L. E.Modesitt - Imager’s Intrigue

Then a single shot ran out, followed by several more, and I staggered back at the impact on my shields, even as I extended them to cover Huesyt and Claudyn.

Two men in the pale-blue coveralls of the works appeared from out of another building on the next side lane to the left. Each carried the wide-mouthed weapons that I’d seen once before.

I immediately imaged stones into their chests, but one managed to trigger his weapon. The impact and explosion threw the three of us backward, and turned a section of pavement at the edge of my shields into shattered rock and gravel.

A single sharp explosion echoed from the stone structure beyond the settling pond, the turbine assembly building that Huesyt had pointed out moments before, and I immediately strengthened my shields, trying to shape and angle them so that what ever came toward us was diverted around us, even as I tried to link the shields to the solid stone pavement blocks and keep them around the three of us.

A second explosion followed, one much larger, so that my teeth rattled, even behind my shields.

I glanced around. Gray clouds billowed from collapsing buildings. Flames spurted from building after building, and black oily smoke poured from at least one structure.

Huesyt stared at me. “It’s all your doing! What did you do?”

“They were firing at me, too,” I pointed out. “I did nothing. I came here because I was afraid something like this would happen. The problem is that I found out too late. Just why do you think you lost so many workers over the last year? That was so the Ferrans could replace them with their own people.”

“You did this!”

I projected absolute assurance-and anger-at him. “I did not. Now…go do what you can.” Be grateful I saved your ass so that you can do what ever is possible.

After a moment, he turned and began to run toward a building where the doors had opened and two fire wagons were being rolled out. One headed toward us.

I motioned Claudyn to the side of the road, stopping short of the sagging stone wall of a building whose function Huesyt had not explained.

“The turbine works!” Huesyt swung up onto the wagon beside the driver.

For a moment, I watched as the fire wagon dashed down the central road toward the farther turbine building, also beginning to show signs of flame and destruction.

The manufactory was far too large and the fires far too extensive for me to do anything. In one sense, I was certain, I’d done more than enough just by showing up. But…sooner or later, the saboteurs would have set off their demolition charges.

Amid the smoke, dust, and fire, Claudyn and I walked back toward the manufactory gates. The only thing more I could have done was exhaust myself, and that wouldn’t have changed a thing. I didn’t like that thought, but I couldn’t afford any futile gestures-not after not even fully recovering from the bombardment and after what I’d just witnessed.

Once we were away from the manufactory-and we had to walk nearly a mille to find a hack-I took it back to the ironway station where I wrote out two messages, one to Frydryk and one to Maitre Dyana. I summarized the sabotage for Frydryk and urged him to make certain that similar events did not befall his shipworks in Solis. The message to Maitre Dyana was an account of what had happened, nothing more. Then I dispatched them as urgent.

Once that was taken care of, I took the hack back to the manufactory where I waited in the administrative building for Huesyt to return. I did more than a little thinking while I waited.

It was close to three glasses later, when he trudged into the foyer. More oily smoke and grit followed him.

His mouth opened when he saw me. “You…you’re still here…after all this?”

I stood. “Where else would I be? There wasn’t anything I could do after all the explosions and fires.”

He looked at me again. “Why? Our own workers fired at us. One of the foremen saw them set the explosions. He couldn’t do anything because one of the first blasts broke his leg. Our own workers…why?”

“Because they weren’t your workers,” I said quietly. “They were Ferrans, sent here to destroy the turbine works and what ever else they could damage. When they saw me, they were afraid that I’d do something to stop them, and they immediately did what they could.”

“The locomotive works…they were mostly untouched.”

I just nodded. Whether that section of the works had been spared because they’d run out of explosives or because they’d run out of time, I had no idea. I doubted we’d ever know.

“Do you keep detailed records on your workers?” I asked.

“There’s maybe a page on each. Their name, address, their date of birth, their work area and skills, when they were hired, any commendations or warnings, and their pay rate. And their wife or next of kin. That’s about it. What else would we need?”

“Once you put the works back together you might check on those you hired in the last year. I’d wager that a number of them will be nowhere to be found.”

Huesyt looked at me. “Pardon my shortness, Maitre Rhennthyl. That isn’t much help now.”

“No, I imagine it’s not. I’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll need to report on what still works here, and how long you think might take to rebuild.”

He just looked at me. I looked back, and he eventually looked away.

Then we left.

Claudyn and I found an inn that was acceptable some two milles from the manufactory-and found that it even had an imagers’ chamber, for which I was thankful, because I wasn’t looking forward to another night of troubled sleep and headaches.

When we clambered out of the hack outside the stone walls of Glendyl’s manufactory on Samedi morning, a smoky haze blurred the outlines of more distant structures, and the acridity of the air was more than noticeable with each breath that I took. Claudyn and I walked toward the gates, now guarded by four men, but the guard in charge took one look at my imager cap and insignia and waved us through. From what I could see from the gate plaza inside the walls, the buildings that held the turbine assembly and testing were burned-out hulks, as were a number of others. The big drop forge structure seemed untouched, as did the locomotive works, but all of the other larger buildings seemed damaged, in some cases being little more than rubbled heaps of stone. What had doubtless saved some of the buildings was their stone construction and the fact that Glendyl had spaced them far enough apart that the fires hadn’t been able to spread easily from building to building.

Even so, given Glendyl’s precarious financial position, both the Councilor and Solidar faced close to insurmountable problems and certain and significant delays in building new warships…or any other kind of modern vessel.

When I walked into the administration building, Fardyl was again behind the table. He jumped to his feet. “The director was hoping to see you, Maitre. He and the subcommander are in the conference room.”

“Thank you.” I walked down the narrow hallway, opened the door, and stepped into the chamber.

The uniformed Civic Patrol officer stood easily, if slightly languidly, and, after a moment, so did Huesyt.

“Subcommander Steyfyl, Maitre.”

“Rhennthyl, Maitre D’Esprit, from the Collegium in L’Excelsis. I was sent to look into the possibility of problems with the works here. Apparently, we discovered that possibility a little too late.”

The subcommander looked to me. “Maitre Rhennthyl…you’re the imager who’s a District Patrol Captain in L’Excelsis, aren’t you?”

Huesyt glanced sharply in my direction.

“I was, until Maitre Dichartyn was killed when his house was bombarded. The Collegium recalled me to take over his duties. That was less than three weeks ago.”