Imager's Intrigue: The Third Book of the Imager Portfolio

by Modesitt, L. E. , Jr.

  “Did he tell me anything that was directly useful? No. I didn’t think he would. The way he avoided the questions was indicative of several possibilities. At the very least, he had arranged, or he knew that senior imagers would have to visit him.”

  “He had to know that we carry shields that are proof against snipers.”

  “I thought about that, and that’s why he’s guilty.”

  Maitre Dyana did not speak for a moment. “I have an idea, but I’d like to hear why you think so.”

  “Glendyl is anything but stupid. He has to know about imager shields. He’s known, possibly even seen, when Dartazn, Martyl, or I deflected bullets or survived explosions. But…he also knows that the Ferran agents, some six years back, were successful in killing a number of imagers, generally caught unaware. What if, just if…an intermediary let it be known that the Ferrans had weapons capable of piercing imager shields? What does he have to lose? They either succeed or they don’t.”

  “Why would he want imagers killed?”

  “Because he believes that we support the continued control of the Council by the High Holders. He may even know, or suspect, that there are no longer even a thousand High Holders, and yet nothing has changed.”

  “He hasn’t brought that up in the Council, but he wouldn’t.”

  “Did you ask Maitre Rholyn that?”

  “No. I’ve studied the proceedings and records,” she replied, “and Maitre Poincaryt never mentioned it, either.”

  “You think Glendyl wouldn’t bring up the question because he fears the High Holders?” That suggested Glendyl might be an excellent factorius and businessman, but that he certainly didn’t understand fully what had been going on behind the calm front of the Council. All he had to do was to wait a little bit longer than one more year, and he would have been the head of the Executive Council. Suyrien had already laid the groundwork. Instead, Glendyl had failed to see that change was coming, and had tried to use Ferran agents to force that change.

  She shook her head. “He wouldn’t bring it up for the same reasons that you believe Maitre Poincaryt didn’t. There are some factors, notably Etyenn, who would relish the chance to become High Holders and who probably already have the wealth if not the lands. Even talking about it could delay the change.”

  “Still,” I pointed out, “there’s more here. Master Dichartyn told me that Glendyl had knuckled under to High Holder Haebyn’s demands to delay locomotives and replacement engines to ironways that didn’t give preference to eastern High Holder grain shipments. He also said that there were rumors that golds had changed hands, and that Glendyl had delayed shipments. Why would Glendyl, who disliked High Holders, do that…unless he needed golds? Not only that, but Glendyl, who has always been trying to reduce the power of the High Holders, wouldn’t offer the cartage reform amendment. Caartyl did.”

  “That may be, but Glendyl has nothing to gain by having imagers killed.”

  She was probably right, but still…

  “You have that look, Maitre Rhennthyl. Did you suddenly recall something of import?”

  “I’m not certain of its import. I’ll need to talk to some people first.”

  “Then I suggest you do.”

  After Maitre Dyana left, I pulled my winter cloak back on and left again, trudging through the gray morning to the duty coach stand.

  Three quints after I stepped into the coach, Davoryn, who only drove me occasionally, was guiding it up the drive to Frydryk/Suyrien’s L’Excelsis chateau. It was a risk, calling on Frydryk without an appointment and unannounced, but where else was he likely to be on a cold winter day? If he didn’t happen to be in, I could find out where he was. But I had a strong feeling I needed to talk to him as quickly as possible.

  The retainer who appeared at the door took in my grays and the visored cap with the silver imager insignia, then finally said, “Sir…I don’t believe that…High Holder Suyrien was expecting you.”

  “I’m most certain that he wasn’t,” I said agreeably. “Is he in?”

  “Ah…”

  “Please tell him that Maitre D’Esprit Rhennthyl needs some time with him, and that I wouldn’t spend a glass getting here without an appointment if it were not important.”

  “Yes, sir.” He paused, then added, “If you would come in and wait in the foyer…”

  Once I was inside, he closed the door, then turned and headed toward the door on the left side of the hexagonal foyer, the one to the study where I had met with Frydryk earlier. After a quick knock, the retainer opened the door, barely enough to step inside, shutting it behind himself.

  In moments, the door opened, and the functionary said, “Sir, this way…”

  “Thank you.”

  I didn’t even have to close the door. It clicked shut behind me.

  Frydryk had clearly just stood from behind the writing desk filled with stacks of papers. “Maitre Rhennthyl…” He looked bewildered to see me on his doorstep, literally and figuratively. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

  I smiled, as pleasantly as I could. “I need the answer to two questions. Two very simple questions.”

  “Yes?”

  “The first is whether you have had a guard force at the shipworks and whether you know if Glendyl does at Ferravyl.”

  “That’s not all that simple,” Frydryk replied. “We’ve always had guards, and Father made sure that they were paid well. Also, when we do build Navy vessels, there are Navy guards as well around those drydocks as well. Glendyl…he never said much about it. Father did mention that he didn’t like to pay for anything that didn’t produce profit, including guards.”

  “Thank you. The second question is simpler. How much does Glendyl owe you?”

  “That’s…” Frydryk’s mouth opened, then shut. “Was he behind it? The shooting?”

  “How much?”

  “Close to a quarter-million golds.”

  “And your father was pressuring him to supply the engines and turbines for the first fast battlecruiser?”

  “He—Father—just said that Glendyl was being unreasonable, and that he was certain, once they talked matters over, Glendyl would see reason.”

  “Did they talk matters over? Do you know when?”

  “They did, several nights before Father was shot. When Glendyl left, Father came and found me in the billiards room. He was very pleased, and he sent a message to the head of the shipworks to revise the proposal to present to the Council when it reconvened in Ianus…” Frydryk paused. “I can’t believe…Glendyl? Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t think he did. I think your father was killed and Glendyl was shot in order to stop the shipbuilding project.” That wasn’t the whole story, but there was no need for Frydryk to know the rest, especially since I wasn’t certain of all the details, not yet.

  “But who?”

  “The Ferrans. Who else? With your father and Glendyl dead, and a huge debt owed by Glendyl, who would know that Glendyl hadn’t arranged for your father’s death? Especially since Glendyl would have known that he would become the acting head of the Council.”

  “That would mean…”

  “It could mean any number of things,” I said quickly. “Oh…I was wondering. Are there plans and specifications for Glendyl’s turbines where you can reach them?”

  That brought another frown.

  “I don’t need to see them. Glendyl almost died. I’d hate to think that all that work was only in one place.”

  He did smile. “That was something Father insisted on, given how much Glendyl owed him. We have two sets in two very different and safe places.”

  “Good…and thank you. I just needed to know about the debt before I did anything else. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention it to anyone for right now…except, of course, Maitre Dyana, if anything happens to me.”

  That surprised him as much as anything I’d said.

  “Of course…but…”

  “We still need modern ships, but I don’t
want all of this coming out until we can track down all of those who are involved. One way or another, it shouldn’t take that long.” Why I thought that, I didn’t know. The Ferran plot had been put in place years before, I suspected.

  “Thank you.” I smiled again. “I do appreciate it…and give my best to Alynkya.”

  “Oh…I will.”

  With that, I left the study and a still-confused Frydryk.

  In the coach on the way back to Imagisle, I tried to fit more of the pieces together. Glendyl hadn’t gone to the Ferrans. That was clear. They’d come to him, most likely not even as Ferrans, but as someone reputable, and they’d known about his debts, perhaps as representatives of a banque concern. They’d also known about his accepting bribes from Haebyn, and they’d threatened to expose everything unless he did a favor for them. That favor had likely been tied in some way to Suyrien’s death, further enmeshing Glendyl. Then they had suggested that the only way to avoid being discovered was to remove senior imagers, such as me or Rholyn.

  Still…there had to be more. Or I was missing something? Or both.

  Then I recalled the last Pharsi foresight flash I’d gotten. Had that been a vision of Glendyl’s massive manufactory at Ferravyl? Was that where I was supposed to go?

  Even as I knew it was necessary, a part of me both resented and accepted the fact that I had no choice but to go on intuition…simply because neither the Collegium nor the Council had developed a unified and standardized system for handling information.

  Seliora could come up with cards and card readers that could replicate designs for fabrics, but the head of security for the Collegium Imago had to piece together rumors, fragmentary and incomplete information, and old documents, and then rely on intuition and hope. I’d had more information when I’d been a District Captain of the Civic Patrol. That was an aspect of Ferlyn’s studies of patterns that, apparently, no one had yet understood. Just as the way of fabricating and building things was changing, so also was change needed in the means and systems of administering Solidar…and in gathering intelligence and data.

  But…that would have to wait until after I visited Glendyl’s manufactory in Ferravyl and after I resolved the current crises…if I could.

  Once I returned to the Collegium, I took full advantage of my position as a senior Maitre and had the duty staff arrange a sleeping compartment for me on the evening express to Ferravyl. While they were taking care of that, I wrote out a set of instructions for Anaxyr, the Collegium’s regional in Ouestan, and then took the sheet to Schorzat, who was in his study, writing out something himself.

  “Does this make sense?”

  He took the paper and read it. “It makes sense. Whether he can find out what you want is another question.”

  “He ought to be able to discover if there are Ferran clients who’ve made recent transactions here in Solidar…or if there have been withdrawals on accounts that meet the parameters.”

  “That’s possible,” he said.

  “Good. I’d appreciate it if you’d take care of having a copy made and the original sent. I’m trying to get ready to take the night express to Ferravyl.”

  “Ferravyl…something to do with Glendyl?”

  “I hope not, but I’m afraid so.”

  “Better you than me. Train travel isn’t all that marvelous for an imager.” Schorzat shook his head sympathetically.

  “I can’t say I’m looking forward to it.”

  I returned to my study, where I did some rough calculations. Then, once Beleart confirmed that I had passage, I headed up to see Maitre Dyana.

  She just looked at me when I walked into her study.

  “I’ll be leaving for Ferravyl on the evening express.”

  “What’s in Ferravyl that requires your presence so urgently?”

  I offered a pleasant smile. “I’m not totally certain, but I think it might be part of the answer to some of the problems we’ve had.”

  “Which part? Geuffryt’s?”

  “No. Why Glendyl and Suyrien were shot. Suyrien needed Glendyl’s engines and turbines, even for the merchanters he was building. So who else would be likely to loan Glendyl golds, in order to keep the engines coming? I guessed that the costs of developing and building the newer steam turbines for warships cost Glendyl far, far more than anyone knew, but since he had the sole rights to them, Suyrien didn’t have any choice. I checked with Frydryk, and they loaned him a quarter of a million golds.”

  “That doesn’t explain why you need to go there.”

  “I don’t think that was all Glendyl owed. He wouldn’t have taken what amounted to bribes from Haebyn if Suyrien’s funding happened to be fully carrying him. I can’t be certain, but I think the answer is in Ferravyl.”

  “They may not let you in, you know?”

  I smiled back at her. “They will.” I smiled back at her. “I’m still a Civic Patrol Captain, too. I never got around to offering a resignation, and Artois never asked for it.”

  “No.” She smiled in return. “The Collegium hasn’t canceled your assignment there, either. How long will this take?”

  “One way or another, I should be back by Solayi evening.”

  “Be careful. You aren’t that indestructible, Maitre Rhennthyl.”

  “I intend to be very careful.”

  “Be more careful than that. If you won’t think about yourself, your wife, and your daughter, then think about what will happen to poor Schorzat if he has to pick up the pieces.”

  “Yes, Maitre.”

  I eased out of her study.

  It took another two glasses to make the remainder of my arrangements, which included another visit to Draffyd and arranging for an obdurate to accompany me on the express. Then I hurried home to pack. I’d just finished when Seliora entered her bedchamber and took in the valise.

  “You’re going where?” she asked. “When?”

  “Ferravyl. I’m leaving tonight. I’m fairly sure that’s where that farsight flash took place…or will take place.”

  “Why there?”

  “Because it’s the only place that makes sense.” I gave her a quick and condensed version of what I’d found out and thought.

  “Going there could be very dangerous.” Those were her only words when I finished.

  “That’s possible. I think not going could be even more so. I don’t think anyone—including Maitre Dyana, the Council, and Sea-Marshal Valeun—really understands how much thought and resources the Ferrans put into this.”

  “You don’t think Geuffryt…?”

  “No. He has a very different agenda. The sad thing is that he ended up helping them.”

  “What can you do about him?”

  “I’ve been ordered not to do anything or to have anyone under me do anything.”

  Seliora nodded thoughtfully. “You have another idea.”

  “I may, but it will have to wait. Ferravyl is more important.”

  “When do you have to leave here?”

  “In about a glass.”

  She stepped closer and put her arms around me, then lifted her lips to mine.

  42

  Ferravyl was close to 450 milles from L’Excelsis, at least by ironway, and even on the express, that was a trip of some nine glasses. Since I was taking the night special, it also meant taking a lead-cloth bed hanging, which I’d obtained from Draffyd, as well as a small bottle of a sleep opiate. Then, too, there was the requirement for an obdurate travel guard. The guard’s name was Claudyn, and, except for the black cloak and trousers, rather than livery, he looked like he might have been a High Holder’s personal bodyguard.

  The L’Excelsis ironway station was on West River Road, about a mille south of Alusine Wool. We arrived at the station by duty coach at half before seventh glass, and then had to wait.

  While we stood on the platform, I asked Claudyn, “Have you done this often?”

  “Never that much. None of the Maitres have traveled since the Ferrans shelled the Collegium—excepting Maitre
Rholyn.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “Only to Asseroiles. High Holder Haestyr had requested his presence.”

  “When was that? Do you remember?”

  “It was after Councilor Suyrien was shot, but before he died. Maitre Rholyn did say something about not wanting to go.”

  That was interesting, especially since Claudyn had no idea what the two had discussed, not that Rholyn would ever have told him. Had Haestyr been angling to succeed Suyrien…or to oppose Ramsael? I’d have to bring that up to Maitre Dyana.

  Once the train was opened to boarding, we made our way to the second accommodation carriage and located compartment three. The private sleeping chamber might have been considered commodious by some, but my lead-lined bedchamber was High-Holder spacious by comparison, although the dark oak paneling and deep green hangings and upholstery did help in making the train compartment seem warmer. Once the train was well away from L’Excelsis I prepared for sleep. Even after taking the draught I didn’t slumber all that well, but I didn’t dream. I did wake with a pounding headache and a much fuller understanding of what Schorzat had meant about train travel for an imager.

  The locomotive puffed into the station in Ferravyl just before seventh glass on Vendrei morning. Breakfast in the dining car hadn’t been bad, even if the fried cakes had been a touch heavy. Eating had reduced my headache to a dull but faint throbbing. As we departed the train, under a hazy gray sky, Claudyn was cheerful, but kept that cheer to a few remarks and a near-constant smile. Surprisingly, there were more than a few hacks lined up outside the station, and we had no trouble engaging one for the trip to Glendyl’s manufactory, known locally, I discovered, as “the big engine works.”

  After Frydryk’s comments, I’d wondered about the security of Glendyl’s facility, but, once the hack stopped outside the closed iron gates, I had the feeling he’d never seen it. The two-and-a-half-yard-high stone wall that surrounded the works ran at least half a mille in each direction from the gates. There were two guards at the stone gate house on the right side of the iron gates.

  One of them stepped forward as I walked toward him. The wind was raw, although not as cold as in L’Excelsis. That rawness might have been because Ferravyl was far damper.