L. E.Modesitt - Imager’s Intrigue

I swallowed and turned away.

Behind me, I could hear Rarydn retching.

I walked back to the other side of the cross street and leaned against the wall. A short time later, the two patrollers rejoined me.

“What happened?” Rarydn’s voice was unsteady.

“The first four had explosive rockets they were going to fire into the woodworks. Then when you and Sammyl came running, the three taudis-toughs would have shot you.”

Sammyl looked to me. “Wasn’t that something the Army should have handled?”

“Well…” I offered with a grin I didn’t feel, “if we’d waited for them…”

“Frig…” mumbled the older patroller, adding after a moment, “Pardon me, sir, but it doesn’t seem right.”

“It’s not, but how often do we get stuck dealing with what’s not right?”

“How do you want us to write it up?” asked Rarydn.

“Just the way it happened. We got a tip. We came to investigate. We must have startled them. Their rockets exploded all at once and dug a big hole and killed all of them.”

“How come-” Rarydn began.

“We don’t have to guess why it happened that way,” I said. “We’re just Civic Patrollers reporting on what happened.”

“That’s right.” Sammyl looked hard at Rarydn.

After a moment, the younger patroller nodded.

We turned and began to walk back to the station. Erion had just climbed above the roofs of the houses to the east, half-full and red-shaded. It might be the moon of the great hunter, but I had the feeling I was as much being hunted as hunter.

As tired and as cold as I was by the time I got home on Vendrei, I could raise shields, although it was painful. I wasn’t sleepy, not after all that had happened. That was probably good, because the moment Seliora saw me step inside the front foyer she asked, “How bad was it?”

“Bad enough. There were four military types with rockets and three taudis-toughs…” I began as I walked into the family parlor and dropped onto the settee in front of the stove. In between bits of explanation, Seliora offered me warm spiced wine. That warmed me and loosened my throat.

When I finished, she said, “The four with the rockets had to be Ferran agents, or something like that, didn’t they?”

“Ferran or Stakanaran, I’d guess, but I’m convinced they obtained the munitions here, and that’s even more troubling.”

“You think that the freeholders or factors like Broussard are involved?”

“They’re involved in something. Whether they’re just causing trouble for the High Holders right now because it’s opportune or because they have something else in mind…I don’t know enough to say.”

“What would they gain?”

“At the very least, they’d put the High Holders on notice that unethical or illegal commercial practices and backdoor discrimination can have a far higher price than the High Holders can afford. At most, they might be pushing for a change in the balance of power on the Council.”

“The Council can’t afford to give in to that kind of pressure.”

“The Council can’t, but the High Holders might have to. Already, they really can’t compete with the larger freeholders in the east in grain and other produce. Not on price. A factor like Glendyl might well be as wealthy as half the smaller High Holders, and more and more factors are getting into manufacturing. I also think the growing of the stronger elveweed represents more than we’re seeing.”

“More than others are seeing,” Seliora corrected me. “You wouldn’t say that if you didn’t have something in mind. What is it?”

“The deaths from the stronger weed are making more people unhappy because young people especially are dying outside the taudis. That’s affecting crafters, artisans, factors, probably even the families of High Holders, although they don’t matter to whoever’s behind this. The idea is to make people like Odelia and Kolasyn and their families unhappy with the Council and the Civic Patrol. There are probably already rumors circulating that it’s all the fault of Suyrien and the High Holders. It’s also to raise golds, possibly to fund things like last night, or all the attacks against the High Holders.”

Seliora frowned. “But…”

I shook my head. “I’m guessing again, but I think the attacks against the High Holders are designed to make them retaliate against the freeholders and factors, the way they’ve always done, except now some of the factors and freeholders have the resources and expertise to fight back.”

“What else?”

“I don’t know. I’m missing something.”

“You’re tired. Maybe you’ll think of it in the morning.”

I nodded. I was exhausted, and finally beginning to feel sleepy, but I had the feeling it was something so obvious I’d want to beat my head against a wall when I discovered what it was.

When I finally awakened, well after sunrise on Samedi, I seemed to have my ability to hold shields back, without pain, but I didn’t raise them then. The longer before I had to, the less strain I’d face in holding them. I showered and dressed, then ate, because I did have to go into the station. I also wanted to stop and talk to Master Dichartyn before I did.

So I found myself knocking on his door before I hurried off to find a duty coach.

He opened the door, barefoot and wearing only old trousers and an under-tunic. “Was the situation as bad as you thought it might be? I assume it wasn’t good, since you’re knocking on my front door rather early. Come on in.”

I stepped into the foyer and went through the events of the night before, ending with, “…the power of the explosives suggested to me military munitions. They’re most likely those stolen from the Army depot.”

“You’re sure they were that strong, Rhenn?”

I refrained from being as sarcastic as I might have been. “I can’t prove anything, but what ever it was pulverized paving stones and dug a hole a yard deep and five across.”

“Part of that had to be from the containment of your shields,” he pointed out.

“That might be, but…”

“I take your point. They have to be military. Schorzat needs to know, and so does Maitre Poincaryt.”

“You want me to report it to him personally?”

“No. The way you did it was the way it should be done. For the moment, I don’t want to tell Commander Artois anything more than is in your official patrol report.”

That alone told me he shared my view of Cydarth.

“Is there anything else?” he asked.

“Outside of the fact that four taudis-toughs tried to shoot two of my patrollers on Jeudi night? No. Or that two of the more honest District captains have been removed by an accident and a shooting? Or that Cydarth is suggesting that the lower number of deaths from elveweed in Third District has to do with my ties to unsavory elements?”

“I don’t believe you mentioned those,” he commented in a dry tone.

“I might not have.”

He nodded as if that confirmed something, then said, “They’ll only make it look like they’re trying to kill you.”

“So that I’ll be set up? I wouldn’t be surprised.” With the depth of intrigue that I’d seen since I’d come to Imagisle, and with what more I suspected, I wasn’t certain that anything wasn’t possible…and even so, I’d still probably end up being surprised by the depth of greed, avarice, and scheming that I’d find.

“You will be. We always are, no matter what we think. If that’s all…” He glanced toward the family parlor.

“That’s all.”

I returned to our house, kissed my wife and daughter, and then walked to the duty coach waiting area, where I had to stand for a quint before another coach appeared. It was still early enough that the ride to the station wasn’t hampered by Samedi traffic.