L. E.Modesitt - Imager’s Intrigue

Then I saw Shault and ushered him into the conference room.

Within moments of trying to discuss his essay, I got the feeling that the most trying aspect of the day might well be trying to emphasize to Shault the need for clarity in explaining matters. After what had happened already during the day, it shouldn’t have been. It was.

“Sir, it’s right, or it’s wrong. Why do I need to be able to explain it?”

For a moment, I wondered if he were being deliberately obtuse, but then realized he was serious. So I asked, “Is it right for a taudischef to kill a taudis-tough if the tough is a member of his gang, but goes off and steals something while wearing the colors of another gang?”

“He has to do that, or beat him up badly, or the whole gang would be in trouble.”

“Who else would know that?”

“Anyone in a taudis-gang knows that.”

“So you’re saying that it’s right for a taudischef to break the laws of Solidar and that everyone else should agree with what you think is right, because you think it’s right?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t?”

“You’re twisting my words, sir.”

“Am I?”

“It’s different in the taudis, sir.” He paused. “Well…you’ve made it different in Third District, but the others are the old way.”

“What did you just say?”

He looked at me blankly, again.

“A moment ago,” I forced myself to speak quietly, “you said something was either right or it was wrong. Now you just said that it was different in the taudis. Aren’t you saying that what’s right in one place isn’t right in another? And if it’s different…”

I could tell it was going to be a long session.

It was indeed, and I barely got home in time to eat a little dinner before I had to go back down to the infirmary to meet with Master Draffyd.

He was waiting outside one of the surgery chambers.

“Here you go.” He handed me a gown to put over my grays. “I have a cadaver on the surgery table there. I’m going to dissect it, and you’re going to learn more about the major organs. You’re also going to practice some delicate imagery. If you’re going to attempt imagining medicine, you need to know this.”

I just nodded, then slipped into the gown, and followed him into the surgery.

“We’ll start with the esophagus.” Draffyd pointed to the throat of the male body on the table. “One of the most common problems is simple choking, and there are two physical methods that should be tried before you image anything. The first one you know-several sharp blows between the shoulders. If between five to ten don’t work, then you can try the other method-an abdominal thrust. Even if it doesn’t work-and it usually does-the method provides a good cover for imaging. That is useful. Now…I’m going to stand behind you and demonstrate on you…”

He clasped his arms around me, and then wrenched them upward in a way that forced me to exhale-whether I wanted to or not.

“Oooofff.”

“Exactly. Now…I didn’t apply full force. That can crack ribs, but you should get a sense of it. Try it on me…but gently and slowly. I’d prefer not to have bruised muscles or ribs if you don’t have your arms and hands in the right places.”

He made me do the procedure slowly three times before I used more force.

“If that doesn’t work…you can try imaging. Most objects are caught anywhere from the pharynx at the lower part of the back of the mouth.” He took a probe and opened the cadaver’s mouth, pointing with the probe. “They may be farther down and block the epiglottis…I’m going to place a hard roll there…”

After three glasses, Draffyd finally let me go, not that he was really through with what he wanted me to know about the more common human organs, but because my guts were having a hard time staying composed. The cool air blowing off the river from the north helped settle my system as I walked across the quadrangle and north to our house.

Seliora was waiting for me, propped up in her bed, reading.

“Diestrya asked for you…but she didn’t cry.” She looked at me. “Do you need something to settle your stomach?”

“I don’t think I could eat anything right now.”

“Was it as bad as you look?”

I managed to laugh. “I hope I don’t look that bad.”

“Just sit here and talk to me.”

I did, and it helped.

I didn’t sleep all that well on Jeudi night, but I didn’t image in my sleep as a result of a disturbing dreams. The morning routine-and breakfast-helped settle me. That was until I arrived at the station, where a dispatch from Subcommander Cydarth to all District Captains awaited me. I read it twice.

Over the week ending on 7 Feuillyt, more than twenty elveweed addicts were reported as dead from elveweed excess in the taudis areas of Civic Patrol District Six. Four other deaths elsewhere in the Sixth District are suspected as being from the same cause. The total number of deaths is doubtless higher, since the taudis-dwellers will have disposed of some bodies without informing the Civic Patrol. Higher levels of elveweed deaths appear to be occurring in all Civic Patrol Districts.

For the remainder of the year, the Commander requires all District captains to list elveweed deaths separately from other criminal deaths on their weekly reports to headquarters. When possible, list deaths occurring within taudis areas separately from deaths in other areas of each district…

A separate elver death report? That the Commander was requesting such information on a regular basis suggested that the number of deaths from elveweed was exceptionally high throughout all of L’Excelsis. Such a tally would be lower than actual elveweed deaths, even if all such deaths in Third District that came to the attention of the Civic Patrol were listed diligently, because some deaths in the taudis would go unreported, with bodies being sneaked into waste wagons and otherwise being disposed of without Patrol notice. And some elver deaths, particularly among the well-off families in L’Excelsis, would doubtless be listed as deaths from illness. In a way, they doubtless were.

Still…we needed to do our best to comply, and I walked into the small study next to mine. Alsoran bolted to his feet. I’d tried to tell him that wasn’t necessary, but old reactions still overcame my words.

“Sir?”

I handed him the dispatch and waited for him to read it.

He looked up. “I wouldn’t want to be in Captain Kharles’s boots.”

“I’m more worried about our boots. The subcommander is going to notice that not nearly as many of our elvers are dying as there are in the taudis in either District Six or Four. He’ll take that as proof that I’ve got ties to the taudischefs and dealers.”

“You talk to the taudischefs. You always have. He knows that. It only makes sense,” Alsoran pointed out.

Subcommander Cydarth might well try to use that against me, but I only said, “We’re just beginning to get deaths outside the taudis in Third District, and with the taudischefs trying to pressure the runners, we might see a spike in outside deaths. We really have no way of controlling access to elveweed once it gets outside the taudis.” Not that we had that much control inside, but we did have a little influence with those who had some influence with the dealers and the runners.

“You think the number of outside deaths will increase that much?”

“Don’t you?”

“I’m afraid so, sir.”

We didn’t have to wait long. After their second round, Zerbyn and Farran reported two more elver deaths, both on the non-taudis side of Quierca. While there weren’t any other elveweed deaths discovered for the rest of the day shift, I had no doubts that there would be more that night and over the weekend. The only question was how many.