“Better you than us, sir,” replied Zellyn.
When we reached Saenhelyn, I caught a hack. After a short ride, one I could have walked, it stopped before an imposing set of wrought iron gates fronting the parklike setting due north of the Plaza D’Este that contained the Jainsyn’s School for Girls.
The single guard in the booth beside the gate looked at me and decided not to say a word. I walked up the stone drive and around the circle that held a fountain. The bronze figure was that of a fully clothed girl holding a book in the right hand and a lamp in the other. Water sprayed upward from the lamp into the fall air. On the far side of the fountain was a building with four square columns.
I walked between them and through the doors. The round-faced woman seated behind a tall desk in the middle of the entry hall revealed a look of horror and disgust—if only for the barest moment—when she caught sight of me.
“This is a private school, Patroller,” she said with a cheerful and patently false smile.
“It’s Patrol Captain and Maitre Rhennthyl, Madame,” I replied with an equally false and cheerful smile. “I’d like a moment with the most senior person here.”
Her eyes took in the imager’s insignia on my visor cap and the four-pointed star on my grays. “If you would wait a moment, Master Rhennthyl, I’ll see if Madame Lagryce is free.”
In moments, she returned. “Madame Lagryce will see you, sir.”
I followed her down the hall to the left to the first door and stepped into a study about twice the size of mine at the station, and a chamber far more elaborately furnished, with a large desk of ebon, its legs carved into scrollwork, and four wooden armchairs arrayed in a semi-circle before the desk. Each chair had a padded seat upholstered in green velvet, the fabric matching the wall hangings. The single bookcase was also ebon.
Madame Lagryce, even plumper than her guardian goose, sat behind the desk. She did not rise. Her black eyes were as cold as those of a water serpent above a warm smile. “I must admit that I’m at a loss as to why a girls’ school with such an impeccable reputation as Jainsyn’s would require a visit from such a noted Civic Patrol personage.”
“It’s really quite simple. You have a student by the name of Jessya D’Roulet, I believe?”
“Why yes, we do. She’s very talented, especially musically, and she has a fine hand in drawing. Might I ask why you are bringing up her name?” Her dark and artificially accented eyebrows rose quizzically.
“I thought you might like to know that she died this morning from smoking too much elveweed.” I smiled politely. “As we both know, the Patrol can require nothing of a private institution unless we have evidence of a crime being committed on the premises. We do not have such evidence, but, given the very sheltered life of Jessya, it is likely that she got the elveweed from a classmate here, and I thought you’d like to know.”
“That is preposterous, absolutely preposterous. Our girls would never stoop to such…degradation.”
“One of them already did, Madame.” I smiled again. “I also thought you’d like to know that the drug runners are bringing in a more potent variety of elveweed. Deaths are rising throughout L’Excelsis. I won’t take any more of your time, but I do believe that you should be aware of the possibilities.” I inclined my head. “Thank you, and good day.”
If that didn’t get her looking, there wasn’t much else I could do at the moment.
Once I was outside, I walked back to the Plaza D’Este and caught a hack to the station.
The rest of the day was routine, and I actually managed to accompany Ultrych and Caaryh on their rounds. Even so, by the time the duty coach arrived at the station, I was feeling tired—and I knew I had to meet with Shault before dinner.
Seliora had just landed a solid commission for a High Holder whose name I didn’t recognize—Fhernon—and Diestrya had behaved well. So the ride from NordEste Design to Imagisle was cheerful.
Once I helped Seliora and Diestrya from the coach, I hurried south to the quadrangle and to the dining hall, where Shault was waiting. As I walked into the building my eyes strayed upwards to the section of stone that held the name of imagers who had died in service to the Collegium. I always looked for Claustyn’s name, perhaps because he was the first that I’d known to die that way.
Then I saw Shault and ushered him into the conference room.
Within moments of trying to discuss his essay, I got the feeling that the most trying aspect of the day might well be trying to emphasize to Shault the need for clarity in explaining matters. After what had happened already during the day, it shouldn’t have been. It was.
“Sir, it’s right, or it’s wrong. Why do I need to be able to explain it?”
For a moment, I wondered if he were being deliberately obtuse, but then realized he was serious. So I asked, “Is it right for a taudischef to kill a taudis-tough if the tough is a member of his gang, but goes off and steals something while wearing the colors of another gang?”
“He has to do that, or beat him up badly, or the whole gang would be in trouble.”
“Who else would know that?”
“Anyone in a taudis-gang knows that.”
“So you’re saying that it’s right for a taudischef to break the laws of Solidar and that everyone else should agree with what you think is right, because you think it’s right?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t?”
“You’re twisting my words, sir.”
“Am I?”
“It’s different in the taudis, sir.” He paused. “Well…you’ve made it different in Third District, but the others are the old way.”
“What did you just say?”
He looked at me blankly, again.
“A moment ago,” I forced myself to speak quietly, “you said something was either right or it was wrong. Now you just said that it was different in the taudis. Aren’t you saying that what’s right in one place isn’t right in another? And if it’s different…”
I could tell it was going to be a long session.
It was indeed, and I barely got home in time to eat a little dinner before I had to go back down to the infirmary to meet with Master Draffyd.
He was waiting outside one of the surgery chambers.
“Here you go.” He handed me a gown to put over my grays. “I have a cadaver on the surgery table there. I’m going to dissect it, and you’re going to learn more about the major organs. You’re also going to practice some delicate imagery. If you’re going to attempt imagining medicine, you need to know this.”
I just nodded, then slipped into the gown, and followed him into the surgery.
“We’ll start with the esophagus.” Draffyd pointed to the throat of the male body on the table. “One of the most common problems is simple choking, and there are two physical methods that should be tried before you image anything. The first one you know—several sharp blows between the shoulders. If between five to ten don’t work, then you can try the other method—an abdominal thrust. Even if it doesn’t work—and it usually does—the method provides a good cover for imaging. That is useful. Now…I’m going to stand behind you and demonstrate on you…”
He clasped his arms around me, and then wrenched them upward in a way that forced me to exhale—whether I wanted to or not.
“Oooofff.”
“Exactly. Now…I didn’t apply full force. That can crack ribs, but you should get a sense of it. Try it on me…but gently and slowly. I’d prefer not to have bruised muscles or ribs if you don’t have your arms and hands in the right places.”
He made me do the procedure slowly three times before I used more force.
“If that doesn’t work…you can try imaging. Most objects are caught anywhere from the pharynx at the lower part of the back of the mouth.” He took a probe and opened the cadaver’s mouth, pointing with the probe. “They may be farther down and block the epiglottis…I’m going to place a hard roll there…”
After thr
ee glasses, Draffyd finally let me go, not that he was really through with what he wanted me to know about the more common human organs, but because my guts were having a hard time staying composed. The cool air blowing off the river from the north helped settle my system as I walked across the quadrangle and north to our house.
Seliora was waiting for me, propped up in her bed, reading.
“Diestrya asked for you…but she didn’t cry.” She looked at me. “Do you need something to settle your stomach?”
“I don’t think I could eat anything right now.”
“Was it as bad as you look?”
I managed to laugh. “I hope I don’t look that bad.”
“Just sit here and talk to me.”
I did, and it helped.
10
I didn’t sleep all that well on Jeudi night, but I didn’t image in my sleep as a result of a disturbing dreams. The morning routine—and breakfast—helped settle me. That was until I arrived at the station, where a dispatch from Subcommander Cydarth to all District Captains awaited me. I read it twice.
Over the week ending on 7 Feuillyt, more than twenty elveweed addicts were reported as dead from elveweed excess in the taudis areas of Civic Patrol District Six. Four other deaths elsewhere in the Sixth District are suspected as being from the same cause. The total number of deaths is doubtless higher, since the taudis-dwellers will have disposed of some bodies without informing the Civic Patrol. Higher levels of elveweed deaths appear to be occurring in all Civic Patrol Districts.
For the remainder of the year, the Commander requires all District captains to list elveweed deaths separately from other criminal deaths on their weekly reports to headquarters. When possible, list deaths occurring within taudis areas separately from deaths in other areas of each district…
A separate elver death report? That the Commander was requesting such information on a regular basis suggested that the number of deaths from elveweed was exceptionally high throughout all of L’Excelsis. Such a tally would be lower than actual elveweed deaths, even if all such deaths in Third District that came to the attention of the Civic Patrol were listed diligently, because some deaths in the taudis would go unreported, with bodies being sneaked into waste wagons and otherwise being disposed of without Patrol notice. And some elver deaths, particularly among the well-off families in L’Excelsis, would doubtless be listed as deaths from illness. In a way, they doubtless were.
Still…we needed to do our best to comply, and I walked into the small study next to mine. Alsoran bolted to his feet. I’d tried to tell him that wasn’t necessary, but old reactions still overcame my words.
“Sir?”
I handed him the dispatch and waited for him to read it.
He looked up. “I wouldn’t want to be in Captain Kharles’s boots.”
“I’m more worried about our boots. The subcommander is going to notice that not nearly as many of our elvers are dying as there are in the taudis in either District Six or Four. He’ll take that as proof that I’ve got ties to the taudischefs and dealers.”
“You talk to the taudischefs. You always have. He knows that. It only makes sense,” Alsoran pointed out.
Subcommander Cydarth might well try to use that against me, but I only said, “We’re just beginning to get deaths outside the taudis in Third District, and with the taudischefs trying to pressure the runners, we might see a spike in outside deaths. We really have no way of controlling access to elveweed once it gets outside the taudis.” Not that we had that much control inside, but we did have a little influence with those who had some influence with the dealers and the runners.
“You think the number of outside deaths will increase that much?”
“Don’t you?”
“I’m afraid so, sir.”
We didn’t have to wait long. After their second round, Zerbyn and Farran reported two more elver deaths, both on the non-taudis side of Quierca. While there weren’t any other elveweed deaths discovered for the rest of the day shift, I had no doubts that there would be more that night and over the weekend. The only question was how many.
It was fifth glass when I hailed a hack outside Third District station and took it to NordEste Design, where I got off. There wasn’t much point in our returning to Imagisle and then immediately leaving for my parents’ house for dinner.
Betara and Seliora met me at the top of the steps, while Hestya played with Diestrya on a settee near the door to the plaques room off to my right.
“We’ve gotten some word about the elveweed,” said Betara. “It sounds like the only places besides L’Excelsis where the fresher and stronger weed is being sold are Estisle, Westisle, Solis, and Kherseilles.”
“The capital and the major ports.” I paused. “Also, the same cities, except for L’Excelsis, where Pharsi men have been killed. It could be a coincidence…but…”
“You don’t think so,” replied Betara.
“I don’t, but I don’t have the faintest idea why the two would be connected, because, so far as I know, the Pharsi families don’t deal in elveweed.” Even as I spoke, another thought struck me. “Elveweed’s been around for a long time. From what I know, even when Mama Diestra was closer to the taudis, she didn’t deal with it. What’s the Pharsi attitude toward it? Is there one?”
“No true Pharsi likes it. It slows thought and takes away intelligence.”
“Did Mama Diestra lean on the dealers to keep it out or away from children or something like that?”
“She might have. That was when I was very young.” Betara’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t think…?”
“I just wonder if the men who were killed were the types who dealt with the taudis…who had those kinds of connections and who felt the same way.”
Seliora looked to me. “Those are the most prosperous cities, aren’t they?”
“L’Excelsis is. The others are among the more prosperous, but places like Cloisonyt, Mantes, and Khelgror are just as well-off. Extela might be also.”
“The four others where the strong elveweed has appeared are ports, you said,” added Betara.
Why ports, I wondered, if the fresher weed was being grown in Solidar? It couldn’t be because it was coming off ships. “They are, but it doesn’t make much sense to me. If someone wanted to cause trouble in the port cities, giving stronger elveweed to taudis-dwellers and the comparative handfuls of others who smoke it certainly wouldn’t disrupt much.”
Betara and Seliora exchanged glances that suggested they didn’t know either.
I glanced around. “Odelia?”
“She’s gone,” Seliora said. “She’s not talking to me any more than she has to.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. Everyone has to make their own decisions. Haerasyn isn’t a child.” Betara paused. “I did overhear her telling Hanahra that Haerasyn thought that smoking elveweed would make him an imager, or something even better, and that was why the imagers wanted to stamp out elveweed.”
“That’s idiotic,” snapped Seliora. “Odelia knows better.”
“She does. So does Aegina. They both think he’s deluded, but…” She shrugged.
“That kind of rumor will tempt more young people to try it,” I said, “and that’s not good. More of them will die.”
We began to collect Diestrya and her things.
At half past five, Seliora, Diestrya, and I walked down to the hack Bhenyt had hailed for us and began the ride in along Nordroad to the Guild Square and then out the Midroad. We arrived just before sixth glass. After the hack pulled up and we stepped out and I paid the hacker, I couldn’t help comparing my parents’ house to that of Factor Roulet’s. The two looked similar in style, but the Roulet’s dwelling was perhaps a fifth smaller, with far narrower windows.
Even before we reached the front porch, Mother had opened the door. “Diestrya!”
Our daughter was bright enough to discern that grandmothers who received attention were far more likely to reward th
em with affection, and even more to the point, with treats. Diestrya hurried up the steps and threw both arms around Mother’s right leg. “Nana!”
We followed more sedately, allowing my mother her moment of full attention as she picked up Diestrya.
“Every time I see you,” Mother said to her granddaughter, “you’ve grown. You’re getting to be such a big girl. Now…Rheityr is waiting for you in the nursery, and there are treats for both of you.”
At the word “treats,” Diestrya smiled and hugged Mother again before Mother set her down and led her into the house.
Seliora and I exchanged a knowing glance. In that respect, it was a very good thing we didn’t see my parents too often.
Culthyn, Remaya, and Father were waiting in the family parlor, Father in his usual chair directly facing the stove, which emitted just enough heat for a chill autumn evening. Remaya turned from what ever she’d been discussing with Culthyn.
“What’s new with the Patrol business?” Father always referred to whatever I was doing as “business,” even when I’d been a journeyman artist.
“More of the usual,” I replied as Mother came back down the steps from the nursery.
“One moment, Chenkyr,” she interjected. “What would everyone like to drink before dinner? Seliora?”
“The Dhuensa, if you wouldn’t mind?”
“That’s what I’ll have,” replied Father, “as if you didn’t know already.”
“Red Cambrisio,” added Remaya.
“The same,” I said.
Mother slipped out to the kitchen, where I could hear Kiesela doing something with pots, but returned immediately.
“I ran across a Madame D’Roulet on Meredi,” I said. “She knew who I was. At least, she knew I was your son.”
Mother laughed, and Father looked puzzled.
“Don’t you remember, Chenkyr? It was years ago, when we went to that party of Dacastro’s. She was that awful nervous woman who dragged her husband over to try to sell you a pianoforte for Culthyn…”
Father frowned, his brow furrowed. “Why would I have done that?”
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