“As I said before, sir, I’d rather not. I’ve had to guess at far too many things recently.”
“Then I will tell you. The terrace tower on High Holder Ryel’s estate collapsed suddenly yesterday during his annual fall foliage celebration. Besides his son, four other High Holders were killed. Interestingly enough, at about that same time half of Ryel’s gardens were destroyed by an unseasonable frost that struck only his estate and no other, and a sudden chill froze the stream beneath the gardens solid. The chill was so intense that it turned all the gardens to dust, and ice droplets rained from a cloudless sky.”
“That does seem strange.”
“Strange indeed,” Dichartyn said dryly. “Might I point out that in less than a year, the single greatest internal threat to the Collegium, in the presence of the late High Holder Ryel’s son, has been removed, that the head of the deadliest spy and foreign assassination conspiracy in centuries suffered a fatal fall, that an explosion destroyed all traces of the remaining conspirators, that the two most corrupt officers in the Civic Patrol have been stipended off, that disaster in the South Middle taudis was averted and the Tiemprans responsible apprehended, that the taudischefs who facilitated the Tiempran plot were both brought to hearings and executed, that the feared conscription team was given a warning that has resulted in the reduction in abusive behavior, that the most arrogant, dangerous, and powerful High Holder died in a tower collapse that was totally unforeseen, and that those High Holders most slavish in their support of that High Holder also perished.” Dichartyn paused, then added dryly, “It is a rather remarkable set of ‘coincidences,’ wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you honestly think that any right-minded master imager could possibly have predicted all those events, especially the collapse of a stone tower built to last centuries?”
“Sir, you made it absolutely clear on repeated occasions that you neither wished to hear of my personal difficulties with the late High Holder Ryel nor to have the Collegium involved in any fashion. I acceded to those wishes. High Holder Ryel also made it perfectly clear-after instances of arson in my family’s factorage, legal actions based on irrefutable but fraudulent records, numerous accidents and damages to equipment, and finally the death of my brother-that no accommodation was possible. Since none was possible, and since it was also made clear to me that any male heir would have to continue Ryel’s actions, the only course of action, assuming I wanted to save myself and my family, was to invoke the Nameless on my behalf. Obviously, the Nameless listened, because Ryel’s nephew was foolish enough to go racing on the highway with a defective trap, and Ryel and his son were unfortunate enough to stand on a tower hit by lightning or some such.” I shrugged. “Sometimes, fortune does favor those who are less powerful and wronged by the arrogantly powerful.”
Master Dichartyn laughed. “Your explanation is better than many I’ve heard, and publicly, the less said the better. I have absolutely no doubt that the other High Holders will become remarkably less strident in the days ahead. Maitre Poincaryt has stated that he will point out to the High Councilor that Ryel’s actions were excessive, and resulted in excessive repayment. You should be hearing what results from that repayment in time. However, right now, we need to walk down the hall and meet with Maitre Poincaryt.”
I rose, trying not to show my stiffness and soreness, and walked to the staircase with Master Dichartyn and then up and to the southwest corner and straight into the maitre’s private study.
Maitre Poincaryt was wearing grays that were frayed and stained in places, doubtless those he wore around wherever he lived when he did not expect visitors. He offered a wry smile and gestured to the chairs across the desk from him.
We seated ourselves, and I waited.
“You realize, Master Rhennthyl, that neither Dichartyn nor I would prefer to be here on a Solayi.”
“I can understand that, sir. I’d prefer not to be here.” And that was absolutely true.
“You will come to understand that even more in years to come, provided you survive the current year. Some more unrealistic and impractical than I might suggest that you be put on trial. That will not occur.”
I was half relieved to know that I wasn’t about to be hauled up before the Collegium on charges . . . or not on serious ones.
“Nonetheless, you will be punished in another and more lasting fashion, as are all imagers who must work outside the formal structures of the Collegium and the Council.” Master Poincaryt smiled wanly.
I waited, not knowing what was to come.
“There is always a price, Rhennthyl. Always. Those who do not understand Solidar and the Collegium have no idea. From this day forward, you will never be able to leave Imagisle without carrying the heaviest possible shields. Even if you choose to marry, you will always sleep alone and wake alone in a lead-lined room, because your power is so great that a nightmare could kill all those you love. Everyone, save a handful who know you well, will shy away from you. So, in time, will your children. If you have any perception at all, you will have to weigh every request, every word that is addressed to you. If you do not, you will come to regret any such lapses more and more with each passing day.”
I swallowed. Some of that I had considered, but not the totality.
“Now, in regard to High Holder Ryel, unlike Dichartyn, I will not be indirect. Only a powerful master imager could have accomplished what happened at Ryel’s estates yesterday. Since I did not do it, nor did Dichartyn, you had to be the one. Given the situation facing you, and the strictures we placed on you, you had no choice but to confront Ryel. I would have preferred a more . . . indirect method, but you did not involve the Collegium, nor is there anything remotely resembling proof. In fact, there’s Namer-little of anything left within an arc of three hundred yards south of the tower ruins. When I meet with High Councilor Suyrien, I will make certain that he understands the dangers involved in placing any imager in a situation where his family is threatened and he has nothing to lose. I will also point out that, at the moment, High Holders are held in even lower esteem than the Collegium, in part due to your efforts in dealing with the South Middle taudis. This has created other problems, which I will address in a moment.” He smiled ruefully before continuing.
“There is also the matter of the four other High Holders who perished in the frost-storm. Their families will doubtless grieve, at least in public, but I will suggest that the Nameless repaid them in kind for consorting with a High Holder who was so ruthless that he could not foresee the inevitable consequences of seeking absolute power over anyone and anything that displeased him. Even High Councilor Suyrien will find that an appropriate message, and he will convey it to all High Holders . . . for his own reasons.”
The absolute certainty held in Maitre Poincaryt’s words was far more chilling than any reprimand could have been. He was telling me what would happen and how the Council would handle it-and that there would be no questions whatsoever. What was more chilling than that was the total lack of surprise in and behind his words.
“That brings us to your future. Commander Artois has made a request of the Collegium.” Master Poincaryt looked to Master Dichartyn and then to me.
That scarcely surprised me. If I hadn’t made every senior Patrol officer wary or unhappy, I’d doubtless come close, and I didn’t want to think how the Navy and naval marines felt.
Master Poincaryt offered a smile that looked ironic, but I wasn’t at all certain. “His letter and his subsequent conversation with me have left no doubt that certain aspects of the . . . situation with the South Middle taudis were not precisely to his liking. This has left him in a position where he feels, with some justification, I might agree, that the Collegium is obligated to assist him in resolving the situation. And since you were instrumental in creating this situation, Master Rhennthyl, it only seems fitting that you be part of the resolution.”
“Exactly how, sir? I can’t imagine that the commander would ever wish to
see me again.” Except at my early funeral.
“I would agree. He does not wish to see you again, and certainly not soon. That is not the question. All of us with responsibility and power have to deal with situations and people we would rather not, and it is true that the commander does not particularly like you. It is equally true that he respects your abilities and your courage. More important than that is the fact that the majority of the taudischefs also respect you. Add to that the fact that they do not respect any other senior Patrol officer, and you can see the difficulty facing Commander Artois. Then there is the fact that Captain Harraf has requested that he be granted a full retirement stipend immediately. His wife has suffered ill health, and retiring on a stipend would allow them to move to Extela, which would benefit her health greatly. Given your actions, he may well feel that it will benefit his as well.”
Why would Captain Harraf do that? Was it my statement on the day of the Temple explosion about not always being able to protect him, and the implication that such lack of protection might be fatal?
“Rather unusually, but fittingly, he has indicated privately that Third District station might benefit from a new captain and perhaps one less traditional. We have consulted with the Council . . . so that there would be no misunderstanding, and the councilors were virtually unanimous in approving the solution reached by the Patrol and the Collegium.”
I waited for the ax to fall, or the gallows trap to spring.
“Effective immediately, you are now a Civic Patrol captain. You will take over command of Third District exactly one week from tomorrow. You are not to appear anywhere in Civic Patrol buildings until then. That will allow for an orderly transition. The term of appointment is for three years, renewable twice, if necessary. Oh . . . and in recognition of your considerable skills as an imager, you are also advanced to Maitre D’Structure. You will be paid by the Collegium, and of course, as a Maitre D’Structure, you are entitled to one of the larger family quarters at the north end of the isle, should you ever require such. I do suspect, given your . . . informal arrangements, that you will be needing it in the near future.” He stopped and looked at me.
I just sat there for a moment. “Surely . . . I don’t have enough experience . . .”
“You-and the family of your young lady friend-can certainly discover some trustworthy and experienced first patrollers and lieutenants and request them to assist you. I suspect some would even wish to do so. You have, like it or not, one quality that no one else in the Patrol can offer-a reputation for honesty and strength in dealing with the taudis-dwellers and taudischefs.”
Master Dichartyn was smiling, but the expression was sad and sympathetic before he added, “In addition, this will provide you with another form of valuable experience, Rhennthyl. This time, you will have to find the means to clean up the mess and consternation that you have created. Even with the aegis of the Collegium behind you, you will run into the problems of being short of patrollers or supplies, of having corrupt patrollers, and there will always be those, and you won’t be able to remove very many through ‘accidents’ or the entire district will fall apart under you.” Dichartyn’s smile turned almost gleeful. “I’m very much looking forward to watching how you handle this. Oh, and while you can occasionally skip the morning runs and exercises, it is strongly recommended that you keep such absences to a minimum.”
“Yes, sir.”
I already had some ideas about how to improve matters with the Civic Patrol, but now . . . ?
“If you’re thinking about a wedding . . . you only get a week’s leave, but you can take it whenever you want. I did insist on that. I know enough about women, families, and Pharsi traditions to understand it’s a rather significant event, involving more than merely running the most demanding Patrol district in L’Excelsis.”
“I will have to wait to make that public and formal, sir. Until High Holder Ryel’s heir has been determined.”
“Given the exigencies of the situation facing others, Rhennthyl, you may not have to wait that long at all. You have forced many hands in ways few foresaw.” Maitre Poincaryt took a deep breath, then stood. “Now . . . if you don’t mind, I’d like to spend some time with my granddaughter, and I’m certain Dichartyn has better things to do with what is left of his day off.”
“Yes, sir.”
In less than half a quint, I was back in the conference room, trying to puzzle out what lay behind what had just occurred. I still had a long and, hopefully, boring day as duty master.
59
After the remainder of Solayi that was indeed quietly and comfortingly long and boring, I had managed to determine, at least in my mind, much of what must have occurred, although it would likely be weeks before the events that would confirm, or disprove, what I thought I had worked out. I was still exhausted when I finally went to bed, and my sleep was thankfully dreamless.
For all that, when I woke, my thoughts were of Rousel. Matters seemed to be working out for me-or I had managed to work them out. Yet in a way, Rousel had been the one to pay for them. Because of his death, so had my parents, and Khethila, and even Culthyn. I’d always feel that loss . . . and the lesson that came with it, one that Dichartyn had hammered at me from the beginning, but which I hadn’t felt. Everyone around a powerful imager paid when the imager failed to see or to anticipate what he should have. The costs fell, I was beginning to see, most heavily on those closest and those who could not protect themselves. That was why there were security and covert imagers, not so much to resolve problems, but to stop them before they became too large and the consequences too great.
Inadvertently, I had just provided an object lesson to High Holders, one that I had no doubts Maitre Poincaryt would ensure that they understood. Yet, few except High Holders would ever know of that lesson, and that was because of something else that had become apparent to me, but well understood by Maitre Poincaryt and Maitre Dichartyn. Given human nature, every large catastrophe or event with adverse consequences that could be attributed to someone or some human creation would be, and that attribution would provoke a reaction, and the reaction would provoke yet another. Sometimes, if rarely, public attribution was salutatory. Sometimes it was necessary. Usually, it just led to demands for action and revenge, which led to more demands and actions.
I noted those thoughts as I dressed to head out for exercise and running. The cold shower didn’t feel all that bad when I returned, and I was feeling less depressed after I dressed and walked across the quadrangle to the dining hall.
“Rhenn, how was your weekend?” asked Ferlyn as I settled down to eat.
“Long. I was duty master yesterday. Oh, I did finish the portrait of Master Rholyn, and it’s being framed. I don’t know where Maitre Poincaryt will hang it, though.”
“How do you think things will go with the Civic Patrol after that Temple explosion?”
“I imagine they’ll settle down. Most people just want to get on with their lives.” I helped myself to two of the fried flatcakes and dowsed them with berry syrup.
“What will they do with you?”
“Whatever Maitre Poincaryt and the Civic Patrol decide, they’ll let me know in a few days. It just could be that they’ll want me to stay with the Patrol and be more circumspect. We’ll have to see.”
“You don’t seem that worried.”
“It won’t do any good. Not now.” I laughed. “I should have worried when Master Dichartyn asked if I wanted to be a covert imager.”
From beside Ferlyn, Maitre Dyana offered a slight nod and a smile.
After breakfast, given all that had happened, I did use a duty coach to take me out to NordEste Design for one last important action, something that I felt had been assumed, but never formalized, and in some matters, formality was absolutely necessary. So I stood outside the private door at just past seventh glass. I clearly wasn’t expected, because I had to bang the brass knocker several times.
Finally, the door eased open, and Seliora stood there. She l
ooked less than pleased, although some of the irritation faded as she recognized me. “Rhenn! What are you doing here? Aren’t you working?”
“You might say that my duties have been temporarily suspended. A few more things have happened, and we do need to talk.” I tried to keep my face formal.
“How bad . . .” She stopped. “It can’t be that bad if you’re here.”
“That depends on how one defines ‘bad.’ Might I come in?”
“Oh . . . yes.” She paused, then stepped back. “This is a working day, you know?”
“I know. That’s why I’m here early.” I stepped into the foyer, closing the door and turning to her.
“What is it?”
I thought I caught a trace of humor behind the question, but I wasn’t quite certain. “To begin with, Madame D’Rhennthyl-to-be, assuming you agree, you see before you a Civic Patrol captain and Maitre D’Structure.”
For a moment, Seliora looked absolutely stunned. “A Patrol captain and a Maitre D’Structure?”
“Apparently, I’ve made it impossible for anyone else to be Patrol captain in Third District, and my imager abilities merit an advancement, and that advancement entitles me-if I am married-to one of the larger quarters for families on Imagisle.”
She still kept looking at me.
“So I would like to ask you, and your parents, formally, for your hand. I haven’t actually done that.” I paused. “We can’t announce it to anyone else until Ryel’s successor is confirmed, but I’ve been told that will occur within the next month or two. That will allow quiet planning for a suitable and proper Pharsi wedding.”
At that, her arms did go around me.
This time, we held on to each other for a very long time.
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