4
Alastar was one of the first in the dining hall on Vendrei morning, after his run and washing up, as was usually the case, and he seated himself at the masters’ table. He’d be fortunate if even one or two others joined him, since Taryn was the only other senior master who was not married, and of the eleven Maitres D’Aspect, only five were unmarried, including the only two female maitres. The unmarried status of the two women scarcely surprised Alastar.
He was sipping his tea and waiting for egg toast and bacon that he hoped was not too greasy when Taryn took the seat to his left. Shortly, Shaelyt and Alyna took seats to his right, but Shaelyt left an empty chair between himself and Alastar.
Alastar glanced at the pair of junior maitres and then at Taryn. “I haven’t seen them together before.”
“They’re friends. Nothing more, I assure you.”
“That’s too bad,” murmured Alastar. He didn’t have to say why. Every senior imager knew that, almost always, the child of two imagers was also an imager, usually a girl—and female imagers were all too rare.
“You’d do anything to strengthen the Collegium, I think,” replied Taryn, his voice low, but with a wide and humorous smile.
“Almost anything … almost.” Alastar managed not to look dismayed when a server slipped a platter before him with egg toast so brown it was almost black and bacon that was anything but crisp. The small loaf of bread was warm, but might have served equally well as a brick, were there any need to build anything at the Collegium.
“Have you heard anything from His Mightiness, Rex Dafou?” inquired Taryn.
“It’s best that reference remain behind closed doors. If junior imagers hear us calling him that, and they do the same…” He raised his eyebrows. “We’re not exactly in anyone’s good graces. I’m not disputing the judgment behind the appellation, just the wisdom of using the term.”
“It’s used openly by some of the High Holders.”
“Did you hear that from Maitre Alyna? Or elsewhere?”
“She has friends her own age who still occasionally talk to her…”
Friends her own age … Taryn’s words took Alastar aback, since he wasn’t that much older than Alyna or most of the Maitres D’Aspect, just ten to fourteen years older than the youngest … and he was actually younger than Lhendyr or Mhorys or Petros. Or is it the gray hair that makes them think you’re that much older?
“… also heard words to the same effect from Tiranya, and I believe she might have heard them from Tertius Arion.”
“I have my doubts that he was the source, but if she said she heard them, then I have no doubt she did. It’s still not a good idea here.”
Taryn nodded, then cut a piece of egg toast, wrapping it around a chunk of greasy bacon before eating both.
A low round of laughter ran along the table occupied by several seconds. Alastar focused on the table, where a thin-faced young secondus with too-long floppy brown hair mimed trying to saw through his chunk of bread, then lowered his knife with a smile of mock despair. The youth’s expression was so despairing that Alastar had a hard time not laughing. So he turned to watch as Shaelyt gulped down the last bites of his egg toast and swallowed what remained in his mug, then rose, looking at Alyna as he said, “I need to prepare for the seventh-hour class with the primes and new seconds on government.”
“… think about it…”
Shaelyt smiled and hurried from the dining hall.
Alastar wished he had heard more of what the two had been discussing. He still wasn’t convinced they were merely friends. But that could be wishful thinking on your part. He looked down at the dark brown egg toast and greasy bacon, and then resolutely took his cutlery in hand and set to eating. When he finished, he made his way back to the kitchen, not really wanting to, but if the cooks were serving him that badly cooked a breakfast, only the Nameless knew what the students were getting..
Shabrena, the head cook, hurried toward him, worry spread across her broad face. “Maitre…”
“I know you and the others try hard, but egg toast should not arrive looking as though it were almost charcoal … and if the stoves are that hot, why is the bacon so undercooked?’
“We had … some trouble this morning, sir. It won’t happen again.”
Alastar smiled, politely. “Sometimes, those things do happen. We all understand that. They just shouldn’t happen often. I’m sure you can make sure they don’t.”
“Yes, Maitre.”
“Good.” He smiled and turned.
In the short time between his entering the kitchen and then leaving, a number of primes and seconds had entered the dining hall and seated themselves, one table for primes, another for seconds, and a last one for thirds. The servers provided platters of egg toast and bacon, along with baskets of bread, for each table, replenishing them as necessary. As the number of imagers increased, so did the muted cacophony of conversation.
Alastar smiled faintly, then glanced back at Alyna, who, as the duty maitre for the day, remained at the maitres’ table, watching the junior imagers, mostly students, except at the table reserved for the thirds, where perhaps half were unmarried but no longer students. He couldn’t help but appreciate her thoughtful study of the students … or her infrequent smile.
Dareyn had not arrived when Alastar returned to the administration building, through still air and the continuing stench from the east side of the river. When he reached his study, because it was still slightly before sixth glass, he left the door ajar and proceeded to go through the roster of full imagers, trying to determine who might be better used in a different assignment, or whose duties might have outlived their supposed function. That was time-consuming, because the roster didn’t have backgrounds on the imagers, just their name and duty, and quarters assignment. For more information, he had to check the file on each imager.
Every so often he glanced at the glass on the corner of the desk, finally setting aside the roster. He needed to slip over to the studies building to see how Shaelyt was doing. The Maitre D’Aspect was only twenty-three, but he was bright, and at least he understood both the subject matter and the need for a change in the way it was taught, unlike Obsolym and possibly even Akoryt, although Alastar wasn’t certain how the quiet Akoryt really felt about most things. Desyrk and Cyran were too busy with other tasks, and instruction. Not enough maitres, and certainly not enough who truly see how little time we have to make changes.
When he left the study, Dareyn was seated at his own desk, sorting through the various messages left at the duty desk during the glasses when the administration building was closed.
“Is there anything urgent?”
“No, sir.”
“Good. I’ll be over observing classes. I shouldn’t be too long.”
Outside, the stone walks were largely empty, as they should have been, now that the regular day at the Collegium was under way. He adjusted his cap and made his way to the building north and west of the old anomen and then inside and down the corridor to the third door, where he eased it open a crack, peering into the study chamber. None of the primes or seconds seated around the long table looked back at the door, their eyes on Shaelyt, who stood at the far end of the table. Alastar raised a concealment around himself, eased the door farther open, slipping inside and gently closing it. Several of the primes and seconds glanced back at the sound of the door shutting. One second looked clearly puzzled, but quickly turned his head back to the Maitre D’Aspect.
“Looking at the door won’t help with your learning, Fherrat,” Shaelyt said cheerfully.
The way the young Maitre D’Aspect spoke suggested to Alastar that Shaelyt knew full well what was happening. Alastar just stood inside the room by the door and listened.
“Now … back to the question at hand,” declared Shaelyt. “Why is Solidar governed the way it is?”
The primes and seconds seated around the long table just sat there. Not a one spoke.
Alastar wasn’t surprised. Passi
ve receptivity was the usual reaction to rote learning, and if a question didn’t allow for rote regurgitation, most student imagers didn’t know how to reply.
“An answer, please … or you’ll all have to write an additional essay on the question.”
“Because that’s the way Rex Regis set it up, sir?” volunteered a prime.
“Fair enough. That was almost four hundred years ago. Exactly how many years was it, Fherrat?”
“Sir?”
“Just think about it for a moment.”
“Oh … three hundred and eighty-nine years.”
“Why do we write the date with the numbers followed by the letters A.L.?”
Again there was no answer, and Shaelyt raised his eyebrows.
“Ah … doesn’t that mean ‘After Lydar,’ sir?” asked a second, a thin girl.
“It does. Why?”
More silence. Then Shaelyt laughed. “That was a trick question. No one knows, not for certain. We only know that several years after Rex Regis, the dating of documents changed from the traditional means of dating, such as four Vendrei in the year three of the reign of Chayar, to the present system. The story is that Rex Regis realized that, since he had named himself Rex Regis, meaning ‘king of kings’ in old Bovarian, every rex who succeeded him would also have that title. It’s said that Elsior, who was then not the Maitre of the Collegium, suggested the use of the numerals followed by the letters A.L., signifying ‘After Lydar,’ which was a polite way of saying after the fall of the old ways. In any case, it made sense in practical terms, and it’s been used ever since. Why did Rex Regis set things up as he did? Or did he?”
The thin girl raised her hand. “Wasn’t there a council of High Holders before?”
“There was. Go on.”
“Then didn’t he just make up rules for the High Holders?”
“That’s close. What is the Codex Legis?” Shaelyt pointed to a second who looked ready to doze off. “Marraet?”
“Ah … the what, sir?”
“Codex Legis.”
“The code of laws, isn’t it, sir?”
“What did it do that was different?”
Again, there was silence.
Finally, another prime spoke. “Didn’t … isn’t … I mean, it lists the powers of the rex, and what the High Holders can do, and who pays what taxes.”
“That’s largely correct. But it does one other thing. It limits the powers of all three, the rex, the High Holders, and the factors. Why?”
Because Bovaria and its domains were largely ungovernable under the old Bovarian system. Alastar waited to see if anyone answered.
No one did and it took almost a tenth of a glass for Shaelyt to work the answers out of the student imagers.
“What did it smell like outside this morning?” asked Shaelyt.
“Awful…”
Several of the other imagers nodded vigorously.
“Why doesn’t the Maitre of the Collegium just force the rex to fix the sewers?”
When no one answered, Shaelyt pointed to a round-faced boy. “Why doesn’t he?”
“I don’t know … ah … because the rex wouldn’t do it?”
“Could the rex do it?”
“Not himself, he wouldn’t.”
“Then how does the rex get anything done?”
“He has other people do it,” chimed in a younger student, a prime, Alastar thought.
“How?”
Alastar eased out of the chamber. Shaelyt was making a good start. Getting any thought so soon was an improvement. As he walked back to the administration building, his nose reinforced the point on which Shaelyt had continued the discussion on governing, and … and, with the continuing impasse between the rex and the factors over the sewers, why he had resolved to look into the source of the odor. If you do take imagers over the east bridge and deal with the worst of the problem, won’t Ryen see that as a matter of his giving in? Or would the factors see it as high-handed? Alastar frowned. Probably both, but you’re the one who keeps talking about the need for the Collegium to be seen as independent of the rex.
Once back in his study, he drafted a polite note to High Holder Haebyn suggesting that a meeting in the next few days might be mutually beneficial, then handed it to Dareyn for dispatch to the High Holder. He debated about whether to meet with the others on the High Council, then decided that for various reasons, he should meet with each. That required three more letters, and additional instructions to Dareyn.
Rather than wrestle with the Collegium ledgers, he walked down the corridor to another small study, rapped lightly on the door, and stepped inside. “Good afternoon, Arhgen.”
“Good day, Maitre.” The square-faced and graying tertius behind the wide table desk eased several sheets of paper aside and looked up with his always cheerful smile, waiting.
Alastar closed the door and settled into the single straight-backed chair in the chamber filled with file chests stacked against almost every wall. “What do we have in reserve … this very moment? In the strong room?”
“Slightly less than a thousand golds. They will barely last past Year-Turn. That is, if the prices of flour, maize, and other foodstuffs do not increase more.”
“Which they will. What about meat?”
“For now, that has decreased slightly. The shortage of fodder, you know.”
“That means next year meat will be more, and until the next harvest, so will everything else.”
“Yes, sir. We have ordered slightly more than twenty golds’ worth of supplies, and we will need to pay the stipends to all imagers and to those who work for the Collegium on the eighteenth, and the food costs … all in all, operating just the part of the Collegium here in L’Excelsis takes almost a hundred and fifty golds a week…”
The costs of running the Collegium continued to stagger Alastar, but then, effectively the Collegium was paying stipends or wages to close to two hundred people, and feeding almost a hundred of them nineteen meals every week. And Ryen is supplying most of those golds.
Not for the first time, nor would it be the last, he knew, came the realization that the Collegium needed more sources of funding—many more. Along with everything else that you need to address.
“Where can we reduce what we’re spending?”
“We’ve already cut almost fifty golds a week … The cooks are being more careful. As you ordered, we’re not replacing anything that is not immediately needed…”
Alastar continued to listen as the Collegium bookkeeper summarized the changes already implemented and their results. “… the only way you can make more significant reductions in what the Collegium spends is to employ fewer people or cut the stipends to the imagers.”
Alastar had already thought about cutting stipends to imagers, but waiting a week or two before surfacing that idea wouldn’t make the situation that much worse. “Do you have any ideas about what imagers could create easily that we could sell.”
“That wouldn’t upset the guilds or the factors, you mean?” Arhgen paused. “I can’t think of anything right now.”
“Keep thinking about it.” Alastar rose. “Thank you.”
After he returned to his study, he asked Dareyn to have one of the young imagers who served as a runner find Akoryt.
The red-haired Maitre D’Structure arrived almost half a glass later. “I apologize, Maitre, but I had some of the older seconds out on the river practicing imaging over water.”
“No apology is necessary, especially not for that. How did they do?”
“This was only the second time we’ve done that. It was much better than the first time. Much better.”
“Good.” Alastar cleared his throat. “There is another matter.” There’s always another matter. “We’ve talked over the problem of golds for the Collegium, and the fact that we depend on golds from the rex. This makes us more and more vulnerable, especially at a time when the High Holders and factors are getting more and more … restive. Have you given any more thought to
what we might do in the way of imaging that would raise golds?”
“Besides imaging golds and silvers into existence?”
“That won’t work here.” Alastar tried not to let his voice grow testy as he explained, even though he had done so at least once before. “There’s not enough gold in the ground near L’Excelsis, and anywhere there is gold ore, it belongs to one High Holder or another.”
“You have mentioned that. One hopes…” Akoryt pursed his lips, then went on, “People pay for what they value, fine wines, good lager, fancy attire, good weapons … What about rifles? They’d bring a few golds. Or pistols?”
“The Collegium has tried imaging rifles since the time of Elsior, but it’s never been that successful. You have to make each part to fit the others, and that means each rifle is unique. If anything breaks…”
“Couldn’t they image the pieces against a template?”
Akoryt shook his head. “The tolerances are too fine. I can do it. So could you or Taryn … and maybe Shaelyt or Alyna or Tiranya … but the idea was to develop things that seconds or thirds could image. They can match the shape of knives, but not the tempering.”
“There must be something of value.”
There is, but it’s not something we’re about to trust to seconds and thirds … “There are many things of moderate value, but finding ones that less experienced imagers can do that won’t infringe on the factors and the guilds makes the matter more difficult.”
Akoryt frowned, then asked, “What about cheap cutlery? I can’t believe the smiths’ guild would object to that. Forging little things like that takes great effort, and they can’t sell it for much. If they didn’t get into doing silver tableware, it wouldn’t upset the silversmiths.”
“There is an awl and bladesmiths’ guild,” Alastar said dryly.
“Crockery … what about cheap mugs, tankards? There has to be clay in the bottom of the Aluse.”
“Actually,” replied Alastar thoughtfully, “that might be a possibility. It would also be a good exercise for primes and seconds.”
“Exercise?”
“Think of everything that goes into good pottery. The moisture of the clay has to be uniform. It has to be fired at a high heat, and it needs to be glazed.” Alastar grinned at Akoryt. “You’d better try it yourself … and I’d image it well away from you.”
Madness in Solidar Page 5