Treachery's Tools

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “After all this … I don’t know what to think. My instinct is that Bettaur’s capable of almost anything, and yet from what she’s said, and from what Tiranya’s heard, he’s treated her like a High Holder’s lady, maybe even better. He even asked her permission, in a backhanded way, about going to Westisle.”

  “So why did he and Ashkyr leave this afternoon?”

  “What’s your guess?” countered Alyna.

  “Something was likely to be revealed as a result of what happened at the Chateau D’Council that involved Bettaur, and he felt he couldn’t risk it being known.”

  “But why would he even want to be involved in something as chancy as a High Holder revolt?”

  “Why indeed? Except who might be the only possible pretender to succeed Lorien?”

  “Ryentar, of course, but Bettaur doesn’t know they’re related.”

  “But someone else does, and that someone may well know Bettaur’s parentage … and may have used it against him.”

  “Ryel. He’s certainly capable of masterminding this.” Alyna paused. “I can certainly see Ryentar wanting to take advantage of the situation, enough that he could be used as a tool, although it would be exceedingly dangerous for him to travel close to L’Excelsis.”

  “He wouldn’t have to if his half brother set it up,” Alastar pointed out.

  “Ryel? He’s certainly capable of any sort of treachery.”

  “That makes an unfortunate kind of sense, but there won’t be a single piece of paper to tie him to any of this.”

  “Of course not. Everyone else will serve as tools and take the risk.”

  “Without evidence, another death of any sort…” Alastar shook his head. “We can prove even less of this.”

  “Does anything else make sense?”

  “Not that I know of at the moment. I still feel that there’s a part of this that we’re not seeing.”

  “That may be, but we need to get home. Jienna is holding dinner, and we have two impatient young ladies. Your eyes are also turning pink, and you’re limping a little.”

  “Then we should go.”

  They had barely left the study when Chervyt appeared.

  “Maitre … Davour said that you were looking for me. I went to get a quick bite to eat…”

  “Even duty maitres have to eat,” said Alastar with a smile. He still recalled the night that Chervyt had lost his lover, during the time of troubles, but from that tragedy, the young man had certainly recovered. He’d applied himself with even greater effort. “I’m hoping that the evening will be quiet, but, if it’s not, don’t hesitate in the slightest to send for me.”

  “I won’t, sir.”

  “Good.”

  After they were away from the administration building, Alyna said quietly, “He’s strong, but he’s very sweet.”

  “He’s very diligent, too.”

  Half a quint later, Alastar and Alyna walked up the steps onto the porch of the Maitre’s house, only to see Malyna and Lystara waiting beside the door.

  “You said you wouldn’t be long,” declared Lystara.

  “What happened at the chateau?” asked Malyna.

  “We’ll talk about both later,” said Alyna. “Wash your hands.”

  “We already have.”

  “Then let us wash ours,” said Alastar with a smile.

  Malyna and Lystara were waiting by the door into the dining room when Alastar and Alyna returned. In moments, everyone was seated, and Jienna appeared with a pitcher of dark lager and a basket of warm bread. She quickly returned with a large casserole dish, which she set before Alyna.

  “You may each have half a beaker of lager,” Alastar announced. “It has to last through dinner.”

  “Thank you, Father.” Lystara smiled.

  While Alastar poured the lager, Alyna quickly served the girls what amounted to a shepherd’s pie, then Alastar and herself.

  No one spoke for a time until Alastar said, “We usually don’t talk about imager matters at dinner, but these are not normal times. So Alyna and I are going to ask you two some questions.” He noticed that Lystara immediately looked up from her platter, clearly interested. Malyna looked wary.

  “Lystara … what have you noticed about Ashkyr?”

  “He’s a third. I don’t see much of him, except he takes mathematics tutorials with the seconds. He doesn’t like being with any of us, except for Ilora. That’s because she’s pretty. He looks more at her than at Maitre Arion. Howal doesn’t like him. He says Ashkyr’s sneaky.”

  “Do you think that?”

  “I wouldn’t know. He avoids me. I mean Ashkyr does. So does Howal, mostly.”

  “Have you seen much of Ashkyr outside of tutorials?”

  “He runs in the morning. He’s faster.”

  “What about you, Malyna?” asked Alyna.

  “I don’t care for him. I don’t know why. He’s strange. He thinks Maitre Bettaur is wonderful, though.”

  “Oh?”

  “He said Maitre Bettaur was teaching him ways to be a better imager. Paemyna asked him what, but he wouldn’t say.”

  “That’s the way it’s supposed to be,” replied Alyna. “Personal lessons stay between the teaching maitre and the student, until the student is examined by Maitre Akoryt.”

  “It was just the way he said it, like it was something special.”

  “What about today? Did either of you see Ashkyr?”

  “He left the factorage a little after third glass,” announced Lystara immediately. “Tertia Linzya and Tertia Charmina were having us practice making fibulas. That was to keep us busy. They didn’t even notice when I imaged one out of wood. I kept it, and then I made one out of woven steel wire, except it’s so shiny that it looks like silver.”

  Alastar managed not to roll his eyes, asking almost in spite of himself, “How did you manage that?”

  “It’s like … weaving. You just have to keep the pieces right in your thoughts. Like concealments or shields, except much smaller.”

  Alastar nodded. “Did you see Ashkyr after that?”

  Lystara shook her head.

  “Did you, Malyna?” asked Alyna.

  “He wasn’t imaging what he should have been. He imaged a tiny knife, and then he imaged a sheath for it and slipped it inside his shirt. That was just before he left. I thought, I couldn’t be certain, but I thought Maitre Bettaur asked for him. I couldn’t see them. Whoever it was, Tertia Charmina wasn’t pleased. She frowned, anyway.”

  “Have you ever noticed anything about either Maitre Bettaur or Ashkyr?” pressed Alyna gently.

  “Maitre Bettaur’s too handsome…”

  Alastar managed not to break out laughing, smothering even a smile, especially since words like those had come from Alyna’s mouth years earlier.

  “Is there anything else?”

  “I can’t think of anything else.”

  Although Alastar and Alyna asked questions for perhaps half a quint longer, neither girl added much to what had already been said. Then Alastar gave a quick summary of the day’s events.

  In time, Alyna announced, “Dinner was late. So you two need to wash up and get ready for bed.”

  “So soon?” asked Lystara.

  “No … so late,” replied Alastar.

  “Oh, Father…” Lystara did not quite pout when she left the table.

  Malyna hid a smile as she followed her cousin.

  After several moments, Alastar turned to Alyna. “What do you think?”

  “Besides the fact that you almost burst out laughing?”

  “She sounded so much like someone else.”

  “She did … and you did manage not to give that away … too much, anyway.”

  “What do you think about Bettaur and Ashkyr?”

  “That we don’t know enough. What about you?”

  “You’re right, but I’m afraid that whatever happens, there are some things we’ll never know.”

  24

  Alastar was at the administrat
ion building early on Vendrei morning, and the first thing Dareyn said to him was, “Best you read what’s in Veritum, sir.”

  “That bad?”

  “I don’t think so, but you never know what folks will think.”

  Standing behind the white-haired second, Maercyl nodded.

  As soon as Alastar reached the corner of his desk, he set down the water bottle filled with dark lager that he had brought with him and immediately picked up the newssheet and began to read, concentrating on the parts that concerned him.

  … apparent cannon shell explosion that killed four of five councilors … but no trace of a cannon found …

  … attacks on both Imagisle and the Chateau D’Rex by armed men wearing brown uniforms with heavy rifles of the type used by the army … dispersed by red fog … most attackers killed by iron darts of the kind used by imagers …

  … rebellion or desertion of two battalions of troopers from Army High Command headquarters …

  … full company of troopers now guarding the Chateau D’Rex …

  … no justicing action taken against High Holder Laevoryn for his cold-blooded killing of Chief Factor Hulet …

  Alastar frowned as he read the short story, which suggested that Laevoryn and his son had committed double murders, both of Hulet and of the missing Enrique D’Hulet. Given Laevoryn’s arrogance and apparent viciousness, the newssheet was taking a bit of a chance. Except they only implied the first murder. Still … He continued reading.

  … rifles reportedly manufactured by Factor Vaschet … denies he has any part … factorage fortified and possibly using prisoners as labor … against Codex Legis …

  … High Holder petitions designed to reassert ancient privileges denied by Rex Lorien just before all this occurred …

  … does this sound like a power grab by High Holders … or just an undeclared war against the factors and people of Solidar?

  … not one word from anyone on the Factors’ Council of L’Excelsis …

  Alastar set down the newssheet. Whoever the publisher was, he wasn’t going to have many friends among the High Holders … or many others.

  Cyran appeared in the study door. “Everyone’s ready, Maitre.”

  “I’m ready as well.” Alastar picked up the water bottle and joined Cyran on the walk to the stables. “Has anyone heard anything about Bettaur or Ashkyr?”

  “Not a single word. You might ask Taurek…”

  “He still keeps an eye out for Bettaur?”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  Alastar offered a short laugh, then said, “You may have to be forceful with Elthyrd, but he needs to come to the Chateau D’Council.” Alastar actually had no logical reason for that, or not one that he could put to words, but he felt strongly that it was absolutely necessary, and usually when he disregarded such feelings he ended up regretting it.

  “We can do that.”

  As Cyran promised, the horses and junior maitres were ready and waiting when Alastar and Cyran reached the stables. In less than half a quint, Alastar, Taurek, and Seliora were riding over the Bridge of Desires toward the West River Road. Alastar appreciated the comparative coolness of the day created by the thickening clouds, but suspected that he and the others might end up riding back to Imagisle in the rain.

  “What do you think about Bettaur’s disappearance, Taurek?”

  “What should I think, sir?” asked the muscular and black-haired Maitre D’Aspect.

  “Whatever you’ve observed, and please don’t tell me you haven’t watched him for years.”

  Alastar could sense Seliora’s amusement, but her face revealed nothing.

  “Ah … sir … ever since that … incident, I have never seen Maitre Bettaur do a single thing that was the slightest contrary to good and proper conduct. Nor have I ever seen or heard of him doing or suggesting others do anything contrary to the rules of the Collegium.”

  “Neither has anyone else, so far as I know, but you didn’t answer my question.”

  “I’ve never seen Bettaur do anything that was not calculated. If he acted to leave the Collegium of his own free will, then it was part of something well considered and thought out. If he bowed to the suggestions of another, that other person must have had great power and influence in ways I cannot comprehend.”

  “What you’re saying is that he either left as part of a large and well-thought-out plan, or was influenced or forced to leave by someone with even greater influence than the Maitre of the Collegium.”

  Taurek smiled ruefully. “I guess I am, sir.”

  “What do you think, Seliora?”

  Seliora, a young woman partly of Pharsi heritage with her brown eyes, and smooth honeyed skin, offered a wry smile before saying, “I’d have to agree with Taurek. I’ve never seen anyone so self-possessed and so in control of himself, and yet so able to project warmth and caring.”

  “Did either of you see him yesterday?”

  “Except at the noon meal, no, sir,” replied Taurek.

  Seliora shook her head.

  After they crossed the Boulevard D’Ouest, Alastar said, “Remember. Full shields until we’re back at the Collegium.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Before long, the three were riding up to the iron gates of the Chateau D’Council. The two guards who stood behind the iron gates of the Chateau D’Council looked at each other, then at the three imagers … and opened the gates.

  “Ah … Councilor Meinyt is acting as head of the High Council, Maitre.”

  “Is he here?” Alastar would have been shocked if Meinyt hadn’t been.

  “Yes, sir. The steward sent for him yesterday afternoon.”

  “Are there any other High Holders here?”

  “No, sir.”

  “There will be several other imagers arriving before long. I thought you’d like to know.” Alastar offered a friendly smile before easing the gelding forward onto the stone drive between the formal gardens. Apparently, the chateau was better built than Alastar had realized, or had more stone and less timber in its interior walls, or the staff had been effective in stopping the flames, if not all three, because, while the front walls were blackened around the shattered and blown-out front study windows, the remainder of the structure seemed intact.

  When he reined up below the covered portico, for the first time ever, there was no footman there. He dismounted and handed the gelding’s reins to Taurek.

  “If anyone fires at either of you or attacks you, remove them.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Alastar walked up the steps to the main entry, only to discover two men posted in the recesses beside the front door. They were uniformed in green and gray, rather than in maroon, but they carried heavy rifles in addition to sabers.

  “Where did you come by the rifles?” asked Alastar.

  “The previous guards left them, sir. Council Meinyt thought Culosh and me ought to use them, seeing as we each did a term in the army.”

  “What happened to the previous guards?”

  “Councilor Meinyt sent them all to High Holder Cransyr’s lands. Said he didn’t care how they got there.”

  Alastar could see that, but before he could ask another question, Meinyt stepped out onto the portico.

  “I thought I might see you, Maitre. I wondered if you might have been at the meeting here yesterday.”

  “I wasn’t invited. Even more interestingly, I was invited to a High Council meeting scheduled for next Lundi. As you may have heard or read, the Collegium was rather involved yesterday with an attack on Imagisle, and then we ended up dispersing more attackers who were trying to keep Rex Lorien from leaving his chateau. Then we received a message from Marshal Wilkorn that two battalions deserted and are headed southeast. They are commanded by sons of High Holder Cransyr and High Holder Caervyn.” Alastar smiled politely. “What might you be able to add to that? I understand you were not here yesterday.”

  “I was rather high-handedly detained by a squad from Cransyr’s private army, many of
the remainder of which were dispersed or killed by you and your imagers. Given what happened here”—Meinyt gestured in the direction of the study—“it appears my detention was not without some benefit.”

  “Do you have any idea what the departed four were planning?”

  “We should retire to the parlor. The study is totally unusable.”

  As the two entered the chateau, Alastar said conversationally, “From all the signs of fire, I’m surprised that that there wasn’t more damage.”

  “The interior walls are masonry, and the door was closed and had a bronze core. The staff kept it from spreading until it burned out. Everything inside burned to ashes.”

  “I never would have known that,” Alastar admitted.

  “Nor I,” said Meinyt, gesturing to the first door off the north corridor.

  Once inside the parlor, whose windows opened onto a garden courtyard, Meinyt took one of the pair of armchairs. He did not sit back, but leaned forward slightly, looking at Alastar, who had taken the chair opposite him. “I have my own ideas as to why you’re here, but I’d like to hear your reasons.”

  “Simply to make sense of a confused situation,” replied Alastar. “Four of the five High Councilors are killed; the Collegium is attacked after that; the Chateau D’Rex attacked even later; and then two army battalions desert, both commanded by the sons of High Holders, and one of those sons is Cransyr’s. The battalions leave L’Excelsis. It’s almost as though some other High Holder…” Alastar shrugged.

  “It does. I can assure you that I’m not that High Holder, assuming that is the case. I was very much held captive in my own house, and my entire staff will vouch for that. Anyone who came was told that I was not receiving and quite ill.” Meinyt snorted. “The way things have turned out, most who don’t know me will believe the worst. You realize that I will be offering my resignation from the High Council immediately, remaining only until successors for all five seats are chosen. If I don’t, then the deaths of the other four will be laid at my feet—even if no one says a word.”

  “You’re still effectively the head of the High Council for now,” Alastar pointed out.

  “Unfortunately.” Meinyt cocked his head and looked directly at Alastar. “What do you have in mind that I should do? Isn’t that why you’re really here?”