Madness in Solidar

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Alastar had just finished the last chunk of bread when Cyran walked into the kitchen.

  “Everyone’s here.”

  “Have them come into the dining room. It will be crowded, but … I think they’ll all fit.” Alastar took a last swallow of lager. He had to admit that he felt much better. He looked at Alyna. “Are my eyes still pinkish?”

  “A little, but it’s fading.”

  “How did you come to notice that?”

  “I told you. I’ve been watching.” Her smile contained a definite element of amusement before she moved through the open door to the serving pantry and the dining room beyond.

  Alastar followed.

  It was several quints past fourth glass before the remaining maitres all sat crowded around the dining room table. From one end, Alastar looked down the table, realizing that he’d never actually sat at the table. Cyran was to his right, Alyna to his left. Then came Obsolym and Akoryt, Taryn and Gaellen, followed by Claeynd, Khaelis, Tiranya, Shaelyt, Lhendyr, Narryn, Petros, and Warryk. Dareyn stood by the door.

  Alastar cleared his throat and began. “I’ve just returned from the Chateau D’Rex. Rex Ryen died of a rage early this morning, and Lorien is now rex. After the death of Marshal Demykalon, Submarshal Petayn has become acting marshal, and I also met with him briefly. Rex Lorien has ordered the army to return and remain on its posts. Earlier I met with High Holder Vaun, who is now the acting head of the High Council. It now appears likely that the High Council and the rex will reach a compromise on the tariff level for next year. That leaves us with the problem of rebuilding the Collegium and restructuring how we operate so that, in the future, we will not be so reliant on the generosity of the rex. And unfortunately, we also have to find Desyrk and deal with him—”

  “What do you intend?” asked Obsolym warily.

  “Given what he has done, what would you suggest?” countered Alastar.

  “You did humiliate him…”

  “I removed him from duties for lack of competence. I did not discipline him otherwise.” Although you were thinking about it. “He was the one who left Imagisle and helped direct cannon fire against the Collegium—”

  “He did that?” asked Taryn, a note of astonishment in his voice. Even Obsolym’s mouth dropped open, if only for a moment.

  “He did. I’m sorry. I forgot to mention that to everyone. Maitre Alyna was there as well. I told Maitre Cyran and a few others about that last night. The last two days have been long.”

  “It seems to me, junior as I might be,” interjected Akoryt, “that the only question is whether we blind him or kill him.”

  “If we can capture him, we’ll have a hearing and decide,” declared Alastar.

  “Can we trust Submarshal Petayn?” asked Akoryt.

  “What happened to Marshal Demykalon?” asked Obsolym almost at the same time.

  “Marshal Demykalon ordered the cannon attack on Imagisle. Let’s just say that he didn’t survive the recoil. Submarshal Petayn was not pleased, but said that he would obey Rex Lorien’s order. I suspect he will … for now.”

  “What about High Holder Guerdyn?” asked Alyna. “He declared he would never accept higher tariffs.”

  “He told me the same thing,” replied Alastar. “He won’t have to worry about that now. His reaction to my insisting on a compromise led to a seizure. I didn’t bother trying to save him.” Alastar wasn’t about to admit directly what he’d done. People could and would speculate, but Guerdyn’s death was better left somewhat murky.

  “You killed him?” asked Obsolym.

  “There’s not a mark on his body and not a trace of poison in it, either. We’ll leave it at that.”

  Obsolym swallowed.

  Alastar turned to Akoryt. “Do you have any better idea of how many were killed, how many injured, and the extent of their injuries?”

  “Yes, sir. Eleven deaths, so far. Six imagers and students, four cooks, a gardener. Two of them were Johanyr and Klovyl. We found their bodies—what was left of them—in the ruins of the administration building. Gaellen says that there are almost a score with minor injuries, one with serious wounds, and two with broken bones. The most serious is a prime who took stone splinters. Gaellen isn’t sure he’ll make it. The other two are Shannyr and Kaylet.” Akoryt’s expression turned rueful with the second name. “Kaylet broke both wrists when he tripped walking on the river wall in the dark.”

  “Who is the prime?”

  “Nyell. He’s only been here since late Agostas.”

  Alastar recalled the name, but couldn’t connect it with a face. “What about Shannyr?”

  “A broken collarbone, Gaellen says.”

  “Was he with Johanyr and Klovyl?”

  “Probably. He was near the administration building.”

  Another problem? Or a fatal solution? Alastar would have to look into that. “Is there anything else I should know?”

  “I can’t think of anything right now, sir.”

  “Are there any more questions about what has happened?”

  The dining room was silent.

  “That’s all I had to tell you. If Maitres Cyran, Alyna, Akoryt, and Petros would remain … and Dareyn … we need to talk briefly about repairs and rebuilding.”

  Once the other maitres had left, Alastar looked around the table. “What should I know about what’s happened here while I was gone?”

  “The student quarters weren’t badly damaged, except for one corner of two rooms,” Akoryt began, “but we’ll have to make arrangements for them to be fed.”

  “You can use the kitchen in Desyrk’s cottage for some of them. Clear out the main room and put tables there,” said Alastar. “Some of them can be fed here. Jienna said she had already. If one of the other cooks can assist her, that will help. You’ll have to alternate which students eat when in both places.”

  “We’ll assign them times,” replied Akoryt.

  “Good. What else is of immediate concern?”

  “The strong room was not badly damaged, but it would not be wise to leave what is there…” Dareyn looked to Alastar.

  “What’s valuable can be put in the small strong room here. You’ll need to be here as well. If you’d see what you can work out with Arhgen. He may have to create another set of ledgers as well, unless he had any at his quarters.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Is there anything else anyone has that Dareyn should know?”

  “Can anyone help with making up rosters and lists of students?” asked Akoryt.

  “Ah…” Alastar interjected. “I do have a listing here in the study. It’s just a list with a sentence or two about students, staff, and maitres. I had Dareyn put that together when I became Maitre so that I could learn something about everyone. That might help.”

  “Greatly,” admitted the red-haired maitre.

  “Is there anything else we should consider?” Alastar looked to Dareyn.

  “Everyone is usually paid on the last day of the month, sir.”

  “I’ll need you to work with Arhgen to come up with a temporary pay ledger, then.”

  Dareyn nodded.

  Dealing with various other administrative questions took another quint before Alastar excused Dareyn and turned to the remaining maitres. “Is there anything anyone wants to say that they didn’t wish to say with everyone here?”

  “Obsolym’s going to make trouble,” suggested Cyran.

  “I hope you’re wrong,” said Alastar, “but he’s having a hard time understanding the problems we face.”

  “He’s always been good at ignoring them. Speaking of problems, what about Desyrk?”

  Alastar shrugged. “He’ll likely make more trouble, but he could be anywhere, and since he’s good at concealment, we’ll just have to be on our guard.”

  “I don’t like it,” murmured Petros. “Always was a lazy dandy.”

  “No one mentioned that before,” said Alastar, giving a quick glance to Alyna in trying to convey that he knew she had.r />
  Alyna offered a faint knowing expression, while the other three exchanged glances. Then Petros gave an embarrassed smile. “He’s been like that for so long that I guess we just … well … assumed.”

  “Try to assume I know nothing except what’s happened in the last two months,” said Alastar dryly. “I take it he’s been known to have lady friends beyond his wife.”

  “He’s been gone some nights over the past few years, but no one knows where. I don’t think he’s done that since you’ve been here,” added Petros.

  “And Maitre Fhaen let him? Did Fhaen even know?”

  “When I asked him,” said Cyran, “he said that so long as Desyrk did his job what he did in his free time was his own business if didn’t hurt or cost the Collegium.”

  “He used concealments a great deal,” added Akoryt. “Once he crossed the bridge, he just vanished.”

  And his wife put up with it? But then Alastar realized that she well might have feared Desyrk’s anger if she’d tried to leave … or maybe she had nowhere to go. “Can anyone else add anything that might help find him?” When no one spoke, he said, “Then we’ll get on with seeing who can do what and when with the rebuilding. When you have time, Alyna, would you be able to draw up plans for a new administration building? While we’re at it, we might as well rebuild with a structure suited to what we need now, with a proper library and a lower-level strong room large enough to hold records as well as golds. Maybe we ought to think about building a separate wing for instruction with small studies for maitres as well. Everyone think about it, and give your suggestions to Alyna.”

  “I can do plans. I think I should do some rough plans and sketches first and have the other maitres look at them…”

  As she went on to explain Alastar listened and watched. The watching was more pleasant. After she finished, he discussed with the others what they could do. Less than two quints later, the meeting was over.

  When they all rose from the table, Alastar cleared his throat. “I’d like to have a brief meeting at seventh glass tomorrow morning.”

  “We’ll be here,” replied Cyran cheerfully. “Where else would we want to be at the moment?”

  When the others began to head for the front door, Alastar motioned to Alyna. “If you have a moment … I mean … unless you and Tiranya…”

  “I’m certain Tiranya won’t even notice.” Alyna smiled. “We share a cottage. We’re not partners.”

  That thought had not even occurred to Alastar. “The chairs in the salon are more comfortable.”

  “That would be good.” They ended up sitting in two green velvet armchairs angled toward each other, if with a small circular table between them. Although it was approaching sunset, Alastar did not light any of the lamps.

  “What did you have in mind?” Alyna asked.

  Just getting to know you better. “Talking. Learning more about you. You’re part Pharsi. Have you ever had one of those … flashes of farsight?”

  For just an instant, Alyna was totally still. “Why do you ask?”

  Her words were pleasant, but Alastar sensed a wariness behind them. “Because Vaelora did, and it seemed to run in her family.” The last phrase was a bit of a guess on his part, but from what he’d read in Gauswn’s journal entries, there was a certain implication. Or is that just your inference?

  “That’s an … interesting observation. Why do you think I might have it?”

  “Because it’s clear the talent for imaging runs strongly in your blood. The farsight might as well.”

  “You are persistent.”

  “I’ve been reading the journals of the first chorister of the Collegium. He mentions that Vaelora had that talent. He also mentions that she said it was far less useful than people supposed, that it only allowed one to prepare somewhat. She must have been quite a woman.”

  “I imagine she was.”

  “Just as you are.”

  Alyna looked directly at Alastar. In the waning light, her black eyes seemed almost to see through him. “What do you want from me?” Her words were quiet but firm.

  “Right now, the chance to know you better.”

  “That cuts both ways. You already know far more about me than I do of you.”

  “What would you like to know?”

  “To begin with, anything you’d care to share.” Her smile was warm, if reserved.

  “I’m in my thirty-eighth year. I’ve been married and widowed. I have no children. I was born to a factor’s clerk. He lost his position when the factor died. My father went to work on the docks … and doing other things. His leg was injured, and he could barely walk. No one would give him work. He became a beggar. My mother went to work as a scull at an inn. Then my father was run down by a drunken son of a shahib—that’s what they call the old High Holders, the ones whose lands date back before the unification. The son was more upset that his horse had to be put down than that he’d killed a man. The death gold helped, but it didn’t last that long. Ma … my mother was never the same after that. She found out that I was an imager, because I could image coppers. Sometimes, those were all we had, and…” Alastar stopped for a moment. He didn’t like remembering those times. “Well … then she got consumption and insisted I go to the Collegium. Maitre Voltyn—he was in charge then—he let her spend the last year at the Collegium instead of giving her the two golds. He wanted to do both, but she wouldn’t have it. Until the night she died, she insisted I do my best.” He offered a shrug. “I’ve tried. After that, I was a student imager, and then a full one … nothing that much different from other maitres.”

  “More than you think, I’d say. How old were you when you first imaged coppers?”

  “Six, I think.”

  “That’s young.”

  “I had no idea about it. I just knew we needed the coppers.”

  “And you weren’t caught?”

  “I practiced for what I thought was a very long time.” He managed a soft laugh. “Maybe two weeks or so. That’s a very long time when you’re that age.”

  Alyna nodded. “Then … you were an only child?”

  “No … I had a younger brother and sister—Dyel and Mahara. They died of the red flux a year or so before I went to the Collegium at Westisle.”

  “You didn’t have it?”

  “I did, but I was fortunate.”

  “I wouldn’t call your early years all that fortunate.”

  “In one way, they were. I was loved.” And appreciated. “That counts for a great deal.”

  Alyna was silent, and Alastar wondered if she had actually been loved, but he wasn’t about to ask that question.

  “You were widowed…” The way Alyna said the words was clearly to give Alastar a choice of whether he wanted to speak of that.

  “I was. We weren’t married all that long, not as marriages should go…” Alastar paused, wondering how much he should say. “We were both Maitres D’Aspect then … Thealia … she was two years older. I was flattered…”

  “What was she like?”

  “She was tall and slender, almost swan-like. Silver-blond hair. Her eyes were gray.”

  “Was she beautiful?” asked Alyna quietly.

  Not in the way you are. “I can’t answer that fairly … or honestly. Sometimes, I thought she was. She was good-looking. Everyone said I was fortunate.”

  “Are you trying to please me?” Alyna’s voice was even.

  “I’d like to … but no, I’m not. When you first love someone, or think you do, it colors what you see. And when you’re young, when it’s first love, you see what you want to. As you get older, you see things differently. I know more about you, right now, than I ever did before Thealia and I were married.”

  “You sound like you weren’t that happy even then.”

  “I thought I was. It was only after she died … years after … that I began to see things differently.”

  “You don’t think that you’ve made yourself see them that way?”

  Alastar offered
a wry smile. “That’s always a danger … for anyone, but I don’t think so.” He paused. “I’m not saying she wasn’t attractive or that she secretly disliked me, or that she married me just because she thought I was the best catch.” Although there was some of that. “She did want to be admired and loved, and I did both.”

  “What happened?”

  “Something that I should have seen. Something that I’ve already seen here.”

  “That doesn’t tell me much,” observed Alyna, a touch of humor in the way she spoke the words.

  “It was becoming clear that I’d be a Maitre D’Structure before long. Zhelan had just become Maitre of the Westisle Collegium. There’s an understanding that, in order to be considered, you have to undertake certain assignments that require more than … normal imaging. Mine was to rebuild the stone piers in the west harbor. The west harbor is some five milles from the main harbor. I left early that morning. Sometime after I left, without telling anyone, Thealia went out to the east harbor and re-imaged the stone piers in the old east harbor … and dredged some of the channel as well. She was certainly capable of it, except for one thing.” Alastar glanced at Alyna.

  Her face was impassive.

  “I didn’t know she was pregnant. She must have known. She didn’t tell anyone. She came back. She told Maitre Zhelan, then went to our cottage to rest. She never woke up.”

  Alyna did not speak for several moments. “But … didn’t she know?”

  “Limitations were for everyone else. She always said that women imagers couldn’t ask for favors. She was right. She should have been a Maitre D’Structure before that.”

  Alyna’s face tightened.

  Alastar could almost see her thoughts and spoke quickly. “I didn’t insist on making you a Maitre D’Structure to redress the past. I didn’t do it out of guilt.” Or not too much. “I didn’t have the power to insist she have what she deserved. You have the abilities and skills of a Maitre D’Structure. Every senior maitre here knows and admits that. I didn’t present you with something undeserved. And I did it … well, frankly, I did it, if you must know, because I never wanted to be like Zhelan or, as it turns out, like Maitre Fhaen. That might not be the noblest of motives, but it’s the way it is.”