L. Modesitt - Imager's challenge

I did sleep on Vendrei night. The gray drizzle that greeted me when I woke on Samedi morning and looked out my window wasn’t cheering. On the other hand, when I stopped outside the dining hall and picked up the newsheets, I was gratified to see that while there were stories about the Temple explosion, the stories blamed the Tiempran priests and only noted that patrollers from the Third District had captured the priests and others involved in the explosion. That would change when I appeared at the hearing, as I suspected I would, but for now, few knew, and that was for the best.

Even more cheering was that no one was at the masters’ table at breakfast except Isola when I arrived. I sat down beside her gratefully.

“Thank you for your words last night.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled warmly, and genuinely, not that she wasn’t always genuine. “You were upset. I could tell.”

“I was.” I filled my mug with tea, then took a sip before saying more. “I knew that it would be wrong to attack the taudis-dwellers. I mean, that something terrible would happen, but I couldn’t persuade the colonel. Even Harraf could see I knew. That’s one of the few times he’s listened, but the colonel wouldn’t listen to either of us.”

“That’s one of the problems with being a military officer,” she replied. “In combat, you can’t hesitate. Many of them can’t break that habit when they’re not dealing with out-and-out warfare, not unless you can lay out absolute proof. Dealing with people, even mobs, takes a different set of skills.” She shook her head. “I don’t think anyone could have changed the colonel’s mind.”

“I can tell myself that, but . . . I still keep trying to come up with what I might have said.”

“That’s why there is a covert branch of the Collegium. That’s also why it must be small.”

I understood the first; I wasn’t sure I understood the second.

“There’s always the temptation to think we know better, that our way is better, that everyone else doesn’t see what is obvious to us. Our way usually is better, but that doesn’t matter if people fear and distrust us to the point where they would do anything to destroy us. With a small covert branch, things do happen, but they don’t happen to many people, and the people to whom they happen usually deserve them. Even when people aren’t sure about that, there’s enough distrust of those who are well off and powerful that people are likely to think there must have been a reason. That works only so long as people don’t think it could happen to them, and it can’t with a few handfuls of covert imagers.” She paused. “If they’re careful.”

That made sense.

“You pose another problem, though. Covert imagers have great individual powers. You have to have them to survive. We have to let you have them so that we can survive.”

“I feel like everyone wants me to resolve things, but they don’t like the way I do things, but can’t suggest a better way, at least not until after I’ve acted.”

“It’s always that way when people have great abilities. You’ll learn to live with that. You have a greater problem than that, Rhenn.” Her voice turned sad, yet sympathetic. “What happens when an imager’s powers are too great to conceal? Does he refuse to act, because it will make him and the Collegium a target? Does he limit his power, when that limit will assure that others die? Or does he act and endanger all that generations of imagers have striven to build?”

“You make it sound like I have that kind of power.”

“I think you do, but if you don’t, you will.”

I wanted to ask how she knew, but decided against it. Instead, I said, “Do you have any suggestions for how to deal with that?”

“No matter what you do, when great power is applied, people get hurt. Even when you’re right, people will get hurt. Sometimes, when you’re wrong, fewer get hurt in the short run, but more over time. But”-she drew out the word-“most of the time, failing to use power at all ends up hurting people worse. That’s something that some fail to understand. And that’s all I want to say about it.”

“Thank you, anyway.” I laughed softly. “How are the fried cakes?”

“Quite good. They’re not even soggy this morning.”

Later, as I left the dining hall, hurrying through the drizzle, I considered what Isola had said. I thought I’d already known it, but it helped to have someone else say it. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had known I knew, but had said what she had to help me sort things out. It was also clear that she did not see quite eye-to-eye on the issues of power with either Master Dichartyn or Maitre Poincaryt.

I reached the studio a good two quints before eighth glass and immediately set to work on those sections of Rholyn’s portrait that I could complete without him being present. He arrived promptly as the bells were chiming the glass.

“Good morning, Rhenn.”

“Good morning, sir.”

“How are you coming on the portrait?”

“I’ll try to finish what I need from you today. If you wouldn’t mind standing again?”

Master Rholyn put one foot on the crate and turned his head.

“A touch back to the left, if you would.”

“Like this?”

“Good. Thank you.”

I needed to sharpen his jawline, and his right ear, and that’s where I started. I didn’t say anything for a good quint, just painted.

“You can relax for a moment, sir.” I had to change the tint of the skin next to his eye, and I didn’t have the right umber.

Rholyn shook himself, loosening his shoulders. “I understand that the Temple explosion happened where you were patrolling.”

“Not exactly. It was near the round I was helping with.” I added a touch of umber to the palette.

“You know, Rhenn, too many strange things happen around you. That’s not good for the Collegium. The Collegium has survived by being unobtrusive, by not flaunting power or suggesting mystery.”

“I understand that, sir. What happened yesterday would have happened whether I had been there or not. Without my cautions, more would have died, and without my searching the taudis, no one would have any proof of what happened and how.”

“All that is true. Is it all for the good? Doubtless the hearing will reveal the Tiempran presence in the taudis. That will require that we exact some penance or cost from the Tiemprans. To do so will result in the Caenenans feeling vindicated, and that will create greater friction and conflict in Otelyrn.” He shrugged. “The Council may feel that matters would have been better had the Tiemprans not been implicated.”

“If they were not, sir, the marines would have attacked the taudis, and even more taudis-dwellers would have been killed and injured.”

“That is doubtless so. But how many more in Solidar will die because we must do something to demonstrate to the Tiemprans that they cannot foment disruption in L’Excelsis? And how many councilors will wish that you had not brought that aspect of matters to their attention? How will that affect the Collegium?”

All of what he said made sense, unhappily. It also suggested that there was no end to anything, because no matter what anyone did, someone somewhere would react adversely, leading to more violence and death somewhere else. “Less than positively, sir, I am certain. Yet I would have difficulty in not trying to protect those who would have been hurt or killed through no fault of their own, save that of being poor and with fewer abilities.”

“There are powerless innocents who always die. That is not the question.”

“What is, sir?”

“The real question is what is necessary to preserve the government that offers all citizens the greatest protections and opportunities. Unless one preserves the structure, all protections and opportunities will vanish, except for the powerful.”