Madness in Solidar

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  The footman gestured to the left. “This way, sir.”

  Alastar followed him to the second door on the left, which was open.

  “Ah … Maitre Alastar, do come in. Might I offer you refreshments after your ride? Perhaps a dark lager?” For all that he was almost as tall as Alastar, the brown-haired Vaun conveyed the impression of a coney—not necessary scared, but very alert. His nose even twitched as he looked at the Maitre.

  “A dark lager would be welcome. Thank you.”

  Vaun gestured to the footman, and then to small table, flanked by two chairs, set before a window that afforded a view to the west, mostly of the far shore of the River Aluse. The footman departed silently, and Vaun walked to the table and paused just slightly, enough that he and Alastar sat at the same time.

  “You have obviously inquired about my habits, Councilor.”

  “I could let you think that,” replied Vaun, with the hint of a smile, “but I did not have time. The dark lager was a guess. You are known as a man of action, and you are neither young nor old. You are reputed to be the strongest imager of our times, and in little more than a month of taking over a Collegium that has needed stronger leadership than it has had, you are visiting with the High Council. That suggested dark lager.” The High Holder shrugged.

  “That is still impressive.” Alastar had to admit that Vaun’s deductions impressed him more than mere preparations might have … and if the High Holder lied—and he had inquired earlier, even before Alastar had requested the meeting—that was even more impressive.

  “It’s been a while since the Maitre of the Collegium has taken the time to visit with the members of the Council.”

  “Did Maitre Fhaen?” Alastar had found no record of such, and Dareyn had known of no such meetings, but Dareyn had been Fhaen’s personal assistant for only the past two years.

  “Not in my time on the Council.”

  The Maitre nodded. Not in almost five years.

  Vaun looked up as a woman of indeterminate age, wearing tan trousers and shirt, with a black jacket, appeared bearing a tray on which were two crystal beakers, one holding an amber liquid and the other the dark lager. She served Alastar first, and then Vaun, and immediately left, closing the door behind her so gently that Alastar barely heard anything.

  “To your presence here,” offered the High Holder, lifting his beaker.

  Alastar lifted his as well, noting that each beaker bore an elaborate V cut into the crystal. “And to your kindness in receiving me.”

  They both drank, more than a sip and less than a gulp, and Alastar set his beaker back on the large coaster where the server had first placed it. “Quite good lager. From your own lands?”

  “Hardly. I just buy the best.” After the briefest pause, Vaun went on. “I could fence or merely smile. Or we could converse about the lovely weather or how you find L’Excelsis after Westisle. I’d rather not. That would waste time.”

  “What should I know, then,” asked Alastar, “that I likely do not?”

  “Besides the fact that Ryen is either deluded or mad, if not both? Or the fact that Guerdyn would rather be rex than head of the High Council? Or the fact that, now that you are here, that will not happen?”

  “I think you overestimate my abilities. The Collegium is far more than its Maitre.”

  “The Collegium is weaker than it has ever been, but it is still strong enough to keep Guerdyn or any small group of High Holders from overthrowing and replacing the rex.”

  Alastar nodded, thinking about the full implications of Vaun’s words—essentially that neither the rex nor the Collegium could afford to antagonize the majority or even a significant minority of High Holders … but that Guerdyn was likely to overreach himself … unless Ryen did something incredibly stupid. “What about the factors?”

  “Yes … the factors. They are not as strong as they were in the time of Bovaria, and that is partly because the High Council has chosen in the past to recognize the more wealthy ones.”

  “That gives hope to those who aspire and weakens the factors as a group.”

  “Some say so.” Vaun shrugged.

  “How does High Holder Guerdyn feel about it?”

  “He has not said, but his lineage is a long and proud one.”

  In short, he doesn’t like elevating factors whom he sees as having wealth and little else. “And you, you would prefer a slightly stronger and less … unpredictable rex, and you would not mind a few more High Holders to replace those who have fallen?”

  “I have no objections to those who are wealthy and modest in their pretensions.” Vaun offered a smile. “In fact, I have few objections to maintaining what I understand to have been the vision of the first Maitre.”

  “I must confess I am not certain I have any idea of what that vision was, except a system that balanced the power of the rex, the High Holders, and the factors.”

  “Precisely. With the Collegium now and again shifting the balance at the edge.”

  Alastar understood exactly what Vaun was saying. He lifted the beaker and took another swallow. “This is excellent, but I would not expect less of someone who understands so much and can convey expectations through historical descriptions.” He paused just for an instant before going on. “Because I am from Westisle and have arrived so recently, is there anything you can tell me about the three other councilors I have not met. I would prefer not to inadvertently bring up some matter that, through my lack of familiarity with matters here in L’Excelsis, I might be commonly expected to know … and do not.”

  “I would doubt you would do anything so obvious as that. Still … let me consider.” With that, Vaun took a swallow from his beaker, an amber lager, then held the beaker for a time before setting it down. “You might not know that Haebyn had let it be bruited that he might not be averse to being the head of the Council when Ryel stepped down. That was Ryel the elder. He died within weeks of relinquishing his position. That was a loss for the Council.”

  “Might I ask why?”

  “It was not widely known, but the elder Ryel had friendships that provided great insight.”

  Alastar raised his eyebrows. “Was he close to Rex Ryen?”

  “Hardly. They tolerated each other, but…” Vaun shook his head. “Enough said.”

  “Knowing a bit more might be helpful,” suggested Alastar.

  “To whom?” asked Vaun dryly.

  Alastar understood that Vaun had said what he was going to say on the matter of the late Ryel’s “friendships.” “So, after he stepped down, Nacryon was suggested and then became a member? That is done by petition, is it not?”

  Vaun nodded. “Any High Holder may petition to be a member of the Council when a vacancy arises. A petition must have the approval of at least thirty other High Holders from his part of Solidar and five from elsewhere, except there can be no more than five names total from holdings within a hundred milles of L’Excelsis. The other four members of the Council decide from the petitions.”

  Effectively one High Holder from each of the original five lands of Lydar. “How is the head of the High Council determined? By vote of the councilors?”

  Vaun nodded. “Annually, or if any three members request a vote at any time. But there can only be one request in any year, unless a new councilor is selected, and then there can be two in that year. There has, of course, been but one vote and no request for another this year.”

  “And you will be leaving the Council…” Alastar paused. “What would happen if a councilor who was due to step down were selected as the head of the Council?”

  “That would count as a new appointment for five years.”

  Alastar smiled pleasantly. “I’m afraid all of this is new to me. I do appreciate your enlightening me.”

  “It is my pleasure.”

  “There are more than fifteen hundred High Holders, I understand. It would seem difficult for you all to know each other.”

  “I doubt that any of us know more than a hundred or so
on a personal basis, perhaps another hundred as acquaintances, and by reputation … who knows?” Vaun shrugged.

  “Before you became councilors, did any of you know each other?”

  “I believe Councilor Haebyn knew Nacryon comparatively well, through their wives’ families. That was not known until after Nacryon joined the Council, at least not to the rest of us.” Vaun smiled pleasantly once more. “It is refreshing to have a Maitre of the Collegium who is interested in the Council. Do you have any other general questions I might address?”

  The way Vaun asked the question was a clear indication to Alastar that the councilor would prefer no pointed questions.

  “At this moment, asking about more specific matters might be premature until I’ve had the opportunity to meet all of the councilors. I am more than happy to answer any questions you might have, or simply to listen, should there be any concerns about which I should know.”

  “Like you, at the moment, I have no specific matters in mind, although I, for one, am happy to see more of an outreach and an independent view from the Maitre of the Collegium.”

  That is a definite message. Alastar nodded. “I appreciate your kindness in seeing me, and I trust we will be able to talk on matters as necessary.” After the slightest pause, he added, “I would not wish to take more of your time, as I understand you may be traveling…”

  “You are kind.” Vaun rose from the table.

  Alastar stood as well. After more pleasantries as they walked back to the entry hall, Alastar made his way out and to the waiting imagers and his mount.

  As he rode back toward the Collegium, he considered what he had learned about Vaun as well as what the High Holder had told him. He wasn’t in the slightest confident that Vaun would support Ryen, only that Vaun would side with the strongest, just like an intelligent coney … and that Vaun had not been pleased with whatever petitioning methods Haebyn had used to get Nacryon appointed as a councilor. He did wonder about precisely what “friendships” the former Council head had enjoyed and would have to keep that in mind.

  Dareyn had left for the evening by the time Alastar had unsaddled and groomed the gelding and returned to his study. He could have let Petros’s duty ostler do that, but he didn’t want to get in the habit of having others do everything routine for him. At least, not all the time.

  When he sat down behind his desk, for a moment he wasn’t certain he wanted to continue working, but he finally picked up his copy of the master ledger and started to leaf through it. One of the entries showed an expenditure of two silvers for a quint of a ream of paper.

  Wasn’t there an entry for paper just a page earlier? He looked back through the pages, finding expenditures for paper—a silver here, two silvers there, and three in a third place. He set down the ledger, then opened the cabinet beside the desk, drawing out a sheet of paper.

  Surely, imaging paper can’t be that difficult, can it? He’d seen it made at Westisle, but, for some reason … With a smile, Alastar concentrated.

  In less than a tenth of a glass, Alastar had fifty sheets of paper, identical from what he could tell to those used for ledgers and documents. He’d have Dareyn use some of what he had imaged to see how it held up before saying or suggesting anything.

  He allowed himself a brief smile … and went back to work.

  8

  When Dareyn arrived on Mardi morning, Alastar handed him fifteen sheets of the paper he’d imaged the night before. “This is some new paper. Try it, and let me know what you think.”

  Dareyn frowned slightly. “Yes, sir.”

  “If it works we might be able to save at least a few silvers.”

  “Sir … don’t forget that that Tertius Arion will be here at half past seventh glass. He’s the first of the older thirds. You did say…”

  “I did.” Alastar didn’t want to admit he’d almost forgotten about asking Dareyn to schedule meetings with the older thirds. “Is there one after him?”

  “Two, sir. Tertius Nuasyn and then Tertia Seliora. That should still give you time before you leave to meet with Councilor Haebyn.”

  Alastar plowed through a few more pages of the master ledger before the student imager appeared. Arion definitely showed his Pharsi heritage, if in a handsome way, with a honey-colored complexion, shimmering but well-trimmed black hair, and deep brown eyes. He smiled tentatively, but pleasantly, as he entered the study, inclined his head, and then said, “Maitre.”

  Alastar motioned to the chairs and waited for the young man to seat himself. “There’s nothing to be worried about. I’ll be meeting with all the student imagers over the weeks ahead. You’re the first because you’re one of the most senior students.” He smiled. “Tell me a bit about yourself and how you came to the Collegium.”

  “You must know, sir, that I’m the second son of High Holder Calkoran, and that I grew up in Vaestora. I was almost twelve before my father discovered I was an imager—”

  “Then you knew before that, and you tried to keep it hidden?”

  Arion smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t want to leave Vaestora. I did read about imagers, and I tried not to do anything stupid.”

  “Where did you read about imagers?”

  “In the old records at Vaestora. The first Calkoran D’Alte was a marshal in Khel. He later served under Commander Quaeryt and was made the High Holder at Vaestora when the previous High Holder died without heirs.”

  Quaeryt commanded more than imagers? Another thing Alastar had not known. How much else don’t you know? “Does imaging run in your family?”

  “I did have a great-great-uncle who was an imager, sir. His name was Valtyr. There are no others that I know of.”

  “How do you like the Collegium?”

  “I didn’t like it at all the first year, but I’ve come to realize that Vaestora would not have been the place for me.” Arion smiled ruefully. “Especially as the younger son.”

  “In what have you learned the most?” asked Alastar, waiting for the young man’s response, and then asking another question. The questions and answers continued for not quite a quint before Alastar showed Arion out. The young man definitely impressed Alastar.

  Immediately after Arion left, Dareyn appeared in the doorway. “Before you talk with Nuasyn, sir, you’ve received a request from Elthyrd D’Factorius for a few moments.”

  “Did he give any reason?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Eighth glass tomorrow morning, if that’s agreeable to him.” Alastar didn’t want to slight the head of the factors’ council or be late for his appointment with High Holder Haebyn, and it would be too easy for that to occur if he scheduled Elthyrd for any time on Mardi that wasn’t already committed.

  Nuasyn was a serious-looking young man, sixteen, close to finishing his studies. According to Cyran, his principal tutor, Nuasyn was a solid third with moderate but not outstanding abilities with shields and would probably not show much greater development in imaging techniques. Alastar spent less than two quints with him.

  Tertia Seliora was a tall blond young woman. That was surprising to Alastar because he knew Seliora was usually a Pharsi name, something to do with Artiema, the greater moon, and because few Pharsi were blond. She was also shy, having trouble meeting Alastar’s eyes, but well-spoken, confirming her background as the daughter of a well-off factor from Montagne.

  Somehow, before Alastar knew it, he was riding north for his appointment with High Holder Haebyn, whose L’Excelsis residence was to the north-northeast and required almost a glass to reach. The two-level residence sprawled across a rise in the middle of a hunting park, at the end of a drive half a mille long. Alastar followed the footman, attired in a green so dark it was almost black, into the entry hall just as a chime struck the glass.

  Good thing you allowed extra time.

  When Alastar entered a comparatively small study, paneled in dark oak, Haebyn rose from a polished table desk, bare except for the single sheaf of papers that the High Holder laid carefully on the woo
d. “Greetings, Maitre Alastar.”

  “The same to you, Councilor.” Alastar had not realized that Haebyn was young for a councilor, far younger than Alastar.

  The High Holder gestured to the small circular table set before the window. “Would you care for something to drink?”

  “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, a dark lager.”

  Haebyn smiled warmly. “I think we can manage that.” He nodded toward the footman, who had remained standing in the study door. “A dark lager and my usual, Ferrik.”

  The footman nodded in return, then departed, closing the study door.

  Alastar let Haebyn move toward the chair on the left and moved to the other. They both seated themselves.

  “Are you here on behalf of the Collegium … or the rex?” Haebyn’s tone was diffident, as if it mattered little to him as to how Alastar replied.

  “My first interest is always that of the Collegium.” Alastar smiled politely. “Obviously, the Collegium benefits when there is less conflict between the High Holders and the rex, or the factors and the rex, or the Collegium and the rex … or the High Holders and the Collegium.”

  “It does not seem entirely coincidental that you have requested meetings with High Holder Guerdyn and me soon after Rex Ryen indicated he planned to impose additional tariffs.”

  “No more coincidental than the fact that I’ve been Maitre for little more than a month and that this is the first opportunity I’ve had for such meetings.”

  “What is the situation at the Collegium? There have been rumors…”

  “There are always rumors. To which of them might you be referring?”

  “There are so very many…”