L. Modesitt - Imager's challenge

“I understand.” Betara nodded. “It might be best if our precautions continue for a time.”

“I cannot thank you enough.” And I couldn’t. But in time, I’d end up repaying all that had been done for me. I knew that, and Betara knew I knew, and so did Seliora.

I also knew one other thing. “How is Grandmama Diestra?”

“She is weak . . . but she will see Seliora wed. She has seen that.” Betara offered an expression somewhere between rue and apology. “She saw-before anyone-that you were to be trusted, that you would do what was necessary.”

“Farsight?”

Betara smiled crookedly. “And intuition. She has always had faith in you.”

“Even when I didn’t deserve it, I expect.”

Betara almost nodded. Almost.

“Since I met her, I have never looked at anyone but Seliora with love.” I forced a grin. “Or even lust.”

They did both smile.

“We need to see Grandmama,” Seliora said.

“Where is she?”

“In the plaques room upstairs. The stairs are getting hard for her.”

“She is expecting you,” Betara said, adding after a pause, “Both of you.”

I did reach out and take Seliora’s hand. She let me, and we walked to the staircase leading to the upper level. Narrow as the steps were, we walked side by side.

Seliora stopped on the landing between floors and turned to face me. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Her words were gentle.

“I thought you knew. I’d said that it wouldn’t be over until there were no male heirs. You acted as though you knew. I didn’t want to say more than I had to. I didn’t want you any more involved than absolutely necessary. All that I ever asked for-in words-was to borrow the mare. I wanted to protect you as much as I could.”

“Please . . . don’t protect me out of your life. It is, and will be, my life, too.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . .”

Then we were in each other’s arms, just holding tight.

While we would have liked to stay there for longer than we did, we needed to see Grandmama Diestra. We made our way up the last steps and across the far smaller upper hall.

Diestra was the only one in the plaques room, sitting at the single table. She set down the deck of plaques, leaving a pattern of placques on the dark blue felt. “Join me, children.”

I took the chair to her right, and Seliora sat down across from me.

Diestra’s eyes took in Seliora.

“You were right,” she said. “He was trying to protect me.”

Diestra looked to me.

“It was my fault. I didn’t tell her enough so that she understood.”

“Life is always a balance, and the stronger two who are a couple each are, the more they must seek that balance, or they will destroy each other.”

That was clearly an evenhanded reprimand. Accurate as it was, it didn’t bother me nearly so much as had some of those delivered by Master Dichartyn.

“There is one other thing.” She paused. “It matters as much why something is done as what is done. Mercy or forbearance in return for true evil is not virtue; it is disaster. Condemning the killing of those who have murdered and created great suffering and who would continue to do so is an exercise in empty righteousness. Yet there are always those who would judge without sullying their hands, and for that reason, much that is done must remain unspoken and unacknowledged.”

From what I’d seen, Grandmama Diestra was all too right, and too often the Collegium was too forbearing.

Diestra swept up the plaques from the table, then shuffled the deck, her short fingers still nimble. “Life is akin to many things. Sometimes, it is a melody, sometimes a year with seasons, but when people are involved, it is most like a game of plaques. Some are able to play, while others are merely played. Always be the player.” She smiled. “Except with each other. Never play the other, and never suffer yourself to be played.”

I didn’t think I’d ever heard how a couple should treat each other put more succinctly.

Diestra looked at me once more. “Seliora is the only one you will ever be able to trust fully. Do not forget that.” Then she turned to her granddaughter. “Rhenn is trustworthy, more so than anyone. Do not assume the worst because he has not told you something. Just ask, gently. He will tell you.”

The last words, although addressed to Seliora, were really meant for me, and the quick sidelong look Diestra gave me emphasized that.

After a moment, Grandmama Diestra shuffled the plaques and laid out a pattern on the dark blue felt. “You two have better things to do than to keep me company. Or you should have. I’ve said what I will.”

I inclined my head. “Thank you.”

Seliora reached out and took her grandmother’s hands. She didn’t say anything, just squeezed them, but her eyes were bright.

Shortly, we rose and left Diestra pondering over a form of solitaire I’d never seen before.

Once we stood in the upper hallway, I turned to Seliora. “What would you like to do with the rest of the afternoon?”

“Could we . . . just talk? Aunt Aegina has a special dinner planned.”

“Planned in advance as either condolence or celebration?”

“Grandmama said it would be fine . . . she said everyone should celebrate and that they all worried too much.”

“Not everyone else was that certain,” I said teasingly.

“Bhenyt was. He said that no one who’d been shot at as many times as you had in coming to see me would ever hurt me. He also said that no one else ever looked at me the way you did.”

Bhenyt? “I would never have guessed.”

“He sees more than he lets on.”

“Another Pharsi trait.”

Seliora tilted her head, and a hint of that mischievous smile appeared. “By that token, you are more Pharsi than anyone here.”

I shrugged helplessly, then laughed, knowing that I would enjoy the rest of the afternoon and evening. The worries and concerns would return, as they always would, but for the next few glasses, I would enjoy the moments.

Dinner with Seliora’s family on Samedi was good, but what happened before, and especially afterward, was better. But all that did bring up another point-I needed to be more careful with my coins because, if I survived the weeks ahead, I’d need to arrange for a wedding ring for Seliora. I almost regretted my promise to Horazt, because that would take close to half of my meager savings-yet how else could I have persuaded him that I was serious? As a Maitre D’Aspect, I did make a gold a week, but I’d been putting away only three or four silvers a week, if that, since I’d been with the Civic Patrol.

I did manage to get some untroubled sleep, until shortly before dawn when I had a nightmare where my parents and Remaya were all looking at me as if I’d killed Rousel. I didn’t sleep after that because, in a way, I had, although I’d had no idea at the time that my actions would have led to that. So I got up and washed and shaved and dressed and headed over to the dining hall.

Maitre Dyana was alone at the masters’ table, and I joined her.

“I heard from Master Dichartyn about your brother. I am sorry to hear of it.”

“Thank you.” I poured my tea and helped myself to the ham strips and rubbery eggs.

“Do you think it was Ryel’s doing?”

“I have absolutely no proof of High Holder Ryel being involved.”

“No proof. That’s often the case with High Holders. There is little proof on either side, not even after the matter is resolved.”

“I’ve come to realize that, maitre.”

“I also heard that you’re the one responsible for capturing the Tiempran priests who exploded their Temple in the South Middle taudis. Maitre Rholyn felt that the capture and hearing . . . might complicate matters before the Council.”