L. E.Modesitt - Imager’s Intrigue

“The Council…what have they done?”

“Suyrien announced, on behalf of the Council, that the Northern Fleet would blockade all Ferran ports until the Ferran forces returned to their own territory and would regard any attempt to break the blockade as hostile action against Solidar. The Council also declared that the attack on Imagisle was an act of war.” Her voice turned wry. “They didn’t name who committed the act.”

“So we’re not technically at war?”

“Not yet. We may never be. The Council hates to do that because it gives more power to the Chief Councilor.”

“What about Otelyrn?”

She gave me a sidelong look, then said, “The Stakanarans have invaded the southernmost province of Tiempre, where the gold and diamond mines are. The Tiemprans are appealing for aid. They likely won’t get it…”

“Is Suyrien all right?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because he and Artois are obvious targets. I don’t know more than that.”

“There’s one other thing. You remember Johanyr?”

“Of course.” How could I have forgotten?

“He disappeared from Mont D’Glace. Several weeks ago.”

“You’d better let his sister know.” I had the feeling that his disappearance just might be linked to Iryela’s missing golds, even if I had no way to explain it.

“I already have.”

There were other things I should have asked, but I was getting tired and sleepy, despite wanting to know more…and even with all the aches and sorenesses.

Dyana stepped back. “Thank you. All that will be of great assistance.”

As soon as she left, Seliora and Diestrya were in the gray-walled chamber.

Seliora set Diestrya next to the bed, then bent over and kissed my cheek. The closeness of her, despite how everything hurt, felt so reassuring. Tears were seeping from her eyes. “I wasn’t certain…no one was sure…”

“I’ll be all right.” Now…or at least in time.

“Dada!”

“Your father hurts all over, sweetheart. Don’t touch him.”

“You’re all right?” I managed.

“We’re both fine.” She paused.

“What?”

“There have been fires and explosions all over the city.”

I nodded, if only slightly. “…not surprised…”

“Your parents are all right. So is my family, and they all know we’re safe. I sent courier messages saying you were recovering from working hard after the explosions on Imagisle.”

“Good…wouldn’t want them…to worry.”

“They had the memorial services for Maitre Dichartyn and Maitre Poincaryt and Madame Poincaryt last night.”

“I…would have…should have…been there…”

“Isola spoke so well. You would have liked what she and Maitre Dyana said.”

“…Always…speaks…well…” I was having trouble keeping my eyes open.

Seliora took my hand and held it while the hazy blackness crept up over me.

When I finally walked slowly out of the infirmary on Jeudi morning, gray smoke hung over all of L’Excelsis, and that was four days after the attacks. I was headed toward the administration building, thankfully only fifty yards away, to meet with Maitre Dyana before she convened the remaining senior imagers of the Collegium.

Just before I’d dressed, Seliora had told me that the imagers who specialized in construction had already begun repairs to our house. Apparently, ours was the only one that was merely damaged. Those of Maitre Poincaryt, Maitre Dyana, and Maitre Dichartyn had been totally destroyed, and no other dwelling had been touched, with the exception of the Collegium’s boat house on the east side of the river, which had also been destroyed. That bothered me, and it took me a while to realize why. Whoever had used the bombards had been very skilled, had great experience, and had clearly measured the distances from where the barges had been anchored-they had to have been anchored-to the masters’ dwellings. That required a very professional gun crew, and that meant Naval experience and careful advance planning.

I’d allowed a little extra time because I knew I wouldn’t be moving that quickly, and the outer anteroom was empty, except for Gherard, who was sitting at the desk. Both the door to the conference room, to the right, and the door to the Maitre’s study were open.

I nodded to Gherard.

“Good morning, Maitre,” he replied.

“I hope you’re holding up,” I said.

“Yes, sir.”

I stepped through the open doorway into the study, closed the door behind me, walked to the middle chair of the three facing the desk and eased into it. “Good morning, Maitre.”

Maitre Dyana was seated behind the desk in the study that had been Maitre Poincaryt’s for the entire time I’d been an imager-until now. I couldn’t see that much had changed in the study, but it was definitely hers, with a few small items here and there and touches of colors. Finesse had always been her emphasis. She had recovered-she was wearing a brilliant blue scarf to complement her imager grays-although I had the feeling that her iron gray hair was turning more toward white.

“Good morning, Rhenn, pleasantry though it is. I’m sorry you missed the memorial services, but at the time, no one knew how long it might be before you recovered. I’d hoped you might be able to say a few words.”

“I would have liked to. I owe them both more than I’ll ever be able to repay.”

“We never repay. We only pay for those who follow, and what you did saved others, just as what he did saved you.”

There was truth in that, but I would have liked to have acknowledged the debt publicly. Still…was that because…I almost shook my head. Master Dichartyn wouldn’t have cared about the public statements. In fact, he would have asked if I’d have wanted to speak to show my gratitude in order to prove something about myself. He would have been right, I suspected.

“You’ve been reading the newsheets, I presume?”

“I have.” What I’d read had confirmed my worst suspicions, what with explosions occurring all over Solidar, targeting grain facilities, ports and piers, and several main ironway bridges, including the one over the Aluse just north of Solis, which would delay and restrict the shipment of iron to the shipworks there. In the cities that had been receiving the stronger elveweed, riots had occurred in both taudis and non-taudis areas-with the exception of L’Excelsis, but L’Excelsis had suffered half a score of explosions. In Cloisera, the Jariolans had been pushed back fifty milles, and their coal fields were now under Ferran control. In Otelyrn, the Stakanaran army had seized a large section of western Tiempre.

“What is not in the news is that Suyrien was shot yesterday. The assassin fired a sniper’s rifle from a distance at his estate. The shooter was never observed. Suyrien may not recover, but if he does, he will not be in shape to act as head Councilor.”

“Hadn’t Suyrien just returned from visiting High Holder Ruelyr? I’d heard that Suyrien was less than pleased with something Ruelyr had done.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t know what it was, other than that Suyrien felt it wasn’t in keeping with the responsibilities of being a High Holder. I wondered, though, because Ruelyr holds the lands that include some of northern part of the Sud Swamp, and that might be an ideal location for growing the stronger elveweed.” I watched Dyana closely as I finished.

She nodded slowly. “That is useful information, of which I was unaware. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Another problem is that Caartyl is acting as head of the Executive Council in place of Suyrien. That will not last, one way or the other. Caartyl claimed the post because Glendyl had to go to Ferravyl to deal with difficulties in obtaining iron for his rolling mills.”