L. E.Modesitt - Imager’s Intrigue

At a quint past third glass, Rholyn knocked and stepped into my study. “You were looking for me?”

“As a matter of fact, I was. I was hoping you might be able to tell me why Haestyr requested your presence in Asseroiles in the middle of all the problems here at the Collegium.”

Rholyn settled into the chair across from me. “He wants to be Chief Councilor. He feels that Ramsael isn’t strong enough to maintain leadership. He’s also worried that you’re too young to have as much power and influence as you do.”

“I can’t imagine that he said that. Exactly how did he convey it?”

Rholyn chuckled. “He suggested that you had demonstrated remarkable acuity for a Maitre who combined such power and relative lack of experience in dealing with the complexities of politics in a land such as Solidar, and that he hoped you would come to realize that friendship with High Holders is based only on their belief that you will further their ends.”

“He’s certainly right about all of that, except perhaps the ‘remarkable acuity.’ That’s flattery to a purpose.” It also suggested that Haestyr was well aware of Seliora’s dislike of his son Alhyral, and that Haestyr simply wanted to keep me from being influenced by any High Holder, knowing that was probably the best he could do. “He must know that he’ll never be Chief Councilor, and that you know that as well. What did he really want?”

“He never says. He’s very indirect.”

I waited. I was getting very tired of waiting when people expected me to ask a question, but waiting was far better than asking the wrong question.

Finally, Rholyn smiled. “You and Maitre Poincaryt.”

I didn’t ask that question, either. I just returned the smile.

“Haestyr believes that the measures that Suyrien slipped into the low justice reforms need to be revisited, particularly the change from harvest valuation to year-end valuation.”

“That wasn’t too popular to begin with, I understand.”

“No…but some of the High Holders didn’t fully understand.”

“I don’t see why that makes any difference. All of them but Suyrien voted against the measure.” Actually, I did see the difference. They’d pressure the factor and artisan Councilors to change their votes, just the way that Haebyn had pressured Glendyl to cut off engines and supplies to Broussard.

Rholyn shrugged. “He feels strongly about it.”

“Did he say why? Or indicate otherwise?”

“He only said that it was a bad idea, badly executed. When I asked him why, he just said that he didn’t have to explain.”

I nodded, although I didn’t believe him. I had to wonder why Rholyn was still the Collegium Councilor. Surely, Maitre Poincaryt had seen through him. I managed not to show any reaction as I realized just why Rholyn was a Councilor…and even why I’d been asked to paint his portrait years before. “Did he ask for you to consider any other proposals?”

“No. He did say that he hoped the Council would finally understand the need for more modern warships, now that it was less likely that they would believe that Suyrien had pressed for them solely for his own benefit.”

“Did he mention Ruelyr?”

“I don’t believe that he did…”

We talked for a while longer, but I learned nothing more from Rholyn’s words, only what he had wanted me to, which was what I’d expected. Then he left, and I went back to reading the reports I hadn’t finished.

The snow was tapering off when I left my study and trudged back toward the house.

By midday on Vendrei, under a sunny sky, the walks and streets around Imagisle and L’Excelsis were clear enough that I could take a duty coach to Third District station. I did so, partly because I owed it to Alsoran to make an occasional appearance, and partly because I realized once again how isolated I could easily become at the Collegium. I also wanted to know what was filtering out of Patrol headquarters to the captains.

Huensyn had the duty desk when I walked into the station.

“Maitre Rhennthyl…you’re in luck, sir. The captain’s in his study.”

I stopped. “How are things going these days?”

“It’s Third District, sir. Not too much of the strong weed. No deaths this week, either. Been quiet the last week or so except for some smash-and-grabs up on the Avenue D’Artisans near the Plaza. Oh…and a brawl at Kornyn’s last Samedi.”

“No more explosions or hellhole drug dealers?”

“No, sir. Not a one.”

I gave Huensyn a smile and crossed the foyer to the captain’s study, where I stepped in and closed the study door before sitting down. Alsoran didn’t look as tired as he had the last time I’d been there, but there was a large stack of papers on his desk.

He shook his head, then grinned. “Hate all the reports the subcommander wants. Somehow, it’s different when you’re the one who has to fill them out.”

“Is he still asking for the counts on elveweed deaths?”

“Of course. We don’t have many-none this week-but when did anything ever get taken off a report? They just keep adding.”

“What has he added now?” I asked with a smile.

“Offenses by outlanders.”

I frowned. “Who’s an outlander? Someone who doesn’t speak Bovarian well? Someone with darker-shaded skin, or pale white skin?”

“All of those and anyone else who doesn’t fit.” Alsoran snorted. “I told the patrollers not to call anyone an outlander unless they can’t understand Bovarian. We’ve got folks whose grandparents came from Stakanar or Gyarl, and they’re as Solidaran as you and me.”

“Have you heard anything back?”

“I got a query two weeks ago. Cydarth suggested we weren’t recording all the outland offenders. I wrote back that we questioned every offender thoroughly, but we didn’t seem to have many outlanders.” Alsoran grinned sheepishly. “I also said that was probably because the previous captain had removed a large number of the criminal outlanders and no one had taken their place.”

I laughed. “Be careful. You’ll replace me as Cydarth’s least favorite captain.”

“Already have, sir.”

“Do you have a lieutenant yet?”

“No. I think they’re still trying to work out filling the captain’s slots in the other districts. So far, that hasn’t happened. No one’s told me anything.”

“You remember the elver girl who wasn’t, the pretty one?”

“Oh…the one you thought had been dumped in Third District? We never heard anything. I think you were right about her coming from somewhere else.”

“Have you had anything else like that?”

“No. I did have a brief talk with Horazt the other day. I told him you and I had talked. All he said was, ‘Good.’ I think he worries that, without your showing an interest, Jadhyl and Deyalt will take over his section of the taudis.”

“They won’t. Jadhyl’s too smart for that. He’s also patient.”

“Ah…what about the woodworks…?”

“And the paper mill? There’s no reason to change things. They bring in silvers. Seliora’s family doesn’t stop doing things that make coins.”

“That’s good.”

We talked for a while longer, mostly about patrollers and the Patrol, but I didn’t learn anything that might bear on the Ferrans or Artois or Cydarth, and I left after another half glass.

I got back to the Collegium at two quints past ninth glass, and checked with Kahlasa. We actually had all the evaluation forms from the Maitres at Imagisle. That meant that we could decide who might be the best for the mission. So she and I went into Schorzat’s study and told him.

“How do you want us to do this?” Schorzat asked.

“Each of us makes a list. Then we get together and talk over our choices and the reasons for them. After that, we work out a list we all agree on, and I give it to Maitre Dyana. She approves it or makes the last set of changes. Then we send the notices.”