Imager's Challenge

by Jr. L. E. Modesitt

  “Thank you for your kind words. We will continue to do what we can.”

  He nodded, and I nodded, and we resumed our patrol round.

  Lyonyt looked sideways at me, but did not speak for a time as we kept walking. Finally, he said, “Begging your pardon, Master Rhennthyl, but could I ask . . . ah . . . you’re a real master imager, and you’re doing patrols, like the lowest patroller.”

  I managed a smile. “How would I know what you do if I don’t do it? Words . . . names . . . they don’t convey what it feels like when you have to watch every corner and every alley . . . or wonder if you’re going to walk down a street and find an old lady being strangled by an out-of-control elver, or find taudis-toughs attacking you.”

  “Folks can’t hurt you.”

  I laughed. “I’ve been shot in the chest and almost didn’t live through it. I’ve had my ribs broken in an explosion, and at one time or another just about every part of my body has been bruised. My skills just make it harder for people to hurt me, but it doesn’t mean they can’t and haven’t. Youdh was an imager, but we managed to subdue him.”

  “A good thing, too.” He looked at me again, but I just smiled, and he didn’t ask any more questions about how I might get hurt.

  When we walked down Mando, I noted that the wreckage of the large wagon had vanished totally, although there was sawdust in places in the gutters, as well as wood chips. The broken building stones and bricks had been placed in a single pile. There were no intact bricks or building stones left.

  All in all the rounds of the day were most quiet, and when we finished the last round and returned to the district station, I didn’t see either the captain or the lieutenant.

  I was more tired on Jeudi night when I got to the dining hall than I had been the night before. Thankfully, there were no red-striped letters in my box, but I had the sinking feeling that sooner or later there would be. Ryel was nothing if not thorough, and yet I was still flailing, and trying to work out how I could respond without overt traces back to me . . . and I feared that others would pay the price. Yet, without knowing more, I couldn’t take any action that would not be hasty and futile.

  Belatedly, as I headed toward the masters’ table, I realized that it had been quite a while since I’d eaten two dinners in a row at the Collegium. Maitre Dyana beckoned to me in a quiet way that could not be denied, and I settled into the seat to her left. Ferlyn and Quaelyn were to her right, with Chassendri and Isola beyond them.

  “Good evening, maitre.”

  “Good evening, Rhenn. I understand that you have been rather dogged in ferreting out what many would prefer not to be ferreted out.”

  “I imagine that’s a matter of opinion.”

  “So it is. You’re going to the Autumn Ball tomorrow, are you not?” Maitre Dyana’s words were polite and mildly curious as she straightened the comparatively subdued black scarf, trimmed in gold.

  “Unless Master Dichartyn changes his mind,” I replied with a smile. “Would you like the red or the white Grisio?”

  “The white goes better with the veal. The cream sauce is usually a touch heavier than it should be. But then, cream applied heavily enough can sweeten anything.”

  “That’s something I’ve observed with Maitre Poincaryt.” I chuckled wryly, after half filling her goblet. “He can deliver a reprimand with such gentleness that you almost don’t feel the welts—except they don’t go away. I suppose that’s just another reason why he’s the Collegium Maitre.” I could have been less direct, but I wasn’t as good at it as she was, and she had something in mind.

  “A series of cuts delivered with a sharp knife has the same delayed effect, but there’s more bleeding. Poison in a dessert wine is also a favorite of some High Holders. It’s best to remember that the meal isn’t over until it’s thoroughly digested.”

  I supposed that was the same as saying that the last laugh was the best, but since High Holders seldom laughed, not in honest enjoyment, anyway, they wouldn’t have said anything like that.

  “Tell me, Rhennthyl. How long do you think that taudis imager had been imaging?”

  “I have no way of knowing, but I’d judge at least ten years, if not longer.”

  “Yet he revealed himself to you, if indirectly.”

  “Not exactly,” I replied. “I discovered his abilities when he didn’t know who I was, and then, after he’d revealed those abilities, the attacks on me began.”

  “I thought it might have been something like that. Even in games of plaques, when one must only keep track of cards, it’s a pity that often revealing one’s abilities leads to greater difficulties . . . unless, of course, one reveals limited abilities and holds greater capabilities in reserve.”

  “The problem there, maitre, as I see it, is that one can do that only once, perhaps twice, even in plaques.”

  “Precisely.” She smiled. “The seasoning on the pilaf is almost piquant.”

  I’d definitely gotten a message. Whether I could translate the implications of her conversation was another question entirely, since I’d already revealed my abilities to a greater degree than was wise. I avoided frowning, though, as I realized that it was highly unlikely that High Holder Ryel knew the extent of what I could do—and Maitre Dyana’s comments had been prefaced with remarks about the Autumn Ball.

  Between Youdh’s hearing and my required attendance at the Council’s Autumn Ball, I knew Vendrei would be a long day—a very long day—beginning with the strenuous exercises and sparring under Clovyl’s watchful eyes.

  I was at the Collegium Justice Building at half before eighth glass, as Master Dichartyn had told me to be, and found myself sitting alone in the witness chamber adjoining the hearing area. Except for Youdh, who had not appeared, there were no other witnesses, because Master Dichartyn had taken their statements for the hearing record.

  As I waited, I stood in the open door to the witness chamber and glanced through the archway up at the wooden high-backed gallery benches set on tiers that rose behind a low wall that separated the hearing area from the gallery. A central set of steps split the benches, rising from the wall to the upper entry on the second level. My eyes dropped to the justicing area. At the east end was a dais a yard high, with a black desk in the middle. The floor was entirely of gray seamless stone, except for a walkway of black stone that ran from the archway where I stood to the foot of the dais.

  “Rhennthyl . . .” offered Master Dichartyn, gesturing toward the witness chamber.

  “Yes, sir.” I edged back into the small room and sat down on the bench on the east side.

  I’d been seated for only a moment, when two muscular obdurate guards in their black uniforms marched Youdh in and sat him on the other bench, blindfolded and manacled. The guards remained standing on each side of Youdh, who said nothing.

  Outside, the bells began to ring the glass.

  A few moments later, I could hear the voice of the bailiff, Master Ghaend, faintly through the now-closed door. “All rise.”

  There was silence for what seemed to be a long time. Although I could not see what was happening, I knew that the justice, most likely Master Jhulian, walked to the dais and seated himself behind the desk.

  “You may be seated,” announced Master Ghaend. The door to the witness chamber opened. “Youdh D’Estaudis, step forward to the bar.”

  Youdh did not move. The two guards said nothing, but hoisted the taudischef to his feet. After that he did walk, in a fashion, out of the witness chamber. Master Ghaend closed the door, and I could hear nothing.

  I knew he’d be charged with one count of attempted murder of a patroller, two counts of attempted murder of an imager, two counts of assault, and one count of failing to report to Imagisle as an imager. Since all of the charges, except failure to report, involved the use of imaging, each one of which he was convicted could carry a death sentence.

  I felt that almost a full glass passed before the door to the witness chamber opened and Master Ghaend announced, “Mas
ter Rhennthyl to the bar.”

  As I stepped out of the witness chamber and through the archway, I could sense that the gallery was filled, which meant close to two hundred fifty imagers, from primes to graying masters. I walked deliberately forward to the bar before the dais.

  The justice seated behind the desk on the dais was Master Jhulian. He wore a long gray robe, like the Council justices, except his was trimmed in both black and red, instead of just black. The prosecutor for the Collegium, standing before the small table to the left, was Master Dichartyn. To the right was Master Rholyn. Seated behind the small table on the right was Youdh. I noticed that he was now gagged and bound to the chair.

  I halted short of the bar and inclined my head politely.

  “Master Rhennthyl,” said Master Jhulian, looking directly and intently at me, “do you understand that you are required to tell the whole truth, and that your words must not deceive, either by elaboration or omission?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Proceed.” Jhulian looked to Master Dichartyn.

  “Master Rhennthyl, please describe what occurred on the morning of Meredi, the thirty-second of Feuillyt, as you were patrolling with one Patroller Lyonyt.” Master Dichartyn could have been reading a textbook, for all the lack of emotion in his voice.

  “We had made one patrol round, heading out Quierca and then up the Avenue D’Artisans, and then down South Middle, before we walked back to Saelio and began patrolling the inner streets of the round. The last street on the second round was Mando . . .” I went on to describe exactly what had happened, from the first scream of the woman until we had delivered Youdh to the gaol at Imagisle.

  Master Dichartyn did not interrupt me once. After I finished, he said, “I have several questions, for clarification for the Collegium. Why did you remain lying on the pavement after the wagon passed?”

  “There was no one nearby, and I wanted to see if whoever had aimed the wagon at us would investigate. I thought that if we got up immediately, we would drive them away.”

  Master Dichartyn lifted a rusty knife and carried it over to me. “Is this one of the knives that was imaged at you?”

  I studied it. “Yes, sir. There were five, and they were all identical, even to the pattern of rust and the gouge on the grip.”

  “Thank you.” He set the knife on the justice’s desk and picked up an iron crossbow bolt. “Do you recognize this?”

  “Yes, sir. It’s one of the crossbow bolts that Youdh imaged at me.”

  He asked the same questions about the morning stars, and I replied. Then he asked, “It would have been within your purview as a master imager to have killed Youdh then and there. Why didn’t you?”

  “I had reported the possibility that there was an imager-tough in the taudis, and that report was received with some skepticism, sir. I attempted to capture him for two reasons. First, I thought the Collegium should have the opportunity to question him. Second, I wanted it verified that much of the recent difficulty in the area had been caused by an imager.”

  “Thank you, Master Rhennthyl. No further questions.”

  Master Jhulian looked to Master Rholyn. “Do you have any questions for the witness, Advocate for the Defense?”

  “Just a few, Your Honor.” Rholyn stepped forward. “Master Rhennthyl, you said that you had anticipated there was an imager in the taudis. Did you have any idea as to the actual identity of the imager?”

  “No, sir. In fact, even after we captured the imager, I didn’t know who he was—except that I’d seen him twice before without knowing who he was. Lyonyt told me who he was.”

  “Given his lack of training, don’t you think that you could have captured him without injuring his vision?”

  “He kept imaging things at us, and I didn’t sense that he was at all tired. I also didn’t know whether his toughs would return if I spent too much time trying to subdue him gently. With everything he was throwing in my direction, it would have been difficult and dangerous to approach more closely. I did try not to inflict permanent damage to his vision, but that seemed the safest way to stop his imaging so that we could capture him.”

  Muffled sounds issued from the gagged Youdh, and his chair bounced.

  None of the masters looked in his direction.

  Master Rholyn turned to Master Jhulian. “No further questions.”

  “You may leave the chamber for the anteroom, Master Rhennthyl,” declared Master Jhulian.

  I inclined my head in respect, then turned, and walked back along the black stone, stepping through the archway and back into the witness chamber.

  As bailiff, Master Ghaend closed the door behind me.

  As I sat there thinking, I realized something else, another reason why Youdh was most likely behind the granite blocks falling on me. Someone had known that my shields might have been impaired by a blow coming downward . . . but I had told no one that my shields had been hit by the stone. Only whoever had done it—Youdh—or someone familiar with imagers—Harraf perhaps—would have known that and arranged for toughs to use pistols against me in the days following. Again . . . it wasn’t proof.

  Only about half a glass passed before I heard Master Ghaend’s voice coming through the door of the witness chamber. “All rise!” From the timing and the firmness in Ghaend’s voice, Master Jhulian was about to announce his findings and sentence, not that there was any question as to either.

  Ghaend eased the door to the witness chamber ajar, clearly so that I could listen, and I rose from the bench and eased over to the door, hoping to hear more clearly.

  “Youdh, imager of Estaudis, this court finds as follows. First, the facts and testimony confirm that you did in fact commit the offenses with which you have been charged. Second, given your lengthy misuse of imaging, acceptance of a plea of For Mercy is not warranted. Third, the penalty for conviction on each of the major charges is death.”

  I could hear no sound from either the court area or the gallery.

  A faint clank echoed through the space. That had to have been when Youdh fell after Master Jhulian executed the sentence.

  I waited by the door to the witness box, knowing that the two obdurates were lifting the body. Before long, I could see through the narrow space between the door and the jamb as they walked past with Youdh’s still figure on their shoulders.

  Then came the words from Master Jhulian. “The sentence of the Collegium has been enforced. Justice has been done. So be it.”

  He would leave through the smaller archway at the rear of the dais, I knew, and I waited while Master Rholyn and Master Dichartyn turned and walked toward the archway closest to me.

  Master Dichartyn opened the door and stepped into the witness chamber. For a moment, he just looked at me.

  I looked back at him.

  “You’ve made matters easier for the Collegium,” he said. “They won’t be any easier for you. Not after today.”

  “That depends, sir.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

  “If the Collegium is more willing to accept my observations—not my judgment—just my observations, matters could be much easier.”

  “You’ve made it clear that we don’t have much choice.” His face twisted into a wry and sour smile. “But you’re still going to be the Collegium liaison to the Civic Patrol, and every taudischef will be wary of you, as will all of the Patrol officers. The everyday patrollers will expect more out of you as well.”

  “Your words suggest that most of the officers are corrupt. Otherwise, why would they worry?”

  “Many of them are, if in minor ways. Some, as you have discovered, are more so. You’ll need to keep that in mind.” He paused, then added, “Meet me at the west duty carriage stop at half past seventh glass.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He nodded and left the antechamber.

  I took a deep breath, then walked out as well, heading back to my quarters through the blustery winds that suggested colder weather was on its way, although the start of
winter was still a month away.

  When I got to my rooms, I realized that it was only a quint until noon. So I headed back out and across the quadrangle to the dining hall.

  Ferlyn and Chassendri cornered me even before I reached the masters’ table, and I ended up sitting between them. We were early enough that the servers had only brought out the carafes of wine and the teapots.

  “How did you know he was an imager?” asked Ferlyn.

  “I didn’t. As I said at the hearing, I only knew that there was an imager. He kept himself concealed as one of the toughs. I mean, he presented himself in public as one of the taudischef’s toughs, not as the taudischef, and he always used imaging, from what I could tell, when no one else was around or when no one else could see what he was doing.”

  “That sounds rather clever,” observed Chassendri.

  “Why was he gagged?” I asked, trying to avoid questions I didn’t want to answer. I wanted a glass of wine, or more, but I didn’t dare, not with the rest of the day to come, and I settled for a mug of tea. It wasn’t all that warm outside, anyway.

  “Why? You were there . . . Oh . . . you weren’t, were you?” replied Ferlyn.

  “I was in the witness chamber.”

  “He called Master Dichartyn a ball-less bull and said that the Collegium was a creation of the Namer and worshipped Bius—”

  “Bius?” questioned Chassendri.

  “The black demon who opposes Puryon,” I explained. “That’s the god of the Tiemprans and some of the Gyarlese.” That also confirmed for me that Youdh had indeed been close to the priests of Puryon. Most taudis-toughs wouldn’t have known or cared who or what Bius was. “Then what?”

  “Then Master Jhulian cautioned him, and he said that since they were going to kill him, what did it matter? They gagged him after that.”

  “How did you think of using shields like that to escape the wagon?”

  “I don’t know, except I knew that the wagon had to go someplace, and that we’d be squeezed too thin if I tried to use shields between the wagon and the side walls.”