Imager's challenge ip-2

by L. E. Modesitt

  “Rhennthyl . . .” offered Master Dichartyn, gesturing toward the witness chamber.

  “Yes, sir.” I edged back into the small room and sat down on the bench on the east side.

  I’d been seated for only a moment, when two muscular obdurate guards in their black uniforms marched Youdh in and sat him on the other bench, blindfolded and manacled. The guards remained standing on each side of Youdh, who said nothing.

  Outside, the bells began to ring the glass.

  A few moments later, I could hear the voice of the bailiff, Master Ghaend, faintly through the now-closed door. “All rise.”

  There was silence for what seemed to be a long time. Although I could not see what was happening, I knew that the justice, most likely Master Jhulian, walked to the dais and seated himself behind the desk.

  “You may be seated,” announced Master Ghaend. The door to the witness chamber opened. “Youdh D’Estaudis, step forward to the bar.”

  Youdh did not move. The two guards said nothing, but hoisted the taudischef to his feet. After that he did walk, in a fashion, out of the witness chamber. Master Ghaend closed the door, and I could hear nothing.

  I knew he’d be charged with one count of attempted murder of a patroller, two counts of attempted murder of an imager, two counts of assault, and one count of failing to report to Imagisle as an imager. Since all of the charges, except failure to report, involved the use of imaging, each one of which he was convicted could carry a death sentence.

  I felt that almost a full glass passed before the door to the witness chamber opened and Master Ghaend announced, “Master Rhennthyl to the bar.”

  As I stepped out of the witness chamber and through the archway, I could sense that the gallery was filled, which meant close to two hundred fifty imagers, from primes to graying masters. I walked deliberately forward to the bar before the dais.

  The justice seated behind the desk on the dais was Master Jhulian. He wore a long gray robe, like the Council justices, except his was trimmed in both black and red, instead of just black. The prosecutor for the Collegium, standing before the small table to the left, was Master Dichartyn. To the right was Master Rholyn. Seated behind the small table on the right was Youdh. I noticed that he was now gagged and bound to the chair.

  I halted short of the bar and inclined my head politely.

  “Master Rhennthyl,” said Master Jhulian, looking directly and intently at me, “do you understand that you are required to tell the whole truth, and that your words must not deceive, either by elaboration or omission?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Proceed.” Jhulian looked to Master Dichartyn.

  “Master Rhennthyl, please describe what occurred on the morning of Meredi, the thirty-second of Feuillyt, as you were patrolling with one Patroller Lyonyt.” Master Dichartyn could have been reading a textbook, for all the lack of emotion in his voice.

  “We had made one patrol round, heading out Quierca and then up the Avenue D’Artisans, and then down South Middle, before we walked back to Saelio and began patrolling the inner streets of the round. The last street on the second round was Mando . . .” I went on to describe exactly what had happened, from the first scream of the woman until we had delivered Youdh to the gaol at Imagisle.

  Master Dichartyn did not interrupt me once. After I finished, he said, “I have several questions, for clarification for the Collegium. Why did you remain lying on the pavement after the wagon passed?”

  “There was no one nearby, and I wanted to see if whoever had aimed the wagon at us would investigate. I thought that if we got up immediately, we would drive them away.”

  Master Dichartyn lifted a rusty knife and carried it over to me. “Is this one of the knives that was imaged at you?”

  I studied it. “Yes, sir. There were five, and they were all identical, even to the pattern of rust and the gouge on the grip.”

  “Thank you.” He set the knife on the justice’s desk and picked up an iron crossbow bolt. “Do you recognize this?”

  “Yes, sir. It’s one of the crossbow bolts that Youdh imaged at me.”

  He asked the same questions about the morning stars, and I replied. Then he asked, “It would have been within your purview as a master imager to have killed Youdh then and there. Why didn’t you?”

  “I had reported the possibility that there was an imager-tough in the taudis, and that report was received with some skepticism, sir. I attempted to capture him for two reasons. First, I thought the Collegium should have the opportunity to question him. Second, I wanted it verified that much of the recent difficulty in the area had been caused by an imager.”

  “Thank you, Master Rhennthyl. No further questions.”

  Master Jhulian looked to Master Rholyn. “Do you have any questions for the witness, Advocate for the Defense?”

  “Just a few, Your Honor.” Rholyn stepped forward. “Master Rhennthyl, you said that you had anticipated there was an imager in the taudis. Did you have any idea as to the actual identity of the imager?”

  “No, sir. In fact, even after we captured the imager, I didn’t know who he was-except that I’d seen him twice before without knowing who he was. Lyonyt told me who he was.”

  “Given his lack of training, don’t you think that you could have captured him without injuring his vision?”

  “He kept imaging things at us, and I didn’t sense that he was at all tired. I also didn’t know whether his toughs would return if I spent too much time trying to subdue him gently. With everything he was throwing in my direction, it would have been difficult and dangerous to approach more closely. I did try not to inflict permanent damage to his vision, but that seemed the safest way to stop his imaging so that we could capture him.”

  Muffled sounds issued from the gagged Youdh, and his chair bounced.

  None of the masters looked in his direction.

  Master Rholyn turned to Master Jhulian. “No further questions.”

  “You may leave the chamber for the anteroom, Master Rhennthyl,” declared Master Jhulian.

  I inclined my head in respect, then turned, and walked back along the black stone, stepping through the archway and back into the witness chamber.

  As bailiff, Master Ghaend closed the door behind me.

  As I sat there thinking, I realized something else, another reason why Youdh was most likely behind the granite blocks falling on me. Someone had known that my shields might have been impaired by a blow coming downward . . . but I had told no one that my shields had been hit by the stone. Only whoever had done it-Youdh-or someone familiar with imagers-Harraf perhaps-would have known that and arranged for toughs to use pistols against me in the days following. Again . . . it wasn’t proof.

  Only about half a glass passed before I heard Master Ghaend’s voice coming through the door of the witness chamber. “All rise!” From the timing and the firmness in Ghaend’s voice, Master Jhulian was about to announce his findings and sentence, not that there was any question as to either.

  Ghaend eased the door to the witness chamber ajar, clearly so that I could listen, and I rose from the bench and eased over to the door, hoping to hear more clearly.

  “Youdh, imager of Estaudis, this court finds as follows. First, the facts and testimony confirm that you did in fact commit the offenses with which you have been charged. Second, given your lengthy misuse of imaging, acceptance of a plea of For Mercy is not warranted. Third, the penalty for conviction on each of the major charges is death.”

  I could hear no sound from either the court area or the gallery.

  A faint clank echoed through the space. That had to have been when Youdh fell after Master Jhulian executed the sentence.

  I waited by the door to the witness box, knowing that the two obdurates were lifting the body. Before long, I could see through the narrow space between the door and the jamb as they walked past with Youdh’s still figure on their shoulders.

  Then came the words from Master Jhulian. “The sentence of the C
ollegium has been enforced. Justice has been done. So be it.”

  He would leave through the smaller archway at the rear of the dais, I knew, and I waited while Master Rholyn and Master Dichartyn turned and walked toward the archway closest to me.

  Master Dichartyn opened the door and stepped into the witness chamber. For a moment, he just looked at me.

  I looked back at him.

  “You’ve made matters easier for the Collegium,” he said. “They won’t be any easier for you. Not after today.”

  “That depends, sir.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

  “If the Collegium is more willing to accept my observations-not my judgment-just my observations, matters could be much easier.”

  “You’ve made it clear that we don’t have much choice.” His face twisted into a wry and sour smile. “But you’re still going to be the Collegium liaison to the Civic Patrol, and every taudischef will be wary of you, as will all of the Patrol officers. The everyday patrollers will expect more out of you as well.”

  “Your words suggest that most of the officers are corrupt. Otherwise, why would they worry?”

  “Many of them are, if in minor ways. Some, as you have discovered, are more so. You’ll need to keep that in mind.” He paused, then added, “Meet me at the west duty carriage stop at half past seventh glass.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He nodded and left the antechamber.

  I took a deep breath, then walked out as well, heading back to my quarters through the blustery winds that suggested colder weather was on its way, although the start of winter was still a month away.

  When I got to my rooms, I realized that it was only a quint until noon. So I headed back out and across the quadrangle to the dining hall.

  Ferlyn and Chassendri cornered me even before I reached the masters’ table, and I ended up sitting between them. We were early enough that the servers had only brought out the carafes of wine and the teapots.

  “How did you know he was an imager?” asked Ferlyn.

  “I didn’t. As I said at the hearing, I only knew that there was an imager. He kept himself concealed as one of the toughs. I mean, he presented himself in public as one of the taudischef’s toughs, not as the taudischef, and he always used imaging, from what I could tell, when no one else was around or when no one else could see what he was doing.”

  “That sounds rather clever,” observed Chassendri.

  “Why was he gagged?” I asked, trying to avoid questions I didn’t want to answer. I wanted a glass of wine, or more, but I didn’t dare, not with the rest of the day to come, and I settled for a mug of tea. It wasn’t all that warm outside, anyway.

  “Why? You were there . . . Oh . . . you weren’t, were you?” replied Ferlyn.

  “I was in the witness chamber.”

  “He called Master Dichartyn a ball-less bull and said that the Collegium was a creation of the Namer and worshipped Bius-”

  “Bius?” questioned Chassendri.

  “The black demon who opposes Puryon,” I explained. “That’s the god of the Tiemprans and some of the Gyarlese.” That also confirmed for me that Youdh had indeed been close to the priests of Puryon. Most taudis-toughs wouldn’t have known or cared who or what Bius was. “Then what?”

  “Then Master Jhulian cautioned him, and he said that since they were going to kill him, what did it matter? They gagged him after that.”

  “How did you think of using shields like that to escape the wagon?”

  “I don’t know, except I knew that the wagon had to go someplace, and that we’d be squeezed too thin if I tried to use shields between the wagon and the side walls.”

  “How did he learn to be an imager . . . ?”

  I tried to answer or deflect the questions, either with careful words or by retreating into eating the gravied pork chops and rice fries, but I was more tired after lunch than I’d been before I’d eaten.

  When I left the dining hall, I saw Shault waiting in the corridor outside. After a single quick glance at me, he didn’t look at me again, but he didn’t move, either.

  I walked over to him. “Shault?”

  “Yes, sir?” His eyes avoided mine.

  “Horazt isn’t an imager, and he hasn’t done anything to upset the Collegium. The Collegium doesn’t have anything against taudischefs if they don’t create trouble for us. Horazt hasn’t done that, and he certainly hasn’t tried to attack any patrollers. He’s helped me several times.”

  The boy looked up, finally.

  “I know you worry, but you don’t have to worry about that.” I paused. “How is your mother?”

  “She’s fine, sir.” He glanced to one side. “I need to meet Master Ghaend soon, sir.”

  “I won’t keep you, then.”

  “Yes, sir.” He swallowed, then murmured, “Thank you.” He hurried away without looking back.

  I’d always wondered about Horazt and Shault, but now I knew.

  41

  Given what likely faced me that evening, when I finished eating lunch in the dining hall, I returned to my quarters to think and plan. After thinking and re-thinking for almost four glasses, and trying not to think about Rousel and what I feared was inevitable, and then hurrying over to the dining hall and eating dinner quickly, I returned to my rooms and dressed carefully in the black formal attire I’d received earlier. I was careful to slip some poison imaging detection strips inside my jacket and to place the silver imager’s pin on the left breast of the formal black jacket. As with the Harvest Ball, the Council’s Autumn Ball began officially at eighth glass, which was why I had to meet Master Dichartyn at half past seven.

  I did arrive at the duty coach stop before he did, if only by a few moments. Already, the evening was promising to be chill and windy, but clear. There were two coaches waiting, and Master Dichartyn gestured to the first one. “Baratyn and the others can take the second.”

  After holding the door for him, I climbed up into the coach and closed the door.

  Once we had pulled away, he looked at me. “You know that High Holder Ryel will be there tonight?”

  “I’d thought he would be.”

  “Nothing must happen to him this evening.”

  “I had not planned on anything, sir, except dancing with his daughter, should she be here.”

  “She is on the guest list, as is Madame D’Shendael. Madame D’Shendael has requested that you invite her to dance with you, for some reason.”

  “I expressed sympathy at the loss of her father, without ever overtly connecting them.” I didn’t ask how Master Dichartyn had come to receive that request. He would have told me if he’d wanted me to know, and I was tired of begging for scraps of information and being refused.

  “If you would be so discreet with other matters . . .”

  “I intend to be the soul of discretion this evening, sir, but I will continue to keep my eyes and abilities ready for any other troublemakers.”

  He laughed. “Was that intentional?”

  “Me, sir?” I smiled innocently. “I’m merely the son of a factor who has much to learn about High Holders and their society and comings and goings.” That was totally true, in more ways than the words conveyed.

  “Rhennthyl . . . when you talk like that, I must confess to a certain concern.”

  He should have a concern, I thought, but not tonight, at least not on my account. “I understand my position with regard to High Holder Ryel and the Collegium, sir.”

  He nodded, but I could sense a certain skepticism.

  Once the coach arrived at the curb of the ring road around Council Hill, opposite the side door used by imagers, I followed Master Dichartyn through the side gate and past the guard and up the narrow steps, inside the Council Chateau and past a second guard.

  “Good evening, maitres.”

  “Good evening,” replied Master Dichartyn.

  I echoed his salutation.

  We walked along the lower corridor that led to the foot of the
grand staircase. When we reached the ceremonial guards, standing just forward of the two statues of winged angelicas rising from the pedestals that formed the bottom of the rose marble balustrade, I smiled. I couldn’t help but recall my comments to my father the first time I’d seen the winged figures with their impossibly small wings and equally impossibly large individual feathers.

  Master Dichartyn didn’t pause but began to climb the stairs. I walked beside him.

  “You don’t have any fixed station tonight, not that such has hindered you before,” he said dryly. “If you see trouble, try to handle it quietly . . . please.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  We stood by the archway into the great receiving hall, waiting.

  The first carriage arrived in the drive usually restricted to councilors at a quint before eighth glass, followed within moments by another, for almost none wanted to be the first to arrive. Another quint passed before figures appeared in the main floor grand foyer and began to pass the ceremonial guards and ascend the grand staircase, slowly and deliberately, taking far more time than necessary on the grand staircase.

  Master Dichartyn nodded to me, and we retreated into the hall proper.

  “Councilor Alucion D’Artisan and Madame D’Alucion!” The deep voice announcing the first arrival boomed from the same small balding man who had announced arrivals at the last Ball and whose name I still did not know. He stood at the left side of the center archway into the great receiving hall. Behind him, inside the hall, were the three councilors on the Executive Council, who formed a receiving line of sorts.

  Baratyn stood against the east wall of the hall, past the councilors, while Dartazn and Martyl were along the west wall.