After a moment, Rholyn cleared his throat. “But there were no threats?”
“No.”
“Why did you feel compelled to place shields around him, then?”
“I was worried. He was not interested in what Maitre Dyana said. He dismissed every statement she made, and his tone got sharper with each question or demand that he be informed. I did not place tight shields around him. They were set a good yard away from his body, yet the ice filled them.”
“A good yard?” Rholyn turned to Dyana. “Is that correct?”
“That would seem to be about right. I didn’t have time to measure. There was a column of ice close to two yards across. The steam that followed was in the center of that.”
“I beg your pardon,” Rholyn said, “but to hold shields of that strength against a Maitre D’Structure suggests far more than-”
“Exactly,” interjected Draffyd quickly. “You might recall that Maitre Rhennthyl erected shields against ten stone shells and hurled them back close to a mille. He also possesses the ability to image things back to the point from where they came without seeing their path.” He looked hard at Rholyn.
The Collegium Councilor paused then nodded. “I had not thought of that. I have no more questions.”
Heisbyl coughed, and Rholyn glared at him.
The older Maitre murmured, “No questions.”
I had understood what had happened, and I thought I knew why, but I wasn’t about to raise those questions, not in an open meeting.
“Then the matter comes to a vote,” announced Jhulian. “Maitre Rhennthyl and Maitre Dyana may not vote. All others will do so. All who agree that Maitre Dyana’s actions were within the purview of a Maitre of the Collegium please raise their hands.”
Twelve hands went up instantly.
“Thank you,” Dyana said quietly. “Maitre Jhulian, if you would document the meeting and place the record in the sealed archives.”
“Yes, Maitre.”
“You may all leave.”
Those were her words, but the quick glances to me and to Jhulian indicated that we were to linger, preferably without making a show of doing so.
I dawdled, and so did Jhulian, not that it was particularly difficult, because most of the others seemed all too ready to leave, and in moments, the three of us were the only ones remaining in the conference room.
“You seem to know what happened here, Rhenn, but I’d like some confirmation,” Dyana said pleasantly.
“I’m going by recall, but as I remember the rules of the Collegium, the Maitre is always either the most senior of the highest rank, or selected among those with the highest rank, with the consent of the most senior. It would appear that the shields I erected around Dhelyn, along with the ability with the shells…” I decided not to voice more.
“Those skills are, frankly, those of a Maitre D’Image,” Jhulian said. “You may or may not have all of them, but Rholyn does not wish you to become Maitre, and he doesn’t want the issue opened.”
“I don’t want to be Maitre. It takes more than imaging ability. Nor would it be good for the Collegium or for me.” Skills of a Maitre D’Image? That was far more worrisome than encouraging.
Jhulian chuckled and looked to Dyana. “I told you so.”
“Are you renouncing any claim to be Maitre?” asked Dyana.
“No. I’m agreeing with what you indicated earlier, that I’m not ready for any higher position at the moment. I don’t even know enough about what I’m doing now.”
The two nodded.
“There’s another reason why it would not be wise for you to become Maitre,” Jhulian offered. “Do you know what that might be?”
“I have several thoughts on that. Do you wish to hear them?”
“It might not a bad idea,” suggested Maitre Dyana dryly.
“First, if people suspect that I might be the next Maitre, they’re likely to be more reasonable with Maitre Dyana. Second, trying to remove Maitre Dyana resolves nothing. Third, there’s a certain deniability. In crises, I can act, and Maitre Dyana can either ask if they’d like to deal with me or offer to step down. There may be others, but those the ones that come to mind.”
“There’s one other,” offered Jhulian. “You’ll have more freedom to act in your current position, and fewer people will be questioning and watching you.”
“More people are already watching me.”
“More than you know,” added Dyana. “But less than watch the Maitre.”
That wasn’t exactly comforting.
57
Over the rest of Meredi and all Jeudi, not a single master made mention of the meeting, not even with allusions or hints. It was as though it had never happened, or that no one wanted to remember that it had happened. I mentioned it to Seliora.
Her response was simple. “You’ve just proved, without question, that you can destroy any of them. If you were in their boots, would you want to dwell on it, or offend you? Or even talk about it?” Then she had added, “You’re going to need to work very hard on convincing people that you want their honest views, because too many people with power only look for others to agree. You don’t want that, because it’s no help at all.”
She was right on both points.
I still did the morning exercises and was back to almost full speed on the run, but I had to push myself there, because Dartazn was no longer there to lead the way, and I was faster than most of the others. Both days were cold, and the ground frozen, but clear, since none of the recent snow had stuck.
On Vendrei morning, after meetings with Marteon and Haugyl, I met again with Schorzat and Kahlasa, because she was receiving reports from the covert imagers in Otelyrn that Caenenan forces were being mustered and trained for something-possibly an annexation of Gyarl, since Tiempre was so involved in trying to hold the line against the still-advancing Stakanaran invasion that the Tiemprans had moved most of their troops to deal with Stakanar. The shifting of ships from the Solidaran southern fleet to deal with Ferrum was another factor. We decided that there wasn’t much we could do-or advise them to do-except watch and report.
Right after that, I received a letter from Veblynt, informing me that he would be in L’Excelsis on Mardi, and that he would plan to meet me at ninth glass at the Collegium administration building, so that I would not have to drive so far south, unless he received word to the contrary from me. Although I was more than pleased not to have to make another trip to his paper mill, I half-suspected that he might well intimate, at least in places where he thought it might do him some good, that he was being consulted by the Collegium.
I smiled. It was true, and if that did him good, so be it. That was a price one paid for seeking information. Besides, he’d helped my father when times weren’t what they could have been.
Since I received no message from either Alynkya or Frydryk, I skipped the midday meal at the dining hall and took a duty coach out north to Frydryk’s “town” estate. He was waiting for me in the study when I arrived, just before first glass.
“Greetings,” I offered as I stepped inside after leaving my cloak with the footman. “You’ve been traveling more than you’d planned, I heard.”
Frydryk offered a rueful smile. “Much more. The advocates in Laaryn made matters more complicated than they needed to be, and then there was the business at the shipworks. By the way, I need to thank you for that. Right after you mentioned all the problems with the Ferrans, I sent word to the shipworks about the possibilities. They found some indications, and they were ready.”
“I’m glad.” At least I’d helped to save part of the Solidaran shipbuilding industry. “Have you heard anything from Glendyl?”
“He sent a long and laborious letter.”
“And?”
“He wants me to hold the debt, without requiring interest, until the Council acts on the measure to fund the capital ships. He was very insistent.”
I was getting more than a little tired of Glendyl’s arrogance and machinati
ons.
“You have the plans, don’t you, and the right to build the turbines if he defaults?”
“You had said…”
“I was wrong. I thought he was more reasonable. I’ve since talked to him twice, and each time he has been less tractable.”
Frydryk laughed. “For that admission alone, Rhenn, I’d call the notes.” He paused. “I did follow your advice and talked to Alynkya. She said I was being too forbearing.”
“I also have some indirect indications that he may owe others, so you might want to register the lien with the judiciary before you notify him. But if you do so in person, don’t do it when he’s near a weapon of any sort. He’s not the kind to be indirect, like a High Holder.”
“I appreciate the advice on that.”
“Have you heard anything about High Holder Haebyn?”
“Is he the one who’s been making all the fuss about the eastern water rights?”
“Among other things.”
“That’s all I’ve heard.”
We talked for a time, and then I took my leave and had another cold ride back to the Collegium. I left the administration building a little before fourth glass because we had to go to Juniae D’Shendael’s reception.
When I reached the house and went upstairs, Seliora was in her chamber debating whether to wear red and black or black and silver. I didn’t have to debate. I either wore grays of formal blacks, and since it was an evening affair, I’d be in black with a silver imager pin.
“I think the black and silver,” Seliora announced.
“You look good in both,” I said.
“I like red,” declared Diestrya firmly.
Seliora shook her head. “With you two…”
“Want to go with you,” Diestrya announced.
“This reception is for adults,” Seliora said. “Tomorrow night you’re coming with us to Grandmother Maelyna’s and Grandfather Chenkyr’s. Your cousin Rheityr might even be there…and your Uncle Culthyn.”
“Want to go tonight.”
“Where you’re going now is down to supper.” I picked up Diestrya and carted her downstairs, ignoring the short-lived wailing and the small fists beating on my shoulders. She did settle down, and I fed her the meal that Klysia had waiting. Then I went back upstairs and dressed in formal blacks.
We arrived at the residence of High Holder Shendael at a fraction before seventh glass in a Collegium coach-social engagements were considered duty, provided they were not excessive, and with the unspoken agreement that the driver received one or two silvers, an arrangement that Elreyt appreciated more than many, because he had three children. The timing seemed appropriate, since a cream-and-silver coach had just arrived, and the footman who opened the coach door was the same young woman who had greeted me earlier in the week.
“Welcome, Maitre Rhennthyl, Madame.”
“Thank you.”
As we walked along under the covered portico to the main entrance, Seliora murmured, “You didn’t mention the woman footman.”
“I didn’t. I forgot. There are several.”
Once we entered the mansion, another liveried woman took our cloaks, and we were escorted to what looked to be a drawing room, modest for a High Holder, a chamber paneled in white birch with pale blue hangings, a mere ten yards by eight or so.
Juniae D’Shendael turned from where she stood talking to a white-haired woman in a flowing emerald-green gown, accompanied by a man in the uniform of a Sea-Marshal, and walked toward us.
“Madame D’Rhennthyl, you look as beautifully formidable as ever, and you, Maitre, so unassuming.”
“And you as beautifully brilliant as always,” returned Seliora.
I wasn’t about to claim I was or wasn’t unassuming, which was the point of her greeting.
“You must join me and Sea-Marshal Caellynd and his wife Rowlana.” With that she eased us toward the other couple.
I was trying to place the silver-and-blond-haired Sea-Marshal, whom I’d never met, then realized from his name that he was Valeun’s deputy, the second-in-command of the entire Naval Command. Did Juniae D’Shendael know every senior officer in the Navy? She well might.
“Rowlana, Caellynd, I’d like you to meet Maitre Rhennthyl and his wife Seliora.”
“Ah, yes, I’ve heard of your beauty, dear lady, but the descriptions do not do you justice…and the redoubtable Maitre Rhennthyl.” Caellynd smiled warmly.
I had to admit that I liked him instantly, although I wondered if that just meant I should trust him even less. After the reception, I’d have to ask Seliora what she felt. “Hardly redoubtable, but pleased to meet you.”
“You’re far too kind,” said Seliora sweetly, “but after a long day, I will take the compliment.”
Rowlana smiled. “You must have young children.”
“I do, but I also work as a design engineer in the family business. You may have heard of it-NordEste Design.”
Rowlana inclined her head slightly, then offered an empathetic smile. “You’re doing far more than I would ever have tried.” Her eyes turned to me, and her smile became more wary. “You’re the one who’s been giving Sea-Marshal Geuffryt fits.”
“Oh, no, Madame. He’s been the one giving me fits. No one could do that so well as he.”
Caellynd laughed. “I’m afraid Maitre Rhennthyl has the right of that, dear. Marshal Geuffryt is very good at what he does, but it can be a bit wearing on others.” He turned more to me. “Before I forget, I want you to know that I did send a communique to Fleet-Marshal Asarynt, instructing him to give all possible assistance to your Maitre-in-Command. All of us with fleet experience would like to see a quick resolution to this conflict.” He shook his head. “We can’t even call it a war, since no one on either side wants to declare it one.”
“I do appreciate that.” I definitely did, but why had he mentioned that he’d sent the communique, unless to suggest that Valeun had done nothing of the sort…and that Valeun didn’t fully appreciate the situation?
He glanced at his wife and then back to me, before saying with a laugh, “I think we’d best not talk any more about the Naval Command or the Collegium.”
I grinned. “Don’t you think we’re looking at a colder winter than we’ve had in years?”
“Absolutely,” he agreed.
“There is warm spiced wine at the serving table,” suggested Juniae.
“How is your latest book selling?” I asked. “The latest is The Art of Conversation, is it not?”
“It is. The publisher says that it’s selling as do all my books…slowly, but with just enough copies that they might publish another. If I don’t finish it too soon.” Juniae raised her left eyebrow, an ironic effect, before continuing. “Rowlana, have you finished that watercolor? Did you know that Maitre Rhennthyl is also a noted portraiturist?”
From the momentary surprise in Madame D’Caellynd’s eyes, it was clear that she had not known.
“For all of his military-like appearance, Rhenn has an artistic side, as does his wife, whose fabric designs grace many of the best salons in L’Excelsis.”
It became apparent, very quickly, that we were the exhibit of the evening.
Shortly, we were eased over to meet one of the high justices, Symmal D’Juris, and his wife Maedlynaie, a petite woman who barely topped Seliora’s shoulder and was most likely less than five years older than Seliora, who was the youngest of all the guests. Later in the evening, we met Madame D’Lhoryn, but High Holder Lhoryn was away dealing with estate matters, and Seliora and I both gained the impression that he was always “away” for Madame D’Shendael’s salon receptions.
By the time we left, my head was aching from the dual effort of being pleasant to all too many people I did not know, all of whom had heard about us, and trying to remember as much as I could. The only good sign about it all was that in the cold clear winter air, both Erion and Artiema shone down nearly full as the coach carried us back to Imagisle.
58
Dinner at my parents’ house on Samedi evening was quiet, and that was a relief. Since Khethila hadn’t traveled from Kherseilles, not that I expected any such travail, I didn’t mention much about the reception, except the feeling of being on display.
“That comes with the perquisites, Rhenn,” my father had replied, not quite brusquely. “Too bad you couldn’t ask about wool contracts from those Navy types.”
Mother had looked sharply at him, and the conversation had turned quickly to children.
The remainder of the weekend had been mostly quiet, although I did embark on beginning the actual painting of the portrait of Diestrya. That would take a number of short sittings, because she certainly couldn’t sit still for long. By Lundi morning, I couldn’t help but think that Dartazn and the imagers should be in the process of deploying to begin the attacks on Ferrum. What if what we had planned so meticulously didn’t work out? What if too many of the young imagers froze and couldn’t do what had been asked of them?
I did ask Schorzat what he knew about Caellynd.
His response was close to what I’d expected. “He’s been recently posted to the Naval Command. He was the senior Fleet-Marshal for close to seven years, and the one who was so successful in the first Ferran conflict. The Council picked him as Valeun’s deputy and successor.”
“Was that Suyrien’s doing?” I’d asked.
“Maitre Dichartyn never said anything. Neither did anyone else, but Caellynd was a successful Fleet-Marshal who pled the case for more modern warships before the Council.”
There was nothing in the records or files, and, again, all I had were suspicions. I was worrying even more about Dartazn and the imagers by Mardi morning. As soon as I’d entered the administration building, I’d asked Beleart if we’d received any dispatches. We hadn’t, of course, and I knew we shouldn’t have, but I’d still hoped and dreaded what might have arrived.
The reports that flowed in didn’t tell me anything new, but reminded me that I not only needed to standardize them, but to find a way to require Patrol Commanders to provide more details, and that would require Council action. I could require those changes of regionals and the collegia heads, but without improved Patrol data, there wouldn’t be a significant change.
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