L. Modesitt - Imager's challenge

Seliora looked at me. “He’s very afraid of you. He also hates Ryel. He would not have spoken so otherwise.”

“His wife must be a very close relation to Madame D’Ryel,” I said dryly.

Seliora’s eyes followed Veblynt.

After that people began to arrive, including Donalt and other relations I had not seen in years, if at all. We did not see Remaya anywhere, and I assumed she had retreated to her quarters, overwhelmed by people and grief.

Despite the close to thirty people who descended upon the house, by sixth glass everyone who was not family had left, and Charlsyn was more than ready to take Seliora back to NordEste Design and me to the Collegium. The way things were going, I wanted Seliora home safely.

“Tomorrow?” she asked.

“I could see you for dinner.”

“At home . . . that’s better until . . . for now.”

“When will you be done with work?”

“Whenever you get there.” Her smile lit up the interior of the coach.

“Between fourth and fifth glass?”

We held tightly to each other for the rest of the way to NordEste Design, and I walked her to the door, making certain my shields protected her. No one shot, not that I felt, in any case. Then I hurried back to the coach, and Charlsyn drove me to the Bridge of Hopes.

Comparatively late as it was, when I returned to the Collegium, there was a prime waiting for me at the Collegium end of the bridge.

“Master Rhennthyl?”

“Maitre Dichartyn wishes to see me?”

“Yes, sir. He’s still in his study.”

“Thank you.” I didn’t hurry, but I didn’t dawdle, either, in making my way into and through the administration building to the study with which I was all too familiar.

Dichartyn was actually sitting behind his writing desk, working on something when I stepped inside the study and closed the door. I took the chair across the desk from him.

“How were the services, Rhenn?”

“As I would have expected, sir, mainly family and close friends. Many came to my parents’ house afterward.”

He nodded. “I wanted to talk to you tonight.”

That suggested something was not well.

“I had a report on your testimony yesterday.”

There was nothing to say to that. So I didn’t.

“Actually . . .”-Master Dichartyn drew out the silence-“you handled it very well. By bringing up the Tiempran problem and bringing in the priests, you got everyone off the hook. The conscription team can’t be blamed for not knowing there were explosives there. The taudis-dwellers can’t be blamed for being pawns of the evil Tiemprans. And the marine major can’t be blamed because his superior failed to heed your warnings. Captain Harraf and his observers were quite clear that you were not trying to tell the marines what to do, but only to point out that they had not been resisted. The justice found that your account was true in all particulars. That didn’t hurt the Collegium . . . too much.” He leaned back and sighed. “That brings up what seems to be the eternal question. What exactly are we going to do with you?”

“Let me keep being a liaison,” I suggested.

“After this? You’re powerful and dangerous, and too visible to discipline publicly. Not a single officer in the Patrol would dare to order you around after all this-or even suggest that you do anything. Like it or not, the word is out that sometimes strange things happen to people who cross you. The new-sheets already have a story about how you stood up against a power-hungry scriptie officer for the poor downtrodden taudis-dwellers.” He snorted.

I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t about to suggest a solution because it was clear I wasn’t suited to quiet covert work, and that Master Dichartyn knew it. I also wasn’t suited to merely observing, and he knew that as well. And I didn’t want to end up imaging machine parts, either.

“Rhennthyl, you’ve just lost a brother and survived a harrowing week in Third District. Just spend some time with your family and the young lady for the next few days. Try not to get into trouble. I’ve already sent a note to Commander Artois saying that you’ll be tied up with the Collegium for a few days. Maitre Poincaryt and I need to consider your situation.”

“Yes, sir.” I wasn’t about to argue with that.

As I walked across the quadrangle to my quarters, I kept thinking about Veblynt’s comments. Why he hated Ryel, I had no idea, but he as much as suggested that I act during the Foliage Festival. What bothered me was that was when I’d already planned to do just that.

Were Veblynt’s words a lure? Or a suggestion?

In the end, it didn’t matter. I was running out of time, and some opportunities occurred only once . . . and it was more than clear that waiting would only result in more attempts on my family-and eventually, if I did not act, more deaths.

Somehow, I didn’t think that taking off the next few days meant skipping exercises and running. So I got up and subjected myself to Clovyl’s tortures, then cleaned up and headed to breakfast.

Kahlasa, Ferlyn, Chassendri, and Maitre Dyana were all at the masters’ table. Maitre Dyana was on the right and beckoned for me to sit by her. There was no reason not to, and I might learn something.

Dyana let me pour my tea and take a sip before she spoke. “The events of the past week cannot strengthen your position in certain matters.”

“That’s likely.” I wanted to see what she might say.

“Have you decided what to do?” Dyana might have been asking about the weather.

“My brother’s memorial service was yesterday. What I decide does not matter. Only what I do and how I do it matters.”

“That is true.” She sipped her tea. “It also matters who knows what.”

“Or who does not,” I pointed out.

“Someone always knows, even if there is no proof.”

“Master Dichartyn always wants proof.”

“Does he? Or does he merely want proof when you wish the Collegium to act?”

I smiled. “There is a difference.”

“Exactly.”

I knew what she had conveyed, but I appreciated the confirmation. “What do you think about the Jariolan-Ferran war?”

“The Ferrans will attempt to hold on until spring so that they can then attack with their superior equipment. They will likely lose before then. Even if they win, they will lose.”

“Because they will lose so many men?”

“Because they will lose so much expensive equipment and so many highly trained men while the Jariolans will lose men that they can easily replace. We have already destroyed the best vessels in the Ferran fleet.”

“Why didn’t they see that would happen?”

“Technically advanced equipment is only effective when it is used where it was designed to be used and when its use embodies superior tactics. You have among the strongest shields of anyone in the Collegium, but you know enough not to use them against a heavy cannon. That is a question of usage. . . .”

Mostly, I just listened.

Then, after breakfast, I went to the studio and worked for close to two glasses on the final touches to Master Rholyn’s portrait, then made arrangements with Grandison for framing it, after Rholyn saw the final version when I showed it to him on Samedi morning.

I cleaned up the studio to some degree, then washed myself up again, before heading out across the Bridge of Hopes to find a hack to take me out to my parents’. I walked more than a block up the boulevard before finding one. Once in the hack on the way out the Boulevard D’Imagers and then the Midroad, I went over what I’d planned for Samedi and decided on one change-if I could make it work.

I arrived at the house at a quint before noon.

Mother opened the door. “Rhenn! What a pleasant surprise. Are you here for lunch?”