“When I went to visit him, his guards threatened me. I removed their weapons. Then several other guards shot at us. In defending ourselves, the other imager and I may have killed one or two guards, but we tried not to hurt any more than necessary, but when we tried to leave we were attacked by a full squad of men armed with heavy rifles. I did borrow Vaschet’s ledgers because he refused to discuss to whom he was selling the rifles being used to kill young imagers.”
“Hmmmph” was Lorien’s only comment.
“I also discovered that Vaschet is using prisoners as laborers in his ironworks, which is why the walls of the works are fortified.”
“So long as the prisoners don’t come from L’Excelsis—”
“Nonsense!” snapped Alastar. “It’s a violation of the Codex Legis for anyone other than you and High Holders to imprison people, and High Holders can only do so for less than two months under low justice.” Even if we both know that provision is observed more in the breach than by compliance. “And only to their own people on their own lands.”
“Are you saying that you expect the High Holders to submit to the High Justicer when you do not?”
Alastar looked directly at Lorien and image-projected authority and fury.
Lorien shuddered. “Don’t—”
“Stop playing plaques with me! You don’t want to make the right decision because it’s not comfortable, and you hate being uncomfortable. Right now anything you do will make you uncomfortable. You need to deny those petitions, and you need to do it today. You need to do it because it’s what’s right; it’s what’s best for Solidar; and because if you think you’re uncomfortable now, you don’t want to know just how uncomfortable you’ll be if you don’t.” Alastar paused, for just an instant. “Is that clear, Lorien? Very clear?”
Lorien swallowed. “You didn’t have to make a scene.”
“You didn’t have to be so obtuse. That makes us even. I was rude; you were obtuse.” Alastar smiled coldly. “I expect all those petitions that ask you to exempt High Holders from justicing or which would increase their powers and privileges to be denied. Today.”
“You wouldn’t…”
“I would. Ask your father.”
Lorien paled. “It’s that important?”
“Yes.” More than you know … and all this dilly-dallying around has only made matters worse. But that was the danger in trying not to overmanage Lorien.
“I’ll sign. But this will only cause more trouble.”
“You’re right, but it will cause less trouble than not signing. I’ll wait while you sign every last one.”
In the end, Alastar spent almost another glass at the chateau, making certain the petitions were all denied and that Minister Sanafryt made copies and sent out the denials.
Then he rode north from the ring road with Konan, heading for army headquarters and Marshal Wilkorn.
Wilkorn was in, not that Alastar expected otherwise, and when Alastar entered his study, he rose slowly from behind the wide desk from which he had directed the army and navy of Solidar for the past thirteen years. “Greetings, Maitre. What troubles bring you here? Don’t tell me it’s just a friendly visit.”
“How about a friendly visit to discuss troubles with which the army, so far as I know, is not directly involved?”
The white-haired marshal gestured to a chair and reseated himself carefully. After all the years, he still favored the leg injured in the troubles that had led to Lorien’s becoming rex. “Tell me about it.”
“Someone has been using heavy rifles to shoot young imagers. They’ve also targeted me…” Alastar went on to give a brief summary of what had occurred, including the armed guards at Vaschet’s factorage, then finished by saying, “When I talked to Lorien earlier today, he mentioned something about an order of heavy rifles that had never been authorized, but he didn’t seem to know much about it … or at least not want to talk about it.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. I still don’t know exactly everything. It all began when Minister Alucar sent a message asking why we needed to draw three thousand golds for a thousand new rifles. Procurements of that magnitude have to go through him, you know.”
Alastar nodded. “And?”
“We still had a thousand rifles that have barely been used, and that’s after the thousand we shipped to Ferravyl.”
“Who in Ferravyl needed a thousand heavy rifles?” asked Alastar. “I thought most of the army in the south was in Solis?”
“Solis turned out to be a mistake. Well, not a mistake, but a miscalculation. A number of the pirates in the Southern Gulf had developed bases within the Sud Swamp, and it’s easier to access the north end of the swamp from Ferravyl. For one thing there are the old stone roads that date from the time of the Naedarans, not to mention all the old barracks and quarters and stables that we’ve been maintaining. So we moved a regiment there from Solis two years ago. The swamp is harder on equipment, and last spring Commander Aestyn asked for the rifles so that he could rotate them, continuous maintenance, you know. We had the extras. So why not?”
“I can see that.”
“You can see why I wouldn’t have approved anything like purchasing another thousand rifles, right now, anyway. So I summoned Hehnsyn. He’s the subcommander in charge of procurement. For almost fifteen years, he’s had an excellent record. He’s been effective. He’s improved procurement … likely saved us thousands of golds … could be more. He even had an order with my name on it. The signature was mine. But I never signed it. I know I didn’t. There would have been no way I’d have signed something like that. Or sealed it. Hehnsyn couldn’t explain it. He even had a cover memo from Commander Marryt.”
“Your chief of staff?”
Wilkorn nodded. “Marryt swore he never signed that, either.”
“Who could have taken your seal and forged your signature? Or Marryt’s?”
Wilkorn shrugged. “A good forger, I suppose. Possibly Hehnsyn, even, but he couldn’t have done the seal … and he had no reason at all to do something like that. It’s under lock and hidden, as is the special wax I mix myself. Anyway, the whole episode bothered me a lot, especially since we ended up ordering fifty rifles and paying damages. The new R-2 rifles are better, but not worth half a gold each more, and not when we have an additional thousand perfectly good R-1s for an army that won’t likely do much fighting except against a few pirates or the occasional peasant riot.”
“What did you do with Hehnsyn?”
“Cautioned him. He has a perfect record … and since he is the younger son of High Councilor Cransyr…”
“Did you mention that to Lorien?”
“How could I not, Maitre? I wanted to transfer Hehnsyn to other duties. The rex said that he had enough problems with the High Holders without creating more.”
Alastar nodded slowly. “He does have problems with the High Holders, especially with Cransyr.” He paused. “Vaelln and Tynan … I understand that Vaelln comes from a factoring background, and you once said that Tynan came from a merchanting family.”
“That’s right. Tynan’s the fourth son. If his sire owned as much in land as he does in ships, he’d easily be a High Holder. According to Tynan, his father says that land just costs too much, both to buy and to manage, and that the return is poor at best.”
“I assume you’re watching Hehnsyn?”
“For now. When things die down, I think a tour in the south, along the Southern Gulf, or out of Ferravyl, ferreting out the landings of what pirates are left, would be good for him.” Wilkorn smiled wryly. “I thought about putting in for my stipend, but then, with this and what Lorien said about the High Holders, I decided to put that off for a year or so.”
“Have you told anyone?”
The marshal shook his head. “You’re the only one.”
“It might be best…”
Wilkorn nodded.
“How much better are the new rifles?”
“They’re better, but not enough to make a diff
erence except to a sharpshooter aiming at targets more than four hundred yards away. You can load them faster, as well. We’ll end up buying more, but not for a while.”
“Several others have bought over two hundred of them. I’m thinking they were bought by High Holders.”
“I can’t say I like the sound of that, not if they’re the ones who shot your young imagers.” Wilkorn frowned. “And why would a factor be using that many of them?”
“I don’t know, and that bothers me. I can’t see him targeting young imagers. That seems more like High Holders. In that light, you might keep an even closer eye on Hehnsyn.”
“I can do that.” Wilkorn sighed. “Hate it when Lorien gets involved.”
“That makes two of us.”
After more general conversation, and a few parting pleasantries, Alastar left the headquarters building, and he and Konan began the ride back to Imagisle.
As he neared the Bridge of Desires, just before second glass, Alastar was struck immediately by the two imagers positioned beside the sentry box on the Imagisle side of the bridge, neither of whom was Alyna. When he reached the middle of the bridge he could see that one was Akoryt and the other was Taryn, who immediately called out, “Maitre Alyna is fine.”
Which means that someone else has been shot.
Alastar said nothing until he reined up beside the sentry box and looked down at Akoryt. “Who got shot?”
“Primus Wrestyl. The shooter hit him in the back of the skull. If Maitre Alyna hadn’t been there, we might well have lost another student imager.”
“How did it happen?”
“They were over there on the slope. It’s shielded from the north and west, but the shooter was under that tree to the south on the west side of the river. It’s the only place anywhere that could have hit the two. It’s a tiny space. The shooter must have waited for glasses.”
“You said ‘two.’”
“Alyna saw Wrestyl fall, and she did something to protect Boltyn. Then, because she couldn’t see the shooter from the sentry box, she ran onto the causeway to the bridge and imaged a hail of iron darts, then froze him in place. There was another shooter, but no one ever saw him. He loosed at least ten shots at Alyna. Taryn and I crossed the bridge under full shields and brought back the body and the first shooter’s gear. The body’s in the surgery. It wasn’t the blond man.”
Ten shots at Alyna? Alastar managed not to swallow.
“No one saw the other shooter,” added Taryn. “Even Alyna didn’t see him, but she pointed us to where he had to have been. She’d imaged more darts, but didn’t know if she’d hit the second man. We checked the area around where we thought he was, and found nine spent cartridges, but nothing else. Well … some blood, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from getting away.”
“Or from someone helping him get away. Were there any signs of mounts?”
“There was no way to tell if they had them tied up behind the shops. No one remembers seeing anyone in particular. It’s a busy place. People tie up mounts, visit the shops, and then leave.”
“Where’s Alyna?”
“At the surgery … or maybe in your study. She said she’d be there after she learned what she could from Gaellen.”
Alastar decided to ride directly to the administration building, not only to see whether Alyna was there, but to discover if there were any other messages. Once he left his mount with Konan and made his way toward his study, he found that Maercyl was alone in the anteroom.
“Dareyn gets tired in the afternoon,” the second explained. “Maitre Alyna is in your study, and you have a message from the Factors’ Council.”
“Thank you.” Alastar took the sealed missive and entered the study, looking to Alyna as he closed the door behind himself. “Are you all right?”
“Tired, but I’m fine. I’ve already had a lager.” Alyna remained seated in the middle chair before the desk. “How about you?”
“I had to lose my temper with Lorien and stand over him while he wrote the denials of all the High Holder petitions,” Alastar began as he sat down in the chair beside Alyna. “Then I went to see Marshal Wilkorn … and discovered that one Subcommander Hehnsyn, a junior son of Cransyr, had ordered a thousand heavy rifles for the army—without authorization—and that when Wilkorn tried to relieve him of his duties, Lorien insisted that he not do so, because he said he didn’t want any more trouble with the High Holders. When I mentioned the rifles to Lorien, he did say that the army had had a procurement problem with them, but denied knowing the subcommander who made the order in Wilkorn’s name, yet Wilkorn insisted that Lorien not only knew, but directed him not to relieve Hehnsyn. Most disturbing was the fact that someone duplicated Wilkorn’s seal and signature without his knowledge.”
“Why would Hehnsyn do such a thing? What would it gain him?”
“It wouldn’t gain him anything, but Vaschet claimed he never would have built the new rifle facility without the large order from the army … and he demanded damages for what he regarded as cancellation of the order. Wilkorn ended up buying fifty rifles and paying a hundred golds in damages. He admitted that the new rifles are more accurate at a greater distance.”
“With the result that High Holders now have over two hundred new heavy rifles they wouldn’t otherwise have. What is Wilkorn going to do about Hehnsyn?”
“Watch him closely for now.”
“That’s probably better for the moment.”
Alastar had no doubts that Alyna had ideas about what should happen to Hehnsyn. “I talked to Akoryt. He summarized what happened. What else was there that you didn’t tell him? Besides taking something like ten shots to your shields?”
“Not much.”
“How badly are you bruised?’
“I’m sore all over, but there aren’t any bruises. Not yet anyway.”
“And it was more like fifteen shots,” suggested Alastar.
“It might have been, but one at a time is different from twenty at once … twice. I wasn’t counting. I just wanted to kill some of the shooters so that they wouldn’t think they could keep firing away with impunity. After I made sure that Boltyn was all right.” She smiled faintly. “I also didn’t want anyone left to shoot at you. Your shields still aren’t fully recovered.”
“Probably not. Besides the one you killed, Akoryt said you wounded another one.”
“Good. He should die.”
Alastar raised his eyebrows. “Poisoned iron darts?”
“Of course. I studied the bullets they used. It wasn’t hard to duplicate them. It’s also easy to refine bleufleur with imaging. I even think I might be able to image it directly. Anyone who goes around shooting young people and children deserves what they get.” She paused. “Tiranya knows how to do those darts also. She said she’d teach Shaelyt.”
“Just Maitres D’Structure for now, I hope.”
“Of course.”
Alastar had his doubts about that, but decided not to comment. “You know Cyran has been working with Arthos to copy those bullets…”
“You want me to see if it can be done with imaging?”
“They have to fit snugly, but not too snugly, into a rifle barrel.”
“We don’t use rifles.”
Alastar nodded. “I know. I’m thinking ahead.”
“Oh…”
“I hope it doesn’t come to that. Oh … one other thing.” He lifted the missive. “I also just got this from the Factors’ Council. I haven’t read it. I forgot to tell you that Vaschet has lodged a complaint against me for forcing my way into his ironworks, a complaint that doubtless overlooks his own myriad offenses. I imagine this is a protest against my high-handed acts.”
“I wouldn’t wager against you.” Alyna smiled sadly. “You were high-handed, you know?”
“I’m aware of that, but if I had been polite it would have taken weeks to get the information, and with four young imagers dead already, I felt that haste and high-handedness were necessary. Do you disagree?”
“No. You might as well find out what the council thinks.”
“They won’t be happy,” predicted Alastar as he slit open the envelope with his belt knife. He began to read.
Maitre Alastar—
Factorius Vaschet has made a disturbing claim—that you forced your way into his ironworks, destroying costly gates in the process, that you killed three guards in doing so, and that you removed private financial records over his objections.
While the council understands your concerns about discovering who might be using the rifles produced by Vaschet, it feels that your actions could be a prosecutable offense under the Codex Legis. If a satisfactory explanation is not forthcoming, the council will be obligated, under its charter to protect its members, to seek a hearing before the High Justicer …
Alastar shook his head, then continued reading.
… to seek recompense and possible punishment.
We look forward to your early response.
The signature was that of Elthyrd, as acting chief of the Factors’ Council of L’Excelsis.
Alastar handed the missive to Alyna and waited as she read it.
“He’s being pressed by Vaschet … and others.”
“Vaschet’s an idiot. I’m the one trying to protect their interests, and they want to make it harder for me?”
“Golds can make any man an idiot. But Vaschet’s not an idiot. He’s been forced to make the complaint and petition by whichever High Holder or Holders bought the rifles. In all likelihood … didn’t you tell me that Thelia thought he would have failed if he hadn’t been backed in building the new factorage?”
“She thought it was possible.”
“The complaint splits the factors, or could, at a time when they should be united. Thelia did tell me she was afraid you didn’t fully understand just how angry your taking Vaschet’s ledgers would make some factors.”
“So I was set up by Vaschet and whatever High Holders are backing him?”
“That likely wasn’t the initial purpose, but Cransyr’s a complete opportunist, and you gave him the opening.”
“If I hadn’t…”
“Dearest … I agree that it had to be done. You could have spent days or weeks otherwise, but it does create certain problems.”
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