L. E.Modesitt - Imager’s Intrigue

Culthyn saw me coming and hurried across the floor from behind the racks to the left. “Rhenn…what are you doing here?”

“I need to talk over something with Father. About wool.”

“He’s in the small storeroom in the back.”

I was all too familiar with that part of the factorage, since it had been fire-bombed years before in the events that had led to Rousel’s death. “Thank you.” I turned and nodded to Eilthyr. “It’s good to see you again, Eilthyr.”

“And you, too, Master Rhennthyl.”

I walked to the small storeroom.

Father was indeed there, checking one of the permanent wall racks. He looked up, surprised, then smiled. “I didn’t think I’d see you here on a Samedi.”

“Patrol business.” I held up the jacket and the scarf. “They’re not from here, but I was hoping you could tell me something about them.”

He stepped forward and took the garments, laying the red scarf across a rack gently, and then began to study the gray wool jacket for several moments, murmuring and mumbling to himself. Then he straightened. “The jacket is southern mountain wool…likely from the hills north of Ferravyl…”

Ferravyl…what was it about Ferravyl, except that it was a major barge and transport nexus? I forced myself back to concentrating on Father’s explanation.

“…We don’t buy any of that. It’s soft enough, like top Glacian, but it doesn’t wear all that well. The only factorage I know that deals with much of it is a place in Ruile…” He paused. “Chaeran Woolens…that’s it. He uses it for the southerners who like things soft and don’t wear wool day in and day out.”

“Can you tell me anything else about it?”

“It’s a one-off, done by a seamstress, probably the second or third one in a High Holder’s estate.”

“You can tell that?” I had to say I was impressed.

Father shrugged. “That’s a guess, but the inside trimming is just a touch off, and the stitching thread is Parmian cotton, the kind that lasts forever. Street seamstresses don’t use it. Now…I wouldn’t swear to the Nameless on that, but that’s what I’d judge.” After a moment, he asked, “Where did you get it? It smells…sort of…off.”

“The odor is elveweed, and the garments belonged to a dead woman who was supposed to have died of elveweed excess. I don’t think she did. She was probably poisoned, but someone tried to make it look like elveweed.” I paused. “What about the scarf?”

He handed the jacket back to me and picked up the scarf. After only a moment, he handed it back to me. “That’s from Etyenn. He’s the only one who uses the arbora red dye. It’s cheap, but it fades in a year or two. The wool has his weave, but there are hundreds of scarves like that. It’s faded a bit, and it’s probably three years old. Sort of scarf someone your sister’s age would wear, not that she would. She’s got better taste than to wear something so common.” He frowned. “The elver woman…she wore both of these?”

“They were both with her.” I knew what he was thinking, and I didn’t disagree.

“Bartering beauty…that’s a dangerous business.” He shook his head.

“You think…?”

My father smiled ruefully. “The jacket was a gift. The scarf she purchased. That would be my guess.”

That made as much sense as anything.

“Will you be coming to dinner any time soon?” he asked.

“Not soon. We have a couple of, shall we say, required engagements. A dinner with the Ryels and then the Council’s Autumn Ball next weekend. After that…”

“I’ll tell Maelyna. Namer-damned thing when you have to plan family dinners weeks in advance.”

I started to speak, but he held up a hand. “I know. You’re working six days out of every seven and many nights as well, and you two are trying to keep two families happy when you scarce have time for yourselves.” He smiled. “It’s just that it’s so good when you come. Could be that bride of yours. You were fortunate there, Rhenn.”

“I know. I do know.”

“You be careful, now,” he added as I turned to go. “The last time a war loomed, you got shot and then some, and more than a few people wouldn’t mind your absence.”

“Is that your opinion…or has Veblynt suggested that?” Veblynt’s wife was a relative of Iryela’s mother, and had come from a fallen High Holder family. He still had contacts, and his warnings were to be heeded. “Did he say more than to be careful?”

“My thoughts and his…if you must know. And no, he didn’t. He said he’d just heard rumors.”

“Thank him for me.”

“I already did.”

Since Culthyn was nowhere to be seen when I left the storeroom, I just went out and hailed a hack on West River Road. The hacker took the Sud Bridge over the River Aluse and went up the Avenue D’Artisans.

I considered what I’d discovered. The scarf was common, coming from the factorages of Councilor Etyenn, and the jacket was handmade and of quality wool and tailoring, but sewn by a seamstress personally for the wearer. I couldn’t help wondering for which High Holder she’d been a mistress, or more likely a serving maid who was a convenient concubine. I also wondered what she’d done to displease whichever High Holder it had been, and why her body had been dumped in Third District, if less than a block from Fifth District. While I had some scattered thoughts, with what I knew there really wasn’t any way to track her farther. Not yet, at least.

The rest of the day was uneventful, for a Samedi in a district Civic Patrol station. I copied a number of descriptions of the missing brooch and had them given to patrollers who covered areas with goldsmiths. I also copied and circulated a description of Haerasyn and his offenses and posted it in the station, as well as dispatched it to the other districts.

We had a rash of grab-and-runs reported near both the Guild Square and the Plaza SudEste. I sent two more patrollers to each, telling them to make themselves very visible, and after that, there were no reports. I’d probably just sent the young thieves into District One or Five, or possibly even Two, but there wasn’t much else I could have done. Besides, if the other three boosted their patrollers in the heavily shopped areas, we’d have fewer thefts. Then again, I was shifting patrollers from areas where there weren’t many offenses, and I couldn’t do that for long…or there would soon be crimes there. All of us faced the same problem-not enough patrollers, because the Council was reluctant to increase taxes.

When I left at a quarter past fifth glass, the patrollers had only brought in one disorderly and one assault, but the assault would go to charging and trial. He already had a hip brand, and he’d tried to carve up a bistro bouncer with a dirk. I did have to leave word with the duty desk where I was, but I just hoped nothing serious enough to send a patroller after me would happen.

When I reached NordEste Design, Bhenyt opened the door even before I lifted the hammer-shaped bronze knocker. “Good afternoon, Rhenn. Well, I guess it’s evening.”

“Good evening.” I glanced past him toward the steps.

“Everyone’s here,” he said with a smile. “The twins are taking turns with Diestrya.”

“Is she behaving?”

“She was, but she always does.” He grinned. “Mother says she’s just like Seliora was at that age.”

Betara and Seliora were waiting at the top of the steps.

“Have you heard anything about Haerasyn?”

Betara shook her head.

“I put out the word about the brooch and Haerasyn. So far, no one’s reported anything, but it’s early for that. How are Odelia and Aegina?”

“We haven’t seen Odelia today,” Seliora said. “Aunt Aegina is furious. I think she’s irritated because Odelia and Kolasyn weren’t careful.”