Treachery's Tools

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Enough of that, Maitre of the Collegium.” The words were said warmly and affectionately. “What else is on your mind?”

  “The fact that we still don’t know who is behind the shootings. I forgot to tell you that Akoryt is posting scouts who can do concealments to watch the Chateau D’Council. It might be a waste of time, but, right now, I can’t think of anything else that might help.”

  “It’s only been five days…”

  “It seems longer … a lot longer. And the fact that Lorien hasn’t been exactly forthcoming lately isn’t exactly helpful.”

  “He doesn’t want trouble with the High Holders. The last time a rex defied them he ended up dead.”

  “That was because his father wouldn’t compromise.”

  “Exactly. And now you’re telling him not to compromise.”

  “The situation is very different.”

  “To us, but not to Lorien. He’s not…”

  “The brightest plaque in the deck? No, he’s not, and I’m worried that he’s becoming less bright these days.”

  “Like his father?”

  “Let’s just say that the heritage of the first Rex Regis has fared better through daughters.”

  “You can be so sweet, at times. If all those junior imagers knew…”

  “Better they don’t.” And it’s definitely better the High Holders and factors don’t know. “How do you think Malyna’s coming?”

  “You’re changing the subject.”

  “Yes, I am.” Alastar offered a grin.

  “She’s adjusting well. It doesn’t hurt that she and Lystara are so different … but I worry. She’s already a bit more outgoing around the other thirds, and some of the boys…” Alyna shook her head. “I’ve asked Tiranya and Linzya to let me know if any of them make untoward advances…”

  “You think that would be a problem … so soon? She’s not that old.”

  “She’s old enough, dearest. That’s not the problem I foresee. She still doesn’t have enough experience with imaging. If some advances are indeed untoward, she might overreact … and she’s strong enough to hurt some of those thirds.”

  “I can see that might be a problem…” He shook his head. “And we’ll have to go through that with Lystara.

  “Not that problem,” Alyna returned. “Lystara’s shields are already strong enough, and her control precise enough that she won’t hurt anyone inadvertently … as long as she’s not tired.”

  “Or angry,” added Alastar.

  “There is that…” Alyna looked inquiringly at Alastar.

  “The anger comes from me, I’m certain.”

  “I know. You’ve been kind with me, and gentle, but when those you love are threatened … or young imagers … I’d not wish to be anyone who made such threats. The High Holders don’t understand that … not even Zaeryl. I think Mairina does, but that might be her heritage … or, then again…”

  Alastar kept listening.

  19

  On Meredi morning, Alastar had no sooner dispatched Coermyd to take his reply to the Factors’ Council—except he directed the third to deliver it personally to Elthyrd at his factorage—than Cyran appeared at his study door.

  Alastar waved him in. “You have that look. What else has gone wrong this morning?”

  “Not this morning. Last night.”

  “Go on.”

  “A High Holder’s son decided to take over driving his carriage from the coachman. He ran down a factor’s son. The youth was killed. He might have died shortly after. That’s not clear. The young man’s older brother slit the throat of the High Holder’s son. Then he disappeared.”

  “Which High Holder and which factor?” asked Alastar. “How did you find out?”

  “I asked Captain Heisyt to let me know of any trouble between High Holder and factor offspring. He’s been more than happy. He doesn’t much care for most of the High Holder youngbloods. Oh … the father of the dead youngblood is High Holder Paellyt. The supposed killer’s father is Naathyn. He builds most of the wagons and coaches—and the costly carriages—here in L’Excelsis.”

  “I take it that the one who got his throat slit wasn’t beloved?”

  “Heisyt didn’t know about that. He’d heard that young Paellyt owed a lot to Alamara’s, maybe even to Tydaael’s. The younger Naathyn had cleaned out young Paellyt at bones, then left. Young Paellyt followed.”

  “If he’d lived, young Paellyt would have claimed it was an accident,” said Alastar sourly. There was something about Paellyt, something he’d heard. He tried to remember.…

  “There’s not much doubt about that,” replied Cyran.

  Kathila! Alastar finally recalled that she had said something about Paellyt being one of the less endowed High Holders, one of those who might face ruin as a result of the crop failures. “It might have something to do with the fact that his father’s finances are less than solid at present. I take it that the Civic Patrol hasn’t found the surviving Naathyn offspring?”

  “I doubt that the patrollers are trying all that hard.”

  Alastar could understand that, given that the Civic Patrol was funded by the Factors’ Council, and that most patrollers weren’t all that fond of High Holders. “The patrollers? What about Commander Murranyt?”

  “Heisyt said the commander ordered them to bring in the killer.”

  An order most patrollers wouldn’t exert any extra effort to follow, Alastar suspected. “Did Heisyt have anything else to say?”

  “Besides wishing that the High Holder brats didn’t think they were entitled to everything under two moons? No, not really.”

  Alastar shook his head. “This is going to make matters worse, even if I can’t predict exactly how.” He rose. “I suppose most of the other senior maitres are already in the conference room.”

  “Most of them. Gaellen’s still at the infirmary.” Cyran followed Alastar through the side door into the conference room.

  At that moment, Gaellen hurried through the other door, closing it behind himself and seating himself at the last seat near the foot of the table.

  After settling himself at the head of the table and glancing at Alyna, who offered the tiniest of headshakes, Alastar waited for several moments before beginning. “As all of you know, we’ve had four imagers shot and killed, and one wounded since the last meeting of the senior maitres. The shooters appear to have been using new heavy rifles produced by Factor Vaschet … who has proved to be less than cooperative in disclosing who bought those rifles…” Alastar quickly explained the basics of what had happened with Vaschet and the subsequent complaints made by the factor to both Lorien and the Factors’ Council. He did mention the impact that massed firing had on shields, but not the extent of his own injuries. When he finished, he asked, “Any questions?”

  “Why is the Factors’ Council pressing you on this?” asked Shaelyt. “Don’t they know that, without the support of the Collegium, Lorien would give in to the High Holders?”

  “I’ve talked this over with Maitre Thelia, and one of the freedoms the factors value the most is the ability to keep what they have and do confidential. If the Factors’ Council doesn’t at least protest…”

  “Seems like that was planned by the High Council,” grumbled Obsolym.

  “I doubt that the High Council would do anything so overt,” replied Alastar, “but they’re not beneath looking the other way and letting an individual High Holder do something like that.”

  “That’s very much the way the High Council works,” added Arion.

  “What about Rex Lorien?” asked Khaelis.

  “He doesn’t want trouble with the High Holders. It appears that he’s concerned. He may be thinking that his father’s stubbornness with the High Holders led to his death.”

  “Does he think that much?” murmured someone, but Alastar couldn’t tell who.

  “What about the shootings?” asked Obsolym. “Surely you must have some idea who might be behind it?”

  “Ideas, yes. I
t’s almost certainly a High Holder, if not several. But which one? Cransyr, or one of the other four councilors? Or any one of eight or ten others who have expressed unhappiness or filed petitions? Or someone with a grudge that we haven’t even considered?”

  “Ah … is there anything that might be done to gain that information?” ventured Tiranya.

  “In fact, Maitre Cyran is working with the Civic Patrol, and I’ve asked Maitre Akoryt to post scouts to observe the Chateau D’Council.” Alastar looked to Akoryt. “Do you have anything to report?”

  “Not yet, sir.”

  “Does anyone else know anything or have any thoughts about who, specifically, might be behind the shootings?”

  There were several headshakes, but no comments.

  “Until further notice, all imagers without strong shields are to remain on Imagisle and in places where they cannot be observed from the outer banks of the river.”

  “Does that include instructional activities on the river?” asked Khaelis.

  “It does, unless your shields can cover all those you’re instructing.”

  “That might be a bit much, sir. Thank you.”

  “Maitre Akoryt will continue to maintain and post the watch schedules for the senior imagers…”

  The remaining routine matters took almost another glass before Alastar called the meeting to a close.

  Akoryt lingered after the others, except Alyna, had left the conference room. “There is one other matter I didn’t wish to bring up in the meeting.”

  Alastar nodded.

  “As you requested, I’ve occasionally talked with Tertia Charlina. She’s noticed that there have been even more instances of someone moving around in the imager factorage under a concealment. The person did not reveal himself or herself.”

  “Can she tell whether it’s the same person all the time?”

  Akoryt shook his head. “She says she’s working on that, but right now, she cannot.”

  Alastar had a thought, but kept it to himself. “All I can say is to keep checking. It does sound like the situation is encouraging Charlina to develop her abilities more, and that’s not bad at all. Or am I being too optimistic?”

  “Not at all. I think she’s encouraged by the idea she has a unique talent. She’s begun to work more on shields, and she can hold them and concealments much longer. She can also sense another concealment even when she’s holding shields. I’m working to get her able to do all three at once.”

  “Excellent!” Alastar didn’t have to feign enthusiasm.

  “That is very good,” added Alyna. “Very good.”

  “I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t told me she could detect concealments,” Akoryt added.

  “That was just good fortune,” replied Alastar.

  “A little more than that, Maitre, I think. If there’s nothing else…?”

  “Go,” said Alastar cheerfully. “I won’t keep you.”

  With a nod, Akoryt turned and left the conference room.

  Alyna and Alastar had just entered his study when Dareyn appeared in the study door, a pair of missives in hand.

  “One is from Rex Lorien, the other from Westisle.”

  “Thank you.” Alastar took the sealed envelopes, then studied the white-haired third. “How are you feeling, Dareyn?”

  “Much better, sir. Not back to where I was, but better.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Very glad.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Once Dareyn returned to the anteroom, Alastar slit the envelope from Lorien, extracted the sheet of heavy paper, and began to read.

  Maitre Alastar—

  It has been brought to my attention that the eldest son of High Holder Paellyt was murdered by the son of a factor last night, and that the Civic Patrol appears unable to find the miscreant. It is not to anyone’s advantage to have this situation unresolved.

  With your long-standing ties to the factoring community, you should be able to deal with the difficulty and dispose of it before it creates even greater difficulties than those that you and the Collegium now face. We look forward to hearing that you have done such.

  The signature and seal were that of Lorien.

  But why didn’t he summon you to see him if he’s so concerned? Alastar suspected that Lorien didn’t want to give Alastar any excuse to see him personally any sooner than absolutely necessary. That also suggested that Lorien was attempting to play both sides. Which will only get him—and the Collegium—in deeper trouble. Alastar sighed softly and handed the sheet to Alyna. He waited while she read it, abruptly realizing something else. For Lorien to have written and dispatched the message as early as he had meant that someone had informed him either late the night before or very early in the morning. And Lorien isn’t a morning person.

  She looked up from the sheet, shook her head, and handed it back. “He doesn’t understand. Or he knows something we don’t.”

  “How about both?” asked Alastar dryly. “And the fact that someone beholden to the High Holders is keeping him informed.”

  “We’ve been thinking that the shootings are targeted just at the Collegium. What if the shootings are to make a point to him as well?” asked Alyna. “What if he’s received an indirect message to that effect?”

  “That if the imagers can’t stop the shootings of imagers, how could we protect him and his family?”

  “Isn’t that possible?”

  “It’s all too possible. And it makes a great deal of sense, unfortunately. But why wouldn’t he…” Alastar shook his head. “Knowing Lorien … he isn’t sure who he can trust.”

  “He can trust you.”

  Alastar shook his head. “He can only trust me to do what is right for Solidar, and he knows that. All this means is that it’s even more important to discover who’s behind it, but trying to find out which High Holder or High Holders are is like trying to find a copper dropped in hog slop.” Should he send out more scouts? With more than twenty High Holders having holds within fifty milles of L’Excelsis, and reportedly another eighty or so with town homes or chateaux nearby, trying to investigate all of them quickly would be impossible, since Alastar only had ten senior maitres and perhaps another twenty maitres and imagers with the skills and shields to search undetected. Still … if you don’t learn something in the next day or so …

  “That metaphor tells a great deal about how you feel about High Holders, dearest.”

  “Only about some,” he replied sheepishly.

  She grinned, all too briefly. “I need to get to my mathematics instructional.”

  “What about geometry?” Alastar realized that was a stupid question, because geometry was in the afternoon.

  “That’s this afternoon, remember?”

  “I’m sorry. All of this…” He gestured vaguely.

  “I understand.”

  After Alyna left, Alastar realized he had not opened the second envelope. What other problems does Voltyrn have? With a sigh, he opened the second envelope, extracted the missive, and began to read.

  Maitre Alastar—

  While we realize that making a decision on Maitre Zhelan’s successor does require thought, those of us here in Westisle would fervently hope that you can see your way to make that decision in the near future, since we did our best to forewarn you about the possible need …

  Alastar shook his head. Has it been that long? He tried to remember. It had been late in Agostos, the last Thursday—not quite two weeks ago—and the letter in his hand had been sent almost a week ago. Why is he pushing for a decision?

  Admittedly, Voltyrn had no idea of all that was occurring involving the Collegium, but how could he not know that pushing Alastar wasn’t likely to help his cause. And Alastar hadn’t cared that much for Voltyrn years ago, thinking him a smarmy weasel even then.

  Is he trying to upset you? Or is he that stupid?

  Alastar walked to the half-open window, but the air was so still that there was no breeze whatsoever.

  Finally,
he decided to walk to the East Bridge, holding full shields, now that he had them back, even if holding them for long was a slight strain, just to see if he could draw fire … and perhaps learn more, or even kill another shooter. When nothing happened, he walked to the Bridge of Desires and did the same thing, making certain he was most obvious, but there wasn’t a single shot. Nor did he see anyone who looked like a possible shooter, not that he would have expected that.

  He returned to his study, deciding to wait, at least another day before starting expeditions to the chateaux of various High Holders. As always for him, waiting was the hardest part. Even if it is the best strategy at times.

  Just before fourth glass, Akoryt reappeared and entered Alastar’s study. He closed the door before speaking. “I sent Belsior to keep watch on the Chateau D’Council. He just returned. He actually used shields and concealments to get inside the gates. He didn’t enter the chateau, but he was able to overhear a conversation between a chateau footman and a messenger. The messenger wore green and gray livery, by the way…”

  Green and gray? High Holder Meinyt?

  “… and they were talking about how the High Holder’s illness meant he wouldn’t be able to attend the meeting tomorrow afternoon. They didn’t mention the time.” Akoryt paused. “Belsior had to be cautious and careful. There were several guards in maroon carrying heavy rifles.”

  “They were actually carrying them? Ready to shoot?”

  “Yes, sir. Belsior was getting tired. He was afraid his shields or his concealment might fail, and he didn’t want to reveal himself. So he left when the messenger did. He just returned. He was as pale as a frog’s underbelly. I sent him to the mess.”

  “Good and thank you. Did he see any other livery colors or other possible High Holders?”

  “No, sir. There was one other messenger, who wore scarlet and black, but Belsior didn’t hear him say anything.”

  “Scarlet and black? I’ve never seen those colors. Have you?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Is there anything else I should know?”