L. E.Modesitt - Imager’s Intrigue

I stopped and waited.

The first guard swallowed. “Sir…if you wouldn’t mind coming with me? I’m certain Director Huesyt would want to show you what ever you need to see.”

“I’d be happy to see Director Huesyt.”

“This way, sir.”

Claudyn and I followed the guard through a narrow side gate. Then we walked across an open stone-paved space from which ran three paved roads, one straight ahead, and the other two paralleling the walls. On the far side of the plaza, if one could call it that, on the left, was a square gray stone building of one story, some fifteen yards on a side, with a single-door entry. The door was iron and squeaked as the guard opened it. The small foyer held two benches and a table, behind which sat a young man in a pale blue coverall.

“Fardyl…Maitre Rhennthyl’s here to see the director,” said the guard.

At that, Fardyl stood immediately, inclining his head to me. “I’ll tell him, sir.” He turned and headed down the narrow hallway, barely a yard and a half wide.

The works guard did not move, but stood directly in front of the outside door that he had just closed. As I waited, I took in the confined space, with its old but smooth-sanded and varnished oak floors, the oak shutters, the white plaster walls, devoid of any decorations or hangings, and the faint smell of strong oil soap.

In moments, Fardyl returned. “He’ll join you in the conference room, Maitre.”

“Thank you.”

Claudyn remained standing in the foyer as I followed the aide down the narrow hallway to the first door on the right. I entered, and he retreated, leaving the door open. The rectangular conference table was of ancient golden oak, clearly far older than I, and surrounded by twelve straight-backed, armless, and uncushioned oak chairs.

In moments, another figure stepped through the doorway. Huesyt was a narrow-faced grizzled fellow with a short gray and brown beard and a slight paunch, wearing a padded brown leather waistcoat over a pale blue shirt. His trousers were dark blue, or had been before they had faded slightly. He inquired brusquely, “What can I do for you, Master Imager?”

“I don’t know that you’d heard. Earlier this week, Councilor Glendyl was shot. He was seriously injured, but it is likely that he’ll recover with no lasting effect.”

“I hadn’t heard. What does that have to do with your being here?”

“Just about everything,” I replied. “I was taking a walk with the Councilor, and we had just started to talk about the new turbines and why the Council didn’t seem to want to pay for the ships that they’d propel.” I paused. “At that very moment, he got shot. Now, the Council and the Collegium tend to get concerned when the High Holder who builds most of Solidar’s warships gets assassinated, and then the factor who supplies the new engines nearly gets killed. Oh…did I mention that my predecessor was looking into such matters, and he had a building dropped on him? So…you can see why I might be here.”

Huesyt didn’t speak for several moments. Finally, he shook his head. “I can’t say as I understand any of it…what with all the troubles…”

“I understand things haven’t gone smoothly here, either…”

He snorted. “We’re doing all right on boilers and old-style engines for the merchanters…or we would be if we hadn’t lost so many workers. Must have had to hire almost a hundred over the past year. Doesn’t help that the stupid crafters on the Council-pardon me, sir, but not building better ships when your enemy is doing that is stupid. As I was saying, it doesn’t help that we’ve got the best turbines in the world and we got no ships to use ‘em.”

“Why have you had so much trouble with workers? I’ve heard that the manufactory here is modern and well-maintained, and I imagine that workers are paid well.”

“They’re well paid. That they are, but it’s been senseless stuff. You get four or five who tried that new elveweed and killed themselves. A handful more got killed or maimed in tavern brawls. Some just disappeared. Maybe family problems, but no one ever heard from them again. A few got careless on the job. No matter how you try to run safe shops, some get careless or don’t listen.”

I nodded, then asked, “It sounds like you lost a lot more men than in any year before.”

Huesyt nodded. “I’ve been here twenty years. Never seen anything like it. Not all bad, though. Some of the new men are good, better than those that we lost, but it still slows things down. Now…if the Council…” He shook his head. “Sometimes, I talk too much…What can I do for you and the Council?”

“A tour of the manufactory would be helpful, especially the boiler-making and turbine manufacturing. With the war going the way it is…things might be changing.”

“I can’t believe that there’s much for an imager to see, but I’d not be arguing with either imagers or Councilors. You mind if we begin right now? I have a meeting here in about two glasses, and even a quick tour will take time.”

“That would be good.”

Huesyt turned and strode out of the conference room. I didn’t rush after him, but I didn’t dawdle, either. When we came out of the small building that certainly exemplified Glendyl’s belief in limited administration and supervisors, Huesyt turned westward. Claudyn followed, a step or so behind us.

Despite the light and raw wind, the air held an acrid odor that suggested burning coal, hot oil, and molten metal, as well as other smells I couldn’t identify. I took several steps, then almost halted, because of what lay before me, on both sides of the wide street paved in gray stone. Manufactory building after building stretched away on both sides, with large cranes beyond several, a sight identical to the farsight image I’d seen weeks before. Perhaps it was identical…

“Master Rhennthyl?” Huesyt stopped and half-turned.

“There’s nothing like this anywhere else, is there?”

“Not a thing, sir. A real wonder it is, and it should be.” He pointed to his right, eastward. “The locomotive shops are over there. The foundry is the building with the wide stacks, and the plate mills are next to it…”

I listened, trying to hold the details in my mind.

“…the boiler manufactory is at the end on the left…beyond the turbine works but on the east side. It’s near a mille to the boiler yard beyond the manufactory.” He began to walk again.

I stepped up beside him, trying to take in everything, as well as attempting to figure out what I should be looking for-or avoiding-and wondering if I were on a fool’s errand.

Down the side lane to my left, two workers in pale blue coveralls pushed a waste cart toward a high-sided wagon. What ever the refuse already in the wagon might have been, it had to have been heavy, because four dray-horses were hitched to the big wagon. Beyond them, another worker in blue stepped out of a long building, glanced at us, then slipped back inside, hurriedly.

“Over there is where we drop forge all the smaller parts.” Heusyt gestured to the right.

I followed his gesture. Beyond what looked to be a loading yard was a windowless stone-walled structure, easily as tall as a four-story building. I thought I could feel the stone pavement vibrate beneath my feet, but suspected that was my imagination.

“We can forge and finish parts to a tolerance of better than a thousandth of a digit there…what you need for the speed of rotation of things like turbines, even with reducing vanes.”

I didn’t really understand what he meant, and I was still trying to take in the scope of the works, still wondering exactly what I was looking for-and what I could do if I found it.

“Now…up ahead, beyond the settling pond, that’s where the turbines are assembled and the one beyond is where each one is finished, tuned, and tested…”