Imager’s Intrigue ip-3

by L. E. Modesitt

  Glendyl did not speak for a moment, then said, “Surely, it does not take the two highest Maitres in the Collegium to tell me that.”

  “For a distinguished Councilor, nothing but the best,” said Dyana lightly, looking to me.

  “I have a question for you, Councilor,” I said. “Did you have any interest in L’Excelsis Indemnity?”

  “No. Why do you ask?”

  “Their branch here was bombed and destroyed. I wondered if that would have any effect on your enterprises.”

  “I don’t see why it would. It’s no secret that I’ve always placed my indemnity contracts with Solidaran Indemnity…in the Solis branch. They don’t have a branch in Ferravyl.”

  “Might I ask how much your works in Ferravyl is indemnified for?”

  “You can ask. That’s my business.”

  I looked to Maitre Dyana. She nodded every so slightly.

  “Not any longer. Your works suffered a series of devastating explosions and fires over the weekend, and whether you will have the funds to replace the destroyed facilities, and how soon, are a matter of interest and concern to all Solidar, including the Council.”

  “How devastating? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Glendyl lurched upright in the bed. He tried to move his right hand, and he raised it chest high, before he let it drop.

  “Because I just returned from there yesterday and wanted to report to Maitre Dyana and you directly. The locomotive works, the foundry, the drop forge, and possibly the boiler fabrication buildings did not seem too heavily damaged. All the turbine works were leveled…and most everything else.”

  “But…how?”

  “Ferran saboteurs. They’ve been removing workers for a year and replacing them with their own people. They even shot at me and Director Huesyt as the explosions were being detonated.”

  Glendyl was paler than before.

  “The amount of indemnity?” I pressed.

  “All I could obtain was one hundred and fifty thousand golds,” he finally admitted.

  “If Suyrien the Younger or others extended more funding, you could rebuild?” asked Maitre Dyana.

  “I…don’t know.” He shook his head slowly. “Why…why me?”

  “Because no one else has facilities to build the new turbines for warships,” I replied, “and that means years before Solidar can modernize its fleet while the Ferrans build more and more fast ships.”

  “I tried to tell the Council. So did Suyrien…” He swallowed, then let himself lean back against the pillows. “But how…?”

  “Because everyone in Solidar has been concentrating on the traditional ways of fighting wars,” I said. “You were right, in a way. Once there are more machines and factories of all sorts, and more factors competing with each other, we won’t be as vulnerable to a handful of acts of sabotage. Since you were unable to persuade the Council and since many Councilors chose not to understand…”

  “The High Holders will not-”

  “They won’t have any options before long, either.” Nor will you or the other factors. “Now…you need to rest.”

  “Rest? How can I rest?”

  “You can’t do much else, right now,” I pointed out. “You may have to consider Suyrien’s proposal for a fast frigate…if the funding can even be worked out.”

  Glendyl didn’t quite glare at me. “Suyrien told me about you.”

  “I’m certain he did.” I smiled. “Do try to get some rest, Councilor. Solidar would prefer to use your expertise, but we will have modern vessels, one way or another.”

  “You’ve made that clear, Maitres. Good day.”

  “Good day,” replied Dyana pleasantly. “I look forward to your return to the Council.”

  I just inclined my head politely.

  Glendyl’s acknowledgment was the smallest of nods.

  After we left Glendyl and walked back toward the administration building, Maitre Dyana said, “You weren’t all that easy on him, Rhenn.”

  “You mean I didn’t use much finesse? No, I didn’t. If he hadn’t been so greedy, trying to hold onto the sole production of those turbines, trying to outwait the Council, we wouldn’t be in as bad a position. If Glendyl isn’t cooperative, young Suyrien does have the plans and specifications, but for him to build a facility will take much longer than if Glendyl rebuilds. We ought to insist on someone else building the turbines anyway.”

  “With that debt…how can Glendyl rebuild?”

  “He’s fortunate. He has products we all need. I think you should be able to persuade a number of the more…solvent…High Holders to loan the funds, for a suitable return, of course. Since he’s not a High Holder, there’s no point in their ruining him by refusing.”

  “You’re presuming I can do that.”

  “Maitre…I know you can do that.” I tried to keep my tone humorous and light.

  She did laugh.

  “We need to find Valeun, but I need to gather some materials.”

  “I’ll have a coach waiting in a quint,” she said.

  “I won’t be that long.”

  She just nodded, then headed through the doors and upstairs to her study.

  True to his word, Schorzat had gathered everything I’d requested, and I slipped all the documents into a leather folder.

  “Might I ask where you’re headed?” Kahlasa asked, with a smile that bordered on impish.

  “To visit-or attempt to visit-the Sea-Marshal in the Naval Command. I’m trusting that he’ll see reason. If not, he will anyway.”

  Kahlasa nodded. Schorzat barely managed to keep from looking appalled.

  I walked out swiftly.

  Once we were in the Maitre’s coach and headed toward the Naval Command, Maitre Dyana turned and fixed her eyes on me. “What you have isn’t complete.”

  “It doesn’t matter, not if Valeun wants to remain Sea-Marshal.”

  “Do you intend to force change on Solidar?”

  “No more than the pressures of change and time would have anyway. Seliora pointed out to me that she and her family already have the kind of card-directed lathes that will provide better and less expensive furniture than can the average cabinet-maker. The Ferrans are applying those techniques to everything, warfare as well. There’s no way that they could have built all those new land-cruisers without a similar approach. That’s what Glendyl was going to do with the turbines, and what Suyrien was trying to do with the fast frigates and battlecruisers.” I snorted. “All I’m trying to do is buy Solidar enough time so that we have a chance to make those changes. Suyrien understood the need. He wouldn’t have slipped in those reforms if he hadn’t.”

  “Do you think his son is that wise?”

  “No. But Frydryk isn’t a Councilor. Nor is he stupid. He’ll do what he must to retain what he has. All we have to do is to point out what that is.”

  “You’ll have to do that. He’s more likely to listen to you.”

  “That’s fine. The Council is more likely to listen to you.”

  “More likely? Perhaps. They will listen to me because none of them will wish to deal with you any sooner than they have to.”

  I didn’t argue. I was afraid matters would get to that point far sooner than I would have liked.

  The building holding the Naval Command was a two-story, yellow-brick structure with gray granite cornerstones and window casements. It looked even higher than two levels. The covered coach portico was also of brick and granite. The two sailors in dress blues who stood guard did not blink an eye when we left the Maitre’s coach and went through the heavily varnished golden oak doors whose brasswork was polished so brightly that it outshone gold.

  The senior ranker seated behind the desk at the main foyer to the Naval Command building glanced from Maitre Dyana to me and then back to me.

  “This is Maitre Dyana. She’s the Maitre of the Collegium Imago. I’m Maitre Rhennthyl. I’m certain that Sea-Marshal Valeun will wish to see us.” I projected a sense that his life wouldn’t be worth much if he didn
’t convey our presence to Sea-Marshal Valeun.

  “Yes, sirs. I’ll have to let Commander Daecyn know, sirs.” He tugged on something, most likely a bell-pull.

  We only waited a few moments before a Commander strode across the foyer. He was slight of build, ramrod straight, and bore an indifferent expression-until he was close enough to recognize the imager grays. Then, he assumed an solicitous expression.

  “This is rather unexpected…”

  “This is Maitre Dyana, the head of the Collegium. We have urgent news for the Sea-Marshal,” I said politely.

  “I could convey that…” His words died away as he took in the expression on Maitre Dyana’s face.

  I didn’t even have to project anything.

  “I’ll need to escort you to his study. If you would accompany me…”

  “Of course,” said Dyana.

  We followed the Commander through the archway at the rear of the foyer, then up a set of marble steps almost as wide as those in the Council Chateau, and then to the double doors at the rear of the building, doors flanked by the Solidaran flag on the right and the Naval ensign on the left. He opened the doors, holding them for us.

  The senior ranker at the desk stood immediately. “Sir, Maitres.”

  “I’d like to tell the Marshal that the Maitres are here,” offered the Commander.

  “Yes, sir.”

  The Commander eased through the single oak door, closing it behind him. He reappeared shortly, looking slightly relieved, and held the door open. “Maitre Dyana…Maitre Rhennthyl.”

  “Thank you,” Dyana said as she passed.

  I also thanked him, and the door closed behind us.

  The study of Sea-Marshal Valeun was a good ten yards by six, dominated by an enormous desk, with five chairs facing it. The wall to the right was essentially a small cartographic library, with a center rack on which was displayed a large map of Ferrum. The left wall consisted of bookcases, in the middle of which was a door that doubtless led to an adjoining conference room.

  Valeun stood behind the desk, a man of middling height in dark dress blues, with the silver braid and insignia of a very senior Marshal. His blond-and-silver hair was cut short, and he was clean-shaven. He made no effort to step forward. “Maitre Dyana, Maitre Rhennthyl…I understand you are insistent on seeing me.”

  “It is rather necessary,” said Dyana.

  “Since you are accompanied by Maitre Rhennthyl, I would like to wait until I can summon Marshal Geuffryt,” Valeun said pleasantly.

  “No…you really don’t,” I said, projecting absolute authority and power. “Not if you wish matters to go in your best interests. If you really wish to include him, it might be far better to hear what we have to say…first.”

  Valeun glanced to Maitre Dyana. Her smile was pleasant, but her eyes were as hard and as cold as frozen granite. The Sea-Marshal smiled politely, but hardly warmly. “Then perhaps we should be seated, and you can convey what you have in mind.” He followed his own advice and seated himself in the large leather chair behind the desk.

  “We thought we should be the ones to inform you of several matters.” After seating herself, Dyana nodded to me.

  “First,” I began, “it appears likely that any swift action on the part of the Council in dealing with fleet modernization and the building of faster and more capable warships has been dealt a severe setback.”

  “How so? I was not aware that any action was even being considered, given the current mood of the Council.” Valeun’s tone was close to smug.

  I smiled. I shouldn’t have enjoyed what was coming, but I’d never cared for the politely superior attitude of those in positions of power and command. “Ferran saboteurs destroyed a good portion of Councilor Glendyl’s engine works this past weekend. The turbine facilities were totally annihilated.”

  “You did nothing, Maitre Rhennthyl?”

  “Oh…when it became apparent that such an attack was likely, I attempted to bring the matter up with the Councilor. That did not work out well, because he was shot just as we began to talk…as you may recall. So I traveled to Ferravyl myself, and as soon as I appeared, the saboteurs set off the charges they had already placed. They had not completed their work, and the locomotive works escaped major damage, as did a few other structures. The remaining structures did have partial explosives in place.” I paused. “That brings up several rather pointed questions. First, exactly how did all these saboteurs happen to reach Solidar? Second, why was the Naval Command unaware of just how many there were? Third, how did they manage to come up with Naval Command explosives? Did I mention that the undetonated explosives bore Navy markings?”

  At my last words, Valeun stiffened. “That’s preposterous.”

  “Is it? I had a meeting with one of your more junior subordinates several weeks ago, and he confirmed that several tonnes of Poudre B could not be accounted for. But that also brings up yet another matter.”

  “Which is?” This time Valeun’s voice held a certain wariness.

  “The matter of the bombardment of Imagisle-”

  “What does that have to do-”

  “Oh…but it does,” I cut him off. “To begin with, the barges and the tug that were employed were leased under a Naval Command contract, by a Navy subcommander, who employed a former pilot known to be a Navy-approved pilot by the lessor. The funds to pay the lease were disbursed by one of two banques known to pay for such contracts. The subcommander knew all of the personnel who had conducted previous leases. Then there is the small matter of the accuracy of the bombards. The very first shell fired struck Maitre Dichartyn’s dwelling. Of the eight shells fired, every single one hit a target. Considering that the shells were fired from the River Aluse, in the dark, after midnight, it’s more than fair to conclude that the men who aimed and fired those bombards were professionals and that they knew the guns and had exact measurements for the distances from their mooring and firing point to every target. That degree of accuracy requires experienced Naval gunners.”

  “You’re inventing this.”

  “I didn’t invent the damage to Imagisle, or the stolen barges and tugs.” I smiled. “I did think you might find this difficult to believe.” I opened the folder I carried and took out several documents, then stood and laid them on the desk in front of Valeun, ready to image a shield over them if he were to be so foolish as to try to tamper with them.

  He did not. He read through them, then straightened. “They have to be forgeries.”

  “They may well be,” I said, reclaiming the documents. “But that raises another set of questions. All the authorization codes and numbers are correct. All the procedures were followed to the letter. The forms are standard, down to the ink. That means that, either someone high in the Naval Command was involved, or that your procedures are incredibly flawed.” I sat down and waited.

  “You want something, don’t you? You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

  “Oh…we’re not done, Marshal. There’s another aspect to this. It’s the golds involved.”

  His frown showed a certain questioning.

  “The lease wasn’t paid on a promise. The lessor received five thousand golds before the tug and barges were released. We’ve spent considerable time checking with the banques involved. The funds came from your secondary banque…”

  “The Banque D’Rivages? That’s preposterous. If five thousand golds vanished from the Naval accounts there, I’d have known it.”

  “Exactly. I’m certain that you would. You didn’t. However…the funds were transferred from a numbered High Holder account. Shortly before this happened, a former heir to the previous holder of that account vanished from an imager collegium. Now…what makes this intriguing is that the only friend remaining to this heir was a certain Assistant Sea-Marshal. What makes that even more interesting is that that Sea-Marshal also revealed certain details of banking information to me, well before that fund transfer. Now…of course, the former heir is missing…and I have grave doubts he w
ill ever be found. There’s little doubt that this Sea-Marshal also has little love for the Collegium.”

  “That’s all speculation, the last part,” Valeun observed mildly, almost cheerfully.

  “No. Not all of it. The fund transfers are not. The relationships are not. The missing and nearly totally blind heir is not. Nor is the written note I received from Marshal Geuffryt. Nor is the fact that disclosure of this information would destroy your career instantly. Now,” I said politely, “I am certain that you will find a way to deal with your subordinate in a fashion that does not embarrass the Naval Command nor require the Collegium to act. You do understand that your failure to deal with the matter will result in your being considered an accomplice in treachery after the fact, Marshal? By the Collegium, as well as by the Council, should we be forced to bring the matter up. Obviously, given the dismal Naval situation with regard to Ferrum, we would prefer not to bring it up; but to have you resolve it, quietly but permanently.”

  “You are rather insistent, Maitre Rhennthyl.”

  “I know. It’s one of my faults. I also have the habit of resolving matters on my own if others don’t. That’s one reason why Maitre Dyana felt that I should speak to you first. Now…let us leave that rather disgusting matter for the moment…and your discretion…and turn to the problem at hand. The problem of Ferrum.”

  For just a moment, Valeun’s eyes widened, as if he had no idea why I’d changed the subject. That was fine with me.

  “You are struggling to hold the blockade of Ferrum, even by transferring more and more ships from the waters off Otelyrn to the northern fleet. You’ve suffered more losses than have been made public.”

  “We would not be in this situation if the Council had agreed to our requests…”

  “That may be, but we need to win this war. Even if the Council had funded all thirty capital ships last year, and even if Glendyl’s works had not been destroyed, it would be two years or more before the first ones were ready. We need to look at a different approach.” I paused, then asked, “How many high-speed gunboats do you have in the northern fleet? How many more could you get there in the next few weeks?”