L. E.Modesitt - Imager’s Intrigue

“Or that the Council needs to reflect that change?”

“It’d be best if the Council led that change. It won’t. We’ll be fortunate if the Council even reflects that change in a generation. By then it may be too late. We’ll be buying goods from Ferrum, getting poorer by the year and wondering what happened.” He snorted as he walked through the central archway and toward the stone steps, angling his path toward the east gardens.

“The idea of change doesn’t come easily,” I pointed out. “The thought of women on the Council upsets more than a few.”

“That’s because they think of women like Madame D’Shendael, who is charming and writes and speaks well and never met a payroll or a production or delivery deadline. Give me a woman like your sister-”

At that moment, as we were halfway down the main south steps, I heard the faintest crack . Beside me, Glendyl began to crumple, redness spreading across his chest.

Instinctively, I imaged caustic back along the path the bullet had taken, even as I grabbed Glendyl. I didn’t want any more shots coming our way. Then after easing the Councilor onto a wide stone step and quickly studying the position of his wound, I imaged what I hoped was a block around the return vein to the heart.

Nearly instantly, the spread of blood stopped…mostly. For a moment, I wondered if that was because I’d killed Glendyl. But he was still breathing, and I could feel a pulse.

“Not supposed to happen,” mumbled the Councilor. “…Not that way.” His eyes fluttered and closed. He was still breathing.

What wasn’t supposed to happen that way? Had Glendyl taken me for a walk to get me shot? He should have known better than that, and, besides, I hadn’t felt a thing. If a bullet had been aimed at me and had struck my shields, I certainly would have felt it.

I heard boots on stone and glanced up.

Dartazn sprinted down the side steps. “Rhenn! What happened?”

“Someone shot the Councilor. I think I’ve stopped the worst of the bleeding, and I’ve got shields around us both. But we’ll need Maitre Draffyd as soon as possible. Use my duty coach! It’s by the security gate. If you can, tell Baratyn to get someone to look across the square, in the garden in front and to the side of the Hall of Justice.”

“Yes, sir!” He was off, and for once I was very glad of those long legs.

Glendyl’s eyes fluttered, then closed again, but he was still breathing, and only a little blood was seeping from the wound. I could only hope I’d done the chest imaging right. It seemed like the oozing blood was from the muscles in his chest.

Before long, two obdurate guards in their dark uniforms appeared, and stationed themselves on each side of us.

Even so, it was half a glass before Draffyd appeared, slipped in beside me.

“What did you do?”

“I put a block around the return vein. That’s all. I was afraid more would strain his heart.”

“Good. You did just enough.” Draffyd knelt beside the fallen Councilor. “His pulse is still all right. It’s not as good as I’d like, but there’s not that much blood. With some luck, we’ll pull him through.”

“Can I do anything else?”

“No.”

The curtness of his reply was a clear indication enough that I was superfluous now. I moved back. As I stood, I saw Baratyn standing a few yards away and walked toward him.

“Will he make it?”

“I don’t know, but Draffyd’s hopeful.”

“I thought Draffyd was the only medical imager.”

“He is, but I can do some things. Draffyd gave me some training.”

“For that, Glendyl ought to be grateful.” Baratyn shook his head. “He won’t be.”

I didn’t dispute that, but before I could have said more, a messenger hurried up.

“Maitres! Martyl’s found the shooter. He’s over there.” The messenger pointed southward to where Martyl stood, waving, by the wall in front of the low garden to the east of the promenade leading to the Hall of Justice.

“I need to look into that,” I told Baratyn, nodding before hurrying down the remaining steps and across the ring road to the front of the Justice gardens where Martyl stood waiting.

“He didn’t get very far, sir,” Martyl said. “What did you do?”

“Imaged caustic back along the track of the bullet.”

The security imager tilted his head, quizzically, then pointed. “He’s just behind the wall. He was alone. There’s only one set of boot-prints.”

The body was that of a muscular but slender man dressed in black garments under a tattered light brown cloak. His face, the part that wasn’t burned by the caustic, was contorted in agony. A long sniper’s rifle lay less than a yard away.

The only items in his wallet were coins, some eight golds, four silvers, and three coppers.

When we finished searching him, I straightened and looked at Martyl. “If you’d take care of the body.”

“Yes, sir.” He paused. “Do you think he’s another Ferran agent?”

“Most likely, but proving it might be difficult.” Since he was dead, we didn’t have to, and I took my leave of Martyl. I did have to take a hack, since Draffyd had doubtless used the duty coach to convey Glendyl to the infirmary.

When I returned to the Collegium, I gave Schorzat and Kahlasa a quick summary of what had happened and then went upstairs, glad that Maitre Dyana was in her study.

She motioned for me to close the door, not that she needed to, since I was already doing just that. I took the chair on the end, the one closest to her and the one not in the sunlight.

“I hear that someone shot Glendyl. How did that come about, and what, exactly, were you doing at the Council Chateau?”

“It came about because everything that I’ve discovered doesn’t make much sense, and I wanted to see Glendyl’s reaction. I also wanted him to see me. First, I asked him about his concerns about the Naval Command’s efficiency…” I went on to tell her exactly what had happened.

When I finished, she nodded slowly. “Glendyl thought you’d be the target, and he’d been assured that what ever weapon was used would penetrate your shields. But that was never their intention. What haven’t you told me about the shooter?”

“Under a tattered brown cloak, he was wearing the same black, light-absorbing clothes that the agents killed in Third District wore. Most likely all were Ferrans, and Glendyl had to have known something.”

“Even if that’s true, we can’t make a charge like that without proof.”

“I’m not charging anyone,” I pointed out. “I’m merely observing.”

“You can’t say a word about the implications involved there, not without actual proof.”

“I know.” I smiled. “But if Glendyl gets better, he won’t be able to avoid my questions, not since he’s in our infirmary. He should stay there until he’s better, don’t you think?”

“I would agree to that, but you can’t question him until Maitre Draffyd says he’s up to it.”

“Does this make Caartyl acting head of the Executive Council?”

“In theory. After what’s happened to Suyrien and Glendyl, he may not be so anxious.”

“If he is, that might say something.”

“He’s too politically astute to show enthusiasm,” Dyana replied.

“But it’s a month before the Council is scheduled to convene.”

“I’ve asked Maitre Rholyn to have Caartyl issue a call for a special meeting of the Council a week from today. Caartyl declined, unless the meeting could be two weeks from now.”

“The thirtieth?”

“I would have liked it to be earlier, but he felt that they couldn’t get a quorum with a week’s notice. The call should be on its way tonight.” Her eyes hardened. “None of this explains who was behind the bombardment of the Collegium. What else have you found out about that?”