L. E.Modesitt - Imager’s Intrigue

He nodded and slipped out of the study.

I had barely returned to seeking a report that might not have even existed when Gherard appeared at the door. “Sir, Maitre Dyana would appreciate a word with you.”

“Thank you.” I closed the cabinet, imaged the hidden catches locked, and headed upstairs.

Her door was open. I stepped into her study and closed it behind me, then settled into the center chair across from her desk.

“You wanted to see me?”

“I did. How did your meeting with Geuffryt go?”

“He’s concerned about the state of the fleet and worried about Cydarth. He also admitted that the Navy is missing several tonnes of Poudre B.” I went on to tell her almost everything-except for my suspicions about why he had a certain hold on Juniae D’Shendael, although I did mention he was a cousin.

“Did he explain any more about Cydarth?”

“No, he didn’t. He just said he had a trusted source who’d never been wrong, but that he had no proof.”

“Is there anything else I should know?” she asked quietly.

“The Civic Patrol is getting very short of captains…” My explanation of the events of Samedi was as brief as I could make it.

“Do you think Cydarth is involved?”

“I have no idea. He would certainly remake the Civic Patrol if he became Commander, but there’s no certainty that the Council won’t reappoint Artois.”

“They don’t like change.” Dyana’s voice was dry.

“Speaking of the Council…can you tell me the situation there…or should I be arranging meetings with the Executive Council myself?”

She shook her head. “Normally, Rholyn would be briefing you, but he was called away, and I’ve been meeting with those Councilors still in L’Excelsis. So I thought I’d tell you what’s been happening and get your thoughts as well.” She cleared her throat, then went on. “The High Judiciary issued an immediate ruling. The rules of succession mandate that Glendyl becomes the head of the Executive Council until the next formal meeting of the Council, at which time the Council can name whoever it wishes to succeed Suyrien. They made it clear that the Charter of the Council does not mandate a High Holder as head of the Executive Council, but that such is the default choice if there is not a unanimous choice, and that, in the event or death or incapacity of the head of the Executive Council, the order of succession follows the precedence set up in the Council Charter…until, of course, the Council meets and makes its will known.”

“So you’re dealing with Glendyl.”

“For the next month.”

“You look worried,” I said. “What else has happened?”

“There were a score of explosions in Thuyl last Samedi. One of the grain freighters caught fire. Half the piers are unusable.”

“Thuyl? Is that a High Holder-controlled port?”

She frowned. “None of them are controlled that way.”

“Is it one used more by High Holders?”

“I’d judge so. The ironway line south from Cheva to the port is owned by Ealthyn.”

“Some sailors suspected of being Jariolan agents have been tracked to his lands, according to Schorzat.”

“You’re suggesting that their conflict is also being played out here.”

“That would be to the advantage of Ferrum.”

She nodded slowly.

“Do I dare ask what else has gone wrong?”

“I’m certain there’s more, but even with the express trains on the ironway, it takes time for reports to get here.”

I rose from the chair, inclined my head politely, and headed back down to my study.

I really wanted to get out to Third District station, but I wasn’t recovered enough to hold full-strength shields. Yet I didn’t want to meet with either Artois or Cydarth until I’d actually talked to Alsoran and some of the patrollers about what had been going on in Third District…as well as to Horazt or Jadhyl, if I could.

Waiting felt like the Namer’s game, and I didn’t like it at all.

My shields were much stronger on Mardi, and I did manage to get up early enough to partake of a few of Clovyl’s exercises, participation motivated by the knowledge that I did need to get myself back into some semblance of physical conditioning. I decided against the four mille run. After breakfast, I saw Seliora and Diestrya off to NordEste Design in the duty coach. Diestrya waved vigorously from the window, and once they were out of sight, I turned and walked quickly to the quadrangle and to my study in the administration building.

There, I sat down and tried to take a fresh look at the situation. I was in charge of Collegium security, and security for the Council, and to a degree not exactly defined anywhere, even for Solidar itself. In more than a few ways, I felt as though I were underwater, with no way to swim to the top. Or perhaps, it was more like always being late in discovering things. Just as I’d figured out why something had happened, something else happened.

I remembered Master Dichartyn telling me, years before, that the key to success lay in anticipation. “You have to know who your opponents are and understand what they want, why they want it, and how they are likely to try to obtain it, if possible, even before they do.”

I was certain that the Ferrans were behind all the major difficulties, but had I really considered what they wanted? My initial assumption had been that they had merely wanted to create so much disruption in Solidar that we would be hampered and unwilling or unable to support the Jariolans after Ferrum attacked. I’d also considered that they might be indirectly supporting various factors and their associations in their efforts to gain political supremacy over the High Holders on the Council. But chaos always leads to more chaos, and, as a result, all the problems Solidar and the Collegium faced wouldn’t be resolved even if the Ferrans had vanished from Terahnar. There was also a strong possibility that the Ferrans had decided to act against Jariola precisely because Solidar had so many obvious but unacknowledged problems. Logically, it made more sense to deal with the internal problems first, if only to strengthen Solidar and get them out of the way. I had the definite feeling that approach wouldn’t work. First, none of the factions in Solidar wanted to change, and they’d all protest that the time to change what had worked for generations wasn’t during a war. Second, with the deaths of Maitre Poincaryt and Maitre Dichartyn, and the incapacity of Councilor Suyrien, the Collegium didn’t have the established “presence” or the working relations to engineer political and economic changes. Third, even if we could get past the lack of political power, which was certainly possible, even if I had to resort to tactics I’d prefer not to use, there was still the much larger difficulty of getting such changes accepted, particularly by the factors and freeholders.

My thinking was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in.”

The door eased open, and Rholyn stepped inside, closing it behind him. “Rhenn…”

I was surprised at the hesitation in the salutation, but, given the situation, I realized the awkwardness of it all, even as I stood to greet him. Rholyn was a good twenty years older than I and had been a Maitre D’Structure longer than I’d been an imager. He didn’t want to acknowledge the change in relative rank, and yet he didn’t want to offend me, either.

“What is it? You look like the bearer of tidings of dubious cheer.”

In fact, he looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes, and his skin was blotchy. His right eye twitched.

“Maitre Dyana asked me to let you know that Councilor Suyrien died last night. The services will be on Jeudi at the Council Anomen. At the second glass of the afternoon.”