L. E.Modesitt - Imager’s Intrigue

Meredi dawned gray and blustery, but it didn’t rain while I was trying to keep in shape with Clovyl’s exercises and four mille run, or even after I walked with Seliora and Diestrya to the duty carriage. Diestyra walked most of the way.

As on this morning, there were times when I couldn’t escort them all the way to NordEste Design, but I tried to keep those to a minimum, and the only time they’d really be exposed was the short walk from the duty coach to the door. I hoped that an imager-obdurate driver was watching, and that it would be enough that my past actions suggested extremely high costs for anyone attacking my family. Also, there were few times when I didn’t accompany them, which added an element of unpredictability.

Once I saw them off, I headed to the armory building, where I eventually found Shannyr in a small room filled with kegs and small square boxes. He was sitting at a work table with circular thin bronze disks on one side. On the other side were thicker bronze disks, each looking like a slice from a bronze cylinder.

“Master Rhennthyl.” The imager second stood quickly, a worried expression on his face.

“Don’t look so concerned,” I said with a laugh. “I need your help.”

“Mine?”

I explained about the bomb and showed him the diagram.

“Sir, I’m not an ordnance designer.”

“I know that. I also know you’re very observant, and that you probably understand a lot more than many imagers would guess that you know.”

“Menyard is really the one who’d know, sir. He’s the top ordnance designer.”

“I’ll talk to him next…but what do you think?”

“The pattern is V-shaped, and that means the blast was directed, but it really wasn’t a shaped charge. I’d guess it was an ordnance-type powder because no one mentions a lot of smoke, and you’d have that with black powder.”

“Thank you. Where would I find Menyard?”

“In the engineering studies on the second level on the south side. I think his is the one closest to the quadrangle.”

“How is Ciermya? And the twins?”

“They’re all fine, except both the twins are getting over the childpox, and she’s had to stay home from work.” He laughed. “She’s ready for them to get well.”

“I can imagine. I hope Diestrya doesn’t get it…but with children, you can’t ever tell.”

“No, sir.”

With a smile, I left. Shannyr had been a friend to me when I’d first come to the Collegium, and I hadn’t forgotten that, although matters between our families were a bit awkward because Ciermya was scared to death of both Seliora and me.

I made my way to the staircase on the end of the building and climbed up. Although Menyard’s door was ajar, I knocked.

“Come on in.”

I did, and he hurried to his feet.

“Rhenn…or should I say Master Captain Rhennthyl? We don’t see you very often any more. Kahlasa and I were actually talking about you this morning. She just left.”

“Oh…I’m sorry I missed her. And…Rhenn is fine. I need your help.” I handed him the diagram and the report. “Anything you can tell me will help.”

As he took the papers, Menyard’s only comment was “Hmmmm. Interesting.” He sat back down at the broad table that served both as both desk and drafting board and began to study the report.

I didn’t say a word, just seated myself in the straight-backed chair set at an angle to the broad desk set before a window looking toward the north end of the Collegium quadrangle.

After a time, he looked up. “I’d say that someone took a four-digit brass shell casing, shortened it, perhaps by half, and then flared it, packed the explosives inside, covered the explosives with metal filings or thin strips, and capped it with a lead cover, probably designed to break into segments. Most likely, the strips came from the part of the casing they cut down…”

“The explosive?”

“Some form of guncotton, Poudre B, I’d guess. The device was attached to the rear axle at an angle. They crimped the bracket holding the device in place. They planned for it to detonate fairly soon after they placed it. If they primed it with totally dry guncotton and an inertial friction spring, any jolt or sudden movement of the axle would trigger the primer.”

That meant that the device was fixed to the carriage axle while the coachman was waiting to pick up Factor Broussard and his family. Since the coachman had been one of those killed, it was unlikely that he’d been part of the plan. Likewise, Broussard’s cousin certainly wouldn’t have wanted to lose both his coach, his coachman, and his team. “They must have scouted Lyrique and known where the pavement was rough.”

“Seems right. If they used dry guncotton as a primer, they were also experts.”

“We don’t use it, do we?”

Menyard shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. Even imaging it into place could cause an explosion. But guncotton is relatively easy to make, and there’s enough Poudre B in the world that the powder wouldn’t be that hard to get.” He frowned. “The segmenting could have been done in a soft lead cover with the equivalent of a sharp knife.”

What Menyard’s analysis suggested was foreign assassins or covert agents. But why would they target a mere agricultural factor, albeit a wealthy one? “Is there anything else?”

Menyard shook his head and handed the report back. “Not from this.” He paused, then added, “Anyone who could do this, Rhenn, could build a similar device that would shred even your shields.”

“I got that feeling,” I said dryly. “It’s not a pleasant thought.”

“Be careful. We’ve lost too many imagers over the past few years.”

“I will.”

Just as I left the armory, a young prime whom I didn’t know hurried up to me.

“Master Rhennthyl, sir. Master Jhulian wanted to know if you could spare a moment for him.”

“I’d be happy to. I’ll be right there.”

Jhulian was the justice for the Collegium and the maitre who’d pounded Solidaran law into my skull years earlier. What did he want? Sometimes, he also sat as a member of the Solidaran High Justiciary when it reviewed lower justicing procedures. Was there something he wanted to know about the Civic Patrol? What ever it was, as I walked across the quadrangle, I hoped that it wouldn’t take too long. He had a study just down the hallway from Maitre Dichartyn in the administration and receiving building, and his door was open.

“Do come in, Rhenn.”

I closed the door behind me and slipped into one of the chairs across the desk from him. “What can I do for you?”

“Let’s start with young Shault first, Rhenn. He isn’t exactly excelling in willingness to understand the role of law and how it applies to the Collegium.”

“You’d like me to talk to him.”

“It couldn’t hurt. At times, he won’t really listen to either me or Dichartyn. You’re the only one he’ll really listen to, polite as he is.”

That had been a problem from the first, and after Shault had made secondus, Maitre Dichartyn had become his preceptor instead of Master Ghaend. That had helped a great deal, but not totally. “That’s a combination of the Collegium and the taudis.”

“Combination or not, he’ll end up like Floryn, or in a dead-end armory position.”

I still remembered Floryn. He’d been executed by Master Jhulian just weeks after I’d come to Imagisle. “I’ll talk to him tonight.”

“Good.” He paused, then brushed back a lock of his white-and-blond hair, before saying, “I was talking to Rholyn the other day, and he mentioned that, by the end of the year, the Council will have to decide on whether to reappoint Commander Artois. What has been your experience with the Commander?”