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

by Modesitt, L. E. , Jr.

With that, after I donned my lighter cloak—the heavier one was being fullered—I guided him out of the administration building and to the duty coach stand. We rode back to Civic Patrol headquarters in a Collegium coach. There, I went upstairs alone.

  Artois was waiting in his study, but he didn’t speak until I closed the door. “You’re looking better today.”

  “Thank you. I’m feeling better as well. I assume you found some items of interest.” I sat down across the desk from him.

  “We did. There was only one body in the building. From what we can tell, it was Vyktor D’Banque D’Ouestan. He’d rigged the place with explosives, but there were two fuse systems, one above the front room…and one just inside the rear door to the alley.”

  “So he could destroy the building and depart.”

  “Most likely.” Artois looked at me. “We found two lockboxes. Do you have any idea what was in either?”

  “There might be a note for 25,000 golds owed to the Banque D’Ouestan by Councilor Glendyl. There might be documents with other names on them. One of those names might be Mahrun Barge and Cartage. Another might be Cholan Freight and Transport.”

  Artois nodded. “A fair number of golds were transferred to both of those names, and there were also remittances to the Banque D’Ouestan from them. I take it that you believe them to have been Ferran facades?”

  “That appears likely. You will make those available, if it becomes necessary?”

  “Of course.” After a slight hesitation, Artois added, “One of the other names was that of a Civic Patrol subcommander, but the documents involving him weren’t notes, but the record of a series of payments to one Vyktor D’Cleris from that subcommander. I thought you might wish to look at it.” He extended a small thin book across the desk.

  I opened it and scanned the entries in the miniature ledger. Most of them were outlays to names I’d never heard of, but there were occasional receipts. The only regular entries were from “Cydarth D’P., in gold.”

  “To Vyktor? Not to the banque? Can you check the amounts against withdrawals or transfers from his account at the Banque D’Excelsis?”

  “I already did. The banque was cooperative, for once. For the most part, they match withdrawals, but the payments were made in actual golds, as you can see.” Artois offered a tight smile. “Although we cannot prove for what the payments were made, there is enough proof to dismiss the subcommander for improper behavior in transferring funds to the agent of a foreign power. He could contest the dismissal before the Justiciary, but that would make matters very public, and that would not be in his interests.”

  I had a very good idea why Cydarth had paid Vyktor. There had been too many “accidental” deaths of Patrol officers who opposed Cydarth. Again, there wasn’t any way to prove that.

  “Even more interesting,” continued Artois, “is the fact that the subcommander took the ironway somewhere last night. Do you know where?”

  “It’s likely that he took an express straight to Ouestan, but that’s a guess.”

  “He’ll be on a vessel outbound before we can get word there.” Artois reclaimed the ledger and extended a file holding loose papers. “I thought you might like to see this as well.”

  I opened the folder and studied the sheets there. In addition to the original note to Glendyl, there was another note, marked paid, for ten thousand golds from one Broussard D’Factorius and yet another that extended fifty thousand golds to High Holder Ruelyr. The second showed no indication of having been paid. There was a small note card. I read it twice.

  Mtre Rh. knows you. He will come after you sooner or later.

  The letter underneath was an ornate “L.” In the bottom right hand corner, a different hand had added, “10/11/762.”

  The later hand was doubtless Vyktor’s, but who would sign a note with a “L”? Abruptly, I knew, useless as it was, unless I could compare handwriting.

  “Most interesting. I assume you have no objection to my retaining this for a time.”

  “None whatsoever. None relates to offenses here in L’Excelsis.”

  I’d hoped that there might have been something more directly involving or implicating Geuffryt, but…if there didn’t happen to be anything, then there wasn’t anything.

  After a moment, Artois added, with a glint in his eye, “There was also a strongbox buried in the rear of the lower level. It held some four thousand golds.” He paused. “Nothing else. Just golds. Except they were Ferran minted golds.”

  “If you wouldn’t mind sending Maitre Dyana a report of that?”

  “I’d be pleased to do so.” He did not stand, but finally said, “You never trusted Cydarth, did you?”

  “No. I never did.”

  “Why?”

  “There were too many little things that bothered me.”

  Abruptly, Artois laughed. “That’s why you were a good Patrol officer, and why you’ll do well with what you’re doing.” He did stand. “We should meet often.”

  “We will.” I stood as well.

  The duty coach was waiting outside, with Lebryn ready to return me to Imagisle. And I while I had another piece of proof about Geuffryt, it was anything but conclusive.

  65

  When I got to my study on Meredi morning, there was nothing in either Tableta or Veritum about Cydarth, and neither newsheet mentioned anything about our northern fleet. While Valeun might be the first to receive news about fleet actions off Cloisera, I was confident that he wouldn’t be able to keep it from appearing in the newsheets. Because there wasn’t any news, it was unlikely that any communiqués had yet reached L’Excelsis, but I had no way of knowing whether Dartazn had been successful or whether he’d even been able to conduct the operation. I was definitely getting worried, but there was little I could do about it.

  Later that morning, the Council convened for its first true session for the new year. I was there to help Baratyn…and to see if anything interesting was reported or occurred. Nothing happened out of the ordinary, not even an attempt on the lives of one of the Councilors, and that often happened on the first day the Council met. There wasn’t any news circulating there, either, about the war or—as Deputy Sea-Marshal Caellynd had called it—the “conflict.”

  The factor’s assembly was still considering a replacement for Councilor Glendyl, although they had already agreed that the new factor Councilor on the Executive Council would be Sebatyon, the current timber and lumber factor from Mantes. No one wanted another Councilor associated even indirectly with shipbuilding, and that eliminated Diogayn, the most senior factoring Councilor, because he owned several ironworks.

  I did get home not much after Seliora. Because Diestrya was tired and cranky because she hadn’t taken a nap, we didn’t get to talk until after I had rocked her to sleep while Seliora sang lullabies. Then I eased her into the high-sided small bed, and we tiptoed downstairs.

  We just sat down on the settee in the family parlor and sighed, almost simultaneously, loudly enough that we looked at each other and laughed.

  “Sometimes…” I offered.

  She just nodded.

  “Would you like some wine? We do have a bottle of Dhuensa in the cooler.”

  “That would be good.”

  So I went and got it and poured us each a goblet, and we sat next to each other and had several swallows each.

  “I didn’t have a chance to tell you earlier,” Seliora finally said. “Shomyr came up with the sidearm this afternoon. He didn’t know whether you’d need the holster and belt, but they’re both there in case you need them, as well as a small box of bullets. I put them in the high strongbox in the study.”

  “The one our little climber can’t reach?” Even if she could, it was locked.

  Seliora nodded.

  “Thank you…and Shomyr.”

  “Can you explain what you can?” she asked quietly.

  “It has to do with Valeun and Geuffryt. I’ve told you about how I’m convinced that Geuffryt was the one who arranged the b
ombardment of Imagisle…”

  “I can’t believe anyone could do that just because he thought Maitre Dichartyn and Maitre Poincaryt might be sometimes supporting the High Holder Councilors—even if he wanted revenge. The Collegium only has one vote on the Council.”

  “There’s more to it than that, but I don’t know everything. Valeun is protecting Geuffryt, and I have a good idea just who it was that let Vyktor know that I would be visiting him, well before anyone else could have known that it would happen. Even if I could prove that Geuffryt wrote the warning note, it’s only another piece of circumstantial evidence…” I couldn’t help but shake my head.

  “So you have to come up with a way to resolve this?”

  “Unfortunately, and I’ll have to meet with both Geuffryt and Valeun, and that will be anything but pleasant. Oh…they’ll both be so solicitous and polite and so willing to be cooperative with the Collegium, and if I leave it to Valeun, nothing will happen because he doesn’t want any of it to come out, and Maitre Dyana would prefer not to have anything more come out because discrediting the Naval Command will just make getting Council support for rebuilding the fleet harder, and no one will think it’s urgent, especially if Dartazn’s mission is successful, because they’ll think Solidar has plenty of time.”

  “That’s not true, is it?”

  “No. Frydryk has the drawings and designs and rights to produce the steam turbines for a new class of warships, but it will take a year, perhaps as many as three, to rebuild the facility, and the Council will want assurances that it can be done, and the shipworks can only build so many at once. It might take ten or fifteen years…and if the Council waits several years before acting, because they want to be sure that the Naval Command is being run correctly…” I shrugged.

  “You’ll do what has to be done.” Seliora reached out and took my hand. “That’s all you can do.”

  And that was what I feared.

  66

  I was back to exercising and running on Jeudi morning, and that helped my mood, at least until I got to the administration building after seeing Seliora and Diestrya off. Even so, there was no sense in putting matters off. So I went to find Schorzat. I found him in Kahlasa’s study. Both of them looked up, not quite apprehensively.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I’ve been thinking…I’d like you to arrange for me to meet with Sea-Marshal Valeun and Assistant Sea-Marshal Geuffryt. I’d prefer later today but tomorrow would be acceptable. Stress that it is urgent, because we’ve received more evidence of Ferran activities that bear on the Naval Command.”

  “Do you want me to mention the notes to Ruelyr and Broussard?”

  “Don’t give them any details. Just say that because it involves both the fleet and intelligence. I need to meet with them both—and only them at first. Then they can decide who else, if anyone, needs to know.”

  Kahlasa grinned at me. “You know, Rhenn, you’re sounding more and more like a cross between Maitre Poincaryt and Maitre Dichartyn.”

  “What? Trying to ask politely for the impossible?” I let wryness creep into my voice.

  “Oh, you know it’s possible,” she countered. “Just extremely difficult. It’s a good thing you’ve survived so much.”

  I had a good idea what she was driving at, but I only said, “There are more than a few others, like you, who’ve been through things I wouldn’t want to have done.”

  “Not many. And you’ve lost people you’ve loved because you’re an imager.”

  That surprised me, because I’d never mentioned Rousel’s death to anyone but Dichartyn.

  Schorzat cleared his throat. I could tell we were making him uncomfortable, with the allusions to the death of Rousel and of Claustyn, Kahlasa’s husband, so soon after they’d been married. “I’ll have to go out to the Naval Command. Otherwise, they’ll stall you.”

  “I’d appreciate that, and I’ll leave you two to continue doing the almost impossible.” I smiled as warmly as I could.

  Once I returned to my study, I went through the newsheets. Veritum reported that the Stakanarans had repulsed a massive Tiempran counter-attack and then slaughtered close to half the Tiempran troops. Tableta’s lead story was yet another variation on the theme that innovative Naval tactics and superior training could only go so far, citing how much the new Ferran land-cruisers had changed the results in winter warfare in Cloisera and how the Stakanaran use of similar vehicles had played a part in the success of the annexation of Tiempran territory.

  I couldn’t help but wonder if Valeun had some information suggesting that Dartazn’s imagers were having early successes against Ferrum.

  It wasn’t until well into the afternoon that Schorzat knocked on my study door. “Half-past second glass tomorrow afternoon. The Sea-Marshal wasn’t pleased. I just asked his clerk-rating if the Sea-Marshal really wanted to put off the second-highest imager in all Solidar. Then I said I’d wait for an answer.”

  “You leaned hard.”

  “It wasn’t what you said, sir. It was how you said it. You don’t want to wait until next week. That was clear.”

  “Something’s in the works, and I need to put the Sea-Marshal on notice.”

  Schorzat smiled. “I’d love to be there.”

  I shook my head. “They don’t talk unless they’re where they can deny what they’ve said.” After a moment, I added, “Thank you. I do appreciate it.”

  “Better you than me, sir.” He stepped back and closed the door.

  What with one thing and another, and a late afternoon meeting with Marteon, I didn’t get to the house until after fifth glass.

  Seliora and Diestrya were sitting in the family parlor where Seliora was reading aloud to a slightly fidgety daughter.

  Diestyra looked at her mother. “No more reading, please.”

  So we talked and played with her until it was time for her to eat.

  We headed downstairs after putting her to bed for our own dinner, but Seliora stopped at the foot of the stairs and turned to me. “I received a notice of a bequest today. It came to NordEste Design.”

  With all that had happened, and my decision not to tell her, I’d almost forgotten that she would get the notice. “A bequest? From whom?”

  “From the estate of the late Suyrien D’Alte. Rhenn…it’s for ten thousand golds. I didn’t tell anyone the amount. I didn’t want to until I talked to you.”

  I had to swallow at the sum of the bequest. Iryela had said that it would be small, but I hadn’t really accepted what was considered small to a High Holder. I’d have to work for more than twenty years to earn ten thousand golds—and I was one of the highest paid imagers in the Collegium—and to save that amount would have been impossible. Even my father had put by only a fraction of that amount, at least from what I knew.

  “You’re as surprised as I am,” she said. “I wondered if you knew.”

  “Iryela had mentioned that she thought that you might get a very small bequest. That’s why I didn’t mention it. She emphasized that it was very small, and I’d thought it might be something like fifty or a hundred golds. I didn’t say anything because she said she wasn’t sure.”

  Seliora laughed softly. “Small means something very different to her.”

  “Every time I deal with High Holders, it seems as though I’m reminded of that.”

  “What will we do with it?”

  “Put it in the Banque D’Excelsis in your name. It has to stay in your name. Talk to your mother and grandmother. Then we’ll discuss it. Some of it should go for private tutors for Diestrya if she turns out not to be an imager, although that’s not likely.”

  Seliora’s mouth dropped open. “Do you think she will be? You’ve never said that before.”

  “If you weren’t from a Pharsi background, I’d say it was unlikely, but with an imager father and a Pharsi mother, Kahlasa told me years ago that there are two chances in three for a daughter to be an imager. If both the mother and father are imagers, it’s two in three for a bo
y, and almost always for a girl. I could be wrong, but I have the feeling that Diestrya will show up with the ability.”

  “Kahlasa has always known that Klaustya will be an imager?”

  I nodded. “It may not show up for a time, but she will be.”

  “She knew that before she had her daughter?”

  “She said she felt that it was a gift she had to pass on, like the Pharsi heritage.” Kahlasa hadn’t compared it to the Pharsi heritage, but her words had held the same import.

  “Do you know why Suyrien made the bequest?”

  “I can only guess. He never talked to me. Iryela said that he once mentioned that he owed Kandryl’s happiness to us.”

  “So…it’s a thank-you of sorts.”

  “That’s my guess, but it’s only a guess.”

  Seliora tilted her head slightly. “I’m not sure how I feel about that…but that will relieve Mama. She’s always worried about the future.”

  “NordEste Design is doing better than ever, you said.”

  “Pharsis never stop worrying. We may try to live for the day, but we plan endlessly for the morrow.” She smiled warmly at me. “You know that.”

  I did indeed.

  67

  Vendrei morning found me in Maitre Dyana’s study by half-past eighth glass. She wore a gray and silver scarf trimmed in black, and again there were dark circles under her eyes.

  “What do you intend to get out of this meeting with Valeun and Geuffryt? Unless there’s something I missed, you still don’t have much hard evidence to prove what we all know Geuffryt’s been doing.”

  “I do have an interesting note that I have every reason to believe is in his handwriting, if somewhat disguised. It’s a warning to Vyktor that I’ll be looking into his operations, and dear late Vyktor was kind enough to add the date of receipt, as pointed out by Commander Artois.”

  “Artois’s seen the note, then?”

  “He’s the one who found it, but he doesn’t know the writer, and I didn’t tell him.”