L. E.Modesitt - Imager’s Intrigue

On more personal matters, none of the goldsmiths in Third District reported finding the gold brooch that Haerasyn had stolen, and none of the districts had found Haerasyn-not that most would have actively looked for him, since they had higher priorities than seeking a low-level elver thief. I was beginning to think Haerasyn had pawned everything within glasses of taking it. But then, maybe he still had the jewelry and was using the stolen golds for elveweed. In that case, there was a chance of recovering the brooch. Not much of one, but a chance.

I finally left the station a good half-glass late, but Seliora just looked relieved when I appeared at NordEste Design.

Once we were in the duty coach headed back to Imagisle, I turned to Seliora. “There’s no word in the patrol about Haerasyn, and none of the goldsmiths in my district have come forward. Has anyone in the family heard anything?”

“No.” Seliora paused. “Some of Aegina’s personal jewelry is missing…older pieces she hasn’t worn in years. She thinks Haerasyn might have taken them when he was here for the party at the turn of summer.”

I almost missed the last of her words, because Diestrya twisted in my arms.

“She’s been restless all day, and she’s a little warm.”

“That’s all you need…her getting sick, especially with both the Fhernon and Haestyr commissions…”

“If Alhyral would just let his bride-to-be deal with it, everything would be fine.”

“Is he still trying to proposition you?” I wouldn’t have put it past the slime-snake, High Holder or not.

“No…except he’s always undressing me with his eyes when Dhelora’s not looking.”

“She has to know.”

“What can she do? Even Iryela…” Seliora shook her head.

Neither of us needed to say more about the gilded prisons that held the wives of High Holders.

Between Diestrya’s squirming and my own concerns about the way the day had gone, I was more than glad when the duty coach came to a halt on Imagisle and we could start to walk back to the house. The cool air felt welcome after the closeness of the coach, and Seliora held Diestrya by one hand, and I held her other. The sky was so clear that even Erion’s thin waning reddish disk was sharp, hanging above the Council Chateau.

On the river I saw a steam tug moving steadily upstream, even with the houses of the senior maitres, including ours. The tug towed three barges, and, as with the string of barges I’d seen a week or so earlier, two of the three were riding higher. But there was also a bargeman standing on the rear barge, the one riding the highest, and he looked to have a spyglass, one trained in the direction of Imagisle.

I could imagine that a bargeman might well wonder about Imagisle, but would a bargeman have a spyglass?

“My tummy hurts. It hurts.” Diestrya halted, looking up. “Make it stop, Mama.”

Seliora knelt, then frowned. “Her stomach is rumbling.”

At that moment, Diestrya bent forward and vomited all over the stones of the path.

I turned from the barges and the bargeman with the spyglass to the immediate problem, the one facing all parents with small children at one time or another.

Diestrya was sick enough that, on Mardi, Betara and Seliora ended up trading off taking care of her at our house. While Diestrya was better on Meredi, Seliora told me that she and her mother would take care of her the same way, so I ended up taking the duty coach straight to Civic Patrol headquarters for the captains’ meeting ordered by Commander Artois. That gave me a little more time to help Seliora before I left. I just hoped that neither Seliora nor Betara caught what ever illness Diestrya had.

Because I got to headquarters more than a quarter-glass before the meeting, I slipped into the charging section, where I’d worked briefly years before. Back then, Gulyart had been the patroller first who had headed the charging section, but he now worked upstairs under Lieutenant Sarthyn, as one of the patroller clerks who dealt with all the administrative requirements for bringing a prisoner to trial. Now the patroller who ran the charging desk was Buasytt, a graying veteran whom I’d never seen smile. He’d finished the chargings for night’s prisoners, and the day’s offenders hadn’t appeared yet, doubtless because very few offenses occurred in the morning.

“Buasytt…what was the weekend like?”

The patroller ran a large hand through his thinning short hair. “A real mad house, Captain. That didn’t even count all the dead elvers.”

“What about this week?”

“Real quiet. Can’t say as how I’ve seen it this quiet in a long time.” He laughed. “Maybe the weekend was enough. Except for the elvers. Captain Subunet says we’ve got reports of a few more last night.”

I nodded. “We’ve all seen more elver deaths.” I smiled. “Take care.”

“You, too, Captain.”

I made my way up the back steps to the second level and then along the hallway, past the doors that held the various officers’ studies, including those of Cydarth and the Commander. Only Sarthyn’s door was open, and he wasn’t there.

Jacquet and Kharles were already in the conference room, standing beside the windows that looked east. They looked up. Kharles had dark circles under his eyes.

“It looks like you’ve been fighting the Namer,” I offered wryly.

“Haven’t we all?” replied Jacquet. “Kharles just has more of his disciples in his district…although I hear things haven’t been good in Fifth District, and you’ve had fires and other problems.”

“It’s not what you’d think,” Kharles said tiredly. “We haven’t caught or charged a taudis-tough in a week. It’s all amateurs or the Duodeans or the Puryons…or what ever the Tiempran religious types call themselves.” He stopped, looking past me.

I turned. Hostyn had just stepped into the room, trailed by Lieutenant Yerkes, who was apparently the Acting Captain of Fifth District. Behind them was Subunet, followed almost immediately by Cydarth and the Commander. The fact that Artois wasn’t waiting for his captains to settle in suggested, as much as the meeting itself, that he was more than professionally concerned. Commander Artois looked thin, almost gaunt, not that he’d ever been particularly beefy or muscular, and he sat down quickly, barely waiting for all the captains to take their places at the conference table.

As soon as the last rustle died away, he spoke. “You all know the subject of the meeting. You may not know that the Council has found the growth in the number of elveweed deaths distressing. Appalling, in fact. There have been more elveweed deaths in the past four weeks than in the entire previous year. There is one anomaly in the reports.” His eyes turned to me.

So did Cydarth’s, as well. I waited.

“Deaths in all districts are up, but in one district they’re up less than half the rate in any other. Captain Rhennthyl, I’ve studied your report, and it’s rather…remarkable. In addition to a much lower death rate, you have the only district where the elveweed deaths are barely higher in the taudis areas than outside them. Would you care to explain how you obtained that remarkable achievement? Especially in such a short time?”

“Sir…it’s not because of anything I’ve done in the past few weeks. When I first became a captain, there was a tremendous elveweed problem in the taudis in Third District, and the patrollers and I made a strong and determined effort to drive the dealers out of the area. We also worked on preventing schoolchildren from being used as runners. This is something that we’ve pursued for years, and I’ve made it very clear to the taudis-dwellers where I stand on this. We certainly haven’t been able to stamp out elveweed, but we have been able to restrict it.”