“You did receive considerable indication of the involvements and difficulties created for the Naval Command.” I kept my voice pleasant, almost dispassionate.
“Ah…but as you well know, Maitre Rhennthyl, those difficulties and involvements pose a problem only if they become known, whereas the replacement or removal of an Assistant Sea-Marshal only upon the recommendation of the Collegium might be construed as infringing on the prerogatives of the Council.”
“Not necessarily, and not if the Sea-Marshal did so on his own initiative.”
“To do so on his own initiative requires cause. Cause requires proof. In cases such as policy differences, the affected Assistant Sea-Marshal would be able to raise other issues, and the Sea-Marshal would be required to justify his actions to the Council. I do trust you understand.”
I did indeed. What Valeun was saying was that if he removed Geuffryt without hard evidence, he’d be questioned, and the questions would raise issues that would have him removed as well. Therefore, he had no intention of doing so without hard evidence. I could indeed force the issue, but forcing it would reveal that the Collegium was directly infringing on the Council’s territory. He was also implying that Geuffryt couldn’t be removed over differences in policy, because Geuffryt had no compunctions about bringing Valeun down.
“And I do understand,” Valeun went on smoothly, “that the Assistant Sea-Marshal has pointed out that he is in excellent health and most unlikely to suffer any natural ailments.”
“He is most astute, as I have known.” I smiled politely. “Perhaps we should defer such matters until after events in Ferrum have taken their course.”
“That would seem the wisest of courses.”
We passed a few more pleasantries before I departed.
When I returned to the Collegium, I went up to see Maitre Dyana, but she was out, and I headed back to my study. It wasn’t that long before Gherard appeared.
“Maitre Dyana can see you now, sir.”
“Thank you.” I left the latest reports unread.
Maitre Dyana remained behind her desk as I walked into her study and closed the door. “You went to see Valeun, I heard.”
“I did. He’s stalling on Geuffryt, and strongly suggesting that he needs some hard evidence. He doesn’t believe that we’ll let people know about all the strange occurrences that have involved the Naval Command.”
“We’d be better off if we didn’t.”
“He also made the point that Geuffryt has spread the word among the Councilors that he is in excellent health and very unlikely to suffer any strange or sudden illnesses. I have the feeling that Geuffryt may know things about Valeun.”
“That’s very possible.” She raised an eyebrow. “What will you do?”
“Nothing…not for a bit. We agreed to defer dealing with Geuffryt. It’s unlikely we’ll get any news on what’s happening in Ferrum for another week. It could be more. The imagers arrived safely and were being shifted to the fast gunboats at the time of the last message.”
“Do you think he was telling the truth about that?”
“Yes. That’s one thing he has no reason to lie about, and I don’t think he’s the type to lie without a reason that benefits him.”
She nodded. “Keep me informed.”
I would, although it was clear that I would have to take a different tack in dealing with Valeun, since he had once more proved that he was not to be trusted, not that I’d had any great faith in him to begin with, but that meant re-thinking a number of things.
Nothing of great import happened during the rest of the afternoon, and I was home by fifth glass, just after Seliora. For a moment, I almost called for Diestrya, before realizing she was spending the weekend at NordEste Design.
I had to admit that I took some time embracing her, enjoying the lack of interruptions. She definitely didn’t seem to mind, although she did finally disengage herself.
“I do need to get ready for tonight’s reception. Arriving disheveled is not a good idea.”
It was a very good idea, actually, but not for a reception.
As we walked upstairs, I broached another subject. “Dearest…I hate to ask yet another favor of your family…”
“I think we can manage that.” Her tone was wry.
“I need a Navy officer’s sidearm, one in good condition, with a full magazine.”
Seliora stopped at the top of the stairs and frowned. “You’re thinking about something very dangerous. Imagers don’t need sidearms.”
“I am. I hope I won’t need it, but…I have this feeling that it may be necessary.”
“For what?”
“As evidence.”
“It might take a few days, since we won’t see anyone until Lundi.”
“Whenever you can.”
“Do you want to tell me why?”
“Not unless I have to use it.”
That was all she asked, and we got dressed. Seliora wore green and black, and I wore black, not that I had much choice. We did take the Collegium coach I’d reserved—that was another three silvers from my pay, plus another for Elreyt.
We arrived at High Holder Fhernon’s town home, located on the highest point in Martradon, just behind a gray coach with brass trim. The three-level dwelling—and the high walls around it—had to have been more than a century old, since most High Holders’ dwellings were outside L’Excelsis. The fluted green marble columns echoed the elegance of that time.
The various servants all wore white-collared maroon livery, and we were ushered into the main floor receiving room. Madame D’Fhernon stood at the doorway.
“Maitre Rhennthyl, Madame D’Rhennthyl…it is so good that you could join us this evening. You must try the vintages that Fhernon had brought from Faemyra. I do recommend the white.” She smiled conspiratorially. “Even if Fhernon insists the red is better.”
“We may try both,” I replied.
“Thank you for including us,” added Seliora.
As we entered the room, I glanced up. The ceiling was all off-white plasterwork, with a maroon and gold border separating the ceiling from the aged walnut panels and maroon and gold hangings that flanked the wide windows.
Standing by the window looking down on the Theatre District, were Frydryk and Alynkya. Alynkya’s face held a strained and polite smile, and I belatedly recognized the couple across from them as her father, Chief Councilor Ramsael…and Cyana D’Guerdyn, dressed in pale blue. From the way that Cyana positioned herself, I had the feeling that she was now Madame D’Ramsael, and that might well have explained the strain in Alynkya, since Cyana could not have been more than five or six years older than Alynkya. The former Ferran envoy to Solidar had once escorted Cyana to a Council Ball, and that she was apparently now Madame D’Ramsael disturbed me slightly.
Ramsael turned as we moved toward them. “Oh…Rhenn…and this must be your wife.” He inclined his head to Seliora. “You are indeed as so many report.”
“You’re very kind,” Seliora replied.
“I’d like you both to meet my wife Cyana.”
We both nodded politely, and I said, “I’ve been so occupied with other matters that I had not heard of the happy event.”
“It was a quiet affair, overshadowed by what happened afterwards,” offered Cyana.
“If you will excuse us,” said Ramsael, “I do believe we are being summoned.”
I could sense the relief in Alynkya as her father and her stepmother moved away.
“Rhenn, if I might have a word with you?” Behind Frydryk’s pleasant look was something more.
“Of course.” I looked to Seliora. “If you will excuse us, ladies?”
Seliora smiled. “I’ve so wanted to talk to Alynkya…”
I winced, as I was expected to.
They both laughed.
Frydryk eased us toward the corner, between the pianoforte that no one was playing and two unoccupied armchairs. “I’m so glad you two came at that moment.”
“I cou
ld see Alynkya was less than pleased.”
A bitter chuckle was his response. “Cyana is manipulative and then some. That’s not why I needed to talk to you.” He paused. “Have you heard about Glendyl?”
“No.” I had a feeling the news wasn’t good.
“I’d better tell it as it happened. After we talked, I decided to meet with Glendyl to tell him that I was calling the notes. He said that calling the notes was a poor idea, and went on to suggest that you were behind all of his difficulties, that you wanted to destroy him…that you were worse than any High Holder.”
“He clearly doesn’t care for me,” I replied, since I sensed Frydryk wanted some response.
“No, but I trust your judgment. Before I went to see him, Alynkya insisted that I hold firm, that extending him more time or credit would only harm us both. He went on to tell me that I could call the notes, much good it would do, and that he’d be there to laugh at any attempt to get anything from him. Still, it was my privilege and that his advocate would be in touch with mine. Then he ushered me out, saying he had another urgent appointment.” Frydryk shook his head. “Then, just before we left for this engagement, I received a message that he’d killed himself. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Who sent the message?”
“Kandryl. He’d been meeting with Lhoryn, because Lhoryn had expressed an interest in some properties in Mantes that Iryela and Kandryl wanted to sell—they’re too far from anything else, something her father had picked up as a settlement on a debt. A messenger delivered the message to Lhoryn. Kandryl sent me the message because he knew I’d met with Glendyl.”
“How did he do it? Did Kandryl’s message say?”
“Apparently, sometime shortly after I left, he shot himself with a heavy pistol, through his right temple. That’s what Kandryl wrote. Quite swift, but rather messy.”
That stopped me, but I didn’t say anything for a moment.
“I can see you’re as stunned as I am,” Frydryk said.
“I’m definitely stunned.” But not for the same reason as Frydryk. “I don’t know what to say.” After a pause, I added, “We should rejoin our wives before they divulge too much about us.”
Frydryk did smile at that.
Both Alynkya and Seliora held glasses of an amber white vintage when we returned.
Seliora smiled, wickedly, at me. “Alynkya has been telling me how you two met.”
“Absolutely harmless,” I said cheerfully, “and in the course of duty.”
“You didn’t mention that you asked her to dance twice.” Seliora was smiling broadly, definitely enjoying herself. “At two separate balls.”
“Totally innocent.” I knew she was teasing, because I’d already told her that.
“I’ll accept almost totally innocent.”
I could see that Alynkya was trying hard to suppress either a smile or laughter. Frydryk was doing a better job.
A server stopped, with a tray holding wine goblets, and I took one holding the red. So did Frydryk. I took a small swallow and had to admit that it was quite good. I was about to say so when I glanced past Seliora and saw that the server to whom Fhernon was talking was about to leave. “I’ll be back shortly.” I slipped the wine goblet onto a side table.
My timing was adequate, and I managed to reach Fhernon just after the woman eased away and before anyone else appeared.
“Maitre Rhennthyl, are you enjoying yourself?”
“Most certainly. What can you tell me about a factor named Veblynt?”
Fhernon did not reply, looking as if I’d shocked him.
“I realize that discussing the mundane at such a delightful gathering is, shall we say, less than refined, but, alas, we are indeed rather short-handed at the Collegium, not to mention short of time.” Not to mention that I was likely to get put off for days, the way I had with Madame D’Shendael, and I was getting the feeling, especially after Glendyl’s death and the attempt on my own life, that I might not have days before something else happened.
“It is most irregular.” He paused. “We do have a moment or two yet before dinner.” He nodded and I followed him from the receiving room down a wide hallway to the library, lit by a single wall lamp. He closed the door, then turned. He did not move to seat himself.
I waited.
“The name ‘Veblynt’ came from his mother’s family. He took it after the death of his father in a steeplechase accident. His father was Taelmyn D’Alte. His death was no accident. Taelmyn was a notoriously poor rider, and even poorer in stewarding his holdings. He made the ride as a wager to clear debts against Ryel D’Alte—the previous Ryel.”
That explained some matters. “Veblynt’s wife bears a resemblance to Iryela D’Ryel.”
“They’re second cousins, once removed. She married Veblynt anyway, and she did have a dowry that funded his first mill. He’s far more of a success than his father was or ever could have been. He’s very thorough. When he began, he was known to have made investments with borrowed funds, based on his knowledge of various High Holder families. To his credit, he always paid them back, usually early and with some extra, as if to compensate for the means of obtaining them. Thankfully, once he was established, that practice vanished, although I am told that his agents continue to collect information.” The slightest sniff that followed Fhernon’s words suggested a definite lack of approval of Veblynt and his methodology.
“Do you know whether he had any dealings with Glendyl?”
Fhernon offered a sardonic smile. “Outside of the legal actions, you mean?”
“Those must have been before my time.”
“They took place more than ten years ago. Glendyl claimed Veblynt had copied certain processes from his engines, involving some sort of drive mechanism, and sought damages. Veblynt proved that the mechanisms had been in use for centuries in other equipment, if more crudely applied. He sought expenses for defending himself. The courts granted him a third of what he claimed. Neither was happy. So far as I know, they’ve never spoken since. That’s close to the total I know about Veblynt.”
“I do appreciate your taking the time.” I smiled. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“Only that it is far better to have Veblynt in your debt than the other way around. I doubt, given events, that he would ever regard you as indebted to him. For that, you are fortunate.”
As we walked back to the receiving room, I could see why, given Fhernon’s explanation, Veblynt had been seeking information on Glendyl. Still, the loan agreement itself did not necessarily tie Glendyl to the Ferrans, only to Vyktor and the Banque D’Ouestan.
I doubted I’d find out more during the course of the evening, but I did hope that Seliora and I could enjoy the company and the various delicacies. Still, every time I turned around, or so it seemed, I discovered something that I should have known—and didn’t—and of which there was no record anywhere.
62
On Samedi, Seliora and I were totally de cadent. I skipped the early morning exercises and running, and we enjoyed each other and had a leisurely breakfast all by ourselves, for the first time in I couldn’t remember how long. It didn’t matter that the day was chill and gray. We even walked across the Bridge of Desires and had a late midday meal at Patryce’s, one of the better small bistros just off the Boulevard D’Council.
Before we knew it, we were dressing for the winter ball of High Holder Almeida. This time, Seliora was in red and black, in a sleeveless gown with a crimson top over a not-quite-full black skirt and a black silk jacket, trimmed in crimson, with black lace sleeves. She wore long black gloves and a black formal cape, necessary for the walk from the house to the coach stand.
The Almeida estate was situated west of the river and to the north of L’Excelsis, not all that far from Frydryk’s “city” estate, but a half-mille closer to L’Excelsis. There were a good ten coaches lined up on the drive when we arrived at what was truly a chateau, with stone carvings, and antique crenelated parapets topping the garden
walls. It took more than a quint before we disembarked and went through the removal of cloaks and being escorted to a ballroom comprising most of the west wing of the chateau. Everyone was announced, of course, and I was slightly surprised to hear “Rhennthyl D’Imagisle, Maitre D’Esprit, and Madame D’Rhennthyl.” That was the older and more formal address, and not much used anymore.
Beyond the ballroom door was the receiving line, consisting of High Holder Almeida and his wife Ruisa, and their eldest son and his wife. As we entered the ballroom, I could see close to a hundred people, not that the ballroom looked at all crowded. I caught a glimpse of Kandryl and Iryela dancing, but they were obscured by others. I did see Justicer Symmal and Chief Councilor Ramsael, not that I really wanted to talk to either man or his wife.
“Would you like to dance, dearest?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
The orchestra was on a permanent low dais, framed by octagonal faux marble pillars with deep green velvet hangings, trimmed in gold, clearly an attempt to replicate the decor of the Charynan Period. As we began to dance, I had to admit that the musicians were far better than those who played for the Council Balls.
After we had enjoyed several dances, when the music paused, I asked, “Are you ready for something to drink?”
“Are you tired already?”
“No, just thirsty.”
“So long as this wasn’t the last dance,” she said teasingly.
“It wasn’t.” It wouldn’t be, not given how much I enjoyed dancing with her.
As we walked toward one of the sideboards, Seliora nudged me. “There’s Alhyral and his fiancee, in the off-blue.”
Knowing her feelings about Alhyral and given mine about his sire, we eased toward the sideboard farther from them, easily enough, since they were talking to another couple. I did see Juniae D’Shendael, but not Geuffryt. I didn’t see any uniforms. That did surprise me.
As we neared the sideboard with an array of wines and crystal goblets, and a server in green and cream livery, a thin man in formal blacks turned, and I recognized Artois. “Good evening, Commander. I don’t believe you’ve met my wife, Seliora.”
Imager’s Intrigue Page 52