“Was that what you were doing when you requested a dance from me the first time?” asked Alynkya.
“Yes,” I replied. “That was part of it. Even there, I wasn’t very good at being unnoticed. You not only remembered me, but had your father track down who I was. Had I been truly good at it, you only would have vaguely remembered a pleasant young man who was polite and a good but not outstanding dancer.”
“There were some…” Alynkya mused.
“Exactly.”
She smiled, somehow wistfully and warmly, and at that moment, I truly wished that she had found someone else to marry besides Frydryk. Strong as I suspected she was, she was still far too sweet for him, but there was nothing I could do about that.
From there the conversation drifted into talk of wine vintages, about which my knowledge was limited, and into how Iryela and Kandryl had finally finished rebuilding the gardens after the “great freeze,” an indirect reference to my actions that had led to Iryela inheriting Ryel and marrying Kandryl, who only used his holding title—Ryel D’Alte—when absolutely necessary.
A glass later, we repaired to the “small” dining room. The food was exquisite, and even Frydryk stopped sneering once he started eating.
20
We didn’t get back to Imagisle until midnight on Samedi, and I paid Charlsyn two full silvers. Doubtless Mother had already paid him extra, but there was never any point in being cheap when you asked for special service, and he was appreciative. We did sleep late on Solayi morning, as late as Diestrya would let us, which wasn’t quite until half-past sixth glass, but since I was usually up before fifth glass, it was a luxury of sorts.
We had a half-leisurely breakfast—hurried until Diestrya was fed—and then relaxed more afterwards while she played on the kitchen floor. We sat in the adjoining breakfast room, where we could watch her through the archway, and sipped a second cup of tea.
“I like Alynkya.” Seliora smiled sweetly. “Even if you did dance with her when you were courting me.”
“It was my duty. Besides, the first time, her mother was dying, and the second time, her mother had just died.” I quickly added, “You dance far better.”
“You didn’t mention the second time,” Seliora said.
“That was because that was the ball when Iryela was setting me up, and I was much more worried about that…if you recall?”
“I seem to recall something…” She laughed, but a frown followed. “Last night Frydryk was baiting both you and Iryela. She didn’t say anything, but she wasn’t happy. He’s not the High Holder yet, and he isn’t the Chief Councilor. His father is.”
“He was trying to find out something. I don’t think he did, but I did. The question is whether he was meant to reveal what he did or not. If he intended to reveal that, does it mean that he’s not being all that dutiful a son, or that Suyrien wanted him to?”
“Or he’s being stupid?” Seliora raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think so. He meant to let on all that about High Holder Ruelyr.”
“To protect his father? If so, that suggests—”
“Do you think Ruelyr is involved in growing or supplying the stronger elveweed?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised at anything; but if Frydryk had to mention it to me, that suggests that Suyrien is having trouble with the High Holders, and that more than a few of them want to take more direct action against the factors and the freeholders.” I paused. “It was also a warning to Iryela. She’s close to Madame D’Shendael, and others who want more legal rights for women.”
“They want women on the Council,” added Seliora. “The Nameless forbid.”
“More like a scheme of the Namer, I suspect, according to most High Holders.”
“Have you noticed that all the scheming in politics is done by the same men who claim women are the devious ones?”
“Men? You have to be jesting.” I tried to keep a straight face, but I couldn’t help grinning the tiniest bit.
Seliora just shook her head.
After we finished breakfast, I thought about telling Dichartyn, but, with his network, he had to know where Councilor Suyrien had been. Besides, it wouldn’t have changed anything.
Later in the day, Seliora was kind enough to write a note to Mother, confirming that we would join them for dinner on Samedi. I’d send it by private courier on Lundi.
We had an otherwise quiet and generally restful Solayi, for which Seliora and I were both grateful, especially when Lundi dawned blustery, with mist-drizzle that froze on my exercise clothes while I was running. I let the long-legged Dartazn, who always finished before anyone else, finish even farther ahead. I was more concerned about not slipping on the icy grass and walks.
Even the inside of the duty coach was still freezing by the time I dropped off Seliora and Diestrya at NordEste Design, and I read the newsheets wearing gloves, awkward though it was.
Most of the articles were insignificant or what amounted to status reports, such as the uneasy situation between Ferrum and Jariola. One story was not. The Rovaria—a merchanter loading grain at Estisle—had caught fire and been totally gutted, sinking pierside. The fire had raged across the main cargo pier where it had been tied up, threatening several other vessels before it was put out. The story noted that the Rovaria had been bound for Jariola, but didn’t mention the ownership or registry of the vessel. There was also a brief story in Tableta about the cost of grain production on freeheld lands being cheaper because freeholders didn’t have the responsibilities to tenant farmers that High Holders did. Had High Holder Haebyn “encouraged” that story?
Matters didn’t get any better after I reached Third District. The ice-rain had resulted in several wagon accidents and two fires, most likely because people hadn’t had their chimneys cleaned since last winter, and the Fire Brigade hadn’t been able to save one of the houses. There were more smash-and-grabs because it was harder to chase the thieves. And, to add to my concerns, I got a communiqué from headquarters. I read it twice.
Patrol Captain Kharles was shot on Vendrei evening by unknown assailants. Their clothing was of the type worn by taudis-toughs known to frequent the taudis area known as the Hellhole. Because the captain suffered severe injuries, until further notice, Patrol Lieutenant Walthyr will be acting captain. In the event Captain Kharles cannot resume his duties, a review of all lieutenants will be conducted to determine his successor…
The communiqué was signed by Cydarth. The last words were a strong indication that Kharles was not likely to survive, and that, if he did, he would not be able to continue as District Six Captain. The wording also suggested that Walthyr would not succeed Kharles. That didn’t surprise me. Although I’d only met Walthyr a handful of times, he’d impressed me as a tough, no-nonsense, straight-talking, rough-edged patroller who’d come up the hard way. That meant that Artois wouldn’t want to deal with him and Cydarth couldn’t corrupt him.
I left the communiqué on Alsoran’s desk and pulled on my winter cloak and gloves. Much as I didn’t really want to walk a round, I needed to, both to get out of the station and to let the patrollers know that I wasn’t a fair-weather captain.
Just as I caught up with Kemantyl and Clursyn just east of the corner of Fuosta and Quierca, I got a glimpse of a taudis-kid running down the alley away from the three of us. To which taudischef was he reporting?
“Captain…” offered Kemantyl, the swarthy and squat senior patroller.
“Just keep walking and tell me what you’ve seen recently.”
“Yes, sir.” He glanced down the alley. “I can’t say as I know the taudis-kid, but he just watched us.”
“We’re in Horazt’s territory. He won’t do anything.”
They both shook their heads.
“He won’t, but…” offered Kemantyl.
“He’s got a problem,” I finished, “and that means one for us. Until he shows up, we’ll just follow your round.”
I started walking, and they stepped up, flanking me.
&nb
sp; “Yes, sir.” Kemantyl coughed, then spat to the side. “Hate this weather. You remember Sostrys, the crazy tiler?”
“The one whose head got bashed?” As I recalled Sostrys, he’d been calm, but he was one of the few men in L’Excelsis who stood close to a head and a half taller than I did, and I was far from short. Sostrys also had shoulders to match his height. “Has he had one of those fits where he—”
“No, sir. He’s gone. No one’s seen him around here. But…my cousin Elhyr, he’s in Sixth District, and he thinks Sostrys went after the druggers.”
“The drug runners?”
“No, sir. The dealers in the Hellhole.”
“Why would he do that?”
“There was a girl…the one we found last Meredi…she was his niece.”
That meant she was either his daughter or his niece. “Elver?”
“Not that long. She wasn’t scrawny and yellow-gray when we brought in her body. Anyways…well…we heard about Captain Kharles…and there was trouble…and everyone knows how you feel about the dealers.”
“Do you know what happened?”
Kemantyl glanced around, then spat again. “Elhyr says…well…the word is that Sostrys killed one and banged up another one before they shot him and dumped his body in the east sewers.”
That was all I needed—elveweed dealers coming into Third District. My patrollers didn’t need to take them on as well, either. “I appreciate knowing that. I didn’t have anything to do with it, but things are getting hot with the dealers. Someone outside L’Excelsis is supplying them with the stronger weed, and it could be they’re getting more guns as well.” That was speculation on my part, but I had the strong feeling that was the way it was. “Just be careful when you see taudis-types you don’t know.”
“We’ve been thinking that way, sir,” added Clursyn.
Almost no one was outside in the ice-rain, but we covered three blocks, with me listening to their observations on what had been happening on their rounds, before I saw Horazt, standing under a narrow porch roof just outside the doorway of a house he frequented.
“Looks like someone’d like a word with you, sir.” Clursyn’s tone was deferential, but worried.
“I’ll have to see what he has to say.” I walked up to the small porch and out of the icy rain, if barely.
“Master Rhennthyl.”
“Horazt.”
“I’ve heard a few things.”
“Would they have anything to do with the elveweed dealers?”
“They might.” He paused. “How is Shault?”
“He’s doing well. I expect he’ll become an Imager Tertius before too long. He’s bright and talented. He is a bit stubborn.”
The taudischef nodded. “Sostrys…you know him?”
“The big crazy tiler?”
“He left. He won’t be coming back. Some others might be. Word is that some of your patrollers might be in for some long sleeps.”
“I heard Sostrys got pretty upset.”
“He did. Word is that he put a tiling trowel through Dimanche, the dealer in the Hellhole. That was after they shot him four times. Coddyl may never walk straight again, either. Won’t be able to sign his name, either. If he ever could.”
I’d never known the names of any dealers. No one had, so far as I knew. That Horazt was telling me…in that sense, I wished he weren’t. “Do you know when we might see visitors? I’ll be accompanying the patrols at night, and any word might be helpful…for both of us.”
“I’ll have my eyes and ears watch.” He paused, then flashed a brief smile. “But the druggers’ strong-arms don’t like ice-rain much.” He stepped back. “Thought you’d like to know.”
The door opened, and he slipped inside.
I walked back to the two patrollers.
My winter cloak was soaked through and coated in ice by the time I got back to the station. So was my visored cap, and my ears burned as they thawed out. Alsoran was waiting in his study, standing by his desk.
“Captain…”
“It’s worse than that.” I told him what I’d learned.
“When do you think?”
“That depends on the weather.”
“Why would anyone tell Horazt?”
“I’m sure the dealers didn’t. Probably one of the drug runners into Third District. They’d be afraid that they’d get swept up into the work houses. They’re so dependent on the weed that the withdrawal would kill them.”
“They’d just find others. That’s why we don’t try to throw them in the work houses now, unless they cause other trouble.”
“But they know we could.”
“What do you plan, sir?”
“Spending some nights here. What else?”
Seliora would understand. She wouldn’t like it, but she’d understand.
21
Lundi night, after a hurried dinner, as I stood in the doorway, ready to leave for my session with Draffyd, I said quietly to Seliora, “After I get back, we need to talk. Things are not getting better.”
Holding Diestrya on her hip, Seliora nodded slightly, her black eyes fixed on me. “I know. I’ll be here.” She smiled at our daughter. “Say goodnight to Dada.”
“Goodnight.” The single word came out cheerfully and with a smile.
“You be good for your mother.” I bent forward and kissed my daughter, then stepped out into the chill. Although the ice-rain had stopped, mist rising off the warmer waters of the river drifted across Imagisle. I walked quickly southward toward the quadrangle and the infirmary.
As I reached the middle of the quad, I caught a glimpse of movement to my left, behind the hedge I suspected had been placed to keep young imagers from cutting from sidewalk to sidewalk and wearing a path in the grass. Immediately, I raised concealment shields and eased forward and around the trimmed boxwood, trying to determine who might be doing what to whom…and why. Through the swirling mist, in the gloom on the far side of the hedge, I saw three junior imagers standing on the icy grass, two of them clearly trying to intimidate the third.
The single young imager was a girl, and she was only slightly shorter than the two youths. Both youths carried half-staffs. She carried nothing—except confidence, evident from her posture. That worried me, but I listened as I eased forward.
“You think you’re so good. You’re just a girl. Girls aren’t real imagers.”
“Maitre Kahlasa is. So is Maitre Dyana,” replied the girl.
“They’re old,” said the other youth.
“They really can’t do anything, not like Master Rhennthyl can.”
That was all I needed, young imagers acting like bullies, thinking they were emulating me…and attacking another junior imager.
The taller boy jumped forward and struck at her with the staff, except that the staff stopped short of her in mid-air and vibrated as it hit her shields.
Then the other youth began to beat on her shields.
I could sense the girl’s dilemma. I’d been there. She could hurt them, possibly kill them, but she wasn’t skilled enough to figure out a way to disarm junior imagers without inflicting injuries, possibly severe or fatal ones. And her shields weren’t developed enough that she could avoid all of the force and pressure of their blows, force that would eventually break her shields. I didn’t want to interfere, not immediately, because, if I did, the boys and their friends would likely just wait for another opportunity when no master was around.
It took me a moment to recognize Tomai. Schorzat was her preceptor. She was feisty and able enough to hold her own for a time. I’d just have to hope that, at some point she’d strike back, and I could mute what ever she did just enough that it wasn’t fatal, but strong enough to scare the two witless.
Several more blows slammed uselessly against her shields, but they were closer to her, an indication that she was having to contract them to hold them.
“You’d better stop,” she said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You couldn’t
hurt a rodent.”
“You’re a rodie yourself, anyway,” declared the larger youth.
Abruptly, she released the shields and jumped back, so that their staffs swung down and onto the grass.
I immediately imaged oil under the boys’ feet, then cast shields around the two and slammed them to the ground with a blast of air…an instant before two wooden mallets slammed into my shields with disturbing force.
Then I dropped my concealment shields and marched toward the three.
“Enough!” I projected a certain amount of force behind the words, releasing the shields that held the two boys. I stopped short of them and glared. “Are you two idiots trying to kill yourselves? Get up!”
The two were shivering, not from the cold. Up close, I recognized both Silmyn and Torgast. “If I hadn’t shielded you both, you’d likely be in the infirmary, if not dead. She knocked you both flat and put enough force in those mallets that if they’d hit your head they might have knocked you cold, maybe even cracked your skulls like eggshells.” That last phrase might not have been true, but none of the three would know for sure.
I walked over and picked up one of the wooden mallets, the one that had broken in half, and held it up. “This hit my shields with enough force to split in two. If I hadn’t protected you two idiots, what would have happened?”
The wide-eyed looks and swallows suggested that they had some inkling.
I turned to Tomai. “You come with us. None of you are to say a word. Not one, and not until either Maitre Schorzat, Maitre Dyana, or Maitre Dichartyn meets us in the administration building.”
Tomai looked as stunned as they did, but I didn’t want her saying a single word. They followed me to the main reception hall…and the duty watch desk. It took a quarter of a glass before the duty messenger found Maitre Dyana and she appeared. I sent Beleart, the duty junior secondus, to tell Master Draffyt I’d been unavoidably delayed.
Imager’s Intrigue Page 18