L. E.Modesitt - Imager’s Intrigue

Zharyn had the weekend duty, and he bolted to his feet when he saw me enter the station.

“More problems?” I asked.

“Not in Third District, sir. At headquarters.”

“What sort of problems?”

“Those two we caught on Jeudi, Captain? They’re dead. Someone poisoned them in the main lockup.”

I couldn’t help but wonder about Zharyn’s knowing that. We usually didn’t hear what happened to prisoners we’d sent for charging for a week, sometimes longer if justicing were delayed.

“We got a dispatch this morning by regular headquarters messenger, except…no one signed it.” Zharyn handed the single sheet to me.

There were only four short sentences.

The prisoners Grohar and Haddad died Vendrei. Poisoning is suspected. Headquarters is investigating. Send any information that might help in resolving the case.

No seal or signature appeared, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if Buasytt had sent it. I’d always had the feeling he didn’t see exactly eye-to-eye with either the subcommander or Lieutenant Sarthyn. Then again, it could have been a veiled warning from Cydarth as well, and that might well be the more accurate assumption.

Four taudis-toughs had attacked Third District patrollers on Jeudi, and all of them were dead. So were those who’d attacked on Vendrei. Not only did the deaths leave no trail and no way to follow up, but they pointed out what might be construed as ruthless law enforcement in Third District, and that wasn’t likely to be terribly helpful to me…or to Commander Artois when he came up for review before the Council.

Fortunately, Samedi morning and afternoon were quiet in Third District, or relatively so for a Samedi in fall, with only petty crimes, and the report of but a single elver death.

I left the station a little early, around fourth glass, and took a hack back to Imagisle, but by a quint past fifth glass the three of us were in another hack headed back out to my parents. Seliora and I hadn’t had much time to talk, what with her getting ready and my dealing with Diestrya while she did so.

“How did today go?” Seliora asked as the hack headed up the Boulevard D’Imagers.

“Quiet. A few snatch-and-grabs from shop-girls on the Avenue. There usually are on Samedi, and some of the girls never learn. Some of the patrollers are getting edgy, but I’d be surprised if there are problems tonight.”

“And tomorrow night?”

“I’d guess Mardi night, but…” I shrugged. “It could happen any time. Alsoran’s going to be there this evening for a while.”

“He should be. You’ve been there most nights.”

“I worry, but I can’t be there all the time.”

“No…you can’t. Can you just enjoy dinner tonight?”

“I’ll try.”

Seliora looked at Diestrya. “Your cousin Rheityr will be there. You will play nicely with him.”

“Yes, Mama.”

I caught a hint of a gleam in her eye. “Your mother means it, and so do I.”

Diestrya dropped her eyes and her lower lip began to protrude.

“None of that, young lady.” I tried to keep my voice matter-of-fact, and the lip quivered, but there was no procession into tears.

Seliora and I managed to stifle smiles, as Diestrya finally looked up and declared, “I like Rheityr.”

“That’s good. He is your cousin.” I added in a murmur, “I’m going to try to catch that expression in her portrait.” Not that I’d had much time to work on it lately, even with the studio now in our house.

“She’ll hate you for it until she has children,” Seliora whispered in return.

That was often the way with children, I’d decided.

It didn’t seem that long before the hack let us out at my parents’ house, and we joined my parents, Culthyn, and Remaya in the family parlor. Diestrya, of course, joined Rheityr in the nursery.

Before Father could ask me how either the Civic Patrol or imager “business” was, I asked him, “How is the wool business these days?”

He shook his head. “There have been times that have been worse, but not in any recent years. We’ve had problems in getting the raw wool to the carders and spinners. It’s not just in any one part of Solidar, either. The shipping delays are the worst in the northeast, and even in the north around Mont D’Glace, and that’s a straight ironway run to L’Excelsis.”

“You always have problems,” Mother said, extending the tray on which rested his goblet of Dhuensa.

“Not like these.” Father shook his head.

“The spice trade has almost stopped now,” added Remaya. “Father says that little or nothing’s arriving from any of the countries in Otelyrn.”

“Is someone else paying more for spices?” I asked.

“That couldn’t be the reason,” Remaya replied. “Father says that the Stakanaran gunboats are blockading the small river ports where the spices are collected. They’re fast enough to outrun larger vessels, and Tiempre and Caenen don’t want to tie up their warships for a trade that doesn’t benefit them that much.”

“How can it not benefit them?” asked Seliora.

My father cleared his throat, then looked at Remaya, who nodded. He cleared his throat again. “Spices are cheap in Otelyrn. They grow easily. The profit lies in transporting them to where they don’t grow-here. The traders don’t want to lose their vessels to the gunboats, and they-and traders like Remaya’s family-are the only ones who suffer.”

“Our cooking and food also suffers,” added my mother.

“So…Rhenn,” asked my father, “how is the Civic Patrol business?”

“About like the wool and spice businesses.” I tried to keep my tone light. “But we won’t solve it here, and I’d like to hear what Rheityr’s been up to lately.” I grinned. “Then, Seliora and I can talk about our wonderful daughter.”

Culthyn actually laughed.

After that, and through dinner, we talked about family and food, and children. Seliora and I-and a very sleepy Diestrya-left just after eighth glass.

The late nights all through the week took their toll on both Seliora and me, and we were asleep in our separate chambers in less than half a glass after Charlsyn dropped us off at the Collegium.

A dull rumbling shook me awake. But that was followed by another, and an explosion. The entire house shook. Even in the darkness, I could see stones falling around me-yet they hadn’t, not so far.

I ran from my sleeping chamber and across the main bedchamber. “Seliora!” I kept moving, snatching Diestrya from her small railed bed and hurrying back toward Seliora’s sleeping chamber, where I sat on the edge of the bed beside her, raising my shields. “Stay close to me.”

Seliora didn’t question me, but she wouldn’t have had time, because a gigantic unseen hammer slammed the north side of the house. Stones toppled into the house, with some fragments and chunks of masonry and stone and tiles sliding off and around my shields, even as all manner of rubble built up in the hallway and rolled into the bedchamber. Glass sprayed against the shields like grapeshot. The house, solidly built as it was, groaned and shifted.

I could sense something-two somethings, I thought-hurtling toward us, toward my shields and in a fit of anger, image-shifted them back to the point from where they had come. At that moment, my entire body felt like it had been squeezed in a vice. That feeling passed, but my eyes blurred, and I felt dizzy.

The house shifted again…and more rubble settled.

Then came the sound of another massive explosion, followed by others, right in a row, somewhere to the north.

At that moment, I was so exhausted I could barely move, and my whole body ached, but I knew I had to hold the shields to protect Seliora and Diestrya until we could get out of the house and the rubble around us. I closed my eyes and concentrated for a time longer.