrisome.”
A few thousand golds, and she could handle it? After five years as a Maitre D’Structure, I made three golds a week. That was more than all but a few people in a hundred made in L’Excelsis—and we did get a good-sized house as well. Even if I counted in the monetary value of the house, my annual earnings were probably less than four hundred golds a year. All that just illustrated the enormous gap in wealth between the High Holders and the rest of Solidar, except perhaps for a few handfuls of freeholders or factors like Broussard. “Maybe someone in one of the banques just guessed.”
“It’s possible, but we have our doubts. I thought you, in your present position, might keep an eye or ear open, just in case you find something that might shed some light on how it could have occurred.”
“I honestly don’t know of anything like that, but I’d be pleased to watch for anything bearing on it.” I could tell that the possibility of a lack of control bothered Iryela more than did the loss of the golds. That…I understood all too well.
“I do appreciate it, Rhenn.”
“Frydryk had a talk with his father.”
“He always does. That’s the burden of being the heir.”
“Kandryl should be thankful to you…in many ways.”
“He is most grateful…and attentive.” After the slightest pause, she added, “At times, things do turn out for the best. They have for both of us, I think.”
She wasn’t talking about herself and Kandryl, and I just said, “Yes, they do, and at times, they even lead to happiness amid the disruptions.” I paused. “I never thanked you for selling that land to Khethila.”
Her eyes sparkled for a moment. “I didn’t even know we had it. When I found out, I thought it was the right thing to do. So did Kandryl. We offered it for less than my father paid for it.”
I understood. Iryela had made the offer at fair market value. Her father had bought it at a premium so that he could use it against me and my family, but Iryela also knew that outright charity would rankle Khethila.
After a time of silence, she said, “You have improved since the first time we danced. That has to be your wife’s influence.”
“She’s been a good influence.”
As the music of that dance died away, I escorted Iryela back to the edge of the dance floor, where Kandryl and Seliora were already waiting.
“If you will excuse us…” offered Iryela.
“Of course,” Seliora replied.
I just nodded.
“What did she want?” asked Seliora with a smile.
“Besides a dance?” I grinned. “Did you think—”
“I carry the pistol everywhere,” she whispered.
“You’re a hard woman.”
“But I’m yours…if you behave.”
“As if I had any choice.” I laughed, then, after a moment, explained. “Someone withdrew funds from a coded account. She said the amount didn’t bother her so much as that no one else knew the codes. It was only several thousand golds.” A touch of irony crept into my voice.
“Who would have known the codes? Her mother? She and Johanyr are the only ones left alive besides Iryela.”
“According to Iryela, the codes were sealed and unbroken. Her mother didn’t even know they existed, and Johanyr hasn’t been in L’Excelsis in something like seven years. Besides, he’s nearly blind. I doubt if he could even read them.”
“I can see why she’s worried, then. But there must be a simple explanation.”
“There probably is, but I can’t think of it. Her mother could be pretending, but given how Ryel ran his holdings, and the way the older High Holders treat their wives, I doubt it.”
“I can see that.”
“Let’s enjoy the dancing before I have to leave.”
Her smile was worth that, and we danced…and danced—until just past ninth glass, when I left Seliora with the Dichartyns and hurried out of the Chateau, where I persuaded the duty coach driver—Elreyt, who usually drove evenings—to take me to Third District station.
As soon as the coach stopped on Fuosta, I stepped out and hurried into the station and to the duty desk.
“Any trouble yet?”
“No, sir, but…Sammyl said one of the taudis-kids warned us to watch the woodworks.”
“I’ll be heading there.”
Cemaryt glanced at the formal cloak and black formal wear.
I grinned. “I won’t be as easily seen.”
“Ah…yes, sir.”
I reached the woodworks, where I waited in the shadows close to South Middle for Sammyl and Rarydn. I stood there half a glass before they neared.
They both started when I appeared.
“Sir?”
“I understand we might have trouble here.”
“One of the taudis-kids—she was a girl—told me.” Rarydn glanced at the darkened building to his right, questioningly.
“If they destroy the building and kill patrollers…it hurts the taudis-dwellers and the Civic Patrol,” I pointed out. “Let’s head down toward the alley across from the south side.”
They exchanged glances, but followed me. We stopped short of the corner of the wall that circled the waste yard on the southeast side of the property.
“We’ll wait here,” I said in a low voice. “We’ll have some cover. You watch behind us, Rarydn.”
“Yes, sir.”
As I suspected, before long, less than a quarter of a glass, there were four figures coming up the alley, but they stopped short of the side street in front of us, and remained in the alley. All of them bore packs, which they eased off and set on the stones. I could see three other figures coming forward, past the four and stationing themselves on each side of the alley. The three wore the shiny leathers of taudis-toughs. The other four wore dark light-absorbing garb.
I was getting a very uneasy feeling about the entire situation, especially after I saw one of the men setting up something like a tripod pointing in our general direction, but likely at the woodworks building. Then another tripod went up, and a third, and a fourth. When the first man set a cylindrical tube on a tripod, I knew. But I waited until all four tubes were in place on their tripods…but not a moment more.
Then…I stepped around the corner, my back to the wall, and concentrated, imaging fire into all four cylinders and projecting my shields across the alley at an angle.
Light flared everywhere, and a wave of sound slammed me into the wall.
“Sir! Sir!”
Sammyl was helping me to my feet, but loud as he was speaking his words were barely a whisper.
“I’m all right.” I thought I was. I was shaking…but I could see and walk, if a trace unsteadily. I felt weak, and I couldn’t raise any shields. I just hoped that there was no one else around who might want to take a shot at us. “We might as well see what happened.” I started across the side street, but I stopped short of the sidewalk on the other side.
; The explosion, contained by my shields, had left a hole a yard deep and five across, and that was through the alley paving stones. There were bits of what had been men and gear strewn like leaves across the bottom of the hole, as well as scraps of twisted metal.
I swallowed and turned away.
Behind me, I could hear Rarydn retching.
I walked back to the other side of the cross street and leaned against the wall. A short time later, the two patrollers rejoined me.
“What happened?” Rarydn’s voice was unsteady.
“The first four had explosive rockets they were going to fire into the woodworks. Then when you and Sammyl came running, the three taudis-toughs would have shot you.”
Sammyl looked to me. “Wasn’t that something the Army should have handled?”
“Well…” I offered with a grin I didn’t feel, “if we’d waited for them…”
“Frig…” mumbled the older patroller, adding after a moment, “Pardon me, sir, but it doesn’t seem right.”
“It’s not, but how often do we get stuck dealing with what’s not right?”
“How do you want us to write it up?” asked Rarydn.
“Just the way it happened. We got a tip. We came to investigate. We must have startled them. Their rockets exploded all at once and dug a big hole and killed all of them.”
“How come—” Rarydn began.
“We don’t have to guess why it happened that way,” I said. “We’re just Civic Patrollers reporting on what happened.”
“That’s right.” Sammyl looked hard at Rarydn.
After a moment, the younger patroller nodded.
We turned and began to walk back to the station. Erion had just climbed above the roofs of the houses to the east, half-full and red-shaded. It might be the moon of the great hunter, but I had the feeling I was as much being hunted as hunter.
25
As tired and as cold as I was by the time I got home on Vendrei, I could raise shields, although it was painful. I wasn’t sleepy, not after all that had happened. That was probably good, because the moment Seliora saw me step inside the front foyer she asked, “How bad was it?”
Imager’s Intrigue Page 21