L. E.Modesitt - Imager’s Intrigue

“No…except for Martyl and Dartazn. They’d like to have you back. Dartazn says things are too quiet.”

“I don’t think they’ll stay that way.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir. If you’ll excuse me?”

“Of course.”

As he trotted off, I managed to collect myself. Baratyn was a Maitre D’Aspect, a master imager in his own right, and I’d once reported to him. He’d been very friendly until I’d made my last comment, and he’d almost frozen, and then hurried off. What had that been about? I’d have to think about it, but I needed to get back to the house and get ready for the day.

Diestrya was already up and active, and that meant dressing and breakfast were the usual rush. We didn’t say much beyond the necessary until we were in the duty coach and crossing the Bridge of Desires.

“Have you started working on the design for the upholstery fabric for young Haestyr’s bridal dining set?”

“She won’t be back to look at the proposed designs until next week.”

“How many chairs does he want?”

“Twenty-two side chairs, two end chairs.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“What?” Seliora turned and shook her head. “No. I have a lot to think about in balancing what we’ve promised. We’re either without enough work or swamped with more than we can handle.”

I had the feeling those were the two normal states of human affairs. “At least, the twins can help with Diestrya.”

“At times, she wears them down as well. Bhenyt’s the one who can calm her down, and so can Grandmama, but Diestrya tires her out quickly. Our daughter’s at that age where she’s bored quickly.”

“That’s an age all children are at until they have responsibilities of their own…and children.”

Seliora sighed. “She’s your daughter in that.”

Unfortunately, I knew that.

Once I’d left NordEste Design, I quickly read through both Veritum and Tableta. According to a story below the fold in Veritum , the Ferrans had not only produced large numbers of their improved land-cruisers, but were moving them up to their border with Jariola. In turn, the Oligarch had canceled all leave for Jariolan troops and moved several battalions west within an easy march of Ferran territory. The Abierto Isles were loudly pleading neutrality, and the Council was debating reinforcing the northern fleet, currently deployed around the coaling station off Jariola that Solidar had acquired from Jariola during the last round of hostilities in partial payment for Solidaran support.

There was a short story in Tableta about the increasing number of violent crimes in the taudis areas across Solidar, but no speculation about the reasons, and no mention of tainted elveweed. Another short story mentioned another case of arson-this time the grain ware houses in the area near Piedryn-and an instance where the lower level of another ware house was flooded by the failure of a retaining wall alongside an adjoining millrace. The story didn’t say who owned the ware houses, but I was getting the impression there was a definite problem with grain ware houses.

I’d barely settled into my study at the station when the morning courier run from headquarters brought various documents and reports, as well as a brief note from Commander Artois thanking me for the report on the explosion and asking to be informed of any other developments that might bear on the case. Since I didn’t have any, not yet, I could put off replying until I got another officious communique from the subcommander.

After that, I reviewed the log and duty books, checking on what had happened since I’d left the station the afternoon before, and then I made a quick inspection. The holding cells were empty, although it was rare to have anyone there from late morning until late afternoon or early evening, since most offenders were picked up from afternoon on, and any offender brought in overnight was dispatched to headquarters for formal charging right after the morning shift change on the headquarters collection wagon.

Next came a review of the station accounts, and various other oversight chores, before I could leave the station.

Jaerdol and Zandyr were the two patrollers on the day shift who had the taudis round just east of the station-the blocks that Horazt called “his.” I caught up with them just short of Dugalle a glass after midday.

“Captain, sir.”

“What troubles do you have today?” I asked cheerfully.

“Nothing today,” replied Jaerdol.

“That’s good, too, sir, after yesterday,” added Zandyr. “It took the both of us to handle that fellow who tried to cut Musario. Sure made a mess of his bistro, but he’s got it cleaned up already.”

“He gave you a meal today?” I grinned.

“Well, sir, he did offer, and…he said he’d already set it up.”

“I hope it was good.” I wouldn’t have dared to eat the high-spiced Stakanaran food that Musario served. “Just don’t let his gratitude become a habit.”

“Oh no, sir.”

We turned down Mando, which ran northeast to southwest, as did most of the streets between South Middle and Quierca in Third District. I had to admit that the dwellings on both sides looked better than they had five years earlier. Now, none of the windows were boarded up, and most had shutters.

I could still smell hints of elveweed though, much as I’d tried to get the taudischefs to discourage it. The only thing that the three had agreed on was that children still in school shouldn’t be allowed to smoke it. It had taken a few beatings and the disappearance of two young dealers several years back-so I’d heard-to make that stick. I’d definitely turned a blind eye-or ear-to that rumor. I didn’t see much point in trying to find whoever had gotten rid of someone who wanted to turn schoolchildren into elvers. Besides, I never knew who the missing dealers were, or even where their bodies might be found. But now, as Horazt had pointed out, no one ever saw the dealers, only their runners.

From the alleyway on the right, I heard footsteps, and I turned quickly.

“Master Rhennthyl! Help! Help!” The woman was carrying a child wearing a stained and worn blue jersey and crudely sewn trousers. He looked to be about Diestrya’s age, with a thin and angular face, without any baby fat, but he might have been older, because the taudis-children tended to be smaller. The child was convulsing, but not vomiting or choking. His face was contorting in a way that reminded me of the dead elvers.

“He’s not choking! There’s nothing in his mouth…” She thrust the child at me.

I didn’t take him. Holding him wasn’t going to help the boy. “What did he eat?”

The woman looked at me, fear in her eyes.

“Did he chew on some elveweed?”

“He…he…”

“Yes or no?” I snapped.

“Maybe…I didn’t see.”

The child spasmed into another convulsion, so violently that his mother barely could hold him.

I’d imaged items and substances into people, with often deadly results, and I’d imaged items in and out of a cadaver, but I’d never tried to image something out of a living person. But unless I did something, the boy was going to die. He might anyway.

I took one deep breath, then concentrated, trying to recall exactly all that Master Draffyd had shown me, trying to visualize removing what ever was in his stomach, without touching the lining or anything else. The quick wave of dizziness that passed over me indicated that I’d done something, and I was almost afraid to look at the boy, but he was still shuddering. So I hadn’t killed him outright.

Even as I watched, the convulsions began to subside, but he continued to breathe. I reached out and touched his forehead. It was hot.