L. Modesitt - Imager's challenge

“I would agree. He does not wish to see you again, and certainly not soon. That is not the question. All of us with responsibility and power have to deal with situations and people we would rather not, and it is true that the commander does not particularly like you. It is equally true that he respects your abilities and your courage. More important than that is the fact that the majority of the taudischefs also respect you. Add to that the fact that they do not respect any other senior Patrol officer, and you can see the difficulty facing Commander Artois. Then there is the fact that Captain Harraf has requested that he be granted a full retirement stipend immediately. His wife has suffered ill health, and retiring on a stipend would allow them to move to Extela, which would benefit her health greatly. Given your actions, he may well feel that it will benefit his as well.”

Why would Captain Harraf do that? Was it my statement on the day of the Temple explosion about not always being able to protect him, and the implication that such lack of protection might be fatal?

“Rather unusually, but fittingly, he has indicated privately that Third District station might benefit from a new captain and perhaps one less traditional. We have consulted with the Council . . . so that there would be no misunderstanding, and the councilors were virtually unanimous in approving the solution reached by the Patrol and the Collegium.”

I waited for the ax to fall, or the gallows trap to spring.

“Effective immediately, you are now a Civic Patrol captain. You will take over command of Third District exactly one week from tomorrow. You are not to appear anywhere in Civic Patrol buildings until then. That will allow for an orderly transition. The term of appointment is for three years, renewable twice, if necessary. Oh . . . and in recognition of your considerable skills as an imager, you are also advanced to Maitre D’Structure. You will be paid by the Collegium, and of course, as a Maitre D’Structure, you are entitled to one of the larger family quarters at the north end of the isle, should you ever require such. I do suspect, given your . . . informal arrangements, that you will be needing it in the near future.” He stopped and looked at me.

I just sat there for a moment. “Surely . . . I don’t have enough experience . . .”

“You-and the family of your young lady friend-can certainly discover some trustworthy and experienced first patrollers and lieutenants and request them to assist you. I suspect some would even wish to do so. You have, like it or not, one quality that no one else in the Patrol can offer-a reputation for honesty and strength in dealing with the taudis-dwellers and taudischefs.”

Master Dichartyn was smiling, but the expression was sad and sympathetic before he added, “In addition, this will provide you with another form of valuable experience, Rhennthyl. This time, you will have to find the means to clean up the mess and consternation that you have created. Even with the aegis of the Collegium behind you, you will run into the problems of being short of patrollers or supplies, of having corrupt patrollers, and there will always be those, and you won’t be able to remove very many through ‘accidents’ or the entire district will fall apart under you.” Dichartyn’s smile turned almost gleeful. “I’m very much looking forward to watching how you handle this. Oh, and while you can occasionally skip the morning runs and exercises, it is strongly recommended that you keep such absences to a minimum.”

“Yes, sir.”

I already had some ideas about how to improve matters with the Civic Patrol, but now . . . ?

“If you’re thinking about a wedding . . . you only get a week’s leave, but you can take it whenever you want. I did insist on that. I know enough about women, families, and Pharsi traditions to understand it’s a rather significant event, involving more than merely running the most demanding Patrol district in L’Excelsis.”

“I will have to wait to make that public and formal, sir. Until High Holder Ryel’s heir has been determined.”

“Given the exigencies of the situation facing others, Rhennthyl, you may not have to wait that long at all. You have forced many hands in ways few foresaw.” Maitre Poincaryt took a deep breath, then stood. “Now . . . if you don’t mind, I’d like to spend some time with my granddaughter, and I’m certain Dichartyn has better things to do with what is left of his day off.”

“Yes, sir.”

In less than half a quint, I was back in the conference room, trying to puzzle out what lay behind what had just occurred. I still had a long and, hopefully, boring day as duty master.

After the remainder of Solayi that was indeed quietly and comfortingly long and boring, I had managed to determine, at least in my mind, much of what must have occurred, although it would likely be weeks before the events that would confirm, or disprove, what I thought I had worked out. I was still exhausted when I finally went to bed, and my sleep was thankfully dreamless.

For all that, when I woke, my thoughts were of Rousel. Matters seemed to be working out for me-or I had managed to work them out. Yet in a way, Rousel had been the one to pay for them. Because of his death, so had my parents, and Khethila, and even Culthyn. I’d always feel that loss . . . and the lesson that came with it, one that Dichartyn had hammered at me from the beginning, but which I hadn’t felt . Everyone around a powerful imager paid when the imager failed to see or to anticipate what he should have. The costs fell, I was beginning to see, most heavily on those closest and those who could not protect themselves. That was why there were security and covert imagers, not so much to resolve problems, but to stop them before they became too large and the consequences too great.

Inadvertently, I had just provided an object lesson to High Holders, one that I had no doubts Maitre Poincaryt would ensure that they understood. Yet, few except High Holders would ever know of that lesson, and that was because of something else that had become apparent to me, but well understood by Maitre Poincaryt and Maitre Dichartyn. Given human nature, every large catastrophe or event with adverse consequences that could be attributed to someone or some human creation would be, and that attribution would provoke a reaction, and the reaction would provoke yet another. Sometimes, if rarely, public attribution was salutatory. Sometimes it was necessary. Usually, it just led to demands for action and revenge, which led to more demands and actions.

I noted those thoughts as I dressed to head out for exercise and running. The cold shower didn’t feel all that bad when I returned, and I was feeling less depressed after I dressed and walked across the quadrangle to the dining hall.

“Rhenn, how was your weekend?” asked Ferlyn as I settled down to eat.

“Long. I was duty master yesterday. Oh, I did finish the portrait of Master Rholyn, and it’s being framed. I don’t know where Maitre Poincaryt will hang it, though.”

“How do you think things will go with the Civic Patrol after that Temple explosion?”

“I imagine they’ll settle down. Most people just want to get on with their lives.” I helped myself to two of the fried flatcakes and dowsed them with berry syrup.

“What will they do with you?”

“Whatever Maitre Poincaryt and the Civic Patrol decide, they’ll let me know in a few days. It just could be that they’ll want me to stay with the Patrol and be more circumspect. We’ll have to see.”

“You don’t seem that worried.”

“It won’t do any good. Not now.” I laughed. “I should have worried when Master Dichartyn asked if I wanted to be a covert imager.”