Imager's challenge ip-2

by L. E. Modesitt

  For whatever reason, Veblynt had steered the wool contract to Father. While I did not know the reason, I had the feeling that it was strictly to give me time to deal with Ryel . . . or at the least to make Ryel work harder to ruin me and my family. Then, it might have been to force Ryel into making a mistake. I had strong doubts that it was merely to help Father, but how could I tell? I wasn’t about to ask Veblynt . . . not now, at least.

  “Seliora is beautiful and well endowed . . . especially coming from a crafting family,” Mother offered.

  What she really meant was that she was still surprised to find a Pharsi girl who was as beautiful and well off as Seliora. She was also suggesting that I might have done better to look more closely at Iryela.

  “Indeed she is, and her brothers are far more welcoming than Iryela’s brothers would have been. High Holders would prefer not to have imagers privy, even indirectly, to their family and their affairs.”

  “That’s a pity,” Mother said. “Is this . . . heiress . . . attractive?”

  “She’s quite attractive, if in a cold and calculating fashion,” I replied. “You know I don’t do well with that.” I took another sip of the tea.

  “Maelyna, even I know that Rhennthyl needs someone warm and kind, especially since he’s become an imager. All the gold in Solidar doesn’t warm a home or a bed.”

  That comment from my father surprised me, although it shouldn’t have, because, for all his bluster at times, he’d always been appreciative of my mother, and seldom said anything unkind. He also didn’t tolerate anyone else saying anything negative about her.

  “You and Seliora haven’t had dinner with us recently,” Mother said.

  I had to think about that, but she was right. It had been over a month.

  “You could come next Samedi. Culthyn has never met Seliora, you know?”

  “Could we make it for sixth glass?”

  “Of course, dear.”

  “I’ll have to send her a note.” Seliora had agreed that we’d go out, and I hoped she wouldn’t mind. “Plan on it, and I’ll let you know if there’s a problem.”

  “It would be nice to get to know her better.”

  That might well be, but it would be nerve-racking for me. I just smiled.

  “Will you keep painting?” Mother asked. “Khethila mentioned something . . .”

  “I’ve finished one portrait. That’s of the head maitre of the Collegium. They hung it in the receiving hall. . . .” I went on to talk about Maitre Rholyn’s portrait, but not Seliora’s. It wasn’t far enough along that I felt comfortable discussing it yet, although I’d certainly have to by the next Samedi.

  29

  Lundi morning, Clovyl canceled the running, but not the exercises and sparring, because so much water had pooled all over the isle and because tree limbs had fallen everywhere in the high winds that hadn’t even awakened me during the night. I hurried through cleaning up and breakfast so that I could post the note to Seliora about our change in dinner plans, run down Grandisyn to request a replacement for my armoire, and so I could get to Third District station earlier than usual. Grandisyn didn’t even seem surprised, but he did say it would be a few days.

  I made it to the station early only because I had the use of a duty coach. I also carried a small bag that held the frayed and worn brown cloak and brown-and-black plaid cap. I didn’t see many hacks on the road. Captain Harraf must have switched to supervising the late shift, because Lieutenant Warydt looked up from talking to a patroller on desk duty and nodded to me as I entered the station and put the bag in the square cubby that had been assigned to me.

  I didn’t see Alsoran, but that was secondary for the moment. I was looking for the pair who had the round covering that part of the taudis controlled by Youdh. It didn’t take long to run down Melyor and Slausyl, although I only knew them by sight and in passing.

  Slausyl was about my height, with blue eyes, blond hair, and a round boyish face on which the deep lines on his forehead seemed out of place. Melyor was shorter, squatter, with washed-out and limp brown hair and sad hazel eyes.

  “A moment, if you would,” I offered as I stepped toward them.

  “What did you want to know, sir?” asked Melyor.

  “Whatever you can tell me about Youdh. Alsoran may have told you what happened . . .”

  “Yeah,” replied Slausyl. “It doesn’t make much sense.”

  “About Youdh?” I prompted.

  “We’ve never really seen him-except at a distance-if he was even the one. He looks to be big, but not so tall as Alsoran, maybe not quite so broad, either.”

  “Does he always have guards with him?”

  “You aren’t thinking . . .” Melyor glanced to Slausyl.

  I shook my head. “It seems to me that an imager or a Civic Patroller’s taking out a taudischef would just create a bigger problem. I’m just trying to learn enough so that things make more sense to me.”

  “Sometimes the toughs with him wear purple jackets,” said Slausyl. “There’s always one in purple.”

  “Probably his enforcers,” I speculated. “How does he handle enemies?”

  “Has ’em killed. How else?” asked Melyor.

  “But is there anything to show that’s why?”

  Both patrollers exchanged glances.

  “Why else would they be dead?” Slausyl finally asked.

  “Lots of reasons.” I paused. “I’ve heard that the Tiempran priests-the ones who believe in equality-they’ll cut their heretics into two equal halves. The High Holders leave silver knots to make sure people know why something happened. Does Youdh do anything like that?”

  “Oh . . . that,” replied Melyor. “Don’t know as it always happens, but we’ve found a couple of bodies in the middle of where two lanes cross with their throat cut and a dull knife through their voice box. That’s for squealers.”

  “I’d heard that Youdh makes deals with the Puryon Temple priests.”

  “That’d be hard to say, sir,” said Melyor. “Sometimes one of the advocates that the priests use will show up in court for someone that might belong to Youdh. But who could tell whether they were working for the priests or Youdh?”

  “Or both,” I added.

  Melyor looked at me, as it to ask if I had any more questions.

  “What do you think will happen if a conscription team enters your round?”

  Both patrollers laughed harshly.

  “Nothing Namer good, sir,” Slausyl finally replied.

  “Do you know when they will?” asked Melyor.

  “They don’t tell anyone, especially not imagers . . . or patrollers. Since I’m considered both right now . . .” I let the words hang.

  “Too bad.”

  “Exactly.” I nodded. “Thank you both.”

  “Our pleasure, sir,” replied Melyor.

  No sooner had I stepped away from the two patrollers and turned to look for Alsoran than Lieutenant Warydt stepped away from the duty desk and began to walk toward me.

  I was getting leery of Patrol officers. Whenever one approached me, the results were seldom good, but I smiled and said, “Lieutenant.”

  “Master Rhennthyl . . . how would you feel about accompanying Lyonyt next week on the round you’ve been doing? That would be a real help. We just found out that Alsoran’s been made a patroller first, and he’s being transferred to Fifth District. We won’t get a replacement by then, and it might be longer.”

  “I’d be happy to help.” What else could I have said?

  “The captain and I appreciate that very much. Thank you.” With a smile, he turned and headed toward his study.

  By then, Alsoran had arrived, and I walked to join him. I didn’t say anything about his pending promotion until we were outside and walking down to Quierca. “I understand congratulations are in order.”

  Alsoran offered an embarrassed smile. “I guess I was fortunate.”

  “I’m sure you deserve it. What have you heard about Fifth District?”


  “It won’t break my heart to spend some time there. That’s the area that includes Plaza D’Este, and there’s no taudis or taudis-types around. I won’t have as many stories to tell, but that’s just fine.” Alsoran grinned.

  “I’m glad for you.”

  “Not as glad as my wife.”

  We’d walked more than five blocks southeast on Quierca, just about two blocks short of where the round started, when I noticed a taudis-tough leaning against the wall. He made no attempt to conceal the fact that he was watching us.

  “Do you know him?” I asked Alsoran.

  “I don’t recall seeing him before, but that’s Youdh’s territory.”

  The man said nothing, but I could feel the tough’s eyes on my back after we passed. A little more than a block farther along was another tough, leaning against a stone gatepost. Like the first, he watched, but said nothing.

  “They’re looking at you, sir,” observed Alsoran.

  They were the only taudis-toughs we saw all day, and the only difficulty we had was with a smash-and-grab by a muddled elver in late afternoon. I had to chase him a block, but I couldn’t claim much credit because he looked back at me and ran into a lamppost and went down. The old woman got her bag and wallet back, and the elver went off to gaol, and we rode the pickup wagon back to the station.

  After I finished the round report with Alsoran, I reclaimed my bag and then walked up Fuosta and out to the Midroad, where I waited nearly half a glass to catch a hack. The driver didn’t say much, but I could sense he didn’t like taking me to the intersection of Fedre and East River Road, because he’d end up on the wrong side to pick up fares. While I was in the hack I donned the brown cloak and plaid cap and slipped my visored uniform cap into the bag.

  Once I’d paid the driver, and I did give him a few extra coppers, I dodged through the welter of coaches and wagons, and the occasional rider, back across East River Road. As soon as I turned up Fedre, I began to build concealment shields, just enough so that anyone who looked in my direction would see a workman in mismatched cloak and cap, without really picking up much more than that.

  The sky was hazy and overcast, and the sun was only a faint glow in the west, already dropping behind the buildings on the west side of Fedre. When I neared Patrol headquarters, I eased closer to the buildings and began to increase the concealment of my shields. When I reached the main entrance I eased back against the stone wall and waited.

  Nearly a glass passed, and while I saw both the commander and the subcommander leave, I didn’t see Lieutenant Mardoyt. Had he taken the day off? Or was he on leave? I couldn’t afford to ask about such. So I decided to keep waiting and watching.

  Close to two quints passed before I saw him hurry down the steps and turn toward the river. I followed, maintaining concealment shields and trying to stay close, but not too close. The fading light helped, or at least I thought it did, because no one even seemed to see me.

  When Mardoyt reached East River Road, he stopped and began to signal for a hack.

  Once Mardoyt was inside, I swung up on the luggage rack in the rear, hoping that the trip wouldn’t be long or rough . . . and that the driver wouldn’t take undue notice of the extra weight.

  The coach followed East River to the Avenue D’Artisans, then headed east, but only for a mille or so, when it came to a halt. When I heard the coach door open, I slipped off the luggage rack, but waited at the rear of the coach where, even had I not been using shields, it would have been impossible for the driver to see me.

  Mardoyt glanced around, then began to walk up the side street, whose name I couldn’t make out in the dimness. He turned right at the second cross street, which had to be Saelio, although this portion of the street was a good two milles, if not more, from the part that bordered the taudis near Third Station, and somewhere southwest of Sudroad.

  Both sides of the street were filled with modest row houses, either duplexes or triplexes. They were established enough that the trees lining the narrow strip next to the walk were older and would offer considerable shade during the day. Almost all were oaks.

  Mardoyt walked up the walk of the fifth house, the left side of a duplex, which had a covered porch on the east side. A girl opened the door, and Mardoyt stepped inside.

  I moved under a tall and not quite ancient sycamore, one of the few softwoods, and leaned against the trunk.

  From what I’d seen of Mardoyt’s schedule during the time I’d been at headquarters, if he were meeting with those outside the Patrol, it most likely had to occur after he left headquarters or before he arrived. I knew very few people, except imagers working for Master Dichartyn, who were that active in the early morning, and I was wagering that if I followed Mardoyt long enough, I’d learn something.

  Although I watched the house for close to two glasses, no one entered or left, and I finally walked back to the avenue and waited another half glass to pick up a hack. It cost me double because it was so late.

  30

  When I got out of the duty coach outside Third District station on Mardi morning, the pale blue sky was clear and crisp, and the wind had died away. I nodded to Melyor and Slausyl as they headed out of the station, and to Zellyn, who was just inside the station door. He gave me a smile.

  Alsoran arrived right after I stowed my bag in my cubby, and we immediately walked out of the station and up Fuosta to South Middle. Well before Dugalle, we passed the first of three toughs, all on the edge of Youdh’s “territory,” and all of whom watched me as we passed. I thought I caught a hint of purple under the nondescript dark brown cloak of the second tough.

  Once we were past the third tough-who was barely visible and indistinct from where he watched from within an alleyway-and started on the round proper, Alsoran cleared his throat. He didn’t quite look at me as he spoke. “Looks as you did something that Youdh didn’t like. Any idea what that might have been?”

  “The only thing I’ve done recently is ask some of the other patrollers what they know about Youdh. I asked Melyor and Slausyl because that’s their round.”

  “Good men, and they do their best.” He paused again. “No one else?” His tone was casual.

  “I did ask Sansolt about Youdh on Solayi. He was on the desk.”

  “Sansolt knows a great deal. He talks to everyone.”

  The flatness of Alsoran’s tone suggested even more than his words.

  “I’ll have to keep that in mind. Is there anyone else you think I should talk to who might know why Youdh’s men are watching me?”

  Alsoran didn’t speak for several steps, then fingered his chin. “You know, Master Rhennthyl, I can’t think of anyone who’d be helpful besides the ones you’ve already talked to. No patroller worth his stipend wants to get too close to the taudischefs. Folks believe the worst. The taudischefs think you’re out to get them somehow, and everyone else thinks you’re getting something from them. No way to come out ahead.”

  I laughed. “It’s too bad, but it makes sense. It seems to me that a taudischef like Jadhyl wants the same thing as the Patrol. He wants things to be orderly and go smoothly.”

  “He also wants to line his wallet.”

  “That’s true, but who doesn’t? The question is how people do it. Youdh likes to kill people if they don’t pay him. Does Jadhyl? You’ve patrolled here. What do you think?”

  “Jadhyl will . . . I think, only if he has to. Someone’s disappearing every week around Youdh. That’s what Melyor says. Is it true? Who knows? We don’t find bodies, and that’s fine with the captain.”

  I had doubts about that policy, but I wasn’t the captain.

  Meredi was again comparatively uneventful, although we did have to investigate a break-in at one of the bistros. A side of beef was missing, along with flour and oil and an empty cashbox that had held only a handful of coppers, but it had happened in the middle of the night, and the thief hadn’t left many traces except where he’d pried the bars away from a window opening onto the alley.

&nbs
p; Since we didn’t bring in any malefactors near the end of our round, I was able to leave the station close to fourth glass. Again, I hailed a hack to take me to Patrol headquarters. This time, I didn’t put on the cloak and cap in the coach, but left them in the bag. I didn’t slink around, either, but had the driver deliver me right to the building. I actually walked right into headquarters to the charging desk. Gulyart was still there.

  “Working the late glasses again?”

  Gulyart looked up from the charging sheet. “Master Rhennthyl.” He shook his head. “It takes longer by myself. I heard you were still at Third District.”

  “I am, but I thought I’d stop by and see how things were going here.”

  Gulyart shrugged. “Same as always.” He looked at me. “Maybe not quite. We’re not getting as many prisoners from Third District.”

  “I wouldn’t know. I’ve been walking rounds with patrollers, mostly in the taudis areas. The patrollers haven’t said much about numbers.”

  “There aren’t as many.” He gave a crooked smile. “Could be that some of them don’t want to try anything with an imager.”

  I shook my head. “From what I’ve seen, offenders don’t think about patrollers or imagers.”

  “They don’t, but the taudischefs might.”

  I just shrugged. What else could I have done? My next words were far lower. “Has anything changed here?”

  He was the one to shake his head. Then he glanced toward the closed door that led to the upper level and Mardoyt’s study. After a moment, he asked, “Have you heard about when they might send in the conscription teams?”

  “No. They wouldn’t tell me or anyone I know. I’d have to believe that it won’t be long, but who knows?”

  “Be nice if they’d let us know.”

  We both knew that the Army and Navy would do what they’d do.

  At that moment, the door from the upper level opened, and Baluzt stepped out, hurrying toward the charging desk. “Gulyart, do you have the charging sheets-”