Imager’s Intrigue

by L. E. Modesitt

  “And his greatest strength is their belief in him?”

  At that, Rholyn pursed his lips, clearly thinking. After several moments, he replied. “That’s one of his strengths. Another is that he has no doubts. Everything is black and white to him. He understands the need for compromise, and he will, as needed. But compromise for tactical advantage or partial attainment of his goals doesn’t change his views or his objectives.”

  “What about Glendyl?”

  “Glendyl thinks, as you must know, that artisans and guilds and the High Holders themselves are all anachronistic relics of a past that should be dispensed with as rapidly as possible. The Council should be controlled by factors and some few freeholders, since they’re the ones who produce most of the machinery and goods for Solidar. Those High Holders like Suyrien—or his heir—who are effectively manufacturers should acknowledge the fact and join with the factors. Those who are landholders should be forced to operate under the same laws as the free holders. All High Holder privileges and rights should be abolished.”

  “What about the guilds?”

  “They shouldn’t be allowed to restrict commerce and trade. Otherwise, he doesn’t care.”

  “Will his value-added-tax proposal bring in enough revenue?”

  “I asked Jhulian and one of the Collegium’s bookkeepers—a third named Reynol—to look into the plan. According to them, the one percent add-on won’t be sufficient. Two percent would provide a surplus.”

  “And what would be Caartyl’s reaction?”

  “He thinks the High Holders and the factors and freeholders all want to abolish or restrict the guilds and artisans. He’d probably accept some of what Glendyl wants, if only to restrict the power of the High Holders, but he’ll stand firm on retaining the restrictions on entry to the various guilds, and he wants what amounts to a laborers’ guild for those in the manufactories so that workers have some recourse and don’t have to work for what he terms ‘starvation wages.’”

  “Some of the manufactories already allow guilds,” I pointed out.

  “But those are the ones located in places like L’Excelsis where the guilds are strong. Glendyl’s proposal would result in factors building facilities in small towns along the ironway where they could get cheaper labor and where people would flee the High Holders’ estates.”

  “So it’s likely that Glendyl won’t get much support for what he proposes?”

  “Most likely.”

  “What if the Collegium proposed some sort of tax reform?”

  “Anything that would improve the present system would be voted down…”

  We talked for another glass, but I didn’t find what he said terribly helpful.

  As soon as Rholyn left, I took out pen and ink and began to write a letter of condolence. It took me several drafts before I had something suitable. I read it a last time.

  Dear Iryela and Kandryl,

  I just received word of Suyrien’s death, and Seliora and I offer our deepest sympathy for both of you. Although all of us have had loved ones die, death, especially unexpected death, is never easy and falls hardest on those who care the most.

  Suyrien was always open and fair and tried to work out solutions that would benefit all those involved. He was warm and gracious to both Seliora and me on the occasion of your wedding, and his cheer and warmth went a long way….

  I finally sealed it and set it on the corner of the desk. Then, since my shields still weren’t strong enough for me to leave Imagisle, I decided I might as well begin to get better acquainted with the imagers for whom I’d become preceptor. Over the next glass I wrote notes to each, setting a time for them to meet with me in the mornings over the next few days.

  A quint before noon, I set out for the dining hall building, where I slipped the letters into the post boxes for the imagers, and posted the letter to Iryela and Kandryl. There were a number of juniors around, but I didn’t see any of those for whom I’d become preceptor. So I stepped into the dining hall proper.

  Maitre Dyana was at the masters’ table, but she had Jhulian on one side and Rholyn on the other. So I sat with Khalasa, Ferlyn, and Quaelyn, the older pattern-master, who was Ferlyn’s mentor.

  “It’s good to see you more often,” said Kahlasa.

  “It’s good to see you…and to have edible food,” I replied.

  “So…we’re not much better than the food?” Ferlyn grinned as he passed a pot of steaming tea.

  “That’s an equation of the unequateable.”

  “How are you feeling?” asked Kahlasa.

  “Better. Enough so that I’ll probably have to deal with Artois and Cydarth before long.”

  “You’ll manage,” said Ferlyn dryly.

  “I may well manage the wrong way. There’s more going on than I’d like.”

  “In what way?” asked Kahlasa.

  I served myself rice and chicken before I replied. “Artois tends to want to keep order and ignore the taudis except when they create trouble. He’s gone along with the changes I’ve made in Third District because the results have reduced offenses there without requiring more patrollers. Cydarth seems to quietly oppose Artois, but he hasn’t cared for my changes.”

  “That sounds like he’s a partisan of the factors,” said Ferlyn. “You’ve been improving the taudis and getting more of the young men trained in various crafts and skills. If others followed your example, there’d be fewer young men available for cheap labor.”

  Quaelyn nodded sagely, but did not speak.

  I shook my head. “That won’t happen. After five years, things are pretty much the same everywhere else in L’Excelsis.”

  “Does that matter?” asked Ferlyn. “What matters is what people worry about, not what actually is or might happen.”

  I nodded. He was right about that, but did it really shed any light on what Cydarth had in mind and might have been doing? For a time, I just concentrated on the rice and chicken. I was hungrier than I’d realized.

  As I finished, I turned to Ferlyn again. “You’re dealing with patterns, analyzing them, and the like. What do your patterns say about Ferrum?” I looked to Quaelyn, sitting to Ferlyn’s right. “Or yours, Maitre Quaelyn?”

  Ferlyn smiled. “You must be very concerned to ask. But I will defer to my mentor.”

  “I’m worried.” I didn’t mind admitting that. “I have the feeling we’re missing something important. I’m hoping you two might have an insight I can use.”

  “He’s very concerned,” Ferlyn said to Kahlasa.

  I forced a grin. “I think you’ve made that point, and I’ve admitted it.”

  Ferlyn didn’t say anything, but nodded to Quaelyn. “You’ve studied Ferrum. You’ve even been there.”

  That was something I didn’t know, and it meant that the now-frail and white-haired Maitre had once been a covert foreign agent.

  “That was a few years ago,” Quaelyn said softly, “but the patterns of a society don’t change, not without great economic shifts or a loss in war or social upheaval or something of equal magnitude, and Ferrum has not seen any of those in generations. The last, shall we say, conflict with Jariola and our fleet was essentially a stand-off, with all the destruction confined to Jariola and perhaps half a Ferran fleet.”

  I wasn’t certain that the short war hadn’t had more of an impact, but then…he was probably right. From experience, I’d noted he usually was.

  “One matter that has been greatly overlooked,” the elderly Maitre went on, “is the impact of the Ferran economic and political structure. In Solidar, because we have a far older social structure, we tend not to change quickly and not to make rash business decisions. A factor, for example, can seldom afford to expand quickly, even if he has a better idea or product. That is partly because his customers are set in their ways, and partly because few have enough golds to make major investments out of their revenues. Those who do not have such reserves find it difficult to obtain large amounts of capital to fund expansion of facilities or manufac
tories. In Ferrum, price is the ruler. People flock to the cheapest goods of equal quality, and many factors compete for customers. Many factors fail every year, and there is a constant turnover in commerce. Obviously, this is not as pronounced in manufactories dealing with iron or heavy machinery, but even a generation ago, Ferrum had four or five manufactories producing locomotives and engines, and ten shipworks. None, of course, rivaled Suyrien’s in scope, but they could build more ships.”

  “Not better ones, though,” I suggested.

  “Not then, but they compete against each other, and with each passing year, their vessels are better, and so are their other goods. While I have not seen the actual land-cruisers, the newsheet reports note that the ones used in invading Jariola are far, far better than those they had but five years ago. We have nothing like them, because we see no need for such.” Quaelyn paused to take a sip of tea.

  “What else?” I prompted.

  “A second area that is seldom discussed is the comparative physical fragility of Ferran cities and industrial areas. Because their society is based on the greater creation of revenues and profits in the near-term, and because they are always changing things, they tend to build and rebuild all the time. They don’t build manufactories to last, out of stone and brick with walls that may last generations. They also do the same thing for housing for their workers. That means, over time, that they tend to waste golds because they have to rebuild more often. Part of that is that there are more fires, and they cause more damage. Their equipment tends to wear out quickly, but often that doesn’t matter, because the goods the equipment produces are changed quickly also.” Quaelyn took another sip of tea, then nodded, as if to say that he had said enough.

  I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of almost-temporary housing that burned quickly, but that was their choice. I took a swallow of tea, hot and bitter, then turned to Ferlyn. “How else do you see the patterns of Ferrum as differing from ours? Are there other differences?”

  “One Quaelyn didn’t mention directly is the legal structure. The Ferran assembly has changed and modified its laws so that the current economic and political patterns are generally consistent at all levels of society.”

  “What do you mean by that?” asked Kahlasa. “Can you give an example?”

  Ferlyn shrugged. “They don’t have local laws that are different from place to place.”

  “We don’t either,” said Kahlasa.

  “But we do,” I pointed out. “The laws are the same in any city, but the High Holders retain the power of low justice on their lands, and that means it’s pretty much what each High Holder determines, so long as the punishments don’t exceed the maximum stipulated by the Council charter. That’s a thousand different systems.”

  “Precisely…” said Ferlyn, drawing out the word. “The same thing is true in dealing with manufacturing. In Ferrum, everything is subject to the same levies, or the same scale of levies, where here, we have different taxation structures. There’s one for goods produced by guilds and artisans, another for factors, and another for anything produced by High Holders. This is designed to perpetuate the current division, but it’s not terribly fair or efficient.”

  I wasn’t so certain about fairness. Because of the restrictions created in each group, taxing them the same might be less fair. “Should efficiency be the overriding goal?”

  “That’s a political question. You asked about the differences. The Ferrans work toward maximizing efficiency and production…and making large profits quickly. Before long, if we don’t change, they’ll be able to manufacture ironway locomotives in Ferrum, ship them here, and still sell them for less. That’s why they’ll eventually conquer Jariola, even if they fail this time. They learn and improve. Even in terms of war and destruction, they’re trying to be efficient, to create the most destruction with the least use of resources.”

  “The most destruction with the least use of resources…” I mused, half-aloud. “In a way, that’s a terrible way of putting it.”

  “But that’s what war is about…in terms of patterns. The winner is the one who creates the most destruction for the other while minimizing the destruction he suffers.”

  Even after I’d returned to my study, Ferlyn’s phrase about destruction kept running through my thoughts. There was something about it…

  34

  On Meredi, after a normal early morning, with somewhat more exercise and greater participation in getting Diestrya ready to leave with her mother, as soon as I got to my study, I met with Eamyn, only for about half a glass, just so that I could go over where he was in his studies. Then I read the latest reports from Patrol Commanders and from the various imager regionals. One thing stood out. There hadn’t been any attacks or explosions in any large manufactories or shipworks. At least, none of the reports mentioned any attacks on such facilities. That gave me yet another reason to visit Commander Artois.

  I took a duty coach to Civic Patrol headquarters, not that I was looking forward to meeting with Artois. I’d already decided that I wasn’t about to discuss anything with Cydarth until after I’d spoken with the Commander. I did have the coach wait for me outside headquarters.

  I stepped into anteroom outside Artois’s private study just after ninth glass. The older patroller who sat at the left-hand desk of the two small writing desks in the anteroom looked up.

  “Captain…Maitre Rhennthyl…”

  “I’m here to see the Commander.”

  “Yes, sir. Let me tell him.” The patroller stood, opened the door to the study, and quickly closed it behind him.

  In moments, the door reopened, and the patroller stepped out and to the side.

  Artois stood behind him, just inside the study. “Maitre Rhennthyl, do come in. I was hoping to see you before too long.”

  I stepped into the study and closed the door behind me. An ancient walnut desk was set at the end of the study closest to the river. On the innermost wall to the right was a line of wooden cases. On the wall opposite the desk was a tall and narrow bookcase, filled with volumes. Facing the desk were four straight-backed chairs. The two windows, frosted around the edges, were centered on the outer wall and offered a view of the various buildings on the north side of Fedre and some beyond, but not so far as the Boulevard D’Imagers. As had always been the case, there were no pictures or personal items on the desk, in the bookcases, or on the walls.

  “You look a bit battered and bruised,” offered Artois, moving toward his desk. Somehow, he looked even thinner and shorter than I recalled, although he was probably only four digits shorter than I was.

  “It does happen when someone fires bombards at you and stones crash down around you and your family.” I settled into one of the chairs in front of the desk, waiting for Artois to sit down.

  He did, smiling genially, although his brown eyes remained flat and expressionless. “You may recall I once said that you could be a very powerful imager. Apparently, I was correct.”

  “Ability does help some in survival.” I smiled politely, waiting to see what he might say.

  “I understand that you may have other duties now.” Absently, one hand brushed back short gray hair that held but a few remaining strands of brown.

  “Maitre Dyana is now the Maitre of the Collegium, and she has changed some duties. I will be taking over those handled by Maitre Dichartyn. In that regard, I would greatly appreciate it if I might receive any listing the Civic Patrol has of the structures damaged by explosions.”

  “We’re still compiling that, but I will be happy to send that listing once it is complete.”

  “Are you aware of any attacks on large manufactories or the barge piers or the ironway stations or freight terminals?”

  “I haven’t seen any reports on those.” He frowned.

  “Thank you.” I wasn’t about to explain. Not at the moment. “It appears that you face some of the same difficulties here, given the injuries to so many Civic Patrol captains.”

  He nodded slowly. “We have los
t some good captains.”

  “You have some good lieutenants, some of whom would make solid captains.”

  “You know, Maitre Rhennthyl, I have often asked myself what makes a good Civic Patrol officer. Is it ability? Intelligence? Or dedication? Motivation? Ambition? Ideals?” He paused and looked at me. “You have been a captain for five years. What do you think?”

  I offered a smile. “If it were only the case of a single quality. Dedication is important, but it depends on what the captain is dedicated to. Ability is certainly necessary, but it’s not enough. Ideals are vital, but which ideals? Intelligence, but only if it is coupled with practicality.”

  “You accomplished much in Third District, but you did so with abilities and contacts that no other officer possesses, and that leaves a certain problem.”

  “That is true, and it would be true if you choose to promote another officer to captain over Lieutenant Alsoran.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  I shrugged. “It’s known that I favor Alsoran. It’s also known that Alsoran believes in patrolling the Third District in the same fashion as I did. Regardless of what my future duties to the Collegium may entail, I still retain certain ties to Third District. Lieutenant Alsoran, were he to become captain, could call on me upon occasion. Because he is a loyal and dedicated officer, he could not and would not do so if he remained as lieutenant under a new captain. If he were to be transferred to another district, the knowledge he has of Third District would be lost. You, of course, are the Commander and will make what ever choice you think is best.”

  Artois shook his head. “You sound more like your predecessor than the captain of Third District.”

  “It is your choice, Commander,” I pointed out.

  He reached into the top drawer of his desk and withdrew a sealed envelope, then extended it to me. “That is his promotion to captain. While I could I do nothing else, I did wish to discuss the matter with you. I assume you would like to present it personally.”