L. E.Modesitt - Imager’s Intrigue

After everything settled, I turned to Seliora. “I’m holding shields. I don’t know what will collapse. We’ll move to where we can get clothes and boots and then make our way out. I think the south side of the house isn’t as badly damaged.”

We just grabbed clothing and boots before making our way down the rubble-filled staircase, more like sliding down the balustrade, but the dwelling had been so solidly built that the main level was clear, if dusty.

My head was pounding, and my whole body ached. Donning the basic grays quickly in the front foyer was difficult, and my eyes kept blurring, from the dust, I supposed. When we finally stepped out of the house, I was struck by the diffuse light filling the northern sky, as if something were burning brightly on the River Aluse, and yet droplets of ice fell out of the sky.

Fire and ice? How could that be?

Yet that light, already fading, allowed me to see the devastation around me. Master Dichartyn’s house was rubble. So was Maitre Dyana’s, as was the larger dwelling that had been Maitre Poincaryt’s. I turned, and my entire body twinged, and a wave a blackness swept toward me, but receded, although I could feel that it had not retreated that far. Out of the smoky haze, I could see Maitre Dyana walking toward me, dressed in working grays.

Behind me, Seliora was saying something, but I couldn’t hear the words. I felt light-headed, and dizzy, and my entire body tingled, but I pushed that away. I had to know what had happened, what Maitre Dyana knew.

Maitre Dyana stopped in front of me, then said, “Sit down. Now!”

I almost made it before the blackness slammed me down.

The next time I woke up was with gray walls around me, but my eyes wouldn’t focus, and I couldn’t talk. Someone fed me something soft, and I drank something, and the blackness rose up again. That sort of thing must have happened for a while, because I thought I saw people around, but nothing made much sense.

Then, I finally swam out of that hazy blackness and could actually see, and feed myself, although my entire body remained a mass of soreness and aches. One of the obdurate attendants watched closely, then took the empty tray away. That I’d been watched by an ob all the time suggested I’d been in a bad way.

I took stock of my physical situation. From what I could see, there were purplish-yellow bruises on my arms and my upper chest, and probably on my thighs, from the way they felt. How had all that happened? I’d held my shields and even angled and slipped them the way Maitre Dyana had drilled into me years earlier. Or had it been when I’d imaged back the shells or bombs or what ever had been aimed at the Collegium?

Draffyd appeared, and his eyes were ringed with black. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore and aching all over,” I admitted. “But I can see without everything blurring.”

“Your eyes were so bloodshot that they were more red than white. You’re fortunate to be alive.” He paused. “You were imaging behind shields, weren’t you?”

“Ah…not exactly. I was imaging beyond them.”

His eyes widened, but he only nodded. “Maitre Dyana needs to see you, but I’ve asked her to be brief. You aren’t ready to do much right now.”

“Seliora?”

“She and Diestrya have been staying in one of the empty rooms here. You can see her after Maitre Dyana.”

Draffyd hadn’t been gone more than a tenth of a glass before Maitre Dyana walked in-without one of her colored scarves.

She looked tired, but her words were as crisp and cutting as ever. “Some finesse would have made it easier on you, Rhenn, not that finesse comes that easily in the middle of the night when someone is dropping shells on you and your family.”

I just looked at her. “The shields and the finesse were the easy part. Imaging those shells back to their firing points was what hurt.”

For the only time in the seven years I’d known her, Maitre Dyana didn’t seem to have words. She studied me. Finally, she said, “From all the ice on the river, I wondered about that. How did you manage it?”

“I don’t know what happened, but, yes, I imaged some shells, two, I think, back to their starting point.”

“You never saw them.”

“I can do that. I’ve always been able to. I’ve done it with bullets before. I never tried it with anything that big. Just ask Draffyd or…What happened to Master Dichartyn?”

“Unlike you or me, he had no warning. The first shells hit his dwelling, and then Maitre Poincaryt’s. Dichartyn still managed to shield Aelys and the children.”

Dichartyn? Dead? How…? I swallowed. “Maitre Poincaryt?” I paused. “Then, you’re the Maitre of the Collegium?”

“Apparently, you should be. No one else can image ten-stone shells back a half mille and explode a floating battery. That’s the sort of thing that only Maitre D’Images can do, and not all of them.” The tired irony vanished from her voice “No one could figure out why the barges that held the bombards would suddenly explode after a handful of rounds. There was enough powder and shells to reduce the entire Collegium to rubble.”

“I was angry,” I admitted. “I really didn’t think.”

“It wasn’t the best for you that you reacted, but it doubtless saved most of the Collegium…Maitre.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know enough. I don’t even know enough to handle what Master Dichartyn did. Let them think you did it. You’ll need that leverage anyway.”

Dyana actually smiled, if but for a moment. “You won’t escape that destiny, Rhenn. You might be able to postpone it…but not escape it.” Her eyes took in my arms and chest. “It’s still a wonder you’re alive.”

“If any other masters need to know, tell them that it took both of us…or better yet, imply that without saying it.”

“You’ll still have to become a Maitre D’Esprit.”

“Can’t Schorzat take on…”

“No. He knows it. Dichartyn and he already discussed it. His shields won’t take the kind of beating yours can. Frankly, I’m not certain anyone else’s can.”

“Were they using the stolen bombards?”

“We think so. We really don’t have the time or the resources to dredge the Aluse to find out. They were set up on barges.”

I couldn’t help but wonder if the heavier barges I’d seen in the past weeks had carried the bombards upriver. There really wasn’t any point in saying anything about that. What was done was done, and the Collegium-or the river force of the Civic Patrol-couldn’t have checked every barge on the river for weeks on end.

“What else happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“It was all part of a plan, wasn’t it? The stronger elveweed, the Ferran or Stakanaran funding of explosions and violence. I’d guess that the Ferrans have invaded Jariola by now…”

“Is this a guess on your part? Did you-”

“I told Master Dichartyn that was what I thought. We’ve lost two good captains in the Civic Patrol, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the subcommander weren’t involved as well, not that I could prove anything. Oh…and if you haven’t already, you might check with a Sea-Marshal Geuffryt. He has some knowledge about payments to Caartyl and Cydarth. Master Dichartyn probably told Maitre Poincaryt about all that, but I left it to them to tell you, and since I only told some of it to Dichartyn on Samedi morning….” I left the sentence uncompleted, feeling slightly tired just from speaking.

“For someone who almost died, you’re sounding suspiciously like Dichartyn. And, no, they didn’t get around to telling me all of that. What else is there?”

“Did Ferrum invade-” I had to know that.

“Yes…we just got word this morning. It doesn’t look good for the Jariolans.”