L. E.Modesitt - Imager’s Intrigue

“That’s how it looks to me.”

“What do you wish from me, Master Captain?”

“Just send word if you see taudis-types that don’t belong here. It seems to me that would be in your interests as well as mine.”

Jadhyl smiled, coolly. “Would that others saw matters so clearly. We will see what is possible.”

That was as much as he’d ever say, but if his lookouts saw more assassins, we’d likely be told. “I’d appreciate it.”

I walked the long way back to the station, back out to the Avenue D’Artisans and southwest on it until I reached Quierca, then along Quierca back to Fuosta and up to the station. I studied every block, but didn’t see or sense anything out of the ordinary. One of Horazt’s taudis-kids did give me a half-wave from an alley just short of Fuosta.

Again, the afternoon was the same as every other afternoon, if just slightly quieter, and without any major disturbances. Right after fifth glass, I caught the duty coach back to NordEste Design to pick up Seliora and Diestrya, and then to Imagisle. Because the Council’s Autumn Ball was on a Vendrei and not a Samedi we could leave Diestrya with Klysia, but we still had to feed our daughter and give her a story, if earlier than usual, before dressing.

I wore the black formal wear of a Maitre, with the only adornment the four-pointed open silver star of the Collegium, an adornment required when imagers weren’t wearing their distinctive grays. Seliora had arranged for a gown in black with thin panels of a brilliant crimson, and her formal cloak was also lined in crimson silk. I also wore a black formal cloak, not that I necessarily needed it for the short coach ride to the Council Chateau.

As we walked from the house to the duty coach stop where we were to meet the Dichartyns, I cleared my throat. “You didn’t say anything about the memorial service for Haerasyn.”

Seliora smiled ruefully. “Kolasyn put his foot down. He said they’d have a small service after the viewing at Elysor Memorials. He said there was no point in conducting a public service that would be a charade.”

I nodded. That was certainly for the best, whether Odelia thought so or not. “I’m going to have to leave the Ball early tonight.”

“I thought you might.” Seliora frowned, but only for a moment. “Because you think the drug dealers know you’ll be at the Chateau?”

“That’s what I’m wagering.” I also thought they’d strike later on a Vendrei, assuming that fewer patrollers would be alert, and that I might well have had too much wine, even if I did hurry back to Third District. “None of this is accidental. It’s all planned.”

Seliora raised her eyebrows.

“Not that way,” I said. “The drug dealers aren’t taking directions from whoever is involved with one side or the other on the grain civil war, or from the Ferrans or the Stakanarans, whoever’s responsible for growing the stronger elveweed in southern Solidar. The drug dealers will plan the best way to attack Third District, and whoever’s behind the elveweed is counting on that, just as the Ferrans are counting on the freeholders to create problems with the High Holders and the Council.”

“It sounds like the Ferrans are trying to stir up trouble in Solidar before they attack Jariola.”

“I’d wager on it, even on their involving Stakanar or Tiempre, although I think it’s Stakanar.”

“There’s not too much you can do about it, except in handling matters in Third District.”

“No, there isn’t.” And there wasn’t, except I had the feeling that matters went well beyond Third District. I also still worried about the Pharsi foresight flash that showed me struggling from beneath or around piles of gray stone, because that didn’t seem to fit anywhere. Had it really been a true foresight flash?

We only waited for a few moments at the coach stop before the Dichartyns appeared. Master Dichartyn wore the same imager formal blacks as did I. Under a dark gray formal cloak, Aelys looked to be wearing a pale gold and russet gown, colors that suited her complexion and thin frame.

“Good evening,” I offered.

“The same,” returned Master Dichartyn with a smile.

Once we were all seated, Aelys smiled at Seliora. “The girls said that Diestrya was very well-behaved the other evening.”

“That’s because your daughters are firm and because Diestrya likes them. She’s still at the age where she’ll test limits if she senses any lack of firmness.”

“Some youngsters retain that for a long time,” added Dichartyn blandly.

“You should know, dearest,” replied Aelys sweetly.

I managed not to grin before I looked as Dichartyn. “I’d like to ask for a favor, sir.”

“Ask away.”

“I’m faced with the likelihood of a difficult situation in my district later this evening, but I’d like to allow Seliora to enjoy the entire ball.”

“Of course,” he replied.

“Don’t make it so formal, dearest,” added Aelys. “You can dance with a young and beautiful woman.”

“So long as I don’t enjoy it too much?”

His ironic tone had us all smiling.

Our carriage arrived at the Council Chateau slightly before eighth glass, and was perhaps tenth in the line leading up to the steps. I was glad that the weather was clear, if chill, because there was no portico or rotunda, just the stone steps leading up to the main floor Grand Foyer. Once the coach reached the steps, and we disembarked, Seliora and I led the way, because Maitre Dichartyn was still senior to me. Once inside we crossed the foyer and passed the ceremonial guards, then ascended the Grand Staircase, past the winged angelia statues. I recalled them all too well and how angry I’d made my father as a boy when I’d commented on the inaccuracies captured in stone.

When we reached the doorway to the Great Receiving Hall, we stepped up to the same balding man who announced all arrivals at every Ball with a deep bass voice so at odds with his stature.

“Captain and Maitre Rhennthyl and Madame Rhennthyl.”

“I still don’t feel like I should be announced as Madame,” murmured Seliora as we stepped toward the three Councilors on the Executive Council, who formed a receiving line of sorts.

“You’re young and beautiful enough to be a mistress, but you’d better not…except with me,” I teased her.

“Rhennthyl,” she said in a low voice, “you’re impossible.”

Beyond the Councilors, I caught sight of the security imagers, Baratyn standing against the east wall of the Hall and Dartazn and Martyl along the west wall.

Behind us came the announcement of “Maitre Dichartyn and Madame Dichartyn.”

The first of the Executive Councilors was Glendyl D’Factorius, the manufacturer of various machinery that included everything from steam engines and mining pumps to full-sized ironway locomotives. As a Councilor from the regions around L’Excelsis, he represented the factors from Solis to Rivages. He inclined his head politely. “It’s good to see you, Master Rhennthyl, Madame.”

“We’re glad to be here,” I replied.

Next was the hawk-nosed, black-haired Caartyl, the Councilor from Eshtora representing the various artisans’ guilds across northwest Solidar. “Greetings, Master Rhennthyl. It’s always a pleasure to see an imager from a guild background. And your beauty, Madame Seliora, even exceeds your family’s reputation and artistry.”

Seliora inclined her head in response. “You’re most kind.”

Suyrien D’Alte was only slightly above average in height, several digits shorter than I, with thinning brown hair and a receding hairline. The only physical aspect that suggested why he was the Chief Councilor was the intensity in his pale green eyes, an intensity not entirely masked by his warm smile and pleasant voice. “Rhenn, Seliora, I’m so glad that you were able to come. Both Kandryl and Frydryk have told me how much they enjoyed spending the evening with you last Samedi. They and their ladies should be here shortly.”