Councilor Regial D’Alte expressed great concern. “No matter what the purported cause, invading the lands of a High Holder without a judicial order is the first step toward mob rule and the breakdown of the longest and most successful form of civil government in the history of Terahnar…”
I’d been right about where the stronger elveweed had been grown, but the story didn’t tell me a great deal about who had been the one actually profiting from the growing and selling. The story implied that Ruelyr was the guilty party, but why would a High Holder get involved in that? Did he owe that much? And to whom?
Newsheet in hand, I walked to Schorzat’s study, hoping he was in.
He was, and he immediately announced, “You have a meeting with Sea-Marshal Geuffryt at the second glass of the afternoon. At the Naval Bureau, not the Naval Command.”
“Thank you.”
He grinned at me. “I didn’t see you running this morning.”
“It’s likely to be several weeks before Draffyd will let me pummel my body to that degree.” I held up the newsheet. “The elveweed story?”
“After our talk yesterday, I thought you might be asking.”
“It doesn’t help that we don’t have a regional in Ruile.” I paused. “Who would know any more about what’s happening there?”
“We’ll get some reports, but not for several days.”
“What do the Ferrans know about our regionals? Would they know that there isn’t one in Ruile?”
He shook his head. “That’s hard to say. There’s nothing anywhere except in your study and mine-and Maitre Dyana’s-in a written form that even alludes to a regional network of imagers. People certainly speculate, and it’s known there are imagers across Solidar, but…”
“They might just be calculating where they wouldn’t be, based on…” My words broke off.
“What?”
“Maybe this has been going on for much longer. You remember all the killings of junior imagers six years ago?”
“You think that was part of a longer-term plan?”
“I don’t know, but with fewer young imagers over time…” That was a possibility, but there wasn’t much I could do about the past. “What about Ruile and Ruelyr?”
“Ruelyr owes a great deal,” replied Schorzat. “We’ve known that for a while. Most of the notes were held by the Banque D’Ouestan.”
“Interesting.” It was more than interesting, since that was the banque from which the drafts to Cydarth had allegedly come. By itself, that proved nothing, but I’d always been suspicious of coincidences. “What do you know about the banque?”
“It’s the second-largest banque in Ouestan, and tends to handle non-Solidaran trading and factoring accounts, also foreign currencies and bonds. The Banque D’Cote is the one used by most Solidaran factors and the local High Holders there.”
“Who owns the Banque D’Ouestan?”
“That’s a good question. It’s held by private shareholders and has been for over a hundred years.”
“That makes it a perfect conduit for funds and blind drafts. I presume it’s exceedingly sound financially?”
“It’s the only banque on the entire northwest coast that survived the Panic of ’17 without being reorganized or bought out.”
“Ferran investors?”
Schorzat shrugged. “Maitre Dichartyn and Maitre Poincaryt thought so. We could never prove it.”
“Is there any way to determine if the land that the Civic Patrol of Ruile and the Constabulary raided was actually leased to someone else?”
“That was my thought. We’re working on it.”
“Good…” I paused. “How can we find out if an attractive woman is missing from Ruelyr’s house hold in Sud?”
Schorzat frowned.
“The Civic Patrol found a body a week or so ago. She was young and attractive, wearing an expensive wool suit and an inexpensive bright scarf, and she’d been poisoned, but set up as if she’d been an elveweed death. She wasn’t an elver. Oh…and the body had been moved some considerable distance, and the suit was tailored on a High Holder estate, but not for the holder’s family, and the wools were from the area around Ruile. It bothered me at the time.”
Schorzat shook his head. “We don’t have anyone close to him, and without a regional there…Let me think about it.”
That meant I’d have to think about it as well. “Thank you.”
I walked the few yards down the hallway to my study, thinking. Had Suyrien visited Ruelyr because he’d heard rumors about the elveweed? Or was there something else occurring in Ruile or on Ruelyr’s estates? Frydryk might know. I’d have to talk to him as well, although I wasn’t certain I wanted to intrude at the moment.
After stepping into the study, I closed the door behind me and walked to the window. How many times had I seen Master Dichartyn standing there? After a moment, I sat down at the desk. I needed to think about what I wanted from Geuffryt and how to approach him, as well as what I could ask or say to keep him off-balance.
I almost laughed. I was more likely to be the one off-balance.
I thought. I took notes. I scratched them out. I thought some more. I checked some of the reports in the files. Slowly, I came up with questions and information I needed to know. Before I knew it, ten bells had rung out noon.
Since I was now officially back at the Collegium, and since Seliora was engaged in furious cleaning, I walked over to the dining hall for the mid-day meal. There were only a few at the masters’ table-Kahlasa, Ferlyn, and Chassendri. All were Maitres D’Aspect, and all but Kahlasa had been masters when I’d been a mere secondus.
Ferlyn gestured for me to join them.
“Congratulations,” offered Kahlasa with a smile. “You’ve already impressed Schorzat.”
“Only with my ignorance, I fear; but I thank you for the courtesy.” As Schorzat’s second, she had certainly heard how I was doing…or not doing. “How’s Klaustya?”
“She’s five. Do I need to say more?”
I grinned. “No. I can hardly wait.”
“You and Seliora should have another. You two need to be outnumbered, if only to give the children a chance.”
“At some point, we probably will be.” I sat down immediately to Chassendri’s left.
“Not soon enough,” quipped Kahlasa.
Abruptly, I wondered where Maitre Dyana was, since she certainly couldn’t be eating at her still-demolished dwelling or the yet-unrepaired Maitre’s dwelling. Then, she might be meeting with someone.
“Are you going to leave the Civic Patrol?” asked Ferlyn.
“I’m still a captain, but I’m detailed to help with matters here for now.”
Ferlyn shook his head, then grinned, but didn’t press the question.
As I cut into one of the veal cutlets, I had to admit that the food at the Collegium was better-and far less costly, since I didn’t have to pay for it-than the infrequent mid-day meals I’d been having in the various bistros and cafes in Third District over the past five years. Then again, with more eating and far less walking, I’d really need Clovyl’s morning exercises and runs.
After several moments, Ferlyn looked at me. “Rhenn, what can you tell us about who was behind the attack on the Collegium?”
I finished a sip of the red wine before replying. “Since the barge carrying the bombards exploded, we have no evidence of who was actually firing the weapons. They were obviously skilled in antique weapons, and they were unfriendly. Unfortunately, we have more than a few enemies at present.” I paused, then inclined my head in Kahlasa’s direction. “Wouldn’t you say so?”
Kahlasa nodded.
Ferlyn shook his head again, then chuckled. “You covert types.”
“You’ve always known that,” said Chassendri mildly. “You just like to point it out whenever you can.”
“And you like to point out that I do.”
After that, we speculated on whether the advanced Ferran land-cruisers and other devices would survive th
e Jariolan winter, or if the present Cloiseran conflict would end up in the same stand-off as had the first. We came to no resolution, and I headed back to my study, and the reports and the unresolved questions.
At two quints before second glass, I made my way to the duty coach station, where there were two coaches waiting, one specifically for me.
“Maitre Rhennthyl? To the Naval Plaza?” asked Desalyt.
“The Bureau building there,” I confirmed, then slipped into the coach.
Desalyt took the Bridge of Desires and then followed the Boulevard D’Council to the Council Chateau and around it, and then half a mille northwest to the Naval Bureau, located in a gray stone building on the east end of the Naval Plaza. The Naval Command was in a larger imposing structure at the west end.
A lieutenant was waiting for me by the guard desk just inside the entry doors. “Maitre Rhennthyl, sir?”
“Yes.”
“This way, if you would, sir.”
I followed him a good fifty yards back to a wide staircase with polished marble steps and a brass balustrade, and then up to the second floor and back to an outer anteroom, with a senior clerk-rating seated behind a desk. Marshal Geuffryt’s spacious corner study had windows on both outer walls. He stood as I entered.
“Good afternoon, Maitre Rhennthyl.”
“Good afternoon, Marshal.”
Geuffryt gestured to the small round conference table set back from the windows at the north end of the study. There were four chairs. I took the chair that faced the door. He took the one to my right.
“How might I help you…and the Collegium?”
“As I am certain you always have, with information.” I smiled.
“We always attempt to be of assistance.”
“What other potentially dangerous explosives, munitions, or military equipment is missing or otherwise unaccounted for?” I offered the question casually.
“I can’t really tell you that,” Geuffryt replied.
“I don’t mind so much if you you’re not allowed to tell me,” I said. “But I’m going to be very worried if no one in the Naval Command knows whether such materials are missing. After all, the last batch of missing munitions and equipment had some very unfortunate consequences. Especially for the Collegium.”
“I really can’t say.”
“Should I be worried, then?”
“I can’t-”
I image-projected pure fury at the Sea-Marshal. Given the way I felt, it wasn’t difficult.
He turned pale.
I smiled. “Let’s try this again. The Collegium has the responsibility of protecting the Council and Imagisle itself. The Naval Command has the responsibility for maintaining and safeguarding munitions and equipment. It’s rather difficult and costly for us to do our job when we don’t have any idea what you and the Army have lost or allowed to be stolen. And if nothing else is missing, then there’s certainly no reason to hide that. Your response indicates fairly clearly that other explosives and equipment are missing. I don’t think anyone on the Council would want to know that you’re trying to hide that.”
I had to give Geuffryt credit. Outside of the momentary paling and the slight dampening of his brow, he hadn’t reacted.
“You’re only surmising,” he said with a faint smile.
“No. I know. Proving it might be harder, but I’m an imager, and if I go to certain members of the Council and suggest that’s the case, as well as pointing out that the Army Depot Commander vanished and that no one still investigated matters there…” I shrugged, then paused. “I’d rather not. You’d rather I didn’t. So what exactly is rumored to be missing?”
“We don’t know. There’s nothing missing on the scale of the bombards. But we have five major depots and some twelve smaller port and fleet depots, with tens of thousands of tonnes of munitions. We have four hundred armed vessels. Some only have three-digit cannon, but those still require munitions.” He shook his head. “We’re fairly certain we’re not missing something on the order of a thousand tonnes, but accounting errors, errors in resupply…how do you tell the difference between that and a tonne or so of Poudre B bags or the like that might have been deliberately misrouted or diverted? A few tonnes aren’t that much spread across four fleets.”
“But they’re quite a bit spread across five or ten cities and set in the right place.” I nodded. “You could have told me that to begin with. You didn’t. That suggests…a number of possibilities. How much do you think you’re missing?”
“There are two dubious manifests from the main resupply depot for the rework yard at Solis. They’re for one and two tonnes of bagged Poudre B for the standard five-digit guns.”
“Those are the most common fleet guns, I take it?”
Geuffryt nodded.
“And the manifests are over a year old,” I suggested.
“If you already knew…”
“I don’t, and I didn’t. It just had to be that way. All of this has been planned years in advance so that people would tend to forget. Or, as you put it, believe that the discrepancies were merely clerical errors. Are there any other dubious manifests or unaccounted-for munitions?”
“Nothing more than a few stones’ worth here and there. Those can add up, but we think it’s unlikely that outside agents would try to gather munitions that way.”
I had to agree with that.
“Let’s talk about a certain note I received, written by a certain lady we both know, which contained information of a suggestive nature.” I looked directly at Geuffryt. “You’ll find that I am both discreet…and direct. As my predecessor noted, I am inclined to weary quickly of hints and indirection.” I paused to let him consider the words. “Who do you believe is transferring funds to the Artisan on the Executive Committee and why?”
“We don’t know. The transfers are blind.”
“Try investigating a factor or trader named Alhazyr, if you haven’t already.” With only the slightest pause, I asked, “What exactly is your relation to Juniae D’Shendael?”
He smiled politely. “It’s not that much of a mystery. I’m a cousin on her mother’s side.”
“Are you, perhaps, an expert in hunting weapons? Their construction, and…their explosive fallibilities?” That was a guess, but I had a feeling about such matters.
“What a truly strange question…I scarcely know what to think.”
I’d glimpsed enough. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For answering the question. It explains a great deal.”
“You’re a very dangerous man, Maitre Rhennthyl, but had Juniae not had demonstrated proof of your good will, you might still be in a precarious position.”
“I’d prefer not to be in such a position, or even to have anyone suggest that possibility.” I smiled. Now…I knew why Juniae had conveyed the message, and how her only male relative who could have inherited had perished years before. What I didn’t know was why the message had been given to me long before it was even likely I’d end up with the position that events had thrust upon me. Or had it been designed as a convenient way of getting the information to Master Dichartyn? I almost nodded. That was the most likely answer, not that the method of conveyance mattered so much as the reasons for letting the Collegium know. “Let’s talk about the subcommander of the Civic Patrol.”
“Is it wise to discuss a superior?” He raised his eyebrows.
I was getting tired of his superciliousness. “You obviously are worried about Cydarth. From a professional point of view or a personal one…or both?”
“I won’t deny the personal element, but that’s secondary to the professional.”
The personal is never totally secondary to professional, as I well knew, but the professional had to be the matter at hand. “Why does he want to remove or replace Artois?”
“Artois’s mother was the daughter of a High Holder who committed suicide when Haestyr’s grandfather ruined him. Cydarth’s father was killed by Iryela D’Ryel’s
father, merely as a demonstration of power to the factor for whom Cydarth’s father worked. Cydarth believes Artois is an apologist for the High Holders, and that Artois hopes some day to prove that he is worthy of his background.”
That didn’t seem to make much sense, so far as Artois was concerned. “Artois has always been impartial. Sometimes harsh, but I’ve never seen bias. How does Cydarth fit in with the Ferrans? Or the Jariolans, or Stakanarans, or whoever?” I asked.
“He fits in with none of them. He will support-or not oppose-so far as he is able, anyone or anything that will reduce the power of the High Holders. He believes he is totally fair and unbiased in his views of what is best for Solidar.”
“Don’t many of us feel that way?” I asked softly.
After a moment, Geuffryt nodded. “That’s part of the trouble with Artois and Cydarth. Each of them believes what he wants to do is best.”
“But…?” I prompted.
“I suspect you already know, Maitre Rhennthyl. Artois believes in the law as it is. Cydarth believes in a ‘good’ beyond the law. To date, he’s stayed within the law…so far as anyone knows.”
“You’re suggesting that those fund transfers may represent…what?”
“I don’t know. I only have the word from a trusted source that they exist. The source has never been wrong, but there’s no proof. The funds in the Banque D’Excelsis account in the branch that suffered the explosion have never been touched.”
“So how can you arrange an explosion without a rationale?”
“I don’t believe I said anything about arranging something like that. I was merely aware of it, as were you.”
There wasn’t any point in pursuing that. “I presume that you’re watching the Naval yards and piers closely these days.”
“Far more closely.” He smiled politely. “What else can we do?”
I changed the subject. “Just how capable are the Navy’s fleets in limiting the Ferran and Stakanaran…adventuring? I understand that there’s been some debate in the Council. Do you really have enough capital ships?”
“We do the best we can with what we have. For the past ten years, the High Command has been recommending an expansion of thirty capital ships to deal with the increased numbers of Ferran warcraft. We also need more smaller vessels. So far, although we’ve been outnumbered at times, our tactics and training have proved superior. We cannot count on that continuing.”
Imager’s Intrigue ip-3 Page 25