L. E.Modesitt - Imager’s Intrigue

“More likely? Perhaps. They will listen to me because none of them will wish to deal with you any sooner than they have to.”

I didn’t argue. I was afraid matters would get to that point far sooner than I would have liked.

The building holding the Naval Command was a two-story, yellow-brick structure with gray granite cornerstones and window casements. It looked even higher than two levels. The covered coach portico was also of brick and granite. The two sailors in dress blues who stood guard did not blink an eye when we left the Maitre’s coach and went through the heavily varnished golden oak doors whose brasswork was polished so brightly that it outshone gold.

The senior ranker seated behind the desk at the main foyer to the Naval Command building glanced from Maitre Dyana to me and then back to me.

“This is Maitre Dyana. She’s the Maitre of the Collegium Imago. I’m Maitre Rhennthyl. I’m certain that Sea-Marshal Valeun will wish to see us.” I projected a sense that his life wouldn’t be worth much if he didn’t convey our presence to Sea-Marshal Valeun.

“Yes, sirs. I’ll have to let Commander Daecyn know, sirs.” He tugged on something, most likely a bell-pull.

We only waited a few moments before a Commander strode across the foyer. He was slight of build, ramrod straight, and bore an indifferent expression-until he was close enough to recognize the imager grays. Then, he assumed an solicitous expression.

“This is rather unexpected…”

“This is Maitre Dyana, the head of the Collegium. We have urgent news for the Sea-Marshal,” I said politely.

“I could convey that…” His words died away as he took in the expression on Maitre Dyana’s face.

I didn’t even have to project anything.

“I’ll need to escort you to his study. If you would accompany me…”

“Of course,” said Dyana.

We followed the Commander through the archway at the rear of the foyer, then up a set of marble steps almost as wide as those in the Council Chateau, and then to the double doors at the rear of the building, doors flanked by the Solidaran flag on the right and the Naval ensign on the left. He opened the doors, holding them for us.

The senior ranker at the desk stood immediately. “Sir, Maitres.”

“I’d like to tell the Marshal that the Maitres are here,” offered the Commander.

“Yes, sir.”

The Commander eased through the single oak door, closing it behind him. He reappeared shortly, looking slightly relieved, and held the door open. “Maitre Dyana…Maitre Rhennthyl.”

“Thank you,” Dyana said as she passed.

I also thanked him, and the door closed behind us.

The study of Sea-Marshal Valeun was a good ten yards by six, dominated by an enormous desk, with five chairs facing it. The wall to the right was essentially a small cartographic library, with a center rack on which was displayed a large map of Ferrum. The left wall consisted of bookcases, in the middle of which was a door that doubtless led to an adjoining conference room.

Valeun stood behind the desk, a man of middling height in dark dress blues, with the silver braid and insignia of a very senior Marshal. His blond-and-silver hair was cut short, and he was clean-shaven. He made no effort to step forward. “Maitre Dyana, Maitre Rhennthyl…I understand you are insistent on seeing me.”

“It is rather necessary,” said Dyana.

“Since you are accompanied by Maitre Rhennthyl, I would like to wait until I can summon Marshal Geuffryt,” Valeun said pleasantly.

“No…you really don’t,” I said, projecting absolute authority and power. “Not if you wish matters to go in your best interests. If you really wish to include him, it might be far better to hear what we have to say…first.”

Valeun glanced to Maitre Dyana. Her smile was pleasant, but her eyes were as hard and as cold as frozen granite. The Sea-Marshal smiled politely, but hardly warmly. “Then perhaps we should be seated, and you can convey what you have in mind.” He followed his own advice and seated himself in the large leather chair behind the desk.

“We thought we should be the ones to inform you of several matters.” After seating herself, Dyana nodded to me.

“First,” I began, “it appears likely that any swift action on the part of the Council in dealing with fleet modernization and the building of faster and more capable warships has been dealt a severe setback.”

“How so? I was not aware that any action was even being considered, given the current mood of the Council.” Valeun’s tone was close to smug.

I smiled. I shouldn’t have enjoyed what was coming, but I’d never cared for the politely superior attitude of those in positions of power and command. “Ferran saboteurs destroyed a good portion of Councilor Glendyl’s engine works this past weekend. The turbine facilities were totally annihilated.”

“You did nothing, Maitre Rhennthyl?”

“Oh…when it became apparent that such an attack was likely, I attempted to bring the matter up with the Councilor. That did not work out well, because he was shot just as we began to talk…as you may recall. So I traveled to Ferravyl myself, and as soon as I appeared, the saboteurs set off the charges they had already placed. They had not completed their work, and the locomotive works escaped major damage, as did a few other structures. The remaining structures did have partial explosives in place.” I paused. “That brings up several rather pointed questions. First, exactly how did all these saboteurs happen to reach Solidar? Second, why was the Naval Command unaware of just how many there were? Third, how did they manage to come up with Naval Command explosives? Did I mention that the undetonated explosives bore Navy markings?”

At my last words, Valeun stiffened. “That’s preposterous.”

“Is it? I had a meeting with one of your more junior subordinates several weeks ago, and he confirmed that several tonnes of Poudre B could not be accounted for. But that also brings up yet another matter.”

“Which is?” This time Valeun’s voice held a certain wariness.

“The matter of the bombardment of Imagisle-”

“What does that have to do-”

“Oh…but it does,” I cut him off. “To begin with, the barges and the tug that were employed were leased under a Naval Command contract, by a Navy subcommander, who employed a former pilot known to be a Navy-approved pilot by the lessor. The funds to pay the lease were disbursed by one of two banques known to pay for such contracts. The subcommander knew all of the personnel who had conducted previous leases. Then there is the small matter of the accuracy of the bombards. The very first shell fired struck Maitre Dichartyn’s dwelling. Of the eight shells fired, every single one hit a target. Considering that the shells were fired from the River Aluse, in the dark, after midnight, it’s more than fair to conclude that the men who aimed and fired those bombards were professionals and that they knew the guns and had exact measurements for the distances from their mooring and firing point to every target. That degree of accuracy requires experienced Naval gunners.”

“You’re inventing this.”

“I didn’t invent the damage to Imagisle, or the stolen barges and tugs.” I smiled. “I did think you might find this difficult to believe.” I opened the folder I carried and took out several documents, then stood and laid them on the desk in front of Valeun, ready to image a shield over them if he were to be so foolish as to try to tamper with them.

He did not. He read through them, then straightened. “They have to be forgeries.”

“They may well be,” I said, reclaiming the documents. “But that raises another set of questions. All the authorization codes and numbers are correct. All the procedures were followed to the letter. The forms are standard, down to the ink. That means that, either someone high in the Naval Command was involved, or that your procedures are incredibly flawed.” I sat down and waited.