L. Modesitt - Imager

The ultimate philosophical principle is the advance from disjunction to conjunction, creating an entirely new entity other than the entities previously existing in disjunction . . .

After struggling through that, I closed the book and made my way to the dining hall, where I did appreciate the comparative relief of the evening meal on Solayi. Then, I and all of the imagers at the Collegium went to what the masters called chapel, but it meant the services held at Anomen D’Imagisle. They were a glass later than those at Anomen D’Este, to fit the Collegium schedule, I supposed. As at all services, we stood throughout-except for a handful of graying imagers emeritus, who had two special benches on the left below and forward of the pulpit. A small choir of imagers offered the choral invocation, and they sang well.

Chorister Isola was the only woman chorister of the Nameless that I’d ever seen, although I’d heard that there were others, because one could not know or presume whether the Nameless was male or female, or indeed both at once. Her voice did carry, and her soprano invocation following the choral one, wordless as it was, was far more pleasant than that of any other chorister I had ever heard. Then she opened the main part of the service.

“We are gathered here together this evening in the spirit of the Nameless and in affirmation of the quest for goodness and mercy in all that we do.”

The opening hymn was unfamiliar-“Save Us from Naming”-but that didn’t matter because I barely sang, with just enough sound so that I was not merely mouthing the words.

After the confession and offertory, Chorister Isola stepped to the pulpit for the homily. “Good evening.”

“Good evening,” came the reply.

“And it is a good evening, for under the Nameless, all evenings are good.” She paused for just a moment before going on. “We all know, and you all have been taught since childhood, the sin of pride that can accompany naming, and we have all heard the stories about achievements and the purity of Rholan the Unnamer. Who among us has not shied away from the possible disgrace of bearing the mark of the Namer, but how many of you have thought deeply about the greatness and majesty of those aspects of life that are without a name? We come into the world, born of woman and man through the agony of a woman, often so painful that no words can describe that birthing. Likewise, there are no words to describe death, for those who pass through it cannot speak of it to us. For each of us, these are the beginning and the end, as we know them here on Terahnar, and there are no words that will do justice to either.

“Words cannot describe the most magnificent of sunrises or sunsets, or even the greatest painting of the greatest representationalist or the most beautiful of statues, or the most stirring and harmonious of melodies. Words are all that we have to convey to each other what we see and what we feel, but never should we accept a belief that words truly or fully describe the world created by the Nameless. Even less so than words do names describe what is . . .”

Chorister Isola went on from there. I thought it was one of her better homilies, and one that made me think.

On the way back from chapel, I matched steps with Sannifyr, another second, not necessary because I’d disliked the younger primes, but as soon as I’d made secondus, they shied away from me. Sannifyr didn’t say anything, and I didn’t really know what to say to him, either. The walk back to quarters was fairly long, because the anomen was at the point on the southern end of Imagisle, but the night wasn’t that cold, especially compared to those when I’d first come to the Collegium.

On Lundi morning, when I made my way to Master Dichartyn’s study, the door was open.

“You can come in, Rhenn.”

I eased inside and closed the door, taking my seat opposite him.

He leaned back and fingered his chin. “How many people are there in Solidar?”

There had to be millions, but I didn’t recall the exact figure. “Forty million?”

“The last enumeration showed around fifty million. How many are in L’Excelsis?”

“There were over two million in 750 A.L.”

“How many imagers do you think there are here at the Collegium and in L’Excelsis?”

“If I’ve counted correctly, there are somewhere over two hundred and forty, sir.”

“Add another fifty or so, and that’s close enough. It doesn’t include those who can image just a tiny bit and haven’t been discovered, or those who have never discovered their talent, but most people with the ability get found out sooner or later. Later is seldom better, and very few survive. Let us just say that there are five hundred imagers in all of Solidar. What is that ratio?”

“One hundred thousand to one, sir.”

“Now . . . does that tell you why caution is necessary in every imager action?”

“Yes, sir.” It also told me that Floryn’s greatest failing was telling anyone anything.

“What else should it tell you?”

What else could there be? “There can’t be very many in the rest of the world, either.”

“Why not?”

I’d had a moment to think. “If there were, we’d know about it. The Collegium seeks out imagers. If you can only find five hundred in Solidar, and we have more people than other countries . . .”

“You’re making several assumptions. What are they, and are they correct?”

“It would be hard to hide imagers in other lands, but if you could find out so much about me, how could they hide imagers from you?”

“That assumes we would be allowed to look. While places like the Abierto Isles are open enough, and so is Stakanar, Ferrum and Jariola don’t like snoopy outsiders and have rather unpleasant habits of making them disappear. The Tiemprans ban imaging and imagers, and the same is true of Caenen. You’re also making assumptions about people. What are they?”

“Oh . . . that people are the same everywhere.”

“Are they? If they are, what makes them that way?”

“Sir . . . I know I haven’t traveled far, but I have seen people who have come from many places, and they all seem to love or hate, or want to be better . . . and I think we’re all born with similar general abilities and wants.”

“Is imaging something people are born with, or something learned?”

I was definitely unsure what Master Dichartyn sought . . . or why. “I don’t know, sir, but I would say it’s something people are either born with or not, but that they have to learn whether they have it and how to use that ability.” I paused. “Does it have anything to do with . . . I mean there seem to be more men who are imagers.”

“That’s true, and women imagers almost always come from families where an older brother has the talent. Why that’s so, we don’t know, but there are traits that work that way. Very few women are bald, compared to men. But . . . back to the question at hand. If the imaging skill can arise in any people, why are there more practicing imagers in Solidar than in the rest of the world? If you can tell me that, it will provide the rest of the answer to the first question I asked and that you did not answer completely.”

I had to think for several moments. Exactly what had I failed to answer?

“I’ll give you a hint. Why are most bulls gelded and why is the Cyella Ruby valuable?”

After a moment, I answered. “Imagers are scarce but more plentiful in Solidar because we provide valuable and rare services and people are more willing to have imagers around so long as there aren’t too many of us?”