L. E.Modesitt - Imager’s Intrigue

I listened carefully as Frydryk catalogued in more than moderate length all the ways in which his sire had been honorable and managed not to sigh in relief when he had finished. I was sure he believed all he had said, and I was equally sure that Suyrien had believed it and that he was more honorable than the vast majority of High Holders. Unhappily, given the way most of them construed “honor” and the fashion in which all too many of them ignored it in practice, Frydryk wasn’t saying as much as he thought he had said.

Once Frydryk rejoined his family, the chorister moved to the pulpit again. “At this time, we wear gray and green, gray for the uncertainties of life, and green for its triumph, manifested every year in the coming of spring. So is it that, like nature, we come from the grayness of winter and uncertainty into life which unfolds in uncertainty, alternating between gray and green, and in the end return to the life and glory of the Nameless. In that spirit, let us offer thanks for the spirit and the life of Suyrien D’Alte. Let us remember him as a child, a youth, a man, a husband, and a father, as not just a Councilor, but as a man devoted to Solidar and to the spirit of serving to the best of his considerable abilities, not merely a name, but as a living breathing person whose spirit touched many. Let us set aside the gloom of mourning, and from this day forth, recall the glory of Suyrien D’Alte’s life and the warmth and joy he has left with us…”

With those words, all the women let the mourning scarves slip from their hair.

Then came the traditional closing hymn-“For the Glory.”

“For the glory, for the life,

for the beauty and the strife,

for all that is and ever shall be,

all together, through forever,

in eternal Nameless glory…”

After a long and respectful silence, people began to slip away, particularly those at the back, who had doubtless signed the register already. More than fifty others remained, because many of them either wanted to offer condolences to Frydryk and Alynkya or Kandryl and Iryela or to Kandryl’s sister, whose name I didn’t even know.

I needed to speak to several of them, for differing reasons, but I waited for a couple I didn’t know to offer their words before approaching Iryela and Kandryl. Kandryl wasn’t quite red-eyed, and Iryela looked perfectly composed. I inclined my head to them. “I’m very sorry. While I didn’t know your father that well, he was always cheerful and good to me.”

“Thank you, Rhenn,” offered Kandryl.

Iryela nodded.

“I have sent inquiries, about Johanyr,” I added in a much lower voice to her, “but I have heard nothing yet.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Then I waited behind Councilor Alucion and his wife to speak to Frydryk.

When I stepped forward, Frydryk actually spoke first. “I thought you would be here, Rhenn.”

“I’m very sorry. He was a good and honorable man and Councilor.”

Frydryk studied my face. “You were attacked also, I heard. I can see bruises everywhere.”

“There are many more,” I replied wryly, “but one can heal from bruises.”

He nodded. “I appreciate your coming.”

“I don’t wish to intrude, but…might I call on you tomorrow?”

Frydryk frowned.

“I wish it were otherwise, but it may bear on your father’s death.”

“Half past ninth glass at the town estate,” he finally said.

“Thank you. If matters were not so urgent, I would not have pressed on you.”

Alynkya looked to me, then reached out, took Frydryk’s hand, leaned toward him, and murmured something.

Frydryk nodded, if almost imperceptibly. “I’m reminded that you have always been thoughtful in times like these, and for you to insist declares that urgency.” He offered a faint smile. “Tomorrow.”

I inclined my head in reply and stepped away to allow those behind me a chance to offer their condolences. Baratyn had slipped away, and I finally located the duty coach that had brought me amid the forty or so lined up around the anomen and along the Boulevard D’Council.

Ferlyn was in his study when I finally returned to the Collegium. Every digit of wall space in the tiny room was filled with bookcases, and every shelf was overflowing with either books or papers. There were even books stacked on the single windowsill.

“I heard you were looking for me, sir.”

“I was. I have a few questions where I thought the skill of a pattern-master might help.”

“I think we often raise more questions than resolve any.”

“That’s possible with anyone, but I’d still appreciate your thoughts.” I picked up the books piled on the single chair and stacked them on top of more books on the desk before sitting down. “You know the requirement for a High Holder to be the head of the Executive Council?”

“How could I not? I assume you’re asking how many High Holders already do not meet the requirements set forth in the Council compact.”

“Do you know?”

Ferlyn shook his head. “No one knows for certain, because there’s always been a discrepancy in valuations between those High Holders like Suyrien and Ryel, who have manufactories and industrial facilities, and those like Haestyr and Haebyn, whose wealth lies in land and forests and other agricultural assets. Haestyr has been pressing for a strict interpretation of the original language, in which craft-related assets were valued at half those of land-related assets.”

“Then, there’s something you should know.” I went on to explain about the change in valuations slipped through by Suyrien.

When I finished, for the first time since I’d taken Dichartyn’s position, Ferlyn looked truly surprised. After a silence, he said, “It’s not surprising that he was shot. It might be surprising that he wasn’t shot earlier.”

“Because the change in valuation will mean some High Holders won’t be able to retain their position and rights?”

“There might be as many as fifty, and Quaelyn has calculated that there are presently 1,034 High Holders. Master Poincaryt knew about those calculations, but whether he told Maitre Dyana or Maitre Dichartyn, I don’t know. We did not tell anyone else-except you, now.”

I had wondered about the issue of the number of High Holders for some time, but particularly after learning of Suyrien’s changes to the “reform” proposals. “Do you happen to know how many High Holders there were when the Council was formed?”

“No one knows for certain. They probably didn’t then, either. From the documents we’ve searched, it appears that there were close to two thousand.”

That explained, in some ways, why the High Holders had accepted the thousand holder threshold for the reduction of High Holder power. It had probably been a concession granted because none of them could have envisioned such a reduction in their numbers, even over the hundreds of years since then.

“Does our Naval Command reflect the patterns of the past, or has it changed more toward the Ferran set of patterns?”

Ferlyn blinked, obviously startled by the change in the subject matter of my questions.

I waited.

“We’ve talked in the past about the goals of warfare, and the patterns involved,” he began. “There are two key questions. The first is the overall mission of the Navy, and the second is what force and support structure will best accomplish that mission. Historically, the mission has been a dual one-to assure open and unrestricted trade, and to dominate the oceans in such a fashion that no other land can threaten our merchant and Naval vessels. The problem inherent in such a split mission is that it requires a larger navy than either part of that mission will alone…the Ferran mission is limited to restricting the influence and power of our fleets and ships. That means they attempt to develop vessels and weapons systems designed specifically for use against our warships, while we must also have capabilities they do not. For example, we have Naval marines for boarding, as well as high speed launches and gunboats…”