L. Modesitt - Imager's challenge

“I can see that, sir.” I could also see that we did not agree totally on what constituted that structure, because, limited as they were, the taudis-dwellers were still part of L’Excelsis and Solidar, but I pushed away those thoughts for the moment and concentrated on the portrait. “If you wouldn’t mind resuming that position . . .”

Rholyn did so silently.

I actually worked until a quint past ninth glass before I finally looked up. “Thank you.”

“Is it finished?”

“It’s not quite finished, but I won’t need you to sit anymore. I would like you to come by next Samedi and see it before it’s framed.”

“Might I look?” For the first time, he sounded deferential.

“Of course.” I stepped away from the easel.

Rholyn walked around and stood about two yards back from the canvas. He didn’t say anything for a time, then turned. “It’s accurate, if not so flattering as it might be, but far less severe than it could have been.” He nodded. “I thank you.”

Once Master Rholyn left, I went back to work on his waistcoat, touching up some details that had bothered me, and then on his trousers. All in all, it was less than a quint before noon when I finished cleaning up. I never liked to mix the pigments for one portrait for those used for another. It was too easy to slip into similar colorations.

Then I hurried to the dining hall, where I ate alone at the masters’ table. I could see Shault, sitting with Lieryns and some other primes, and he didn’t seem withdrawn. For that, I was grateful.

After eating, since the drizzle had stopped even if the clouds remained, I wandered toward the Bridge of Hopes, where I needed to meet Seliora, but I reached there well before first glass. I almost took a seat on one of the stone benches before realizing that it was so wet that my trousers would have been soaked through.

I couldn’t help but think about what Master Rholyn had said. He and Master Dichartyn were saying the same thing, if in different ways. Master Dichartyn was basically saying that anything I did had to be invisible because visibility would hurt the Collegium. Master Rholyn was saying that innocents should be sacrificed for the good of Solidar. In both arguments, the implication was the same-the individual mattered far less than either Solidar or the Collegium. While that was certainly true, the corollary was that the individual mattered not at all, except in service to the larger group . . . and that I could not accept.

Just before first glass, a hack pulled up on the east side of the river, and three figures emerged-Seliora, Odelia, and Kolasyn. I stood and walked to the west end of the bridge.

After seeing me, Seliora hurried across the Bridge of Hopes, even though the drizzle had died away. Just before she reached me, she turned and waved to Odelia and Kolasyn. They reentered the coach, and the driver flicked the reins. She did not step toward me.

I moved to her and hugged her, but her response was almost perfunctory.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“Is it your family? Or me?”

“How can I say? I feel . . .” She shook her head again.

“Do you know what’s happened this week?” I asked.

“With you, Rhenn . . .”

“How would you know? Is that it?” I wanted to laugh, and not happily, either.

She looked intently at me. “Will you tell me?”

“I will. I said I would.”

“Do we have to do the portrait today?”

“No. I wouldn’t want you to sit for it when you don’t feel right about it.” And it was clear she did not feel like sitting.

“Would you come home with me? This very moment?”

“Of course.” I took her arm.

“What about the paints?”

“I didn’t leave anything out that will harden or spoil. I can clean up the rest tomorrow morning.”

“You’re certain?”

I could sense the relief in her voice. “Very certain. Do you want to talk now?”

“No. At home.”

Whatever it was, it had to be serious if the independent Seliora didn’t wish to say anything except within the walls of NordEste Design. I wanted to ask what I’d done, but decided against that. Had she decided that I was not for her? Was it because she’d learned how I’d handled Alynat? Or the fact that I’d struck at Alynat first?

We walked back across the bridge. A long silent quint passed before we could get a hack, and the two quints before we reached Hagahl Lane were even quieter. Seliora refused to look at me. No one greeted us at the door, and Seliora unlocked it with a heavy brass key. After we stepped inside, she relocked it, then started up the steps to the second level. I had to hurry to catch up to her.

Betara met us at the top of the steps, and Seliora slipped away from me and stood beside her mother.

“We’re glad to see you’re all right,” Betara said. Her voice was even, neither pleasant nor unpleasant. “The newsheets said that only one patroller was killed when the Tiempran Temple exploded.”

“That . . . it was fortunate.”

“Was it mere fortune?” asked Betara, her voice still even.

“Not totally,” I admitted. “I had another farsight flash on Solayi night. I couldn’t tell when it would happen, only that it was in daylight. I let it be known the priests might have explosives. The captain wasn’t certain, but he kept the patrollers away. We tried to dissuade the naval marines, but they wouldn’t listen. The captain insisted that he and I observe. I had to use my shields to protect us.” My laugh was rueful. “I didn’t even want to save him.”

Betara nodded. “That might frighten him more than anything.” Her face turned somber. “You might like to know that so far there have been three people who our friends have had to vanish around your parents’ home.” Betara raised her eyebrows. “How did you know that they would attempt to attack your family? Was that farsight?”

I couldn’t not explain, not when Betara was using her contacts to protect my family. “No. Alynat-that’s Ryel’s nephew-died on Meredi when the wheel bearings froze on his racing trap. After I’d done that, I had the feeling that something might happen to my sister. There weren’t any flashes. I’m not in a position to protect her. I don’t know if Seliora told you why I can’t stay there at night . . .”

Betara nodded, reserving judgment.

I gave a ragged smile. “I’ve always wanted to ask for Seliora’s hand. But I couldn’t risk letting anyone know until I finish dealing with Ryel. For that to work out right, I had to start with Alynat, not Ryel or Dulyk.” I knew Betara and Seliora would understand that, given the chain of inheritance for High Holders. “But I’m not done. I can’t be.”

I could see consternation and relief mixing in Seliora’s eyes.

Betara smiled, warmly, actually. Then she nodded. “I thought that might be what you had in mind.” She glanced to her daughter, then laughed softly. “He’s Pharsi inside and out. By finding someone who didn’t seem to have the blood, dear, you found one who was more so than any man in the family.”

That chilled me, even as I had to accept what she was saying.

Betara’s eyes went back to me. “When?”

I understood what she wanted. I shook my head. “The dangerous parts will be over before Year-Turn, one way or another, but no one except us-and Shelim-should know until Ryel’s successor is confirmed.” If what I had planned worked, if nothing else came to pass that might upset those plans . . . and if I survived my own plans.

“His successor?” asked Seliora.

“His holding will have a successor, one way or the other, according to law. I have to make certain that the successor is someone not bound to continue against me and my family.”