L. Modesitt - Imager's challenge

Nellica had already left for the day, and Remaya opened the door, then stepped back to let me in. “Rhenn . . . Khethila said you’d be here this afternoon. Will you be staying for dinner?”

“Tonight, I can do that. Tomorrow, probably not. I have to be a witness at a justice hearing, the one involving the Tiempran priests who blew up their Temple in the South Middle taudis.”

We walked into the family parlor where Mother was rocking Rheityr. She looked up. “I thought that might be you. We’re having roasted lamb.”

“That’s something I miss.”

“We thought so.”

I looked down at the dozing infant. Already, he looked more like his father than his mother. I swallowed, and I found my eyes burning. If I had said anything at that moment, I would have choked on the words. So I turned and sat in the armchair across from Father’s.

“It shouldn’t be that long before your father and Khethila are home,” Mother said.

“Culthyn?” I asked.

“He’s upstairs doing schoolwork. He had much to catch up on. He’s less than pleased.”

That sounded like Culthyn.

“How was your day, Rhenn?” asked Remaya.

“I had to spend it with one of the conscription teams. They didn’t have too many problems, except for vagrants and elvers, and one or two resisters.”

“If I were facing conscription,” Remaya said, “I might resist.”

“You only have to have a job, or be an apprentice, not to be conscripted.”

“That’s what the law says. Do you really think the teams that don’t have an imager with them are that scrupulous?”

“I don’t know. I’d hope so.”

“More than a few Pharsi boys with jobs ended up on ships,” Remaya said. “I knew some of them.”

I couldn’t argue with that and didn’t have to because I saw Charlsyn driving the coach under the side portico. “They’re home.” I stood and walked to the side door.

In moments, Khethila burst into the parlor and gave me a hug, which felt good. “I’m glad you could come.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” And I was, but I did step back.

“I’ll need to get the wine,” she murmured as she moved toward the kitchen.

Father stepped into the parlor and asked, “How is my grandson?”

“He’s sleeping,” Mother replied, “and he won’t be for long if you keep bellowing.”

A faint smile crossed Remaya’s lips.

Father dropped into his armchair with a heavy sigh.

No one said anything for a time, until Khethila carried a tray into the parlor, with a goblet of Dhuensa for Father, tea for Remaya, and hot mulled wine for me, Mother, and Khethila herself. Mother nodded to Remaya, then eased Rheityr out of her own arms and back to Remaya, who settled onto the settee. Rheityr remained sleeping, which was a wonder to me.

“Dinner won’t be long,” Mother said in a quiet voice, slipping off to the kitchen.

As long as I didn’t look at Rheityr too often, I thought I could get through dinner without revealing all the Namer-demons that plagued me. Before all that long we were gathered around the table, where Father said grace, and then we all sat down to crisp roasted lamb and rice.

At one point, Khethila glanced over and said, “You’re quiet tonight, Rhenn.”

“The last weeks have been hard for everyone. I have to appear at the hearing tomorrow about the explosion of the Temple. With what happened to Rousel . . . and everything else . . .” I just shook my head.

Remaya nodded, and I wondered how much she knew-or guessed. She didn’t quite finish dinner with us because she had to leave to change Rheityr, and I begged off staying longer, pleading the press of the day ahead.

Mother did have Charlsyn stay late so that he could drive me back to Imagisle. I didn’t protest. When I opened my door there was an envelope slipped under it. Inside was a single note card with one line hastily written.

See me in morning right after breakfast.

Under that line was the initial D.

What other problems had surfaced? Had Master Dichartyn discovered Alynat’s death? Or did he just have last-moment instructions or information about the hearing. I hoped it was the latter, but feared it was the former. Sooner or later, Alynat’s death would come to his attention, but I preferred it be later, when everything was completed. Then, either I’d be successful . . . or dead.

Again on Meredi, I rose early and hurried through the next glass or so, until I finished breakfast and made my way to Master Dichartyn’s study. As always, he looked unflustered and calm, for all that he’d done the same exercises and run as I had-and he’d finished several hundred yards behind me. But then, he was a good fifteen years older than I was, and I wondered if I’d be doing that well in fifteen years.

“There is one bit of information that has come to my attention,” he began. “At this point, we don’t know exactly what has occurred, but Baratyn reported that High Holder Suyrien was requested to meet with Ryel later today. Do you have any knowledge of this meeting, or the possible reasons why it might be taking place?”

“Sir, any thoughts I have would be very speculative.” Accurate, in all probability, but speculative.

“I’d appreciate some speculation.”

“I cannot believe that my brother’s death was strictly an accident, sir, but that is speculation. There have been other events that do not seem coincidental, but I would rather not say anything at the moment. I would like to get through the next few days with as few distractions as possible.”

For a moment he seemed as though he wanted to press. Then he nodded. “That is a reasonable request. When you feel it is appropriate, I would appreciate more information.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If I don’t see you before tomorrow, convey my condolences to your family.” He did sound sincere, as if he understood.

I thought he very well might. “Thank you.”

As I walked from the administration building, I considered the short meeting. In effect, Master Dichartyn had warned me that matters had gotten more serious. He’d also backed off, and that definitely signaled that I was on my own. I only hoped that Grandmama Diestra’s “measures” and my abilities would be adequate to protect my family, because that was clearly Ryel’s focus.

The duty coach was waiting, as always. Because the Square of Justice was only about half as far from the Collegium as Third District station, it pulled up outside the Hall of Justice just as the single bell of the half glass echoed from the nearby Anomen D’Council.

I walked up the main front steps and then along the center hall toward the main hearing room in the Hall of Justice. Outside the open double doors stood the bailiff with his heavy oak staff, topped with the bronze sheaf of grain.

“Master Rhennthyl, I presume?”

“Yes, sir?”

“You’ll likely be the second witness. Just go into the hall. Turn right and take a seat in the first room. That’s for witnesses. You are not to speak of the subject of the hearing to the other witnesses, you understand?”

“I do, thank you.”

He nodded, and I stepped into the justicing chamber, a good thirty yards from the back to the black dais at the north end with its wide and featureless black desk, and close to fifteen yards from side to side. Already, more than half the low-backed benches that faced the dais were filled, although there seemed to be more people on the side to the right of the center aisle. The shorter rows of benches on each side of the open space before the dais were empty.

When I entered the witness chamber, I saw that Captain Harraf was already there, as were the two patrollers who had stood behind us when the Temple exploded.