Madness in Solidar

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  As soon as the bookkeeper left, Alastar leafed through the ledger and jotted down several notes to himself, setting them aside when Dareyn announced the first student imager.

  Secondus Gherard entered immediately, a chubby boy who clearly hadn’t come into his growth yet. He had bright green eyes set in a round face and a mouth more suited to pouting than smiling.

  “Good afternoon, Gherard. Please take a seat.”

  “Good afternoon, Maitre. Yes, Maitre.” The second looked at Alastar, but did not quite meet his eyes as he took the chair farthest from Alastar.

  “You’ve been here over two years, haven’t you? And you come from a factoring family.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How have you found the Collegium?”

  “It’s the Collegium, sir.”

  “What exactly do you mean by that?”

  Gherard squirmed slightly in the chair. “Where else would an imager go?”

  “Where would they go elsewhere on Terahnar? What happens to them in other lands?”

  “Ah … some places they get killed, they say. In Jariola, they belong to the Oligarchs … I think.”

  “If they’re fortunate. You never answered the question about how you found the Collegium.”

  “It’s … it’s the Collegium.”

  Alastar was definitely getting the impression that young Gherard wasn’t thrilled to be at the Collegium and that he didn’t want to say so, but didn’t want to lie, either, not out of any moral sense, but simply out of fear. “What does your father factor?”

  “Sir?”

  “I asked what your father factors. Your father is Factorius Wylum, is he not?”

  “Yes, sir. He’s a woolen and cloth factor. He has a spinning mill north of here. He sends the cloth down to his warehouse on his wagons.”

  “You lived in a large house, perhaps on a hill to the north of L’Excelsis?”

  Gherard frowned. “It was a nice house. It’s east of here.”

  “Do you go there when you can?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Does your father send a coach for you?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Your mother, perhaps?”

  Gherard swallowed.

  Alastar waited.

  “Ah … yes, sir.”

  “What kind of imager would you like to be?”

  “I don’t know, sir. I’m just learning.” Gherard paused, then asked, “When will I be advanced to being a tertius?”

  “When your imaging skills meet the standards for becoming a third.”

  “But I’m a better imager than some of the older thirds…”

  “Some of the thirds obtained that position because of their skills and value in other areas. They will likely never become maitres. You have shown no other talents, and your imaging skills alone are not yet sufficient for you to become a tertius.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair, sir. I’m a better imager than some thirds, and I’m only a second.”

  “Those thirds served the Collegium for years with both imaging and other skills. You’re still a student, and your imaging skills are not as good as those of other students who are thirds.”

  “I can image more. I know I can. The maitres…”

  “They won’t let you do more? That’s because trying to image too much before you are ready is dangerous. It could kill you. Before there was a Collegium, most imagers died young.”

  Gherard appeared ready to argue, but did not, his lips forming into an expression just short of a pout.

  “When your skills improve, you will become a tertius. According to Maitre Shaelyt and Maitre Alyna, you need to practice more—within the rules.” Alastar paused, then asked, “How are you doing in your other studies?”

  “I’m doing best in language…”

  After another painful tenth of a glass, Alastar released young Gherard, withholding a sigh of relief after the second departed. He offered a pleasant smile to Seconda Linzya as she entered and took the chair directly across from Alastar. Like Gherard, she did not quite meet Alastar’s eyes at first. Unlike him, after a moment she did, and he noted that her eyes were pale gray, almost overshadowed by her thick jet-black hair, short-cut as it was.

  “How are you finding the Collegium, Linzya?”

  “I like it, sir. The food is good, and Maitre Tiranya is nice. She’s strict, but she explains things. So does Maitre Alyna, but she works mostly with the thirds. I’ve learned all my letters. I can even give a copper or two to my ma.”

  “She lives in L’Excelsis?

  “In Caelln, sir.”

  Alastar had not heard of the town. “Is that far?”

  “It’s south of here, sir, mayhap five milles, on the river. My da’s a boatman.”

  After a quint with Linzya, once she left, Alastar was feeling slightly better. Gherard had definitely left a bad taste in his mouth, yet he worried about that hint of defiance he had seen. He checked the student roster. Obsolym was Gherard’s preceptor. That attitude? Coincidence? Alastar shook his head, thinking about the difference between Alyna and Gherard. Then again, you didn’t know Alyna when she was Gherard’s age. He still didn’t believe she’d been like that. But you don’t know.

  Over the next two quints, he considered what he might say to Guerdyn, but in the end, decided that he would have to see what the High Holder said and how he acted. Then it was time to leave, and he hurried out to the area in front of the administration building, where his escorts, this time Belsior and Akkard, were waiting with the gray gelding. Once they were riding toward the Bridge of Desires, Alastar motioned for them to move up beside him.

  “How did you two find the Collegium when you came?” Alastar looked first to Akkard.

  “I hated it. I missed my family. My mother. I never saw much of my father. He’s a farrier, and he spends most of the week traveling to where there are horses needing shoes.”

  “And now?”

  “I like it. I’m working with Arthos in the forge, and I’m learning about imaging metals, or shaping them. I can’t create metal from nothing, the way he can, but I can image a piece into something. I even made a decent pair of candlesticks last week. It wore me out for two days.”

  “What about you, Belsior?”

  “I didn’t even have a name. Belsior was what Maitre Fhaen named me. I was just ‘boy.’”

  Alastar waited.

  “My ma—my mother—she served at the inn. That was up in Talyon. She never said who my father was. Maybe she didn’t know. When the innkeeper found out I could image—I tried to make a copper for her—he blindfolded me, tied me up, and carted me down here for the gold he got from the Collegium. It was the best thing that ever happened to me.” Belsior grinned. “Even if it turned out I’ll never be a great imager.”

  Alastar smiled. “You’ll do just fine.” He couldn’t help but think of the diverse places from which they all had come, and the differences in upbringing even among those from similar backgrounds.

  They reached the Council Chateau before third glass. Alastar had to wait in a small sitting room until almost half past the glass before the same footman who had escorted him before appeared and led him to the receiving study. This time Guerdyn wore a silver and black doublet with black hose and shoes, and a black jacket trimmed in silver. He stood by the window and turned as Alastar entered. He gestured to the chairs around the low table, then stepped forward and seated himself. “I apologize, but our time will be limited, as I informed your imagers.”

  Alastar sat down quickly in the armchair across from the High Holder. “I do understand.”

  “Rather than assume I know why you are here, might I inquire?” Guerdyn’s tone was condescending.

  “You might indeed,” replied Alastar cheerfully. “You understand that, recently arrived as I am from Westisle, there are certain procedural matters of whose practices and niceties I am unaware. In brief, not being from L’Excelsis, I have no idea how the Council operates, except in very general terms. In th
e case at hand, if the High Council does consider tariffs to be a problem, might I ask exactly how the Council will address the matter. Procedurally, to be precise.”

  “I do appreciate your interest in the matter.” Guerdyn smiled smoothly, although his eyes remained cold. “I also understand you have met with each councilor, and each has confirmed that you did not attempt in any way to suggest in the slightest how the High Council should address the matter of tariffs. Your words, or the lack of such words, convey an understanding of the restraint necessary for a Maitre of the Collegium. On the other hand, your very presence … that might present a problem.”

  “A single imager who represents but a double handful of full imagers and a few students?”

  “Your modesty becomes you, but we all know that small numbers of imagers have brought great power to bear.”

  “Only for the greater good of Solidar.”

  “‘Greater good’—that is a phrase subject to interpretation.”

  “It is indeed. I would interpret it as meaning that all would prosper, if in different degrees, as opposed to a prosperity where one group, or two, prosper at the far greater expense of others. That is the definition under which the Collegium has always operated.”

  “No one’s prosperity should be held hostage to another,” declared Guerdyn. “When a ‘greater good’ is invoked that costs one group to benefit another, that is theft, nothing more.”

  “Not necessarily. You may be tariffed. Those tariffs may seem to benefit others, because a road is improved, a bridge built, a warship constructed to stop piracy … or the marshal of the army may build new cannon. The foundry where those cannon are cast purchases iron pigs from you or another High Holder. The workers at the foundry buy goods from shopkeepers, many of whose purchases result in greater sales to you or large factors.” Alastar watched Guerdyn, especially as he mentioned cannon, but the High Holder showed no reaction to that reference.

  “That may be, but the benefit is diffuse. The cost is immediate and direct.”

  “Any ruler, even the High Council, must balance immediate costs against long-term benefits.” Alastar smiled. “I’m not telling you anything you don’t know. So what is the procedure?”

  Guerdyn straightened himself in his chair. “The Council, as you must know, will meet here at the first glass of the afternoon on Meredi. We will discuss any matters that any member may wish to bring up. How we proceed depends on what the majority determines is necessary.”

  “But any single member may bring up any matter?” Alastar wanted to be clear on that.

  “Certainly.”

  “And should the Council find itself opposed to something … then what?”

  “Then, as in the past, we will convey our views to the rex. If he is wise, he will heed them. Should that occur, I would trust that the Collegium would also consider what might be the wisest course for the rex.”

  “How could the Collegium do otherwise?” asked Alastar. “At times, however, determining the wisest course is not so obvious as others might think.”

  “In matters such as tariffs, the High Holders and factors do not differ greatly.”

  He really believes that! “I could not speak to that.”

  “Word is that you met with the head of the factors’ council.”

  “I did,” replied Alastar, making his tone as wry as possible. “We discussed repairs to the sewers of L’Excelsis and the fact that it would take either many golds or much imaging to make all the repairs necessary. And the fact that imagers should not make such repairs on Solayi.”

  The faintest hint of a cool smile appeared and then vanished before Guerdyn spoke. “Do you think you could convince the factors to stand against the High Council?”

  “I’ve made no attempt to convince any factor of anything, except that the Collegium did not mean to upset the chief factor by repairing sewers on Solayi.”

  The High Holder frowned. “He was upset by that?”

  “Quite upset.”

  Guerdyn shook his head. “Are there other questions of procedure you might have?”

  “Of procedure … I think not. Not at this time, anyway, but you have been most kind.”

  “Then…” Guerdyn stood. “I do not wish to seem inconsiderate, but…”

  Alastar stood. “I do understand, and I appreciate your making time to see me. I will not keep you from your other obligations.” He inclined his head slightly.

  Guerdyn returned the gesture, then walked toward the study door and opened it. The two left the study, and the High Holder accompanied Alastar as far as the entry hall.

  “A pleasant ride back to the Collegium, Maitre.”

  “Thank you.” Alastar nodded again, then turned and made his way out and down to where Akkard and Belsior waited.

  As Alastar rode back south on the West River Road, he was still worrying about what he should do about the forthcoming High Council meeting, as well as how the surveying of the avenue route was proceeding, and about what Factor Elthyrd might decide.

  When he finally entered the administration building and stepped into the anteroom, he found Desyrk pacing around the anteroom. Yet when Desyrk looked up, he squinted, almost as if he did not see Alastar that clearly, before hurrying toward him. Alastair especially did not like the worried expression on the face of the Maitre D’Structure.

  “Maitre…?”

  “Come on in.” Alastar gestured toward the open door to his study, then looked to Dareyn. “Is there any word from Cyran or Alyna?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Thank you.” Alastar waited for Desyrk to enter the study, then closed the door and motioned toward the chairs. “What is it?” He seated himself behind the desk.

  Desyrk took the middle chair, but sat forward. “We had a problem … Taurek.”

  “He’s a tertius. You said he had great potential.”

  “He does, but he has a temper. He’s had trouble before. This time … I was talking about technique. I had just said that substituting strength for technique could get them in trouble. One of the other thirds—I didn’t see who it was—made a snide remark under his breath, something about most bulls who were obstinate got gelded. Someone else snickered, and then Taurek clamped shields around Bettaur. For a moment, I didn’t recognize what happened, because Bettaur wasn’t moving…”

  “Until he started turning red?”

  “That’s right. I ordered Taurek to drop the shields. He didn’t even hear me. I imaged ice water over him, and then he tried the shields on me. I managed to turn them on him, but barely. He was mad, and he is strong as a bull. I had to hold them until he passed out.”

  “How is Bettaur?”

  “Scared, but he’ll be all right.”

  “Taurek?”

  “I blindfolded him, and chained and cuffed him, just in case. He’s in the iron-and-lead-lined detention room. He’s still angry.”

  Alastar took a deep breath. “I don’t recall anything about Bettaur…”

  “He’s from a small-holder family in Tuuryl.”

  At least he’s not a High Holder or a factor’s son. “We’ll have to hold a disciplinary hearing in the morning. It’s obviously too late today, and it won’t hurt Taurek to get a taste of the discipline cell. Set it for eighth glass. Maitre Tiranya will need to be on the panel. Neither Cyran nor Alyna can be. Gaellen and Obsolym … and Akoryt. I’ll act as justicer, since you can’t. You’ll have the students who observed it all there to tell what they saw?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Were there any other witnesses?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Is there anything else I should know?”

  “Not that I can think of.”

  “Then that’s all we can do about that tonight. Make certain someone keeps checking on both Bettaur and Taurek. Even if they look fine…”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Once Desyrk had left and closed the door, Alastar took a deep breath. What next? He didn’t even want to think about the possibilit
ies.

  15

  The first thing Alastar did on Mardi morning, after his run, cleaning up, and breakfast, was to find Cyran in the armory.

  “You have that look of a maitre looking for another master to deal with a problem.” Cyran laughed.

  “I do indeed. You’re going to have to take over supervising the surveying party today.”

  “You mean for all of the day instead of just half?”

  Alastar nodded. “How did the rest of the afternoon go?”

  “There were no problems. I just listened to Alyna and kept order. I had the feeling you didn’t want people working particularly late. We started back a little before third glass.”

  “How far did Alyna get?”

  “About a third of the way. I think there’s a part that’s going to be trouble, but you’ll have to talk to her about it.”

  “I’ll do that later. I’ve got to deal with a disciplinary meeting.”

  “Is this to do with Taurek?”

  “Unfortunately. Has he been difficult before?”

  “He hasn’t needed a disciplinary session. It’s been close. He has trouble containing his feelings, and he says exactly what he thinks. He doesn’t have much tact.” Cyran frowned. “That’s not right. It’s more that he doesn’t even know what tact is.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Now, I’ll see if Alyna’s at the stables.”

  “I’m sure she is,” replied Cyran. “She likes doing things.”

  With a nod, Alastar turned and walked swiftly from the armory. As Cyran had predicted, Alyna was indeed at the stables and had already saddled the brown gelding. She offered a pleasant smile as he neared.

  “Good morning, Alyna. How did the surveying go yesterday?”

  “Slowly. There’s also an area where you’ll have to run the sewers well away from the avenue because there’s what was once a small valley…”

  Alastar listened as she explained, then said, “Cyran will be in charge again today. I have to preside at a disciplinary meeting.”

  “Taurek? I heard he was in confinement.”

  “That’s right. There’s another matter. I’ve been meeting with the student imagers as I can…”

  “I heard. Tiranya said you met with Linzya.”