L. Modesitt - Imager's challenge

“Have it delivered here. I’ll have it hung in the receiving hall. That would seem most appropriate, don’t you think?” He stood.

So did I. “Yes, sir.” I inclined my head politely, then slipped out of his study and closed the door behind me, leaving him fingering his chin and standing at the window.

I still had a little time before dinner, but not much. So I walked across the quadrangle to the dining hall, picked up copies of both newsheets- Veritum and Tableta -and checked my letter box-the inscription now reading MARHE, short for Maitre D’Aspect Rhennthyl. Not so long ago, the inscription had been TE-RHE.

There was an envelope in my letter box, squarish, and of high-quality paper. The address on the outside was formal and written precisely in black ink.

Rhennthyl D’Imagisle

Maitre D’Aspect

Collegium Imago, Imagisle

The address was written in an unfamiliar hand, neither that of Seliora nor my mother, nor my sister Khethila. I couldn’t imagine who else might be writing. I finally opened the envelope.

Inside was a blank formal card. Glued to the card was a miniature knot tied in silver ribbon. There was no writing whatsoever.

I just looked at it for a long moment. It could only have been sent by or at the behest of High Holder Ryel, and I understood why he had waited long months. He wanted me to become a maitre so that I would lose more when he took his revenge for my partial blinding of his eldest son. To him, it didn’t matter that his son and the brother of a taudischef had attacked me with the intent of maiming me and disabling me for life. To him, all that mattered was that I had dared to strike out against the scion of a High Holder-even if Johanyr had been an evil and lazy excuse for a student imager who had abused the sisters of junior imagers unbeknownst to the maitres. I paused. I hoped that abuse had been unknown.

Then, I shrugged. I couldn’t change the past.

Master Dichartyn was at the dining hall for dinner. Usually, he ate at his dwelling on the north end of Imagisle with his family. I intercepted him before he could seat himself.

“Sir, I just thought you’d like to know I just received a formal card with a silver knot.”

“That was to be expected, don’t you think, once it became known you’d become a master? You’re free to deal with it in any fashion that meets imager standards. If you’ll excuse me, Rhenn . . . I see Maitre Jhulian.”

I stepped back. While I hadn’t exactly expected a reaction much different, his attitude still irritated and angered me. Part of the reason I was in trouble with Ryel was because Master Dichartyn hadn’t understood just how evil Ryel’s son Johanyr had been or how vicious the attack on me had been. And now it was all my problem? My problem alone? Seething within, I took a seat next to Maitre Dyana, the last chair on the left side. I could see Shault at the primes’ table, talking to one of the other primes.

“I assume you told Dichartyn that you’d received notice from Ryel,” she said calmly.

“Yes. You saw the card?”

“I saw a formal envelope, white. You just made master, and while it was not posted, word would have reached Ryel in a few days after you became Civic Patrol liaison . . . and you would not have spoken to Master Dichartyn here were the matter not of import.”

I just wished I could have reached conclusions as quickly and as accurately as she did, but since she was the daughter of a High Holder, she did have some advantages in the matter at hand.

“What do you suggest, maitre . . . in general terms?”

“Protect yourself at all times, and arrange for accidents to occur to his agents.”

“So Ryel can strike at me, and possibly at those around me, and the Collegium will do nothing unless it is so overt that the entire world would know?”

“Do not make it sound so dramatic, Rhennthyl. The Collegium does not ever become involved in individual disputes unless one of those involved has clearly and overtly broken the laws of Solidar, and often then only if such disputes threaten the Collegium. Ryel has merely sent you notice. Has he broken any law? Has he yet harmed you in any way that you can prove?”

The answer to that was unfortunately obvious. Still . . .

“So what can I expect from Ryel? Beside the fact that he will attempt to destroy me?”

“He will, indeed, attempt that.”

“And I’m supposed to do nothing?”

“You are so impatient, Rhennthyl. He must strike first. You should know that. Then you can act as you will. So long as it does not involve the Collegium.”

The unspoken code of the Collegium was never to strike first. But I didn’t have to like it.

“High Holders can be most indirect. Such notice might just be a step to hasten you into rash and unwise action. In any case, I seriously doubt that any imager would wish the Collegium looking into his or her background and personal life. Once you are convinced by evidence, and not a mere card, that there is a danger, we should talk again.”

That was both a warning and a threat. I nodded politely and changed the subject . . . slightly. “What can you tell me about High Holder Ryel?”

“He has extensive lands well north of L’Excelsis. He has the controlling interest in several banques. Like all successful High Holders, he is never to be trusted.”

“Does he have a chateau here in L’Excelsis?”

“Did you not dance with his daughter at the Harvest Ball?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Perhaps I should have asked where it might be located, then.”

“The majority of High Holders have what others would call estates near major cities, such as L’Excelsis, Nacliano, or Liantiago. They do occasionally like to see the theatre and opera, or hear a concert. I believe Ryel has a less than modest establishment several milles north of Martradon. There are a number of others in that general area.”

“Does he have an extensive family?”

Maitre Dyana smiled wryly. “No High Holder survives an extensive family, and no extensive family survives a High Holder. Ryel had two sisters, one of whom died in childbirth, and the other of whom is married to a High Holder well to the west. I understand they do not speak. He had only one brother who died several years ago in a boating accident on the upper reaches of the Aluse. I believe there is one surviving nephew at this point.”

“Could Johanyr ever inherit?”

“No. The Council Compact is quite firm on that. No one ever declared an imager may inherit property . . . from anyone. If you are fortunate enough to amass some golds, you can buy property and bequeath it-except to an offspring who is an imager. If you marry a High Holder’s daughter, and she has property, none of that may pass to you, but it can pass to any offspring.”

I hadn’t realized that I’d never inherit anything from my family. I hadn’t exactly expected to, but it was still strange to realize that I couldn’t. “Do daughters of High Holders inherit?”

“Very seldom. Daughters are at best often regarded as markers in the equivalent of a High Holder’s version of black-hand plaques.”

“Wives are not all that well treated, either, I understand.” I couldn’t help but recall the one I’d had to execute-covertly-in learning certain imager abilities. Her husband had beaten her repeatedly, and she’d finally murdered him. She’d been convicted and sentenced to death.

“You’d best eat and get on with matters, Rhennthyl,” Dyana added more gently. “As I told you when I first worked with you, technique is everything. Not power, but technique. That applies to covert actions and to High Holders.”