L. E.Modesitt - Imager’s Intrigue

On Meredi, after a normal early morning, with somewhat more exercise and greater participation in getting Diestrya ready to leave with her mother, as soon as I got to my study, I met with Eamyn, only for about half a glass, just so that I could go over where he was in his studies. Then I read the latest reports from Patrol Commanders and from the various imager regionals. One thing stood out. There hadn’t been any attacks or explosions in any large manufactories or shipworks. At least, none of the reports mentioned any attacks on such facilities. That gave me yet another reason to visit Commander Artois.

I took a duty coach to Civic Patrol headquarters, not that I was looking forward to meeting with Artois. I’d already decided that I wasn’t about to discuss anything with Cydarth until after I’d spoken with the Commander. I did have the coach wait for me outside headquarters.

I stepped into anteroom outside Artois’s private study just after ninth glass. The older patroller who sat at the left-hand desk of the two small writing desks in the anteroom looked up.

“Captain…Maitre Rhennthyl…”

“I’m here to see the Commander.”

“Yes, sir. Let me tell him.” The patroller stood, opened the door to the study, and quickly closed it behind him.

In moments, the door reopened, and the patroller stepped out and to the side.

Artois stood behind him, just inside the study. “Maitre Rhennthyl, do come in. I was hoping to see you before too long.”

I stepped into the study and closed the door behind me. An ancient walnut desk was set at the end of the study closest to the river. On the innermost wall to the right was a line of wooden cases. On the wall opposite the desk was a tall and narrow bookcase, filled with volumes. Facing the desk were four straight-backed chairs. The two windows, frosted around the edges, were centered on the outer wall and offered a view of the various buildings on the north side of Fedre and some beyond, but not so far as the Boulevard D’Imagers. As had always been the case, there were no pictures or personal items on the desk, in the bookcases, or on the walls.

“You look a bit battered and bruised,” offered Artois, moving toward his desk. Somehow, he looked even thinner and shorter than I recalled, although he was probably only four digits shorter than I was.

“It does happen when someone fires bombards at you and stones crash down around you and your family.” I settled into one of the chairs in front of the desk, waiting for Artois to sit down.

He did, smiling genially, although his brown eyes remained flat and expressionless. “You may recall I once said that you could be a very powerful imager. Apparently, I was correct.”

“Ability does help some in survival.” I smiled politely, waiting to see what he might say.

“I understand that you may have other duties now.” Absently, one hand brushed back short gray hair that held but a few remaining strands of brown.

“Maitre Dyana is now the Maitre of the Collegium, and she has changed some duties. I will be taking over those handled by Maitre Dichartyn. In that regard, I would greatly appreciate it if I might receive any listing the Civic Patrol has of the structures damaged by explosions.”

“We’re still compiling that, but I will be happy to send that listing once it is complete.”

“Are you aware of any attacks on large manufactories or the barge piers or the ironway stations or freight terminals?”

“I haven’t seen any reports on those.” He frowned.

“Thank you.” I wasn’t about to explain. Not at the moment. “It appears that you face some of the same difficulties here, given the injuries to so many Civic Patrol captains.”

He nodded slowly. “We have lost some good captains.”

“You have some good lieutenants, some of whom would make solid captains.”

“You know, Maitre Rhennthyl, I have often asked myself what makes a good Civic Patrol officer. Is it ability? Intelligence? Or dedication? Motivation? Ambition? Ideals?” He paused and looked at me. “You have been a captain for five years. What do you think?”

I offered a smile. “If it were only the case of a single quality. Dedication is important, but it depends on what the captain is dedicated to. Ability is certainly necessary, but it’s not enough. Ideals are vital, but which ideals? Intelligence, but only if it is coupled with practicality.”

“You accomplished much in Third District, but you did so with abilities and contacts that no other officer possesses, and that leaves a certain problem.”

“That is true, and it would be true if you choose to promote another officer to captain over Lieutenant Alsoran.”

“Why do you think that?”

I shrugged. “It’s known that I favor Alsoran. It’s also known that Alsoran believes in patrolling the Third District in the same fashion as I did. Regardless of what my future duties to the Collegium may entail, I still retain certain ties to Third District. Lieutenant Alsoran, were he to become captain, could call on me upon occasion. Because he is a loyal and dedicated officer, he could not and would not do so if he remained as lieutenant under a new captain. If he were to be transferred to another district, the knowledge he has of Third District would be lost. You, of course, are the Commander and will make what ever choice you think is best.”

Artois shook his head. “You sound more like your predecessor than the captain of Third District.”

“It is your choice, Commander,” I pointed out.

He reached into the top drawer of his desk and withdrew a sealed envelope, then extended it to me. “That is his promotion to captain. While I could I do nothing else, I did wish to discuss the matter with you. I assume you would like to present it personally.”

“You mean that you wanted some commitment that I would retain an interest in Third District.” I took the envelope and slipped it into the inside pocket of my waistcoat.

“Of course.” He smiled.

“And in the Civic Patrol,” I added. “What is the worst probable fate for the Patrol?”

His smile vanished. “I would have thought-”

“What I think is what I think. You have been Commander for ten years. I would like your views. You have had mine on Third District.”

He frowned.

I waited.

“The worst fate?” He paused. “The worst fate for the Patrol would be to accept injustices as a necessary part of life in L’Excelsis. Injustices are often not preventable, but they should never be regarded as necessary for some good.”

“You have certainly made that clear. How might the Patrol come to accept injustices as necessary?”

“There are likely many ways. The Council could reduce our funding. That would result in accepting more injustices. Patrollers could become less honest and accept favors and worse. Patrol officers could become beholden to those with golds. All those have happened in the past, and the outcomes were never good for the Patrol or for L’Excelsis.” Artois shrugged.

“Or officers could just become more accepting of injustices among those without guild connections or golds?” I suggested.

“That is also possible, and perhaps the most likely if care is not taken.”

“It’s been suggested that justice in the cities has not always been to the benefit of the High Holders.” So far as I knew, I was the only one who had even voiced that, but I wanted a reaction from Artois.

Again, for a moment, he did not speak. “I had not thought of it in that way, but it is likely so. When there is more equal justice in the cities, those on the great estates may well have greater incentive to depart.” He paused. “Justice does not lie merely in the law, but in all aspects of life. A patrol officer cannot change what is beyond the law, and he cannot interpret the law differently because of what he cannot change. You understand that. That does not preclude legal action to improve matters. Your actions have shown that. Others have been critical of such actions, you realize?”