Imager's Challenge

by Jr. L. E. Modesitt

  I waited to say more until we passed an old man trudging eastward. He didn’t even look in our direction, just kept his head down against the fine rain.

  “Do your men have something that identifies them as your taudis-men? A kind of belt buckle, a certain cloak, like the green cloaks that Jadhyl’s men wear?”

  “You think I should tell you?”

  “I’m not asking what it is. I’m thinking that each taudischef’s men carry or wear something like that. I’d like to know if you know what Youdh’s men use, or if Youdh sends messages with a special seal or sign.”

  Horazt laughed harshly. “The only message he sends is a slashed throat, with a wide-bladed dagger through the voice box. That’s how he deals with squeals.”

  “No tattoos for his men? No jackets of a special color?”

  “His enforcers wear purple jackets. That’s only the top ones.”

  “Can you get me—”

  “You don’t think—”

  “Not a jacket. Just a small piece of the material.” I held my fingers barely a digit apart. “Just a shred like that. I’ll pay a gold for it.” Once I had it, I could always image something just a bit larger.

  A sly grin crossed his face. “Might be worth the risk at that. If I can get it, I’ll send it with Chelya when she goes to see Shault. You and me, we been seen too much together.”

  “I’ll be there. No one will think that’s strange for her first visit.” I’d have to be there, because I didn’t want Shault to see what I had in mind. “Do you want me to give her the gold?”

  “You can owe me, Master Rhennthyl. You’re good for it.” He slowed and looked at me. “You really think Shault can make a life as an imager?”

  “He has the talent, and he has more chances than anyone I know of from the taudis, but he has to want it. It’s not easy for a taudis-kid because the best imagers are those no one sees.”

  “You’re good, or you wouldn’t be a master, and people know who you are.”

  “I’ve also been shot at and attacked more times than any other master, and I could have died twice. I wouldn’t want Shault to go through that.”

  “He’ll want to follow you.”

  I didn’t bother hiding the sigh. “We’re all afraid of that, but we’ll help him all we can.”

  “His grandfather was quiet. So was his uncle. They both died young.”

  “I understand. Quiet doesn’t always work in the taudis. I can only tell you that I’ll do what I can.”

  “That’s all anyone can ask.” Horazt raised his hand. “Later. Don’t get too wet.” He turned and crossed South Middle, walking into a narrow lane on the other side and disappearing into the misty rain.

  I kept walking until I was on the Midroad. Eventually, I managed to hail a coach for hire.

  By the time I reached my parents’ house and walked up under the portico roof, my cloak was more than a little damp. I lifted the knocker and let it drop twice before the door opened.

  Mother stood there. “Rhenn! I thought it might be you. Come in before you get any wetter.” Her eyes went over me. “From the look of your cloak, I don’t know that you could.”

  Once inside, I immediately shed the cloak.

  “Dear, let me hang that up in the kitchen. The stove is still hot.”

  “Thank you. Are you here alone?”

  “Oh, no. Your father’s in the parlor. Khethila’s over at Brennai’s this afternoon, but you did see her last week when we weren’t here.” Mother bustled toward the family parlor and the kitchen beyond.

  As I followed, I ignored her attempt to inject guilt into the conversation. “I can’t always come every Samedi. I was painting until late yesterday.”

  “Whose portrait?” asked Father from his chair, setting down the book he had been reading.

  “I’ve been working on several, but the important one is Master Rholyn’s. He’s the Collegium councilor.”

  “Khethila said that you were working hard.” Mother stopped at the door to the kitchen. “Can I get you some hot mulled wine or some tea?”

  “Tea would be good. I can only stay a glass or so.”

  “The kettle’s still warm. It shouldn’t take long.” Mother scurried into the kitchen.

  I settled into the chair across from Father, grateful for the warmth from the hearth stove. “I haven’t seen you for a bit. Is there anything new happening?” I doubted that Father would say anything about the problems in Kherseilles.

  “There is one thing.” Father beamed. “That dinner we had with Veblynt and Ferdinand last month actually led to a contract from the Navy. One of the supply commanders said that Veblynt had recommended me, and he asked me to bid on a large contract. That was several weeks ago. On Meredi, I received notice that the bid had been accepted.” Father smiled. “That was most welcome.”

  “Will it be profitable?”

  “A solid profit’s to be had, but the margin on military contracts is lower. Always has been, but it’s not to be sneezed at.”

  “No contract backed by the Council is to be ignored,” Mother added, returning with a mug of tea.

  I took the mug and held it under my chin, letting the steam warm my face for a moment before taking a sip. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, dear.”

  I turned back to Father. “I suppose Veblynt showed up on Jeudi to congratulate you?” I kept my tone idle.

  Father frowned. “On Vendrei, actually.” After a pause, he went on. “He congratulated me on getting the bid, but he also said that you were to be equally congratulated for your efforts in dealing with his wife’s most distant relations.”

  Mother looked up sharply. “You didn’t mention that, dear.”

  “I’m certain I did, Maelyna.”

  “Perhaps you did.” Mother’s tone indicated that he had not, but that she was not going to make an issue of it—not at the moment. Instead, she looked to me. “What did Veblynt mean, do you think?”

  “I don’t know. I suspect that he was referring to my avoiding problems with the daughter of High Holder Ryel.”

  “Why would there be problems?”

  “Iryela is most determined, extremely good-looking, and to be as safe as possible, she needs a husband who cannot inherit from her. Imagers fit those criteria. By not angering her, and by choosing Seliora, I hoped to avoid involvements of that sort.” All that I said was true, if somewhat misleading.

  For whatever reason, Veblynt had steered the wool contract to Father. While I did not know the reason, I had the feeling that it was strictly to give me time to deal with Ryel . . . or at the least to make Ryel work harder to ruin me and my family. Then, it might have been to force Ryel into making a mistake. I had strong doubts that it was merely to help Father, but how could I tell? I wasn’t about to ask Veblynt . . . not now, at least.

  “Seliora is beautiful and well endowed . . . especially coming from a crafting family,” Mother offered.

  What she really meant was that she was still surprised to find a Pharsi girl who was as beautiful and well off as Seliora. She was also suggesting that I might have done better to look more closely at Iryela.

  “Indeed she is, and her brothers are far more welcoming than Iryela’s brothers would have been. High Holders would prefer not to have imagers privy, even indirectly, to their family and their affairs.”

  “That’s a pity,” Mother said. “Is this . . . heiress . . . attractive?”

  “She’s quite attractive, if in a cold and calculating fashion,” I replied. “You know I don’t do well with that.” I took another sip of the tea.

  “Maelyna, even I know that Rhennthyl needs someone warm and kind, especially since he’s become an imager. All the gold in Solidar doesn’t warm a home or a bed.”

  That comment from my father surprised me, although it shouldn’t have, because, for all his bluster at times, he’d always been appreciative of my mother, and seldom said anything unkind. He also didn’t tolerate anyone else saying anything negative about h
er.

  “You and Seliora haven’t had dinner with us recently,” Mother said.

  I had to think about that, but she was right. It had been over a month.

  “You could come next Samedi. Culthyn has never met Seliora, you know?”

  “Could we make it for sixth glass?”

  “Of course, dear.”

  “I’ll have to send her a note.” Seliora had agreed that we’d go out, and I hoped she wouldn’t mind. “Plan on it, and I’ll let you know if there’s a problem.”

  “It would be nice to get to know her better.”

  That might well be, but it would be nerve-racking for me. I just smiled.

  “Will you keep painting?” Mother asked. “Khethila mentioned something . . .”

  “I’ve finished one portrait. That’s of the head maitre of the Collegium. They hung it in the receiving hall. . . .” I went on to talk about Maitre Rholyn’s portrait, but not Seliora’s. It wasn’t far enough along that I felt comfortable discussing it yet, although I’d certainly have to by the next Samedi.

  Lundi morning, Clovyl canceled the running, but not the exercises and sparring, because so much water had pooled all over the isle and because tree limbs had fallen everywhere in the high winds that hadn’t even awakened me during the night. I hurried through cleaning up and breakfast so that I could post the note to Seliora about our change in dinner plans, run down Grandisyn to request a replacement for my armoire, and so I could get to Third District station earlier than usual. Grandisyn didn’t even seem surprised, but he did say it would be a few days.

  I made it to the station early only because I had the use of a duty coach. I also carried a small bag that held the frayed and worn brown cloak and brown-and-black plaid cap. I didn’t see many hacks on the road. Captain Harraf must have switched to supervising the late shift, because Lieutenant Warydt looked up from talking to a patroller on desk duty and nodded to me as I entered the station and put the bag in the square cubby that had been assigned to me.

  I didn’t see Alsoran, but that was secondary for the moment. I was looking for the pair who had the round covering that part of the taudis controlled by Youdh. It didn’t take long to run down Melyor and Slausyl, although I only knew them by sight and in passing.

  Slausyl was about my height, with blue eyes, blond hair, and a round boyish face on which the deep lines on his forehead seemed out of place. Melyor was shorter, squatter, with washed-out and limp brown hair and sad hazel eyes.

  “A moment, if you would,” I offered as I stepped toward them.

  “What did you want to know, sir?” asked Melyor.

  “Whatever you can tell me about Youdh. Alsoran may have told you what happened . . .”

  “Yeah,” replied Slausyl. “It doesn’t make much sense.”

  “About Youdh?” I prompted.

  “We’ve never really seen him—except at a distance—if he was even the one. He looks to be big, but not so tall as Alsoran, maybe not quite so broad, either.”

  “Does he always have guards with him?”

  “You aren’t thinking . . .” Melyor glanced to Slausyl.

  I shook my head. “It seems to me that an imager or a Civic Patroller’s taking out a taudischef would just create a bigger problem. I’m just trying to learn enough so that things make more sense to me.”

  “Sometimes the toughs with him wear purple jackets,” said Slausyl. “There’s always one in purple.”

  “Probably his enforcers,” I speculated. “How does he handle enemies?”

  “Has ’em killed. How else?” asked Melyor.

  “But is there anything to show that’s why?”

  Both patrollers exchanged glances.

  “Why else would they be dead?” Slausyl finally asked.

  “Lots of reasons.” I paused. “I’ve heard that the Tiempran priests—the ones who believe in equality—they’ll cut their heretics into two equal halves. The High Holders leave silver knots to make sure people know why something happened. Does Youdh do anything like that?”

  “Oh . . . that,” replied Melyor. “Don’t know as it always happens, but we’ve found a couple of bodies in the middle of where two lanes cross with their throat cut and a dull knife through their voice box. That’s for squealers.”

  “I’d heard that Youdh makes deals with the Puryon Temple priests.”

  “That’d be hard to say, sir,” said Melyor. “Sometimes one of the advocates that the priests use will show up in court for someone that might belong to Youdh. But who could tell whether they were working for the priests or Youdh?”

  “Or both,” I added.

  Melyor looked at me, as it to ask if I had any more questions.

  “What do you think will happen if a conscription team enters your round?”

  Both patrollers laughed harshly.

  “Nothing Namer good, sir,” Slausyl finally replied.

  “Do you know when they will?” asked Melyor.

  “They don’t tell anyone, especially not imagers . . . or patrollers. Since I’m considered both right now . . .” I let the words hang.

  “Too bad.”

  “Exactly.” I nodded. “Thank you both.”

  “Our pleasure, sir,” replied Melyor.

  No sooner had I stepped away from the two patrollers and turned to look for Alsoran than Lieutenant Warydt stepped away from the duty desk and began to walk toward me.

  I was getting leery of Patrol officers. Whenever one approached me, the results were seldom good, but I smiled and said, “Lieutenant.”

  “Master Rhennthyl . . . how would you feel about accompanying Lyonyt next week on the round you’ve been doing? That would be a real help. We just found out that Alsoran’s been made a patroller first, and he’s being transferred to Fifth District. We won’t get a replacement by then, and it might be longer.”

  “I’d be happy to help.” What else could I have said?

  “The captain and I appreciate that very much. Thank you.” With a smile, he turned and headed toward his study.

  By then, Alsoran had arrived, and I walked to join him. I didn’t say anything about his pending promotion until we were outside and walking down to Quierca. “I understand congratulations are in order.”

  Alsoran offered an embarrassed smile. “I guess I was fortunate.”

  “I’m sure you deserve it. What have you heard about Fifth District?”

  “It won’t break my heart to spend some time there. That’s the area that includes Plaza D’Este, and there’s no taudis or taudis-types around. I won’t have as many stories to tell, but that’s just fine.” Alsoran grinned.

  “I’m glad for you.”

  “Not as glad as my wife.”

  We’d walked more than five blocks southeast on Quierca, just about two blocks short of where the round started, when I noticed a taudis-tough leaning against the wall. He made no attempt to conceal the fact that he was watching us.

  “Do you know him?” I asked Alsoran.

  “I don’t recall seeing him before, but that’s Youdh’s territory.”

  The man said nothing, but I could feel the tough’s eyes on my back after we passed. A little more than a block farther along was another tough, leaning against a stone gatepost. Like the first, he watched, but said nothing.

  “They’re looking at you, sir,” observed Alsoran.

  They were the only taudis-toughs we saw all day, and the only difficulty we had was with a smash-and-grab by a muddled elver in late afternoon. I had to chase him a block, but I couldn’t claim much credit because he looked back at me and ran into a lamppost and went down. The old woman got her bag and wallet back, and the elver went off to gaol, and we rode the pickup wagon back to the station.

  After I finished the round report with Alsoran, I reclaimed my bag and then walked up Fuosta and out to the Midroad, where I waited nearly half a glass to catch a hack. The driver didn’t say much, but I could sense he didn’t like taking me to the intersection of Fedre and East River Road, bec
ause he’d end up on the wrong side to pick up fares. While I was in the hack I donned the brown cloak and plaid cap and slipped my visored uniform cap into the bag.

  Once I’d paid the driver, and I did give him a few extra coppers, I dodged through the welter of coaches and wagons, and the occasional rider, back across East River Road. As soon as I turned up Fedre, I began to build concealment shields, just enough so that anyone who looked in my direction would see a workman in mismatched cloak and cap, without really picking up much more than that.

  The sky was hazy and overcast, and the sun was only a faint glow in the west, already dropping behind the buildings on the west side of Fedre. When I neared Patrol headquarters, I eased closer to the buildings and began to increase the concealment of my shields. When I reached the main entrance I eased back against the stone wall and waited.

  Nearly a glass passed, and while I saw both the commander and the subcommander leave, I didn’t see Lieutenant Mardoyt. Had he taken the day off? Or was he on leave? I couldn’t afford to ask about such. So I decided to keep waiting and watching.

  Close to two quints passed before I saw him hurry down the steps and turn toward the river. I followed, maintaining concealment shields and trying to stay close, but not too close. The fading light helped, or at least I thought it did, because no one even seemed to see me.

  When Mardoyt reached East River Road, he stopped and began to signal for a hack.

  Once Mardoyt was inside, I swung up on the luggage rack in the rear, hoping that the trip wouldn’t be long or rough . . . and that the driver wouldn’t take undue notice of the extra weight.

  The coach followed East River to the Avenue D’Artisans, then headed east, but only for a mille or so, when it came to a halt. When I heard the coach door open, I slipped off the luggage rack, but waited at the rear of the coach where, even had I not been using shields, it would have been impossible for the driver to see me.

  Mardoyt glanced around, then began to walk up the side street, whose name I couldn’t make out in the dimness. He turned right at the second cross street, which had to be Saelio, although this portion of the street was a good two milles, if not more, from the part that bordered the taudis near Third Station, and somewhere southwest of Sudroad.