Imager’s Intrigue

by L. E. Modesitt

  Ferlyn gestured for me to join them.

  “Congratulations,” offered Kahlasa with a smile. “You’ve already impressed Schorzat.”

  “Only with my ignorance, I fear; but I thank you for the courtesy.” As Schorzat’s second, she had certainly heard how I was doing…or not doing. “How’s Klaustya?”

  “She’s five. Do I need to say more?”

  I grinned. “No. I can hardly wait.”

  “You and Seliora should have another. You two need to be outnumbered, if only to give the children a chance.”

  “At some point, we probably will be.” I sat down immediately to Chassendri’s left.

  “Not soon enough,” quipped Kahlasa.

  Abruptly, I wondered where Maitre Dyana was, since she certainly couldn’t be eating at her still-demolished dwelling or the yet-unrepaired Maitre’s dwelling. Then, she might be meeting with someone.

  “Are you going to leave the Civic Patrol?” asked Ferlyn.

  “I’m still a captain, but I’m detailed to help with matters here for now.”

  Ferlyn shook his head, then grinned, but didn’t press the question.

  As I cut into one of the veal cutlets, I had to admit that the food at the Collegium was better—and far less costly, since I didn’t have to pay for it—than the infrequent mid-day meals I’d been having in the various bistros and cafes in Third District over the past five years. Then again, with more eating and far less walking, I’d really need Clovyl’s morning exercises and runs.

  After several moments, Ferlyn looked at me. “Rhenn, what can you tell us about who was behind the attack on the Collegium?”

  I finished a sip of the red wine before replying. “Since the barge carrying the bombards exploded, we have no evidence of who was actually firing the weapons. They were obviously skilled in antique weapons, and they were unfriendly. Unfortunately, we have more than a few enemies at present.” I paused, then inclined my head in Kahlasa’s direction. “Wouldn’t you say so?”

  Kahlasa nodded.

  Ferlyn shook his head again, then chuckled. “You covert types.”

  “You’ve always known that,” said Chassendri mildly. “You just like to point it out whenever you can.”

  “And you like to point out that I do.”

  After that, we speculated on whether the advanced Ferran land-cruisers and other devices would survive the Jariolan winter, or if the present Cloiseran conflict would end up in the same stand-off as had the first. We came to no resolution, and I headed back to my study, and the reports and the unresolved questions.

  At two quints before second glass, I made my way to the duty coach station, where there were two coaches waiting, one specifically for me.

  “Maitre Rhennthyl? To the Naval Plaza?” asked Desalyt.

  “The Bureau building there,” I confirmed, then slipped into the coach.

  Desalyt took the Bridge of Desires and then followed the Boulevard D’Council to the Council Chateau and around it, and then half a mille northwest to the Naval Bureau, located in a gray stone building on the east end of the Naval Plaza. The Naval Command was in a larger imposing structure at the west end.

  A lieutenant was waiting for me by the guard desk just inside the entry doors. “Maitre Rhennthyl, sir?”

  “Yes.”

  “This way, if you would, sir.”

  I followed him a good fifty yards back to a wide staircase with polished marble steps and a brass balustrade, and then up to the second floor and back to an outer anteroom, with a senior clerk-rating seated behind a desk. Marshal Geuffryt’s spacious corner study had windows on both outer walls. He stood as I entered.

  “Good afternoon, Maitre Rhennthyl.”

  “Good afternoon, Marshal.”

  Geuffryt gestured to the small round conference table set back from the windows at the north end of the study. There were four chairs. I took the chair that faced the door. He took the one to my right.

  “How might I help you…and the Collegium?”

  “As I am certain you always have, with information.” I smiled.

  “We always attempt to be of assistance.”

  “What other potentially dangerous explosives, munitions, or military equipment is missing or otherwise unaccounted for?” I offered the question casually.

  “I can’t really tell you that,” Geuffryt replied.

  “I don’t mind so much if you you’re not allowed to tell me,” I said. “But I’m going to be very worried if no one in the Naval Command knows whether such materials are missing. After all, the last batch of missing munitions and equipment had some very unfortunate consequences. Especially for the Collegium.”

  “I really can’t say.”

  “Should I be worried, then?”

  “I can’t—”

  I image-projected pure fury at the Sea-Marshal. Given the way I felt, it wasn’t difficult.

  He turned pale.

  I smiled. “Let’s try this again. The Collegium has the responsibility of protecting the Council and Imagisle itself. The Naval Command has the responsibility for maintaining and safeguarding munitions and equipment. It’s rather difficult and costly for us to do our job when we don’t have any idea what you and the Army have lost or allowed to be stolen. And if nothing else is missing, then there’s certainly no reason to hide that. Your response indicates fairly clearly that other explosives and equipment are missing. I don’t think anyone on the Council would want to know that you’re trying to hide that.”

  I had to give Geuffryt credit. Outside of the momentary paling and the slight dampening of his brow, he hadn’t reacted.

  “You’re only surmising,” he said with a faint smile.

  “No. I know. Proving it might be harder, but I’m an imager, and if I go to certain members of the Council and suggest that’s the case, as well as pointing out that the Army Depot Commander vanished and that no one still investigated matters there…” I shrugged, then paused. “I’d rather not. You’d rather I didn’t. So what exactly is rumored to be missing?”

  “We don’t know. There’s nothing missing on the scale of the bombards. But we have five major depots and some twelve smaller port and fleet depots, with tens of thousands of tonnes of munitions. We have four hundred armed vessels. Some only have three-digit cannon, but those still require munitions.” He shook his head. “We’re fairly certain we’re not missing something on the order of a thousand tonnes, but accounting errors, errors in resupply…how do you tell the difference between that and a tonne or so of Poudre B bags or the like that might have been deliberately misrouted or diverted? A few tonnes aren’t that much spread across four fleets.”

  “But they’re quite a bit spread across five or ten cities and set in the right place.” I nodded. “You could have told me that to begin with. You didn’t. That suggests…a number of possibilities. How much do you think you’re missing?”

  “There are two dubious manifests from the main resupply depot for the rework yard at Solis. They’re for one and two tonnes of bagged Poudre B for the standard five-digit guns.”

  “Those are the most common fleet guns, I take it?”

  Geuffryt nodded.

  “And the manifests are over a year old,” I suggested.

  “If you already knew…”

  “I don’t, and I didn’t. It just had to be that way. All of this has been planned years in advance so that people would tend to forget. Or, as you put it, believe that the discrepancies were merely clerical errors. Are there any other dubious manifests or unaccounted-for munitions?”

  “Nothing more than a few stones’ worth here and there. Those can add up, but we think it’s unlikely that outside agents would try to gather munitions that way.”

  I had to agree with that.

  “Let’s talk about a certain note I received, written by a certain lady we both know, which contained information of a suggestive nature.” I looked directly at Geuffryt. “You’ll find that I am both discreet…and direct. As my predecessor note
d, I am inclined to weary quickly of hints and indirection.” I paused to let him consider the words. “Who do you believe is transferring funds to the Artisan on the Executive Committee and why?”

  “We don’t know. The transfers are blind.”

  “Try investigating a factor or trader named Alhazyr, if you haven’t already.” With only the slightest pause, I asked, “What exactly is your relation to Juniae D’Shendael?”

  He smiled politely. “It’s not that much of a mystery. I’m a cousin on her mother’s side.”

  “Are you, perhaps, an expert in hunting weapons? Their construction, and…their explosive fallibilities?” That was a guess, but I had a feeling about such matters.

  “What a truly strange question…I scarcely know what to think.”

  I’d glimpsed enough. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For answering the question. It explains a great deal.”

  “You’re a very dangerous man, Maitre Rhennthyl, but had Juniae not had demonstrated proof of your good will, you might still be in a precarious position.”

  “I’d prefer not to be in such a position, or even to have anyone suggest that possibility.” I smiled. Now…I knew why Juniae had conveyed the message, and how her only male relative who could have inherited had perished years before. What I didn’t know was why the message had been given to me long before it was even likely I’d end up with the position that events had thrust upon me. Or had it been designed as a convenient way of getting the information to Master Dichartyn? I almost nodded. That was the most likely answer, not that the method of conveyance mattered so much as the reasons for letting the Collegium know. “Let’s talk about the subcommander of the Civic Patrol.”

  “Is it wise to discuss a superior?” He raised his eyebrows.

  I was getting tired of his superciliousness. “You obviously are worried about Cydarth. From a professional point of view or a personal one…or both?”

  “I won’t deny the personal element, but that’s secondary to the professional.”

  The personal is never totally secondary to professional, as I well knew, but the professional had to be the matter at hand. “Why does he want to remove or replace Artois?”

  “Artois’s mother was the daughter of a High Holder who committed suicide when Haestyr’s grandfather ruined him. Cydarth’s father was killed by Iryela D’Ryel’s father, merely as a demonstration of power to the factor for whom Cydarth’s father worked. Cydarth believes Artois is an apologist for the High Holders, and that Artois hopes some day to prove that he is worthy of his background.”

  That didn’t seem to make much sense, so far as Artois was concerned. “Artois has always been impartial. Sometimes harsh, but I’ve never seen bias. How does Cydarth fit in with the Ferrans? Or the Jariolans, or Stakanarans, or whoever?” I asked.

  “He fits in with none of them. He will support—or not oppose—so far as he is able, anyone or anything that will reduce the power of the High Holders. He believes he is totally fair and unbiased in his views of what is best for Solidar.”

  “Don’t many of us feel that way?” I asked softly.

  After a moment, Geuffryt nodded. “That’s part of the trouble with Artois and Cydarth. Each of them believes what he wants to do is best.”

  “But…?” I prompted.

  “I suspect you already know, Maitre Rhennthyl. Artois believes in the law as it is. Cydarth believes in a ‘good’ beyond the law. To date, he’s stayed within the law…so far as anyone knows.”

  “You’re suggesting that those fund transfers may represent…what?”

  “I don’t know. I only have the word from a trusted source that they exist. The source has never been wrong, but there’s no proof. The funds in the Banque D’Excelsis account in the branch that suffered the explosion have never been touched.”

  “So how can you arrange an explosion without a rationale?”

  “I don’t believe I said anything about arranging something like that. I was merely aware of it, as were you.”

  There wasn’t any point in pursuing that. “I presume that you’re watching the Naval yards and piers closely these days.”

  “Far more closely.” He smiled politely. “What else can we do?”

  I changed the subject. “Just how capable are the Navy’s fleets in limiting the Ferran and Stakanaran…adventuring? I understand that there’s been some debate in the Council. Do you really have enough capital ships?”

  “We do the best we can with what we have. For the past ten years, the High Command has been recommending an expansion of thirty capital ships to deal with the increased numbers of Ferran warcraft. We also need more smaller vessels. So far, although we’ve been outnumbered at times, our tactics and training have proved superior. We cannot count on that continuing.”

  “What about the ten capital vessels under debate?”

  “They would provide a good beginning for fleet modernization.” Geuffryt smiled. “This proposal has been brought up before, and it has been turned down on the grounds that the Council would have to increase taxes to pay for the construction and fitting out.”

  “And the factors oppose any more taxes on finished goods, while the High Holders oppose Glendyl’s value-added tax?”

  “The Navy does not take sides on issues before the Council, Maitre Rhennthyl. We only know what it takes to protect Solidar, and we convey that to the Council.”

  “In short, the Council doesn’t seem to be listening?”

  “The Council has received our reports and recommendations. It governs Solidar, and it must make the choices on how to raise revenues and how to spend them. We offer our best counsel and live with their decisions.”

  Polite as his words were, Geuffryt obviously had some concerns with the funding for the Navy.

  “Have the Stakanarans been increasing their fleets?”

  “They’ve been building a substantial number of fast, shallow-draft gunboats in order to control the coastline of Otelyrn. They’ve also added ten or eleven capital ships.”

  We talked for another half glass, but while I learned a bit more about the comparative strengths of other Naval forces around Terahnar and slightly more about the extent of his duties and sources of information, it wasn’t much more than I had already surmised…or learned.

  When I returned to the Collegium, I put in another three glasses reading reports and trying to get a better feel of what had been happening all across Solidar. By the time I spent all that effort, not that I was anywhere close to being finished, my head was aching, and my eyes were burning, and I was ready to leave and walk home.

  I just hoped that Seliora and Klysia were finished with the heavy cleaning…and that Diestrya was in a cheerful mood.

  30

  When I woke on Samedi morning, I could raise and hold my full shields without pain or extra effort, but I had the feeling that I’d be in more than poor shape if much impacted them. That decided, I lowered them and washed up, gingerly because all too many parts of my body were still sore, although the purple had faded to a faint, if hideous, yellow. Seliora had taken pity on me and had dealt largely with Diestrya for the past few days, but I did help in getting Diestrya dressed before we headed down to breakfast.

  We were close to finishing when Seliora said, firmly, just short of sharply, “Rhenn!”

  “What?”

  “Your mind is somewhere else. I’ve asked you twice what you’re thinking.”

  “Oh…” I managed a sheepish grin. “About…things.”

  She shook her head. “Just finish up and go to your Collegium study and read all those reports you’re worrying about. Diestrya and I will be fine.”

  “Is Shomyr’s party still today?”

  Seliora looked at me. “Are you sure you should go?”

  “Why not? All I’ve done is talk to people and read reports.”

  “You’re not yourself yet…are you?”

  “No…but I can hold my shields for a bit and do some imagin
g.” I grinned. “Besides, I’ll be with you, and you’re very good with the pistol.”

  “Mother would appreciate it…”

  “In other words, we really should go.”

  “Then that’s settled.” She paused, then added, “I’ll have a mid-day meal around half-past noon.”

  “I’ll be here. If you don’t mind, I’ll go back afterwards and work until a bit before fourth glass. That should give us enough time, shouldn’t it?”

  She did smile.

  Even with a break to eat, the day was long, and by the time I set aside the reports and replaced them in the cabinets at a quint before fourth glass, my head was aching again. I did feel that I had a better grip on what was happening in Solidar. Mostly, though, I had an even greater conviction that someone very clever had been working for years to set up and implement a large-scale plan to disrupt everything in Solidar, putting bits and pieces in place one at a time, with no one piece or part indicating much about the overall plan.

  Seliora and Diestrya were waiting when I got back from the administration building.

  “We’re ready.”

  “Good.” We walked from the house across the Bridge of Desires.

  We only waited a few moments before a newer hack appeared with a driver who wore a neatly brushed brown wool jacket and matching gloves and boots.

  “Where to, sir?”

  “Nordroad and Hagahl Lane.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I opened the door and let Seliora climb up and in before helping Diestrya in after her and then following them.

  “Did you find out any more that you needed to know?” she asked after the hacker pulled out onto West River Road, heading north to the Nord Bridge.

  “Oh…I’m still trying to put the pieces together, but it’s getting clearer. We’ll have to see.” After a moment, I asked, “Do you think Odelia and Kolasyn will be there?”

  “I’d think so. They were asked. But…after everything…”