L. E.Modesitt - Imager’s Intrigue

“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 could 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.”