L. E.Modesitt - Imager’s Intrigue

“Good afternoon, Subcommander,” I offered.

“Good afternoon, Maitre Rhennthyl. Might I ask what you were doing here?”

“Oh…that.” I did manage a smile. “I was tracking down the banque representative who might have created the means by which Ferran agents obtained access to the engine works of the late Councilor Glendyl. Before we could properly discuss matters, the building exploded. I had some difficulty in extricating myself.”

“I do believe you’re the only man I know who’s escaped having two buildings explode around him.”

“I didn’t exactly plan either one,” I said as dryly as I could. “I’d barely been inside half a quint when it exploded.”

“But you had some difficulty getting out, it appears.”

“The door was blocked, and the window in front was false. There was a bookcase wall behind it.”

Cydarth looked skeptical. I really didn’t care.

“That’s against the building codes.”

“It may be against the codes, but that’s the way it was. There’s enough left there that you can see it’s so.”

“Who else was in the building?”

“I don’t know. I knocked, and someone called down from the second level to enter and to wait in the front foyer. I did, and before anyone arrived, there was an explosion and the building came down around me.”

“You’re fortunate you’re an imager.”

I didn’t answer that.

“Out of the way…Out of the way!”

Both Cydarth and I turned to see Commander Artois move through the crowd and under the cord. He immediately turned toward us and strode stiffly toward me, but when he stopped, his eyes landed on Cydarth. “Excuse us, Subcommander.” Artois’s glance at Cydarth was cold enough to have frozen the entire River Aluse.

I limped slightly after the Commander until he stopped in front of the corner of the River Association Building, still inside the cordon line, but back from the crowd that was beginning to disperse, since nothing more seemed to be happening, I suspected.

“Maitre Rhennthyl…it was strongly suggested that I be here. Why, might I ask?”

“So that any papers that are recovered from the ruins go to your hands and not into the hands of the subcommander. If you are not here, that is not likely to happen.”

He looked at me, then back to where the fire brigade still pumped water from another tanker over the one smoking spot in the rubble. “What do you want?”

“To look at any papers or documents you find. It’s likely that they’ll show to whom Vyktor lent golds…and perhaps did more than that.”

“Vyktor?”

“Oh…he is-or was-the ostensible agent for the Banque D’Ouestan here in L’Excelsis. They should find a body in there. It might be his.”

“You think he was behind all the explosions in L’Excelsis?”

“That…I don’t know. It’s likely that he supplied the golds to various agents, and that he was receiving those funds through the Banque D’Ouestan. It’s also likely that he lent golds, most likely supplied by Ferrum, to various factors and others who opposed High Holders, some of whom are Councilors. I thought you might wish to see those papers first. I would like to see them, all of them, as well, but it’s been a very trying afternoon, and I have to confess that I’m not at my best.”

“I can understand the Collegium’s interest.” He looked at me. “Unless you have other reasons, I doubt you need to remain. Do you need a hack?”

“I hope not. I think I have a coach around the corner.”

He nodded, then gestured to a patroller.

“If you’d escort Maitre Rhennthyl to his coach.”

“Yes, sir.”

I inclined my head politely, then walked back along the cordon line, accompanied by the patroller, toward where I thought the coach might be. The stone was cold, and I walked awkwardly, trying to be careful where I placed my unbooted foot. Thankfully, I did find the duty coach nearby, and I limped up into it, with one foot clad only in a very soiled stocking. Lebryn did stare for a moment. I was glad that he hadn’t been able to wait in front of the building.

When we reached Imagisle, I had Lebryn drop me at the administration building, where I made my way to see Maitre Dyana-after sending the duty prime to get some rags or something I could wrap around my nearly bare foot.

Her door was ajar, and Gherard just nodded, as if he didn’t even want to ask why I wanted to see her.

“You look somewhat the worse for wear,” observed Maitre Dyana as I stepped into her study and closed the door behind me. “Only one boot?”

“Just one, and I am.” I sat down and proceeded to recount the salient events of the day, from my confirmation of Glendyl’s not-suicide to the explosion and what followed.

After I finished, she looked at me for a time before asking, “Exactly what has all this accomplished, do you think?”

“We’ve temporarily removed one source of funding for Ferran operations here in Solidar. It’s fair to say that we have more evidence to bring before the Council on the larger danger Ferrum represents, and possibly on the need to modernize the fleet…as well as to undertake a few other changes. Artois may find more.”

“Summoning him was a deft touch. The fact that he found Cydarth already there may result in more disclosures. If he does find evidence, it will be his doing, not the Collegium’s.”

We talked a bit longer and then I left. Rather than search for boots or try to image one that fit, which would have required more effort than I thought I should make, I just wrapped rags and cloth around my unbooted foot and clumped out across the quadrangle and north to our house.

I’d barely stepped inside and shut the door when Diestrya ran toward me, saying, “Dada!” I scooped her up and held her tight. I found my eyes burning when I finally put her down.

Seliora stood in the archway from the parlor. “Your grays and cloak are dusty, and there are smears and smudges on your cheeks, and your foot is wrapped in rags. Is it hurt? What happened?”

“The rags are because my other boot was caught inside the building that another Ferran agent exploded around me.”

“Rhenn…” Her mouth opened.

“It’s all right. He’s dead.”

“What have you been doing?”

“Why don’t you get me some hot tea, and we’ll all sit down in the parlor, and I’ll tell you. It’s been a very long day, and I’m very glad to be home. I can’t tell you how glad.”

I let myself sleep a little later on Mardi morning. It didn’t help that much. I dreamed of buildings exploding and falling down around me, feeling helpless in a lead casket, where I couldn’t breathe. I woke up less than a half glass later than I usually did. I was sore all over, although I didn’t find too many bruises. I wondered if I should have stayed and watched while the Civic Patrol went through the rubble of Vyktor’s place.

Given that I was still feeling exhausted, and that I was only able to hold very light shields without feeling dizzy, that probably wouldn’t have been a good idea. Besides, events were conspiring to illustrate that I couldn’t do everything I wanted to do, much less everything that needed to be done. So I decided to trust Artois, at least so far as to what the Civic Patrol might find, and once I got to the administration building, I thought about how I might handle my problems with Valeun, Geuffryt, and the Naval Command. That wasn’t terribly useful, because I kept thinking about what Artois and the Civic Patrol might have found…or the fact that they might have found nothing useful at all.

I went through reports and then spent the remainder of the morning with Kahlasa and Schorzat, where we talked over how we could improve the reports we received from regionals and from all the Civic Patrol Commanders across Solidar. They had suggestions far better than mine about what we needed on the reports. None of us had very good ideas on how to get the Council to adopt requirements so that the various city Civic Patrol Commanders would actually be required to supply the information.