Imager's Challenge

by Jr. L. E. Modesitt

  That didn’t surprise me. They had to be from the territory to the west of where we had been attacked, that part controlled by Youdh. That meant I had more to do after I finished my round with Alsoran. I realized that I had more than a few bruises, but I hadn’t felt being hit. Mostly I was angry. Every which way I turned, someone was after me for something. There wasn’t even much I could say as we waited by the pole for the pickup wagon.

  “You didn’t image,” Alsoran finally said.

  “I did. I blocked the shots from the pistol. After that, there wasn’t time. You have to be able to concentrate.” Again, that wasn’t totally true, but close enough.

  He frowned.

  “We do much better one on one,” I said, “or when there’s some distance between us and an attacker. Why do you think they train us to use our hands and feet?”

  “For a middling-sized fellow, Master Rhennthyl, you do wallop folks.” He glanced down at the tough.

  Even though I was taller than most, I guessed that I was just middling-sized to the massive Alsoran.

  By the time we got back to Third District station with the still-unconscious tough, our round was supposed to be over, but it was close to two quints past four before we finished the round report and the initial charging sheet.

  After that, I left the station and walked back up South Middle to Dugalle. My head still ached, if not quite so sharply. I saw one of the typical taudis-toughs, young with ragged-cut hair. He just looked at me as I walked closer.

  “You know Horazt?”

  “Yeah.”

  I flipped a silver into the air. “That’s yours if you’ll find him and tell him Master Rhennthyl wants to see him. Now.”

  The tough stiffened, then looked at me more closely, seeing the gray trousers and black boots for the first time. His eyes went back to the blue patroller’s cloak that I wore.

  “I’m assigned to the Patrol for now. He knows that.”

  “How do I know—”

  “I can get word to Horazt in other ways, but it takes longer. If I have to do that, you won’t want to stay anywhere in L’Excelsis.”

  “See what I can do.” He moved away, not quite ambling, but not hurrying too much, not in my sight, anyway.

  I waited a good half glass for Horazt, and the sun had already dropped behind the taudis-dwellings south and west of South Middle before he appeared, accompanied by the younger man. As they sauntered toward me, Horazt’s almost-squat form was partly concealed by the black woolen cloak he wore.

  “Here’s the silver I promised.” I tossed it over to the younger tough, who caught it.

  “Bougyt . . . you can go.”

  This time, the younger man hurried away.

  “Master Rhennthyl. Must be important for you to come here so late, and to spend a silver just to find me.”

  “I thought you’d like to know that your nephew Shault is doing well. He’s very bright, but he’s having to work hard.”

  “That’d be good. Not why you came, I’d wager.”

  “It’s not. Something happened that could matter for both of us. Five taudis-toughs attacked another patroller and me earlier this afternoon. We were patrolling the west end of the taudis. One’s dead, one’s been charged with assault on patrollers—if he lives.”

  “You’re with that Alsoran . . .”

  “He said that they weren’t from there, that they didn’t belong to the taudischefs in his round. I’d guess they didn’t belong to you, either.”

  “If you know that, why come to me?”

  “Because you might be able to tell me if they were Youdh’s men and why he sent them against Alsoran and me.”

  “Don’t know.”

  I waited, my eyes on the young taudischef, my thoughts suggesting that he’d be far better off telling me.

  “Word is that Youdh’s got a deal with Harraf. Do favors for each other.”

  “So Youdh’s got deals with the Tiempran priests and the captain?”

  “That’s the word.” Horazt shrugged.

  “And?”

  “Word is that the taudis might get off easy when the scripties come if an imager isn’t around.”

  I laughed. “Harraf can’t do anything about the conscription teams. Neither can the Collegium. They’re usually Navy, with naval marines doing the hard work, and they don’t even tell the Civic Patrol or the imagers when they’re coming. Even if Harraf knew, he couldn’t do anything about it.”

  “What I figured,” Horazt said, “but I’m just a young taudischef, don’t know sowshit.” His words were delivered with a cheerful banter, but I suspected there was a bitterness behind them that would have curdled fresh cream.

  “What will Youdh do?”

  Horazt smiled. “Kill the ones who failed. If anyone asks him, he’ll claim that he had nothing to do with it.”

  I’d almost expected that. “What would happen if something happened to Youdh?”

  “Saelyhd would take over. He’s worse. Stupid and vicious.”

  I didn’t need that, either. “That’s too bad. Might be better if he vanished before anything happens to Youdh.”

  Horazt looked at me.

  I ignored the look. “Will they try again soon?”

  “Wouldn’t think so. Youdh wouldn’t want to lose too many with Jadhyl and Deyalt both wanting more territory.”

  “They’re the taudischefs to the east of Youdh?”

  Horazt nodded. “Best I be going. Good evening, Master Rhennthyl.”

  I headed back down South Middle to where I could find a hack to take me back to the Collegium. I didn’t stop looking and studying every shadow in the twilight, not until I was in the coach and well clear of the area around Third District station.

  So now what was I supposed to do?

  Most, but not all, of my headache had departed by the time I dragged myself out of bed in the near-darkness of Mardi morning. I still had no real idea how to deal with Mardoyt and Harraf. I had no proof at all that they were involved, but who else could be? And how did the attacks on Alsoran and me by Youdh’s toughs fit in? Beyond that, I had only the vaguest idea of what to do about High Holder Ryel. In fact, if I wanted to be honest with myself, I was having trouble just staying alive and in one piece . . . and I hadn’t had to deal with anything involving Ryel yet.

  I managed not to think too hard about that through the morning exercises or breakfast, but when I got to the Third District station just before seventh glass, Captain Harraf gestured for me to join him in his study. I didn’t close the door, and he didn’t ask me to.

  For a moment, he said nothing, just looked at me.

  I waited for what he had to say.

  “The man you brought yesterday died before he could say anything. It’s a pity you couldn’t have been more gentle. Alsoran does his best, but you as an imager . . .”

  “I protected him against gunshots and after that we did our best against five taudis-toughs, Captain. As the report stated, they didn’t say a word to us. They started shooting and then attacked.”

  “Surely they must have had a reason.”

  “I’m most certain they did, but since neither Alsoran nor I had ever seen any of them before, whatever that reason happened to be was not based on personal contact with us. It might be the result of decisions you or the commander made or just because they were feeling like they wanted to make an example of two patrollers, or because they’re worried a conscription team may be sweeping the taudis before long. I couldn’t say.” I could sense Harraf stiffen, but I just smiled politely. “You certainly have a better idea of such matters than do I.”

  “I’m so glad you grant me that, Master Rhennthyl.”

  “You have far more experience than I do, sir. I’m here to learn.”

  For some reason, he paused at my words, if only momentarily. “That you are. I trust you will convey what you learn to other imagers. Still, it was unfortunate that there was no one to question.”

  “Yes, sir.” It was indeed unfortunate—
but not for Harraf, I thought.

  “That’s all I had, Master Rhennthyl.”

  “Thank you, sir.” I smiled and slipped out of his study, wondering why he’d even brought the matter up at all. Was he that stupid to think I didn’t see? Or was I that stupid in not overtly recognizing how much power he wielded in the Third District?

  Alsoran was waiting as I walked into the front area of the station.

  “How are you feeling this morning?” I asked as we left.

  “I’m fine. Still can’t figure out why those toughs attacked us yesterday.”

  “It could be that someone told them I was an imager, and they don’t like that.”

  “If they’d been from that part of the taudis . . . maybe . . . but they were intruding.”

  “Could it be that they wanted to cause trouble for the taudischefs on your round?”

  Alsoran considered that for several moments before saying, “It’s possible.”

  “But you don’t think that’s it.”

  “Nope. Couldn’t say why, though.”

  I could, but I wasn’t about to say that it was Youdh’s doing at Harraf’s prompting. Or that if I’d failed to protect Alsoran, matters would have been worse for me and the Collegium.

  While there were more people on the streets as we walked the round, especially on South Middle and the Avenue D’Artisans, no one even gave us more than a passing glance, except for the handful of older women who smiled at Alsoran or passed pleasantries.

  We were near the end of the first pass through the east end of the taudis, on Saelio, when I caught sight of three men, all wearing dark green cloaks, walking slowly toward us. They stopped a good ten yards away.

  “Jadhyl,” murmured Alsoran.

  “You were right,” I murmured back.

  “Good morning, Jadhyl,” offered Alsoran. “Have you met Rhennthyl? He’s filling in for Lyonyt for a while.”

  “I cannot say that I have.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Jadhyl.” I inclined my head politely. While Jadhyl’s speech was precise, far better than any of the taudis-toughs I’d heard, there was a hint of an accent, and his skin had a trace of a golden tinge that I’d never seen before. His hair was also an unusual golden brown.

  “I wanted to inform you that no one associated with me was involved in the unfortunate incident yesterday afternoon. That would not be in my interests, nor Deyalt’s.”

  Alsoran nodded. “Master Rhennthyl and I sort of thought that, but it’s good to hear it from you.”

  “I appreciate your not reaching an untoward conclusion. Thank you.” He nodded, then turned, flanked by the two others. They disappeared down the next side lane.

  Once they were out of sight, we continued onward.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up the head of all the taudischefs here,” I said quietly.

  “That’s what the captain’s afraid of,” replied Alsoran. “You notice the streets here?”

  “They’re neater. Not perfect, but better than those to the west.”

  “Look at the windows. Close.”

  I did as we walked along the block, and then it struck me. I’d half noticed it before. There weren’t any boarded-up windows. Some had very crude shutters, stained rather than painted, but shutters. “Is that Jadhyl’s doing?”

  “Couldn’t say, but that tough you handled yesterday . . . you see him today?”

  “No.”

  “He’s been leaning on that post for two weeks, every morning. Wager you won’t see him again, one way or the other. Wager I won’t, either.”

  I wasn’t about to take that wager.

  Later, when we had reached the end of our second round, I asked, “Who patrols the part of the taudis between the station and your round? During the day?”

  “That’d be Melyor and Slausyl. You thinking about those toughs again?”

  “I was.”

  “I asked them if they thought they might be Youdh’s. They didn’t know. Slausyl’s heard word that Youdh wants to be a sort of head taudischef over the whole South Middle taudis. He might want to see if we’d do something against Jadhyl or Deyalt.”

  “That’s possible.” Or had the point really been to see if they could get me . . . and failing that, get Alsoran and discredit me?

  While we kept a careful eye on the narrower lanes and alleys for the rest of the day, we weren’t looking so much for the locals, but for crazy elvers or those who didn’t belong. We didn’t see either, not that there weren’t elvers and more than the occasional odor of the weed by late afternoon, but no one smoking it ever came close to us.

  I kept thinking over what I’d seen. Why was Harraf worried about Jadhyl? Because he might end up controlling the entire taudis? Or because he wouldn’t funnel payoffs to Harraf? How did the priests of Puryon fit in?

  Just before we headed back to the station, I finally asked, “Do you know how Jadhyl gets along with the priests of Puryon?”

  “Can’t say as I know for certain, Master Rhennthyl. Heard it said that anyone from his area who uses their advocates goes over to Youdh. They do, and they have to move out of here, though.”

  “Jadhyl looks different.”

  “His folks came from Stakanar.”

  The more I saw and heard, the less I liked what seemed to be going on in Third District. Yet . . . it was all vague. The one thing that was clear, once Alsoran had pointed it out, was that the area controlled by taudischef Jadhyl was far more orderly and better kept. But that didn’t prove anything about Captain Harraf.

  Because we hadn’t had any more troubles, I was able to leave the station just after fourth glass. I hadn’t seen anyone in the family for over a week, and since I was already closer to the house than I would have been at Imagisle, I took a carriage for hire out to the house.

  Khethila was the one to open the door.

  “Rhenn . . . I didn’t expect you, not in the middle of the week.” She stepped back.

  I followed her inside, closing the door behind me. “I would have come on Solayi, but I was the duty master and couldn’t leave Imagisle.”

  “Mother’s over at the neighbors’, and Father won’t be home for a bit. He wanted to check some of the inventory after they closed.”

  “Are you still enjoying doing the accounts?”

  Her smile was brief. “That part is good. I even figured out a way to ship woolens to Solis and Asseroiles faster and cheaper.”

  “Oh?”

  “Most people don’t ship on Samedi, but if we have the shipment ready on Vendrei night, we can send it down to the ironway freight depot first thing on Samedi morning and have the wagon back by midday. I negotiated a ten percent discount that way.” She shrugged. “It won’t work on urgent shipments, but it does help.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that.

  “Is there anything new from Kherseilles?” I was almost afraid to ask.

  Khethila was silent for a long moment. “Unless things get better, Father will probably have to close the factorage there.” She kept her voice low. “He doesn’t want to admit it, but we’re losing more golds every month there.”

  “It’s that bad?”

  “The Abiertans reneged on their contracts because the Council won’t send a fleet to protect the port, and our ships won’t steam there, and theirs can’t afford to approach Solidar. Rousel has been relying on the Abiertans for trade with Tiempre and Caenen, and all the cargo space on Solidaran merchanters heading to Otelyrn has been bought up. The Caenenans and Tiemprans aren’t sending that many vessels north.” Khethila pursed her lips, then continued. “Rousel can’t seem to find anyone to tear down the warehouse wall and rebuild it where it should be, and the new owner of the adjoining land is threatening to have it done—and it’s in the middle of the fall rains there. Rousel missed one major shipment because the dray wagon broke the trace pole and he couldn’t get a replacement in time, and he couldn’t hire any other teamsters to carry the bales. Whether he’ll get paid for the delayed sh
ipment . . .” She shrugged.

  All that sounded like Rousel, never quite following through, never quite making sure of the details. Yet after what was happening to me, I almost questioned whether it made a difference. I’d tried to be careful, and I was still in trouble.

  “Can you do anything?”

  “I’m afraid . . .” She stopped. “Father wants to extend more credit. I’ve told him we can’t afford it. We could. This time.” Her eyes met mine. “Am I wrong?”

  How could I answer that? Finally, I said, “Do you remember how I got strapped for not trimming the hedge properly?”

  “I just remember you punched Rousel, and Father strapped you again.”

  “He was supposed to use the small shears and follow up. He never did. He went off to play, and Father punished me for not catching him. If I’d caught him, he would have complained that I hurt him. That sort of thing happened more than once.”

  “You’re saying that if I . . .”

  I nodded. “You’ll only make it harder for Father.”

  “Rousel will plead that the problem with the wall wasn’t his fault and that he just needs a little more credit and time.”

  “I’m sure he will. He hasn’t paid out anything for the wall or rebuilding, has he?”

  “No. Not yet.” She sighed. “I see what you mean. I knew it, but it’s so hard.”

  I knew that, too, and I knew Ryel would find a way to make it harder. I just didn’t know how.

  Compared to previous days, Meredi was uneventful, and I didn’t even see Captain Harraf. Nor were there any taudis-toughs waiting on corners or by posts. We did have to deal with a window smash-and-grab at a small silversmith’s off the Avenue D’Artisans in the afternoon, but the thief made the mistake of smashing the glass when the owner’s son—who overtopped me—was returning to the shop. All we had to do was cart the thief away. He was an elver, desperate for coins.

  When I woke on Jeudi morning, I could actually lift shields without a headache. One blow to my shields from above, and I’d been limited for a week.

  After completing my now all-too-regular prebreakfast routine, I walked quickly to the dining hall. I was about to enter when the large headline type from the topmost newsheet in the full boxes caught my eye: “War Looms!” I immediately hurried over and picked up a copy of Veritum, then scanned the lead story quickly.