L. E.Modesitt - Imager’s Intrigue

She smiled. “You’re doing better every year, Rhenn. As a matter of fact, I’d just taken over from Maitre Poincaryt.”

“Dichartyn took over from you, later then, as head of security?”

She nodded.

“But you still get all the reports and advise the Maitre of the Collegium?” I grinned. “Are you the, shall we say, unannounced deputy to Maitre Poincaryt? The heir in waiting?”

“Not the heir in waiting.” She shook her head. “Not with this Council, or probably any Council in the near future.” She smiled. “Just think about Madame D’Shendael…or about how much it took for your sister to be acknowledged as a factoria-after she’d totally turned around the Kherseilles branch of Alusine Wool and increased revenues every year for five years, so much so that she handles most of the wool trade there?”

I managed to nod, as I eased Diestrya away from the pile of thorny cuttings beside the stone wall. I’d never told anyone those facts. Neither had Father; but what Maitre Dyana had said in just a few moments confirmed her position and her access to the covert network that Dichartyn controlled-and that was mentioned nowhere. “Doesn’t it get to you, though? Not being recognized or appreciated for what you do?”

“It bothered me greatly when I was younger. It bothered my husband more…”

I never realized she’d been married.

“…but when I look at Poincaryt, Dichartyn, or you, all having to carry full shields all the time, and you worrying about your family every moment of every day…I’ve come to realize that there are worse things than being unknown-or underknown, as you once suggested to Dichartyn.”

“Why did you pick the three of us as examples? You didn’t mention Rholyn or Jhulian.”

“You three are the most visible, much as Dichartyn tries to keep a low profile. You’re the designated targets, if you will.”

“Were we picked because we have the strongest shields?”

She laughed again. “All of you picked yourselves, you more than the others. I don’t think you could keep a low profile in pitch darkness in an abandoned gold mine. That’s not without benefit for the rest of the Collegium, because people tend not to look past the others, especially you.”

I had to pick Diestrya up and set her down away from the pile of thorny branches. “What do you think will happen next?”

“War. The question is when. Ferrum won’t give up, because Jariola gets weaker every year. You can’t maintain strong commerce and industry under a hereditary oligarchy. Stakanar is still eyeing the mines in southern Tiempre, and the Abierto Isles want to annex Meritas. The Council really doesn’t want to continue building up armaments, although they keep talking about modernizing the fleet. That won’t happen anytime soon, and the Ferrans know it.”

I picked up Diestrya, because that was easier than continually moving her away from danger. “So who’s behind the stronger elveweed?”

“The seeds or cuttings were doubtless supplied by Stakanar, and the funds to grow it-you were right about it having to be in the south-from Ferrum.”

“Do you know where?”

“Know? Yes. Be able to prove it, no.” She picked up her shears. “I need to get back to trimming these before we get a truly hard freeze. Enjoy your dinner with Iryela and Kandryl.”

“I hope to.” I’d never mentioned that dinner to anyone at all, except Seliora, not even Maitre Poincaryt.

Diestrya and I continued our walk, all the way up to the park area, and the hedge maze that she was still too young to appreciate, and then all the way back home. The whole way I wondered what I needed to find out from Iryela…or Kandryl.

I also wondered why I hadn’t picked up on what Maitre Dyana really was before, other than that she’d come from a High Holder family. But when I’d studied with her, she’d revealed nothing and always kept me on the defensive. Ever since then, I’d been with the Civic Patrol and hadn’t seen her all that much. When I had, she’d always avoided talking anything but pleasantries. Her recent words hadn’t been casual, and that raised yet another set of questions, all of which suggested that even more was at stake than I’d already thought.

At the same time, when it came right down to it, I was only one Civic Patrol captain among a number, and one of a handful of talented imagers, and all of the others with such abilities were far more experienced. Besides, even if war broke out, few events of major impact could occur in L’Excelsis that we hadn’t already seen-conscription riots, spies and assassinations, and explosions, to name but a few. Certainly, the Place D’Opera explosion, though startling, was nothing to compare to the explosion that the Tiemprans had set off years before in the Temple of Puryon.

Still, I couldn’t help but worry as I fed Diestrya and put her down for her nap. With all the exercise, she slept well.

Seliora walked into the house just after fifth glass, as Diestrya and I were struggling with the usual three-year-old’s post-nap crankiness. Somehow we got through the next glass and were ready to depart when the Dichartyn girls arrived to watch Diestrya, since Klysia had Samedis off. I would have been very surprised if Aelys didn’t look in once or twice as well. I’d also made arrangements earlier to borrow my parent’s coach-and Charlsyn-since Iryela’s L’Excelsis estate was a good half-glass north of the Plaza D’Nord, and I didn’t feel right about using a duty coach. There wasn’t any way to catch a hack back to L’Excelsis, and I didn’t want to impose on Iryela, although she certainly could have afforded the imposition.

Seliora wore a red ankle-length dress with a black jacket and a black sash belt, with a black opera cloak, not that we’d been to the opera in years. As always, I was in grays, and we met Charlsyn on the west side of Imagisle, where we usually took the duty coach, at sixth glass. I’d thought that on a Samedi evening, the Boulevard D’Ouest would be thronged, but it wasn’t, and less than a quarter-glass later, we were riding through the Plaza D’Nord.

“It’s good to be going somewhere by ourselves,” said Seliora, “and not with family.”

I agreed. “We’ll probably get a note from Mother…”

“It came yesterday. I forgot to tell you. She’s asked us for next Samedi, or the following one, if that’s not convenient.”

“Which would you prefer?”

“This coming Samedi, the thirty-fifth. Mother was thinking about a dinner for Shomyr’s birthday on the seventh.”

“Are you up to two nights in a row?” I paused. “We could leave early, saying we were tired because of the Autumn Ball the night before.”

“Rhenn…they are your family,” she said gently.

“I know, but I’ll have to work on Samedi.”

She just looked at me, and I laughed. “Next Samedi it is.”

“They’ll be happy.” She raised her eyebrows. “After all, would you want to eat dinner with Culthyn every night?”

She had a point there.

Iryela’s chateau-technically it was now Kandryl’s, even though she’d inherited it and had to marry him to keep it, if only after a fashion-was set on the east side of the main road, a structure a good three hundred yards from end to end laid out in a “Y” shape. The southern section ended at what looked to be a cliff, but which was really a wall down from the terrace. At the end of the terrace there had once been a square stone tower, but Iryela had not had it rebuilt after I’d destroyed it. A gray stone wall a little more than two yards high extended around the grounds, and a single set of iron-grilled gates, without even a crest on them, afforded access to the paved drive beyond that led to the chateau.

The gates opened at our approach. Charlsyn then guided the coach through the walls and up the spotlessly clean stones of the driveway and under the portico. There, a footman in black and silver stepped forward to open the coach door and to extend a hand to Seliora. As I stepped out after her, I saw another coach stationed on the far side of the circle, beyond the fountain and circular garden. The crimson and silver body work, far grander than the brown and brass of our coach, confirmed that Frydryk D’Suyrien and Alynkya D’Ramsael had already arrived.