Treachery's Tools

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Like having some factors think I’m just like the High Holders.”

  “Not all High Holders.”

  “No. Your brother wouldn’t do that, and neither would Calkoran … or a few others.

  “More than a few, but a lot of them don’t pay much attention to what happens in L’Excelsis.”

  “Not until it’s too late.”

  “There is that.”

  “I never asked you what you found out about the shooter.”

  “I had Thelia look at his garb. The cloth was fairly new. It comes from Montagne, in the same region as Cransyr’s lands. So does that particular dark brown dye. I didn’t recognize the rifle, but it is very new. The exterior of the barrel is octagonal. That suggests that they used a flat grinding wheel, rather than a turning bench.”

  “Vaschet?”

  “That would speed up production. It would also leave the turning benches free for more precise work.”

  Once again, Alastar was struck by how much Alyna knew about so many things. “You had those in Rivages?”

  “And at the porcelain works.”

  “What about the shooter?”

  “There were some silvers in his wallet, and he had a good knife. Old and well-used, but a good blade. Solid leather boots. Gaellen said they were like the ones used by the army.”

  “It’s sounding more and more like someone, maybe several High Holders, have built a small fighting force.”

  “I’d have to agree—”

  At that moment, there was a rap on the door.

  “Maitre Cyran is here,” announced Maercyl.

  “Have him come in.”

  Cyran entered, a satisfied look on his face, and closed the door.

  “From your expression, you must have discovered something. What might that be?”

  Cyran grinned wryly. “That Thelia’s directions needed a little help, and that Cuipryn doesn’t think much of Vaschet. He was happy to tell me who bought up all the cartridge cases he machined. It won’t help us much, though.”

  “Vaschet?”

  The Maitre D’Esprit nodded. “Exactly. Cuipryn only supplied the empty cases. Vaschet actually makes the complete cartridges and the bullets.”

  Which means he’s also likely the one who made the poisoned bullets, using bleufleur from Cransyr or another High Holder.

  “Did anyone else buy any?” asked Alyna.

  “The army buys some every season. It varies.”

  “Did you find out when he sold them to Vaschet?” Alastar could only hope he did, because he hadn’t asked Cyran to find that specific.

  “Actually, I did. He even checked his ledgers and then wrote out the sale dates and amounts.”

  “That was helpful.”

  “It might be because his cousin’s son is a junior imager.”

  “Who?”

  “Eshtyl. He’s a second who works for Petros. Cuipryn was worried because he didn’t visit this past Samedi. He was happy to know that Eshtyl was safe … and not very happy about the shootings.” Cyran extended a sheet of paper.

  Alastar took it, studied it briefly, then stood. “Excellent. Let’s go see Thelia.” He looked to Alyna, questioningly.

  “I’ll wait here. Three of us in her study would be cramped.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Alyna nodded.

  In moments, the two senior imagers were entering Thelia’s study.

  She looked up. “Yes, Maitres?”

  “We need you to find transactions in Vaschet’s ledger that occurred on these dates for roughly these amounts.”

  Thelia frowned.

  “Vaschet bought the cartridges from Cuipryn, and he likely resold them at a profit to someone else.”

  “Now?”

  “Now,” said Alastar firmly, handing her the sheet. “Here’s the information.”

  Neither Alastar nor Cyran said a word as the maitre of accounts opened Vaschet’s master ledger. After a time, she glanced up. “It looks like he coded the cartridges as ‘CC.’ The golds match, but the numbers are way off.”

  Alastar remembered something. “High or low?”

  “The ones in Vaschet’s accounts are too high.”

  “Cuipryn likely charged him by the pallet, while Vaschet broke the pallets down and charged by the case. See if dividing by twenty works.”

  After several moments, Thelia replied. “Twenty doesn’t work. Twenty-five does.”

  “Can you tell to whom he sold them?”

  “He’s using the same codes for the cartridges as for the rifles, and the dates are the same or within a few days.”

  Which doesn’t tell us all that much. At the same time, Alastar was fairly certain that the HHC code was for the High Council, but there were more than a few High Holders whose name began with ‘R,’ including Ryel.

  After another half quint, Thelia said, “I can’t find any other codes like that.”

  “Thank you.” Alastar paused. “If you’d make a copy of that sheet for your use and return the original?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Alastar and Cyran walked back to the anteroom.

  “Is there anything else you need from me, sir?”

  “Not right now.” Alastar laughed. “I’ll likely think of something after you go, but I can’t think of anything.”

  After Cyran turned, Alastar reentered his study, closing the door.

  Alyna waited.

  “The cartridges went where the rifles went, but…”

  “There’s no proof besides initials.”

  He nodded. “I need to write a response to Elthyrd and the Factors’ Council. If you wouldn’t mind waiting and reading over what I write.”

  “I can do that. The girls are at the factorage with Tiranya.”

  More than two quints and several drafts later, Alastar read through what he hoped would be his final draft.

  Elthyrd D’Factorius

  Chief (Acting)

  Council of Factors, L’Excelsis

  I understand that Factor Vaschet has lodged a complaint against me, as Maitre of the Collegium Imago, for acts undertaken on Lundi, 9 Erntyn, 402, A.L., to wit:

  1. Forcibly entering his ironworks, destroying two gates in the process.

  2. Attacking and killing three guards.

  3. Assaulting Factor Vaschet.

  4. Removing certain ledgers.

  In response:

  1. Two imagers removed the gates and entered the ironworks after they were attacked by eight armed guards who opened fire with heavy rifles. One guard was killed when the imagers defended themselves. The gates were removed, not destroyed.

  2. When one imager attempted to locate Factor Vaschet a second guard attacked that imager with a blade. The imager killed the guard in self-defense.

  3. Factor Vaschet was asked to reveal who had purchased large quantities of the heavy rifles used to kill four imagers to date. The imager was not inquiring about costs, profits, or any private financial information. Vaschet refused to divulge that information and threatened the imager.

  4. The imager restrained Vaschet and removed certain ledgers, with the promise that they would be returned, and without divulging financial information to any other factors or High Holders.

  5. When leaving the ironworks, the two imagers were again attacked, this time by roughly twenty guards also armed with heavy rifles. It is possible that another guard might have died as a result of the imagers’ departure. The imagers did not attack the guards, but merely rode through the formation.

  Further, it is noted that bringing an action against the Collegium might be unwise since: (1) Factor Vaschet was observed to have been operating a prison and using prisoners to operate facilities at the ironworks, a practice forbidden under the Codex Legis. Should that be the case, the entire ironworks could be confiscated by the rex; (2) by failing to disclose the purchaser of heavy rifles used to murder four imagers, Factor Vaschet could be brought before even a regional justice as an accessory to murder.

  U
nder these circumstances, it is suggested that any complaint be withdrawn, and that Factor Vaschet be investigated for his own violations of the Codex Legis.

  After rereading the reply, Alastar handed it to Alyna. “Will this suffice?”

  She read it slowly, then looked up. “You could still be prosecuted.”

  “I could, but do you think the council will press under the circumstances?”

  “It’s unlikely, but right now, who knows? When will you send it?”

  “Tomorrow morning, unless you think I should send it now.”

  “Tomorrow. Wait to sign it until then … when you’re certain. That’s soon enough. We should go home. We both need a good meal with the girls, and they need us to be there.”

  Alastar could see that. He smiled and extended a hand to Alyna. She took it and rose, although she did not need the assistance, for which Alastar was most grateful, for more than one reason.

  18

  After dinner on Mardi evening, Alastar went to the private study in the Maitre’s house and jotted down a note to remind himself to ask Cyran if there had been any more trouble between young factors and High Holder’s offspring, something he’d meant to do on Lundi. The two girls were already practicing shields with Alyna on the front porch, which was cooler than it had been, with a dry wind blowing out of the northeast, which kept the mosquitoes away, by the time Alastar joined them.

  “How are they doing?” he asked his wife in a low voice.

  Alyna smiled. “Throw something at Lystara.”

  Alastar glanced around, but saw nothing small enough. He wasn’t about to throw a chair … or his belt knife. After considering a moment, he fished a copper out of his wallet and lobbed it at his daughter. The coin angled away from her a good third of a yard from her body. “That’s good, Lystara.”

  “Take this,” suggested Alyna, extending one of the wooden wands used to train imagers with sabers, “and swing at her.”

  Alastar looked at his wife quizzically.

  “Go ahead.”

  Alastar took the wand and walked toward Lystara. He swung at her, gently. At a third of a yard from her body, the wand slid to one side. Alastar tried once more, using slightly more force. The same thing happened again.

  “You can swat harder,” said Alyna.

  Alastar did. All that happened was that the wand slipped off Lystara’s shields so quickly that, for a moment, Alastar was off-balance. He caught himself and lowered the wand. “Do you feel any pressure on you when I strike your shields?”

  “Just a little.”

  “All right. I’m going to hit them harder.” This time Alastar struck with much greater force, if downward at a slight angle, so that if Lystara’s shields failed, the blow would pass by her shoulder.

  Her shields didn’t fail, but shunted the wand to the side, so that Alastar pitched forward and struck her shields with his right forearm … and found himself twisted away from his daughter. He had to take three steps to keep from falling, and probably would have anyway if he hadn’t been able to grab the porch railing. His back spasmed for a moment, but he managed to hide the wince from Alyna. He definitely hadn’t fully recovered from the attack at the ironworks.

  “Are you all right, Father?”

  “I’m fine.” Alastar felt even more chagrined when he caught sight of Alyna’s amused smile. “Those are some shields.” He looked to Alyna. “I don’t know any way to test them farther without the possibility of injuring her.”

  “I had that problem, too.”

  “Can I stop, now?” asked Lystara. “I’m getting tired.”

  “Yes, dear,” replied Alyna.

  Lystara exhaled noisily, and then took a deep breath.

  “What exactly are you doing?” Alastar asked. “Your shields aren’t solid, and they’re not angled. It’s almost like you’re sliding what hits them aside.”

  “That’s sort of it,” replied Lystara. “I can’t hold a shield like you, Father, or Mother or Malyna. Not for very long, anyway. I’m still not strong enough. So I was thinking about the concealment shield.”

  “Your concealment shield, you mean?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “But bullets and hard objects aren’t the same as light,” Alastar said mildly. Although he now had an idea what Lystara had done, he wanted to hear her explanation.

  “I’ve got a whole series of little shields. They can be tilted and slipped. Each little shield tilts, and that tilt moves the object sideways, and if I have lots of little shields…”

  Alastar nodded. “That’s a good start. Do you have to think about each one sliding?”

  “No. They’re all linked from the beginning.”

  “That’s even better. You need to keep practicing so that you can hold them all the time.”

  “So someone can’t surprise me?”

  “That’s right.”

  “It’s time for you to wash up, Lystara, and get ready for bed,” said Alyna.

  “Ohhh … already?”

  “We worked with you first. Now we need to work with Malyna.”

  “Tomorrow night”—if we remember—“we’ll work with Malyna first,” said Alastar. “We’ll try to alternate.”

  After Lystara headed inside and up the stairs, Alyna turned to Malyna. “Raise your shields. Your uncle will tap at them with the wand.”

  “Are you ready?” asked Alastar.

  Malyna nodded.

  Alastar kept pressing at Malyna’s shields for a bit less than half a quint.

  At that point, Malyna stepped back. “I can’t hold them any longer.”

  Alastar lowered the wand. “Just take a deep breath and rest for a bit. Then we’ll go through it again.”

  “Uncle Alastar, I get tired so quickly when I’m holding shields.”

  “Most young imagers do,” replied Alastar, “and you haven’t been really working at imaging all that long. That’s why you need to practice them when you’re tired. That’s what strengthens your abilities.”

  “Why does Lystara have different shields than I do? I tried what she said she does, and nothing happens.” Malyna blotted the perspiration from her forehead with a kerchief that she quickly slipped back into her trousers’ pocket.

  “Each imager—those who can even do shields—approaches shielding a little differently because each of us thinks a bit differently. Most imagers create barriers. Some can create softer barriers that change into full shields if they’re touched—”

  “Can you do that, Uncle Alastar?”

  Alastar shook his head. “No. I just have to hold full shields whenever I might be attacked.”

  “Which is all the time outside the Maitre’s house,” added Alyna dryly. “Now … you’ve rested enough. It’s time for another session.”

  After another half quint, Malyna was exhausted and perspiration was running down her face.

  “That’s enough for tonight,” said Alyna. “Go get washed up and ready for bed.”

  Once the older girl was in the house, Alyna turned to Alastar. “What do you think?”

  “She looks to have the talent of a maitre, possibly even a Maitre D’Structure. We’ll just have to see, though. What do you think?”

  “She’ll keep Lystara on her toes.”

  “Oh?” Alastar knew exactly what Alyna meant, but wanted her to say it.

  “You know exactly what I mean. Lystara’s worked harder and made more progress in the last week than in the past few months. We should talk about that later.” She glanced toward the upper level of the Maitre’s house.

  Alastar nodded, then said, “What you did this afternoon was remarkable.”

  “You would have done the same.”

  “Not nearly so effectively, I think.” Especially right now. “There are times when, no matter how strong you are, and you’ve proved how strong an imager you are, technique is more important. I wouldn’t even have thought about poisoned darts. I didn’t, as a matter of fact. Or spraying the area with them.”

  “It
only seemed fair, and I felt that if I even wounded one of them … well, they’d get exactly what they planned for young imagers.”

  Alastar turned slightly and found he was looking eastward, where red-tinted Erion was nearly full and rising over the trees. The moon of the hunter.

  “What are you thinking?” asked Alyna. “You have that faraway look in your eyes.”

  “Erion … the hunter, and I have to wonder who is the hunter and who is the hunted.”

  “We’re the hunted, until we become the hunters.”

  “After we discover whom to hunt,” Alastar said dryly.

  “You will; you always do.” Alyna paused. “I hear signs of … I need to check on the girls.” With that, she turned and headed inside.

  Alastar shook his head. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d end up in a household with three imager women. But he smiled.

  Once the girls were in bed, hopefully sleeping, Alastar and Alyna retired to their own sitting room, except that Alastar found himself walking to the window, and then toward the closed door to the upper hall.

  “Sit down and stop pacing,” said Alyna gently. “When you do that, you always have something on your mind. Talk to me.”

  Alastar sat down, turning toward her. “I’ve got a lot of things on my mind. First, where did she ever come up with that idea for shields?”

  “She told you. She thought it up.”

  “Ten-year-olds don’t usually think up things like that.”

  “Your daughter does. In that, she’s like you.”

  Alastar laughed, if softly. “Oh … poisoned darts?”

  “So … she might take after me … a little.”

  He shook his head.

  “She’s curious about everything,” Alyna went on. “Remember when she imaged those wooden flutes…”

  “… to see if the diameter of the center affected the sound,” finished Alastar, “all because of the players she saw in the square, and she didn’t believe our explanations.”

  “The other night … the business with the cord, what was that all about?”

  “I don’t know, exactly. She was using imaging at the top of the arc to give the billet a push. Why, I don’t know, except I think she was thinking about ways to multiply the effect of her imaging, because she’s not as strong as she wants to be.” He grinned at Alyna. “She does sound like—”