L. E.Modesitt - Imager’s Intrigue

About that, my father was absolutely correct. He couldn’t imagine much beyond the here and now, and the logical and direct consequences of the present. That trait made him the solid and prosperous wool factor that he was and had created a reputation for honesty and solidity for Alusine Wool.

“High Holders or not…” Mother paused. “Dinner is ready.”

Seliora and I carried wine goblets that we’d barely sipped from into the dining room.

After the blessing and after Father sliced and served the crisped roast lamb-always his favorite-conversation died into a lull.

“How is Khethila doing in Kherseilles?” asked Seliora.

“Fine,” replied Father. “I wouldn’t have thought it, not as a woman that young running a wool factorage, even with my name behind her.” He shook his head, as if still amused by the whole idea.

“You didn’t tell them!” Mother exclaimed. “She’s now a factoria; the factors accepted her as a full factor.”

“Oh…I thought they knew.”

“Chenkyr, who would have told them? Her letter only arrived on Mardi. She was very pleased.”

“That’s wonderful!” said Seliora. “Is she the only recognized wool factor who’s a woman?”

“I suppose so,” replied Father.

I didn’t say anything, but I was glad that Khethila was recognized as a factor in her own right, as Khethila D’Factoria, rather than just as Father’s daughter. I couldn’t help but understand her satisfaction, since she’d had to petition the association and face a real board of inquiry, rather than the mere formality that Rousel had gone through. But she’d succeeded. I did smile.

“She bought the adjoining property, too,” added Mother, looking at me. “She’s going to expand in time. She said you’d made it possible.”

“I hope she didn’t have to trade too hard on my name.”

“No…the Banque D’Kherseilles approached her, saying that the owner would like to sell the property at a reasonable price. She wrote that the Banque D’Rivages represented the owner and handled the sale through the Banque D’Kherseilles. She didn’t know the owner, but the banker who approached her asked if she was indeed the sister of Maitre D’Structure Rhennthyl. She said to thank you.”

“I’m certain that she managed it all on her own,” I replied, knowing that reasonable as the price might have been, the first payment had been made in blood by Rousel years before. But it had been thoughtful of Iryela, even if it made me suspicious, given the timing. Very suspicious.

Father cleared his throat, then said, “She did say that the factors in the Abierto Isles-the ones who ship to Cloisera-have cut back on their orders.”

“That suggests they think that war will break out and Ferrum will attack any shipping bound for Jariola.”

“They did before,” interjected Culthyn.

“They also lost much of their fleet,” Father replied.

“They’ve spent a great deal of golds and effort rebuilding the fleet with more modern vessels. They’ve also developed better land-cruisers. That says that they haven’t given up on obtaining the Jariolan coal fields.”

“And anything else they can grab,” asserted Culthyn.

“Can we talk about something other than war?” Mother smiled broadly and turned to Remaya. “How is Rheityr doing in the grammaire?”

It was my nephew’s first year in school, and Mother doted on every episode that indicated Rheityr’s potential.

“He’s already reading the first primer…”

“That’s not new,” Culthyn said. “You really had him reading before he went to school…” His words died away as all three women at the table looked at him.

After that, all the conversation was about family, or food, or the books that Mother and Remaya had read. I had to admit that I missed Khethila’s comments on Madame D’Shendael, and Father’s dismissals of that most intellectual of High Holders. But Seliora and I did add a few comments about Diestrya. Just a few.

Mother had paid Charlsyn to stay late and use the family coach to take us back. We were halfway to Imagisle when Seliora, rocking Diestrya gently in her arms, asked quietly, “The opera explosion still bothers you, doesn’t it?”

“There’s something about it. None of it rings true. A wealthy grain factor is assassinated, except he’s not. He’s sitting where only High Holders are, with seats that are difficult to obtain, and it happens in L’Excelsis, when he’s from Piedryn, and that’s something like a thousand milles away.”

“Maybe he was trying to make a statement, and hedging his wagers.”

“Anything is possible,” I hazarded. What ever it was, it didn’t seem likely that it would ever involve me, but I hated things that didn’t fit.

On Samedi morning, I did make the effort to get up early and struggle through Clovyl’s exercises, although I didn’t have to go to the station, since Alsoran and I had traded Samedis. I’d hoped to see Master Dichartyn there, since, as a member of the security section, even if he headed it, he usually joined the exercise group. Unfortunately, he didn’t show up.

After I finished the run and caught my breath, as I walked back toward the house, hoping I’d get there before Diestrya woke, my eyes turned westward, where, occasionally, I could make out the indistinct shape of the Council Chateau in the faintest graying of the night sky that would soon show the light of dawn. Artiema, less than full, hung over the Chateau in the western sky. Erion had set glasses before.

On the section of the River Aluse that flowed along the west side of Imagisle, a steam tug puffed upstream towing three barges. Although it was hard to tell, two of the three looked to be riding higher, as if they were empty or lightly loaded. Most barges only traveled as far as Ferravyl, or if they came as far upstream as L’Excelsis, they usually docked at the barge piers, adjoining the ironway transfer station south of the city, about a mille south of Alusine Wool. The handful that went farther upriver could only go so far as Rivages before the river became too shallow.

Later, a glass after breakfast, I walked over to Master Dichartyn’s house. He was actually home and was even the one to open the door. I could hear the voices of two girls, with tones that suggested either a heated discussion or an argument.

He glanced back over his shoulder and shook his head before saying, “This isn’t social, is it, Rhenn?” His smile was faint but knowing.

“No, but it won’t take long.”

He stepped out onto the porch, closing the door. He waited for me to speak.

“You may recall that there’s a newer and stronger form of elveweed coming into L’Excelsis, and we’re seeing a lot more elver deaths everywhere…” I explained what I’d seen in Third District and told him about Commander Artois’s directive. “…and I found out that the stronger version seems to be distributed only in Estisle, Solis, Westisle, and Kherseilles, and, of course, L’Excelsis. Interestingly enough, in the other four cities, there have been a number of deaths of Pharsi men, married men, far more than would seem natural. All of them were the eldest sons.”

“What do you consider more than natural?”

“There have been at least fourteen deaths in the last month, all of oldest sons.”

For several moments, Dichartyn was silent. “What do you think?”

“I don’t even have an idea, except that they must be connected in some fashion, since the cities involved are the four largest ports and the capital.” I stopped. “Oh…there’s one other thing. There’s a story going around that smoking the stronger elveweed will make youngsters like imagers, or even something better.”