Before I could think much about the implications of his words, he went on, as if nothing significant had occurred. “Now . . . what is the primary purpose of taxation and tariffs?”
“To raise funds to support government services.”
“Is all taxation used for such purposes?”
“No, sir.”
“Why not?”
Again, the text hadn’t mentioned much about other uses of taxation, but Master Dichartyn expected an answer beyond that. “Because governments are comprised of men, and men do not always do what they say they will or what may be best for those they govern.”
“That will do, but only for now. For what other purposes might taxation be used?”
“Some rulers and others in governments have used taxes to increase their own personal wealth. Others have used tariffs to protect the commerce and trade of their people.”
“How does increasing the cost of a good through tariffs protect commerce?”
“It often doesn’t. It benefits some people and hurts others.”
“Can you provide an example?”
At that moment, I was glad I had listened to Father and Rousel. “Caenen imposes a tariff on our textiles, and that increases the cost to their people. . . .”
Master Dichartyn kept the questions coming for close to a glass before he stopped and looked at me. “That’s enough for now. Read the appendix to the history, the one that outlines the development of Council precedent and procedures. You’ll need to go to the tailoring shop before lunch. Wear one of the exercise suits you get there when you meet with Clovyl. Also, in addition to the exercise suits, you’ll need special black and gray garb identifying you as a messenger.” He smiled. “One of the duties of imager thirds is to serve as silent guards in the Council chambers.” He smiled. “You might carry one or two messages in the course of a day, but the uniform allows you to walk anywhere in the Chateau. You won’t be assigned there for another month, depending on your training, but your uniforms will be ready when you are.”
“What exactly are the duties of silent guards?”
“You use all your skills in ways to protect the councilors and their assistants, in a fashion that no one will even know exactly how they are being protected.”
“People faint, or trip, or slip . . . things like that?”
“As well as a few others that are even less obvious.” Master Dichartyn frowned momentarily. “You’ll also have to learn the procedures by which the Council operates, because anyone intent on disrupting Council business will also know those and time their acts based on what is happening in the chambers. That is why you need to study the appendix, but that only provides the barest outline.”
“Does that happen often?”
“Disruptions seldom occur. Attempts are quite frequent because our defenses are so invisible that all too many who oppose Solidar think that there are none.”
That seemed strange to me. It was almost like encouraging attempts.
“I can see that puzzles you. I would like you to think about that and provide me an essay tomorrow explaining why the Collegium’s secrecy in this is either wise or unwise.” He stood. “Now . . . off to the tailor’s shop. I’ve left word that you’re to be fitted.”
I rose quickly. “Yes, sir.”
As I walked away from Master Dichartyn’s study, I saw Gherard coming the other way. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, sir.” His voice was pleasant, and he inclined his head slightly as he passed me and headed toward the study I’d just left.
Sir? I’d been Rhenn the last time we’d spoken. Why was he being so deferential? Did everyone know what had happened? Or was it my advancement to tertius?
I was still pondering those questions when I reached the tailoring shop, but I wasn’t given much time for musing.
“Ah, yes, you must be Rhennthyl, the new third,” began the graying, thin, and stooped imager who greeted me. “Must say you look innocent enough. Always an advantage in what you’ll be doing. Off with that waistcoat. We need to measure you, yes we do. . . .”
Before I could say more than a few words-at least that was the way I felt-I was headed back to my new quarters with an armful of exercise clothes and the promise that my other garments would be ready for a fitting on the following Meredi.
Back in my rooms, I inspected more closely the exercise clothes. They were gray and consisted of loose-fitting trousers and a thick collarless tunic made out of soft but heavy cotton. I also ended up with lace-up high ankle boots.
At lunch, I didn’t see Claustyn, but I sat with Reynol and Kahlasa. I mostly listened while Reynol talked about his position as one of the assistant bookkeepers for the Collegium.
“. . . and before I leave on detached assignments, I make sure every entry in the ledgers is up to date and documented. Jezryk’s a fine fellow, and the heartwood of any tree, but you should see the entries he’s left for me to make when I return. Now, sharing a position is fine, and rotating collateral duties is an evil we all live with, but fair is fair . . .”
I had the feeling that one didn’t inquire about detached duties, but since he was talking about bookkeeping, after taking a mouthful of a fowl ragout, I asked, “Is it because he’s uncertain about how to make those entries?”
Reynol laughed again. “No . . . it’s because those are the ones that require supplementary documentation in the masters’ review ledgers, and that takes care in writing.”
“He’s good at what else he does,” Kahlasa said.
“When are you leaving again?” Reynol asked her.
“Not until the twenty-seventh of Mayas. There were some difficulties.”
“When you’re dealing with the Caenenans, there always are.” Reynol turned to me. “Do you know what your new assignment will be yet?”
I shook my head. “Master Dichartyn just said I had some training ahead of me.”
“There’s always training.” Reynol nodded. “Have you heard about the new bistro on Beakers’ Lane off the East River Road? It’s called Felters. You both might like it.”
“Beakers’ Lane?” asked Kahlasa.
I knew that, even if I didn’t know the bistro. “That’s the second lane south from Boulevard D’Este.”
“Thank you. I still don’t know all I should about L’Excelsis.”
“Where are you from?”
“Shastoilya. No one has ever heard of it . . . .”
“How long have you been here?” I asked.
“Not quite four years. It took me a while to get adjusted to the Collegium.”
“She was a Nameless chorister in training,” Reynol interjected.
“Do you have to tell everyone?” Kahlasa’s voice carried a tone of mock irritation.
“Do all the women imagers have their own quarters?”
“We have the north end of the lower level of the tertius quarters building, and that’s all the women who aren’t maitres. When we’re here, of course.”
From what the two of them said in passing during lunch, I had the definite feeling that imagers did far more than I’d realized-and in many more different locales.
After eating, I hurried back to my quarters and changed into the exercise clothes, then hurried back to the exercise rooms. I had to look at a copy of the map, because I didn’t remember where they were. I still made it to the foyer outside the rooms before the first afternoon bell rang.
A muscular figure in the same sort of exercise clothes appeared. He looked closer to my father’s age, although he was far trimmer, but his black hair was streaked with gray.
“You’re the latest savior of the seconds?”
“I’m Rhennthyl, sir. Are you Clovyl, sir?”
“Most polite. I can see why Johanyr overstepped himself.” He nodded. “Have you ever been physically trained?”
“No, sir, except for grammaire.”
“You’re going to have a difficult few months ahead. The reason for this is simple, but I won’t make you guess. The duties Master Dichartyn h
as planned for you will take a great amount of physical strength and conditioning. You understand that imaging is work, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then let’s get started.” He turned abruptly and went through the middle door.
I hurried after him, closing the door behind me.
He gestured to the exercise mat. “You’ll see more of that than you’d like. After the first two weeks or so, you’ll join the other thirds in their workouts, but right now, all you’d end up doing is hurting yourself and getting frustrated. I’m going to show you a series of exercises, and you’re to do them exactly as I show you them. Exactly.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The first set is limbering and stretching. That’s so that the later ones don’t hurt you . . .”
When Clovyl said exactly, he meant exactly. At the end of the first half glass, I was soaked in sweat, and he’d corrected me a score of times.
“Your legs stay straight!”
“Keep your heels on the floor!”
I was trying to do the best I could, but I’d never even seen any of the exercises he showed me and then ordered me to do.
“You need a break.” His expression was close to disgust. “Follow me.”
I would have liked to say that I scrambled off the exercise mat, but my movements were more like a stagger to my feet as I walked after him and through a doorway into the adjoining exercise room.
What looked to be a cloth-covered mannequin hung from a rope attached to an iron ceiling bracket. Certain areas were marked in red, and several in maroon. Clovyl walked over to the dummy and pointed. “The red marks the places where, if you strike a man hard enough, you will disable or kill him. When I am finished training you, you should be able to know exactly how and where to strike without looking and without having to think about it-either through imaging or with hands or anything else. You will also have the strength to do so, even if you have just run a mille at full speed.” He paused. “Why do you think this is necessary?”
“Because I’ll be assigned to places where I may not be able to image or where it will not be wise to do so, and I won’t have any weapons at hand? Or even if I can image, I won’t have time to think about where.”
Clovyl nodded solemnly. Then he said, “That’s enough of a break.”
The first set of exercises had only been warm-ups compared to what followed, and I tottered back to the quarters building slightly before the fourth glass. My exercise clothes were soaked, and so was I. With a chill spring breeze blowing across the quadrangle I was shivering, even before I took a too-cold shower to clean up. After I dressed, I tried to read the appendix to the history, but the procedures were so dull that I fell asleep.
I woke at the fifth bell and managed to read some more . . . and I thought I might remember some of what I read.
At dinner, Kahlasa introduced me to two other thirds-Dierkyl and Sonalya. They asked me about portraiture, and I asked them about exercises. They laughed.
At the seventh glass, I was once more outside Master Dichartyn’s study.
He arrived shortly and opened the door.
“Clovyl says that your coordination and skill aren’t bad, but that your conditioning needs work. For him, that’s almost a compliment. How do you feel?”
“I’m tired.”
“You’d better get used to it. Or as Maitre Deloityn said to me when I was about your age, ‘Welcome to the real world, where you never have enough time, energy, or golds.’ ” He paused. “You’re too tired to deal with shields tonight. So we’ll work on precision imagery.” He lifted a wooden ring about fifteen digits across, and then set four small wooden cylinders on his desk. “I’m going to hold this ring up, and I want you to image one of the cylinders into the open center of the ring.”
“Yes, sir.” That I could do, but I had a feeling that worse was coming.
He held up the ring.
I concentrated and imaged a cylinder. One vanished from the desk and appeared in midair in the middle of the ring. Master Dichartyn reached out and caught it with his free hand. “Now I’m going to move the ring back and forth slowly. You still have to put it in the middle of the ring.”
It was going to be a long glass-that I knew.
32
The difference between an explanation and an excuse
lies with the one receiving it.
I’d had to write the essay on the reason for the Collegium’s secrecy in protecting councilors after working with Master Dichartyn on imaging skills on Mardi night. That was more than a little difficult, because, first, I was so tired that I could hardly think and, second, I knew nothing about how the Collegium actually handled protection. Because I could not keep my eyes open any longer after writing the essay, I went to bed. Then, I’d had to get up early on Meredi to read the appendix on Council procedures and precedents. I had to read it twice, and I doubted that I understood a fraction of what I read, because it seemed so arcane. While I waited outside Master Dichartyn’s study, I even read the first ten pages of the procedural appendix again, but I still wasn’t sure I understood it any better.
Once he summoned me into his study, Master Dichartyn didn’t waste any time. “Let me see your paper on imager secrecy.”
I handed it over and sat in the chair opposite him while he read it.
Finally, he looked up. He did not look pleased. “This is not a good essay, Rhennthyl. There are mistakes in grammar and in logic, and your scrivening is sloppy.”
“Yes, sir. I know, sir.”
“If you know, why did you turn in something so bad?”
“I didn’t have enough time to do it better last night, and I was so tired that I couldn’t think straight, sir.”
“You will redo this and hand in a more acceptable effort tomorrow-a much more acceptable effort. Now . . . on to your reading assignment. What is the ostensible purpose of a call for quorum in the Council and what is the real purpose?”
The first part I recalled. “A call for quorum is made to assure that a majority of the Council is present so that important business may be brought before the Council.”
“That is indeed the procedural purpose. What is the real purpose?”
I had not the slightest idea. “I don’t know, sir.”
“Don’t you think that most members of the Council would be present if truly important matters were to be discussed?”
“I would think so, sir.”
“Then why would anyone need to require a call for quorum?”
“To keep someone from bringing up something else?”
“That is partly correct. It’s most generally used, however, to delay proceedings so that members can persuade others or reconsider strategy, or so that the entire Council can avoid making a decision.”
Avoid making a decision? Couldn’t they just not vote or decide? “Would that be to avoid even bringing up something that they were not ready to decide upon?”
“I think I just said that.” Master Dichartyn’s voice was sharp.
“I’m sorry, sir. What I was trying to say was that they might use it even to avoid the appearance of avoiding making a decision.”
“That’s more accurate, far more accurate.” The sharpness faded from his voice. “Now . . . is a point of order a procedural stalling tactic or a valid objection?”
“Ah . . . both?”
“Rhenn . . . you don’t seem all that certain about what you read. Why not?”
“I read that section twice, sir, and part of it a third time.”
“Surely, with that much perusal you could remember with more certainty.”
What did he want? I was doing the best I could do.
Master Dichartyn’s face turned even more stern. “Rhennthyl . . . you may have talent, but you definitely do not understand one basic thing about the Collegium and the world. No one cares whether you are tired, whether you had a hard day, or whether you have trouble thinking straight. In fact, if you let anyone know when you feel that way, i
t may well result in either your death or your immediate retirement to Mont D’Image with your friend Johanyr.”
I did hide a swallow at that.
“Being a fully-trained imager is one of the most difficult professions to master, and failure to master it will mean either that you will end up in the machine works or the armory or some lesser position or that you will be injured or die.” He paused for a moment. “I have the feeling that you do not wish to spend your life doing something beneath your potential. Am I wrong?”
“No, sir.”
“Then you will need to use your time more effectively. If you cannot think after a long day of effort, you need to rise earlier and do your reading and assignments then. Short naps also help. Long naps are worse than no naps, because they disrupt your sleep, and you end up more tired than ever.”
“Yes, sir.”
After that, he was slightly less sharp, but his questions were as probing as ever, and I felt like I knew almost nothing.
Finally, he stopped examining me on the procedures appendix and said, “Read the appendix again, and think more about it. I also want you to read the next section in the science text, the one about anatomy.” He paused. “Master Draffyd overheard something about your wanting to paint portraits.”
“No, sir. Not exactly. Some of the thirds asked if I could paint their portraits. I said that I couldn’t do that for coins . . . but I suppose I could let them give me supplies and brushes. Would there be anywhere I could set up a small studio?”
“You want to do more? You just told me you were having trouble doing what has been assigned to you.”
“I didn’t mean right now. It would take weeks even to obtain everything, and I wouldn’t even think of trying it unless I was doing well enough that you approved. But I wanted to know if it might be possible. If it is not, I understand, and I will not bring up the matter again.”
Master Dichartyn frowned for a moment, then suddenly smiled, and nodded. “I hadn’t thought of that, but it might be well for you to keep that skill. It could be most useful, and some of the masters here have not ever had portraits . . .”
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