I managed not to think too hard about that through the morning exercises or breakfast, but when I got to the Third District station just before seventh glass, Captain Harraf gestured for me to join him in his study. I didn’t close the door, and he didn’t ask me to.
For a moment, he said nothing, just looked at me.
I waited for what he had to say.
“The man you brought yesterday died before he could say anything. It’s a pity you couldn’t have been more gentle. Alsoran does his best, but you as an imager . . .”
“I protected him against gunshots and after that we did our best against five taudis-toughs, Captain. As the report stated, they didn’t say a word to us. They started shooting and then attacked.”
“Surely they must have had a reason.”
“I’m most certain they did, but since neither Alsoran nor I had ever seen any of them before, whatever that reason happened to be was not based on personal contact with us. It might be the result of decisions you or the commander made or just because they were feeling like they wanted to make an example of two patrollers, or because they’re worried a conscription team may be sweeping the taudis before long. I couldn’t say.” I could sense Harraf stiffen, but I just smiled politely. “You certainly have a better idea of such matters than do I.”
“I’m so glad you grant me that, Master Rhennthyl.”
“You have far more experience than I do, sir. I’m here to learn.”
For some reason, he paused at my words, if only momentarily. “That you are. I trust you will convey what you learn to other imagers. Still, it was unfortunate that there was no one to question.”
“Yes, sir.” It was indeed unfortunate-but not for Harraf, I thought.
“That’s all I had, Master Rhennthyl.”
“Thank you, sir.” I smiled and slipped out of his study, wondering why he’d even brought the matter up at all. Was he that stupid to think I didn’t see? Or was I that stupid in not overtly recognizing how much power he wielded in the Third District?
Alsoran was waiting as I walked into the front area of the station.
“How are you feeling this morning?” I asked as we left.
“I’m fine. Still can’t figure out why those toughs attacked us yesterday.”
“It could be that someone told them I was an imager, and they don’t like that.”
“If they’d been from that part of the taudis . . . maybe . . . but they were intruding.”
“Could it be that they wanted to cause trouble for the taudischefs on your round?”
Alsoran considered that for several moments before saying, “It’s possible.”
“But you don’t think that’s it.”
“Nope. Couldn’t say why, though.”
I could, but I wasn’t about to say that it was Youdh’s doing at Harraf’s prompting. Or that if I’d failed to protect Alsoran, matters would have been worse for me and the Collegium.
While there were more people on the streets as we walked the round, especially on South Middle and the Avenue D’Artisans, no one even gave us more than a passing glance, except for the handful of older women who smiled at Alsoran or passed pleasantries.
We were near the end of the first pass through the east end of the taudis, on Saelio, when I caught sight of three men, all wearing dark green cloaks, walking slowly toward us. They stopped a good ten yards away.
“Jadhyl,” murmured Alsoran.
“You were right,” I murmured back.
“Good morning, Jadhyl,” offered Alsoran. “Have you met Rhennthyl? He’s filling in for Lyonyt for a while.”
“I cannot say that I have.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Jadhyl.” I inclined my head politely. While Jadhyl’s speech was precise, far better than any of the taudis-toughs I’d heard, there was a hint of an accent, and his skin had a trace of a golden tinge that I’d never seen before. His hair was also an unusual golden brown.
“I wanted to inform you that no one associated with me was involved in the unfortunate incident yesterday afternoon. That would not be in my interests, nor Deyalt’s.”
Alsoran nodded. “Master Rhennthyl and I sort of thought that, but it’s good to hear it from you.”
“I appreciate your not reaching an untoward conclusion. Thank you.” He nodded, then turned, flanked by the two others. They disappeared down the next side lane.
Once they were out of sight, we continued onward.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up the head of all the taudischefs here,” I said quietly.
“That’s what the captain’s afraid of,” replied Alsoran. “You notice the streets here?”
“They’re neater. Not perfect, but better than those to the west.”
“Look at the windows. Close.”
I did as we walked along the block, and then it struck me. I’d half noticed it before. There weren’t any boarded-up windows. Some had very crude shutters, stained rather than painted, but shutters. “Is that Jadhyl’s doing?”
“Couldn’t say, but that tough you handled yesterday . . . you see him today?”
“No.”
“He’s been leaning on that post for two weeks, every morning. Wager you won’t see him again, one way or the other. Wager I won’t, either.”
I wasn’t about to take that wager.
Later, when we had reached the end of our second round, I asked, “Who patrols the part of the taudis between the station and your round? During the day?”
“That’d be Melyor and Slausyl. You thinking about those toughs again?”
“I was.”
“I asked them if they thought they might be Youdh’s. They didn’t know. Slausyl’s heard word that Youdh wants to be a sort of head taudischef over the whole South Middle taudis. He might want to see if we’d do something against Jadhyl or Deyalt.”
“That’s possible.” Or had the point really been to see if they could get me . . . and failing that, get Alsoran and discredit me?
While we kept a careful eye on the narrower lanes and alleys for the rest of the day, we weren’t looking so much for the locals, but for crazy elvers or those who didn’t belong. We didn’t see either, not that there weren’t elvers and more than the occasional odor of the weed by late afternoon, but no one smoking it ever came close to us.
I kept thinking over what I’d seen. Why was Harraf worried about Jadhyl? Because he might end up controlling the entire taudis? Or because he wouldn’t funnel payoffs to Harraf? How did the priests of Puryon fit in?
Just before we headed back to the station, I finally asked, “Do you know how Jadhyl gets along with the priests of Puryon?”
“Can’t say as I know for certain, Master Rhennthyl. Heard it said that anyone from his area who uses their advocates goes over to Youdh. They do, and they have to move out of here, though.”
“Jadhyl looks different.”
“His folks came from Stakanar.”
The more I saw and heard, the less I liked what seemed to be going on in Third District. Yet . . . it was all vague. The one thing that was clear, once Alsoran had pointed it out, was that the area controlled by taudischef Jadhyl was far more orderly and better kept. But that didn’t prove anything about Captain Harraf.
Because we hadn’t had any more troubles, I was able to leave the station just after fourth glass. I hadn’t seen anyone in the family for over a week, and since I was already closer to the house than I would have been at Imagisle, I took a carriage for hire out to the house.
Khethila was the one to open the door.
“Rhenn . . . I didn’t expect you, not in the middle of the week.” She stepped back.
I followed her inside, closing the door behind me. “I would have come on Solayi, but I was the duty master and couldn’t leave Imagisle.”
“Mother’s over at the neighbors’, and Father won’t be home for a bit. He wanted to check some of the inventory after they closed.”
“Are you still enjoying doing the accounts?”
Her smile was brief. “That part is good. I even figured out a way to ship woolens to Solis and Asseroiles faster and cheaper.”
“Oh?”
“Most people don’t ship on Samedi, but if we have the shipment ready on Vendrei night, we can send it down to the ironway freight depot first thing on Samedi morning and have the wagon back by midday. I negotiated a ten percent discount that way.” She shrugged. “It won’t work on urgent shipments, but it does help.”
I didn’t like the sound of that.
“Is there anything new from Kherseilles?” I was almost afraid to ask.
Khethila was silent for a long moment. “Unless things get better, Father will probably have to close the factorage there.” She kept her voice low. “He doesn’t want to admit it, but we’re losing more golds every month there.”
“It’s that bad?”
“The Abiertans reneged on their contracts because the Council won’t send a fleet to protect the port, and our ships won’t steam there, and theirs can’t afford to approach Solidar. Rousel has been relying on the Abiertans for trade with Tiempre and Caenen, and all the cargo space on Solidaran merchanters heading to Otelyrn has been bought up. The Caenenans and Tiemprans aren’t sending that many vessels north.” Khethila pursed her lips, then continued. “Rousel can’t seem to find anyone to tear down the warehouse wall and rebuild it where it should be, and the new owner of the adjoining land is threatening to have it done-and it’s in the middle of the fall rains there. Rousel missed one major shipment because the dray wagon broke the trace pole and he couldn’t get a replacement in time, and he couldn’t hire any other teamsters to carry the bales. Whether he’ll get paid for the delayed shipment . . .” She shrugged.
All that sounded like Rousel, never quite following through, never quite making sure of the details. Yet after what was happening to me, I almost questioned whether it made a difference. I’d tried to be careful, and I was still in trouble.
“Can you do anything?”
“I’m afraid . . .” She stopped. “Father wants to extend more credit. I’ve told him we can’t afford it. We could. This time.” Her eyes met mine. “Am I wrong?”
How could I answer that? Finally, I said, “Do you remember how I got strapped for not trimming the hedge properly?”
“I just remember you punched Rousel, and Father strapped you again.”
“He was supposed to use the small shears and follow up. He never did. He went off to play, and Father punished me for not catching him. If I’d caught him, he would have complained that I hurt him. That sort of thing happened more than once.”
“You’re saying that if I . . .”
I nodded. “You’ll only make it harder for Father.”
“Rousel will plead that the problem with the wall wasn’t his fault and that he just needs a little more credit and time.”
“I’m sure he will. He hasn’t paid out anything for the wall or rebuilding, has he?”
“No. Not yet.” She sighed. “I see what you mean. I knew it, but it’s so hard.”
I knew that, too, and I knew Ryel would find a way to make it harder. I just didn’t know how.
25
Compared to previous days, Meredi was uneventful, and I didn’t even see Captain Harraf. Nor were there any taudis-toughs waiting on corners or by posts. We did have to deal with a window smash-and-grab at a small silversmith’s off the Avenue D’Artisans in the afternoon, but the thief made the mistake of smashing the glass when the owner’s son-who overtopped me-was returning to the shop. All we had to do was cart the thief away. He was an elver, desperate for coins.
When I woke on Jeudi morning, I could actually lift shields without a headache. One blow to my shields from above, and I’d been limited for a week.
After completing my now all-too-regular prebreakfast routine, I walked quickly to the dining hall. I was about to enter when the large headline type from the topmost newsheet in the full boxes caught my eye: “War Looms!” I immediately hurried over and picked up a copy of Veritum, then scanned the lead story quickly.
A Ferran fleet had attacked a Solidaran flotilla off the harbor at Teusig, wherever that was, using fog as a cover and apparently taking our ships by surprise. The losses had been heavy on both sides, with only two Solidaran ships out of eight surviving. Reportedly, some fifteen Ferran ships had been sunk. The Council was expected to declare war imminently.
The Abiertan Isles had declared their neutrality, insisting all merchant vessels were welcome, but no warships. That cut off one of the major refueling ports for the Solidaran Navy and meant more colliers would have to accompany the fleet. The newsheet said that several advisors to the Council had raised the question as to whether Solidar should take over the port at Abierta-or the coaling station operated there by our Navy.
After folding the sheet and thrusting it inside my waistcoat, I entered the dining hall. Ferlyn was the only other one at the masters’ table, and I sat down beside him. No sooner had I poured my tea than Chassendri joined us.
“What do you think about war with Ferrum?” I asked.
“It had to happen sooner or later,” Ferlyn replied calmly. “The Ferrans don’t like us, and they don’t like the way we run our country, and we’re the ones who might keep them from annexing the chunk of Jariola that they want. They’ve been trying to provoke a war for months.”
I offered the teapot to Chassendri because her mug was on the side away from me. “And you?”
“It won’t solve anything, really. They think they won a battle, but they destroyed six older frigates and lost fifteen of their own. The Council will declare war. The war will destroy the Ferran fleets and much of Ferran commerce, and weaken ours. All the more repressive regimes will benefit, and that will assure that political change across Terahnar will take longer and require more rebellions and bloodshed. In the end, we both lose.”
“Aren’t you the cheerful one,” replied Ferlyn dryly. “You’ve obviously been listening to Maitre Dyana.”
“She’s right more often than not.”
“And she has a way of letting us know it without saying a word,” Ferlyn replied with a laugh.
“I wish I were that effective,” I said.
“You do rather well yourself.” At least Chassendri smiled when she spoke.
We didn’t decide much at breakfast . . . or agree, and I ate hurriedly.
Then I used a duty coach to get to Third District station because I’d decided that I shouldn’t be paying for transportation required by the Collegium. I’d still have to use a hack or my feet to return, but halving the cost was better than bearing it all myself.
The station didn’t look any different that morning, even with the possibility of war hanging over everyone. I didn’t even see Captain Harraf, and that was fine with me.
I didn’t have to wait long for Alsoran, and we walked out into a chill breeze that had seemingly risen in the short time since I’d entered the station. I was glad that I was wearing the heavier winter waistcoat under the patroller’s cloak.
We walked almost to Quierca before I asked Alsoran, “What do you think about the Council declaring war?”
“They’ll do what they will. It’s not as though we can do anything about it. I’m just glad my son’s only nine. Be trouble for Third Station, because the conscription teams will be here sooner and more often.”
“Next week?”
“More like two, I’d wager. Or three.”
Throughout the day, even when we patrolled the Avenue D’Artisans, I didn’t hear anyone talking about war or Ferrum. I overheard a few comments at Elysto’s, most definitely Alsoran’s favorite place to eat lunch.
“. . . Ferrans won’t learn . . .”
“. . . good at counting golds, but not at counting shells . . .”
“. . . think our Navy’s that good?”
Even when we returned to the station just after fourth glass, when the shifts were changing, I didn’t hear a word about the coming war.
Did it matter that little? Or did all the patrollers feel the way Alsoran did? Or was it just that they fought their own skirmishes, day after day, with little or no recognition?
When I returned to my quarters, I found that my black formal jacket and trousers had been delivered and laid out across my easy chair and that an envelope had been slipped under my door. Inside was a note with a single line: “Meet me at fifth glass. D.”
I reached his study just before fifth glass. The door was open. I stepped inside. “Sir?”
Master Dichartyn turned from the window. “If you’d close the door, Rhenn.”
I did. Although my feet were sore, I did not sit because he remained standing.
“Did you hear that the Council declared war on Ferrum?”
“No, sir. I saw the newsheets this morning, but I hadn’t heard anything more. I had the feeling they would.”
“They don’t have much choice. Ferran forces have invaded Jariola, and the Ferran fleet attacked our other flotilla, with far less success than in the earlier battle. The Jariolans will likely be pushed back or retreat, even after our main battle fleet arrives.”
“How will that help? We aren’t going to invade Ferrum or send troops, are we?”
“We won’t have to. Once the Ferrans lose their fleet, and we confiscate the majority of their merchanters for damages, it’s likely that their Assembly might see matters rather differently.” He shrugged. “If not, a blockade on the ports will eventually bring them to their senses. If that doesn’t, the Jariolans will, once full winter hits.”
“Won’t that just create an opportunity for smugglers?”
“It doubtless will, but smugglers can’t bring in large quantities of anything. They’ll bring luxury goods and small high-value items that will damage the Ferran economy even more.”
“Won’t the fighting in Jariola continue, though?”
“For months, if not far longer, but the Jariolans have more troops, and they’ll be fighting in winter in the mountains of their own land. All that heavy equipment of the Ferrans won’t be that useful in snow and rugged terrain.”
“Isn’t this going to be . . . costly? For us, I mean.”
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