Alastar set down the roster sheets, motioned to the chairs in front of the desk, then waited for Akoryt to seat himself. “I take it that you’re somewhat familiar with the abilities of some of the student imagers? As well as of some of the maitres?”
“Somewhat,” answered the redheaded maitre cautiously.
“Once Maitre Cyran returns, I’d like you two to determine how many imagers we have capable of combat and concealment if Rex Ryen should order the armies against us, or if Demykalon does so on his own.”
Akoryt looked intently at Alastar, not even trying to conceal his surprise. “Sir … are things that bad?”
“Not yet, but they may get much worse. I’d like you not to mention that to anyone but Maitre Cyran. I’d like whatever you can give me by seventh glass tomorrow morning. I also need you to work out a plan that would move all students and staff at the Collegium to the north end of Imagisle in less than a quint.”
“Into the park area there?”
“Along the stone revetments against the river. Again, please don’t mention this to anyone except me. You’ll also need to decide what masters will be in charge of instructing and informing what students and staff. I hope neither will be necessary, but mere hope is a poor plan for dealing with possible attackers.”
Akoryt nodded. “By tomorrow as well?”
“Yes. You can improve it later, but we’ll need an immediate plan by then.”
“Yes, sir.”
Alastar offered a crooked smile. “I know you don’t need this on top of everything else. If you need the time, you can cancel any or all of your remaining instructionals this afternoon.”
“I only have the one in a few moments, and it would take as much time to cancel it and explain than to do it. I might cut it short.”
“As you see fit. That’s all I have for you … as if it isn’t more than enough.”
As soon as Akoryt left, Alastar began to write. When he finished, he read over the short letter.
Councilor Vaun—
I appreciated your counsel and thoughtfulness. In return, I thought you might like to know some information that I passed on to Councilor Guerdyn, in the unlikely event that he has not had the time to relay it directly to you.
The rex is adamant that the High Council must change its decision. He has also declared that if the Collegium cannot persuade the Council to do so, then he will destroy the Collegium. Given that the marshal of the army recently invited me to a demonstration of his new cannon, such a declaration cannot be easily ignored. Obviously, this places the Collegium in a difficult situation, and I would be interested in any helpful thoughts or suggestions you might have about how we might bridge the gap between the rex and the High Council. I look forward to any thoughts you might care to share.
When he finished the short message to Vaun, he then wrote similar letters to Haebyn, Nacryon, and Moeryn. Then he had Dareyn arrange for them to be dispatched by messenger.
The next step was to determine what imagers would be best for the sewer repairs and send messages to them, telling them that their presence would be required for such repairs on Vendrei and to make the necessary arrangements.
When the surveying party returned to the Collegium, Alastar was at the stables to meet them. He looked at Cyran, then Alyna, and waited until all of the imagers were looking at him. “There’s been a slight change of plans. Tomorrow, we’ll be taking a break from surveying to do another sewer repair, this one requested by the factors’ council…” He went on to explain.
When he finished, he could see Cyran nod knowingly. Alyna maintained a pleasant expression, but Alastar thought there was a certain concern behind the facade. But is that really what she feels … or just what you want to think she does?
For the remainder of Jeudi, Alastar wrestled with the possibilities of what Ryen and the High Council might do and considered what additional steps he and the Collegium could take.
At eighth glass he was still pondering, if seated behind the desk in the private study of his residence. Ryen isn’t mad, even if they call him Rex Dafou. He’s impatient, intolerant, easy to anger, and self-centered, but he’s right about needing control over the High Holders. He’s also anything but stupid. So why is he pressing you so much on this? And what can you do? If you remove him immediately, everyone will know who did it, and there’s no telling what Demykalon will do. There’s also no telling what his son Lorien will do … except he’s unlikely to defy the Council if he becomes rex right now. And why is Guerdyn being so adamant? You’ve suggested that the Collegium might pose a threat to the High Council, and Guerdyn’s reaction was to suggest indirectly that Ryen has no support except for the Collegium. It’s almost as if they’re both trying, in different ways, to destroy the Collegium. Or are they trying to remove you because you’re trying to return the Collegium to a position of greater power?
What if you do nothing? Will Ryen turn Demykalon on the Collegium? Even if he doesn’t, he’ll cut off your golds. Then what? Without using force, we’ll be in isolated enclaves with fewer members every year. In a few years, imagers will be hunted again. And if you use force without provocation …
The best tack to take is to publicly try to persuade both the High Holders and the rex to come to an agreement about how much tariffs will be increased. Very publicly. And then … Slowly, Alastar nodded.
At that moment, there came an insistent pounding on the front door of the Maitre’s residence. “Maitre! Maitre!”
Alastar bolted from his chair and hurried out into the front hall, where he slid the bolt back and then opened the door. Tertius Arion stood there.
“Maitre Taryn sent me, sir. It’s about Secondus Gherard.”
“What about him?” Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.
“He’s dead. Maitre Taryn said you needed to see for yourself. So did Maitre Obsolym.”
Dead? Did the poor idiot try to prove he was a third? After all that you warned him? Alastar fastened his tunic and stepped out into the cold air, following Arion down the west side of the lane past the cottages and to the quarters for the students.
“In the back courtyard garden, sir.”
Alastar saw Taryn first, holding a lantern. A few yards away stood Obsolym with another student. A figure lay sprawled on his back perhaps a yard from one of the stone benches. Young Gherard was definitely dead. His face was still half-contorted in an expression of agony.
“Thank the Nameless you’re here,” said Taryn quietly, stepping toward Alastar.
“What was he trying to image?” asked Alastar.
“That.” Taryn pointed to the stone bench, on which rested two objects, side by side. At first glance, they appeared identical—a decorative figure with four legs supporting a pentagon, out of which rose three coiled solid tubes that rose a sixth of a yard, where they were topped by a small triangular pyramid.
Alastar couldn’t help but frown. “Those look like Desyrk’s models, the ones he uses to teach thirds how to concentrate. That shouldn’t…” He stopped as he realized what Gherard had attempted. Desyrk had imaged his models out of wood, and then imaged paint of various colors on various sections, so that the triangular pyramid on top was painted gold, while the twisted coils beneath were silver, and the pentagonal base was black, while the four angled legs were brass-colored. “He should have known. I even warned him about trying to do too much before he was ready.”
“You should talk to Borlan,” suggested Taryn.
In the dim light of the lantern held by Taryn, Alastar could see the worried face of the young second, standing beside Obsolym, whose face showed no expression. Alastar took a slow breath and walked toward the second. “Borlan? What can you tell me about what happened?”
“I didn’t have anything to do with it, sir. I didn’t.” Borland’s eyes met Alastar’s, then darted away.
“No one said you did. I need to know how this happened.” Alastar waited.
“I saw him—Gherard—after supper. He had the model. He said it was just a m
odel, but he was going to show the Maitre. He said he was going to image it better than any third could. I told him he shouldn’t, and he shouldn’t have taken it from the instruction room…”
How did he get it from there? Did Desyrk leave it out?
“He said…” Borlan’s voice caught, and he swallowed before going on, “He said that he’d image it better than anyone. I didn’t know he meant…”
“That he was going to try to image real gold, silver, brass … and black onyx, all at once?”
“No, sir. We’re not supposed to image by ourselves. I just thought he was going to do it with wood. I told him he shouldn’t. He told me to be quiet, or he’d image something where it’d hurt me … I got worried, and I ran to find Maitre Taryn. I knew he was the duty maitre. The maitre came quick, but we were too late … I did what I could, sir, I really did.”
Given that Borlan looked almost a head shorter than Gherard and was thin as well, Alastar had no doubts. “I know you did. Sometimes, we can’t stop people from doing things they know aren’t good. Is there anything else I should know?”
“I don’t think so, sir. I told you what happened.”
“Thank you.” Alastar looked to Obsolym. “Can you add anything?”
“No. I’d been working late, and I’d just left the administration building when I saw Taryn and Borlan running this way. I thought I might be of help.” Obsolym shook his head. “It was too late.”
Alastar nodded, then moved to the bench. He lifted the original model. Definitely painted wood. He set it down, then lifted what Gherard had imaged. Despite its comparatively modest size it must have weighed almost half a stone. Gherard had only tried for gilding the pyramid, but the stone pentagonal base, the brass legs, and especially the silver coils … Far too much even for some junior maitres, at least right here.
“We’ll need to take him to the infirmary for tonight…” Alastar nodded to Taryn. It’s going to be a long night, and tomorrow will be worse. He thought about asking more of Obsolym, who had been Gherard’s preceptor, but decided that could wait until morning.
18
Despite the fact that dealing with Gherard’s death kept Alastar up past midnight, part of which was the problem that the records Alastar could find had no home address for Gherard’s father, Factorius Wylum, Alastar rose early on Vendrei because he had called a meeting of the senior imagers as early as possible. He didn’t expect any response to his letters to the High Holders, if he received any at all, until late on Vendrei, or even on Samedi, and he hoped to start the imagers he had picked on dealing with the one sewer repair before he went to pay the unhappy call on Factor Wylum.
Alastar looked down the table, taking in Cyran at his right, then Akoryt, Obsolym, Taryn, and Desyrk. “This meeting will be short. I wanted all of you to know the circumstances surrounding the death of Secondus Gherard. It’s likely you all know something about what happened. What you may not know is what led up to this tragedy. As you know, I have been meeting with student imagers…” He went on to describe his meeting with Gherard, and then the subsequent details of what had occurred the night before. “… and as with the incident involving Bettaur and Taurek, this unhappy event with Gherard is a direct result of a student with too much arrogance and too little understanding of the dangers and costs of imaging. It also reflects too little respect for the words of the maitres who instruct them. I would like each of you to consider ways in which the Collegium can temper this arrogance without destroying self-confidence and what additional instruction or demonstrations might be useful in getting students to understand the true dangers of thoughtless imaging. We will talk about this next week, after we all have had a chance to reflect on the matter.”
“Had I been conducting instructionals,” Desyrk offered smoothly, “it would have been more difficult for Gherard to obtain the model he attempted to duplicate in real materials.”
“Those models are kept on the high shelf, as I recall,” returned Alastar. “The study chambers are not locked, nor is the building locked until curfew. Gherard did not take the model until after the evening meal, at which time you would not have been present. There is no blame on you for using such models, nor on the fact that you did not teach yesterday. Gherard would have obtained the model, or something similar in any event, and, given his attitude, the results would likely have been similar.”
“You don’t think you were too hard on the boy?” asked Obsolym.
“He doubtless thought so. I told him that he was not yet skilled enough to become a tertius. I never said a single word that would have indicated that he would not have become at least that. I also clearly told him that trying to do more than he was ready for was dangerous and could kill him. He was much more interested in being a tertius than in obtaining the skills that merit the appellation.”
“That’s always been a problem,” said Taryn. “At least, Maitre Fhaen said that on more than one occasion.”
“Another form of naming,” murmured Akoryt.
“Thank you,” said Alastar warmly. “That’s an excellent point, and I will talk to Chorister Iskhar about a homily along those lines. There’s also another issue. According to the Collegium records, the factor disowned his son when he entered the Collegium. Since I was not here at the time, and there is nothing in Gherard’s records, does anyone know whether that was strictly for reasons of law and inheritance, or because Factor Wylum was displeased with his son?”
“If there’s no entry to the contrary, it’s usually only for reasons of law. That’s especially true in the case of the eldest son,” replied Obsolym. “Gherard was the eldest son.”
“Thank you.”
“It would have been even uglier,” said Obsolym, “if he’d tried that in his quarters. I’ve always said that the lead was a bad idea.”
Why is he bringing that up? Alastar caught himself and replied quietly, but firmly, “The lead lining of their rooms remains a good idea. It is there to protect them from each other. It won’t protect them from themselves. Gherard’s problem wasn’t lead; it was that he didn’t listen, and he paid the price for not listening. All of you need to use this as an illustration of why it is important for student imagers to follow your instructions and those of other maitres in regard to imaging.” He paused, then added, “One thing we have to remember is that almost all young people believe that somehow they are different from us and from their parents, and that the cautions and restrictions we apply are stupid and willful, and that they really know better.”
“You’re not giving them much credit, Maitre,” said Desyrk.
“And after what happened right before you, Desyrk, you’re giving them far too much.” After just a moment, Alastar added, “That is all for this morning. There will be a work party doing some sewer repairs, and I will be paying a call on Factor Wylum.”
From the conference room, Alastar returned to his study, from where he retrieved his imager gray riding jacket and gloves, and then made his way to the stables. All those maitres picked for the sewer repairs were already there, as was Belsior, since Alastar wanted one escort for his visit to Wylum. All the imagers began to mount up as he walked toward the gray gelding.
Once Alastar was in the saddle, Cyran immediately eased his mount toward Alastar. “If you wouldn’t mind…”
“Not at all. I already thought that we could use the time to go over a few things.” Once the group had crossed the east bridge and headed north on the East River Road, Alastar turned in the saddle. “You had a few concerns about the meeting?”
“You didn’t have to tell everyone what happened in the meeting you had with Gherard,” said Cyran quietly.
“Yes, I did. This is the second time in a week we’ve had a problem because student imagers have had an exalted opinion of themselves and their position and abilities—and a lack of understanding of the dangers of imaging. If I’d not mentioned it, what happened with Bettaur and Taurek would just be regarded as an unfortunate incident, not a Collegium-wide problem.”
“Neither Desyrk nor Obsolym see it the way you do.”
“Do you?”
“I think it’s a problem. I’m not sure it’s as widespread as you fear.”
“It doesn’t have to be widespread to be a serious problem,” Alastar replied. “Not when we’re talking about what an imager, even a student imager, can do to others … or himself.”
“There’s another problem. That’s Desyrk. He was almost sneering the entire time you were speaking.”
“I can’t exclude him from meetings of senior imagers without removing him from duty or reducing him to a Maitre D’Aspect.”
“And those require a meeting of all senior maitres,” finished Cyran.
“Precisely.”
“That comment about your paying a call on Factor Wylum means you’re going to leave Alyna in charge of repairs and me in charge of security, doesn’t it?”
“It does. I also don’t want to be away from the Collegium for too long, not with the problems over the tariffs.” And a few other matters. “I need a few words with Alyna, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“I thought you might.” Cyran grinned, then eased his mount to the side of the road and motioned for Alyna to ride up beside Alastar.
“Yes, Maitre?” asked Alyna once she joined Alastar.
“Once I point out where the sewers need repair, I’ll be leaving you in charge of directing those repairs, as well as doing your share of that imaging. Cyran will watch for any possible difficulty. I’d like you to push everyone to do a bit more, so that they’re all tired by the time you finish.” That also might press them toward increasing their strength as imagers.
“I can only suggest for Taryn.”
“Suggest cheerfully,” replied Alastar dryly. “On another matter … do you know if your brother will withhold his tariffs if the High Council declares that all High Holders should do so?”
“I’ve heard nothing from him. He would be loath to go against the High Council unless he had a good reason.”
Alastar nodded. “I’d appreciate it if you would continue to practice shielding whenever you can, and to carry shields against both imaging and weapons, especially when you are away from the Collegium.”
Madness in Solidar Page 23