L. E.Modesitt - Imager’s Intrigue

“They might just be calculating where they wouldn’t be, based on…” My words broke off.

“What?”

“Maybe this has been going on for much longer. You remember all the killings of junior imagers six years ago?”

“You think that was part of a longer-term plan?”

“I don’t know, but with fewer young imagers over time…” That was a possibility, but there wasn’t much I could do about the past. “What about Ruile and Ruelyr?”

“Ruelyr owes a great deal,” replied Schorzat. “We’ve known that for a while. Most of the notes were held by the Banque D’Ouestan.”

“Interesting.” It was more than interesting, since that was the banque from which the drafts to Cydarth had allegedly come. By itself, that proved nothing, but I’d always been suspicious of coincidences. “What do you know about the banque?”

“It’s the second-largest banque in Ouestan, and tends to handle non-Solidaran trading and factoring accounts, also foreign currencies and bonds. The Banque D’Cote is the one used by most Solidaran factors and the local High Holders there.”

“Who owns the Banque D’Ouestan?”

“That’s a good question. It’s held by private shareholders and has been for over a hundred years.”

“That makes it a perfect conduit for funds and blind drafts. I presume it’s exceedingly sound financially?”

“It’s the only banque on the entire northwest coast that survived the Panic of ’17 without being reorganized or bought out.”

“Ferran investors?”

Schorzat shrugged. “Maitre Dichartyn and Maitre Poincaryt thought so. We could never prove it.”

“Is there any way to determine if the land that the Civic Patrol of Ruile and the Constabulary raided was actually leased to someone else?”

“That was my thought. We’re working on it.”

“Good…” I paused. “How can we find out if an attractive woman is missing from Ruelyr’s house hold in Sud?”

Schorzat frowned.

“The Civic Patrol found a body a week or so ago. She was young and attractive, wearing an expensive wool suit and an inexpensive bright scarf, and she’d been poisoned, but set up as if she’d been an elveweed death. She wasn’t an elver. Oh…and the body had been moved some considerable distance, and the suit was tailored on a High Holder estate, but not for the holder’s family, and the wools were from the area around Ruile. It bothered me at the time.”

Schorzat shook his head. “We don’t have anyone close to him, and without a regional there…Let me think about it.”

That meant I’d have to think about it as well. “Thank you.”

I walked the few yards down the hallway to my study, thinking. Had Suyrien visited Ruelyr because he’d heard rumors about the elveweed? Or was there something else occurring in Ruile or on Ruelyr’s estates? Frydryk might know. I’d have to talk to him as well, although I wasn’t certain I wanted to intrude at the moment.

After stepping into the study, I closed the door behind me and walked to the window. How many times had I seen Master Dichartyn standing there? After a moment, I sat down at the desk. I needed to think about what I wanted from Geuffryt and how to approach him, as well as what I could ask or say to keep him off-balance.

I almost laughed. I was more likely to be the one off-balance.

I thought. I took notes. I scratched them out. I thought some more. I checked some of the reports in the files. Slowly, I came up with questions and information I needed to know. Before I knew it, ten bells had rung out noon.

Since I was now officially back at the Collegium, and since Seliora was engaged in furious cleaning, I walked over to the dining hall for the mid-day meal. There were only a few at the masters’ table-Kahlasa, Ferlyn, and Chassendri. All were Maitres D’Aspect, and all but Kahlasa had been masters when I’d been a mere secondus.

Ferlyn gestured for me to join them.

“Congratulations,” offered Kahlasa with a smile. “You’ve already impressed Schorzat.”

“Only with my ignorance, I fear; but I thank you for the courtesy.” As Schorzat’s second, she had certainly heard how I was doing…or not doing. “How’s Klaustya?”

“She’s five. Do I need to say more?”

I grinned. “No. I can hardly wait.”

“You and Seliora should have another. You two need to be outnumbered, if only to give the children a chance.”

“At some point, we probably will be.” I sat down immediately to Chassendri’s left.

“Not soon enough,” quipped Kahlasa.

Abruptly, I wondered where Maitre Dyana was, since she certainly couldn’t be eating at her still-demolished dwelling or the yet-unrepaired Maitre’s dwelling. Then, she might be meeting with someone.

“Are you going to leave the Civic Patrol?” asked Ferlyn.

“I’m still a captain, but I’m detailed to help with matters here for now.”

Ferlyn shook his head, then grinned, but didn’t press the question.

As I cut into one of the veal cutlets, I had to admit that the food at the Collegium was better-and far less costly, since I didn’t have to pay for it-than the infrequent mid-day meals I’d been having in the various bistros and cafes in Third District over the past five years. Then again, with more eating and far less walking, I’d really need Clovyl’s morning exercises and runs.

After several moments, Ferlyn looked at me. “Rhenn, what can you tell us about who was behind the attack on the Collegium?”

I finished a sip of the red wine before replying. “Since the barge carrying the bombards exploded, we have no evidence of who was actually firing the weapons. They were obviously skilled in antique weapons, and they were unfriendly. Unfortunately, we have more than a few enemies at present.” I paused, then inclined my head in Kahlasa’s direction. “Wouldn’t you say so?”

Kahlasa nodded.

Ferlyn shook his head again, then chuckled. “You covert types.”

“You’ve always known that,” said Chassendri mildly. “You just like to point it out whenever you can.”

“And you like to point out that I do.”

After that, we speculated on whether the advanced Ferran land-cruisers and other devices would survive the Jariolan winter, or if the present Cloiseran conflict would end up in the same stand-off as had the first. We came to no resolution, and I headed back to my study, and the reports and the unresolved questions.

At two quints before second glass, I made my way to the duty coach station, where there were two coaches waiting, one specifically for me.

“Maitre Rhennthyl? To the Naval Plaza?” asked Desalyt.

“The Bureau building there,” I confirmed, then slipped into the coach.

Desalyt took the Bridge of Desires and then followed the Boulevard D’Council to the Council Chateau and around it, and then half a mille northwest to the Naval Bureau, located in a gray stone building on the east end of the Naval Plaza. The Naval Command was in a larger imposing structure at the west end.

A lieutenant was waiting for me by the guard desk just inside the entry doors. “Maitre Rhennthyl, sir?”

“Yes.”

“This way, if you would, sir.”

I followed him a good fifty yards back to a wide staircase with polished marble steps and a brass balustrade, and then up to the second floor and back to an outer anteroom, with a senior clerk-rating seated behind a desk. Marshal Geuffryt’s spacious corner study had windows on both outer walls. He stood as I entered.

“Good afternoon, Maitre Rhennthyl.”

“Good afternoon, Marshal.”

Geuffryt gestured to the small round conference table set back from the windows at the north end of the study. There were four chairs. I took the chair that faced the door. He took the one to my right.