Imager's challenge ip-2

by L. E. Modesitt

  That brought the trace of a smile. Then he nodded, and he and the others hurried away.

  I kept a close eye on the prisoners. The Tiemprans wouldn’t look at me, and Saelyhd kept squirming and glaring. Donmass wasn’t saying anything, and I wondered why, until I saw that someone had stuffed a gag in his mouth.

  Captain Harraf arrived in less than half a quint, accompanied by Slausyl, Melyor, Lyonyt, Fuast, and the two tall patrollers I didn’t know. He looked over the three in the rather dusty Tiempran robes, and then Saelyhd and Donmass.

  He didn’t even ask any questions. He just nodded. “Take them in.” Then he inclined his head to me. “We need to talk.” He shook his head. “We lost one-Shagnyr-and a couple more got banged up. It could have been worse.”

  I understood that was as much of an acknowledgment or thanks as I was about to get. That was fine.

  We turned back down South Middle, ahead of the patrollers. From some of the sounds behind us, I could tell that they hadn’t been too gentle in getting the five to their feet, but I couldn’t say that I blamed them.

  “Did you make any promises to get them?” Harraf asked.

  “Just one . . . the same one I made to the major. I said I’d be with the scriptie team and try to keep everyone calm.” Paying Horazt wasn’t a promise.

  “Nothing . . . else . . . ?”

  “No, sir. I did suggest that no one tempt the scripties this weekend.”

  “Do I want to know how you did it?”

  “Imaging and appealing to their self-preservation, sir. I also used some imaging to persuade them to leave their hiding place.”

  He nodded, but he didn’t say more, and he didn’t look at me all the way back to the station.

  49

  By the time I wrote up the reports and the preliminary charging slips and made sure that the five were on their way to the main gaol under heavy guard, it was almost second glass of the afternoon. I knocked on the captain’s door. “I’ll need to report on this to the Collegium, immediately, sir.”

  “You’ve finished all the reports, Master Rhennthyl?”

  “Yes, sir, and the transfer wagon left about a quint ago.”

  “Then I’d say you’d best report. You’ll be here early on Lundi?”

  The last wasn’t really a question. “Yes, sir. Very early.”

  “Good. We don’t need to disappoint the major. Try to have a good weekend.”

  Although his voice was cheerful, the cheer was forced. I had the feeling that I’d upset the captain in some other fashion, and I’d have to be careful in the days ahead. “Thank you, sir.” I nodded and smiled, then turned and headed out to find a hack.

  Again, because South Middle was closed to coaches and wagons, I had to walk all the way to the Midroad. My feet hurt, and my stomach was growling, and I was light-headed. Once I did get a hack, it was a relief to sit down, even on the hard seat.

  Much as I didn’t look forward to it, once I left the hack and walked tiredly, very tiredly, across the Bridge of Hopes, I headed straight for Master Dichartyn’s study. He wasn’t there. So I went to the duty prime, who happened to be Jakhob.

  “Master Dichartyn’s not in his study.”

  “No, sir.”

  “Is he here at the Collegium?”

  The prime squirmed.

  “Don’t tell me. He’s with Master Poincaryt.”

  “Ah . . .”

  “Yes or no?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thank you.” I turned and walked to the back of the receiving hall and up the stone steps. My boots echoed in the silence.

  Master Poincaryt’s study was on the second level of the administration building in the southwest corner overlooking the quadrangle. I’d never been in his study, but I did know where it was. I shouldn’t have been surprised to see Gherard sitting at the small desk outside the door . . . but I was.

  “I assume that Master Dichartyn and Maitre Poincaryt are inside and not to be disturbed?”

  “They didn’t say that, sir. Not exactly.”

  “Good. Please tell them that the Tiempran priests exploded their Temple in the taudis late this morning, and I need to tell them what happened.”

  Gherard had been around. He didn’t question me. He immediately rose and walked to the closed door, where he rapped. “Master Rhennthyl is here with some very urgent news, maitres.”

  I didn’t hear the response, but Gherard opened the door and stepped back, nodding for me to enter.

  “Thank you,” I murmured as I passed.

  He offered a faint smile in return.

  I closed the door behind me. Windows dominated the south and west walls of the study. Maitre Poincaryt’s desk was set at an angle to them so that the southwest corner of the room was directly behind his desk chair. The walls flanking the entry door were built-in bookcases running from floor to ceiling. In the middle of the north wall was a door, closed, which probably led to a conference room, and the wall on both sides of that door also held full-length bookcases. The bookcases and the paneling were all of the same dark wood, as were the desk and the two chairs before it and the one in which Maitre Poincaryt sat, behind the desk. Master Dichartyn sat in the chair opposite the front south corner of the desk.

  Master Poincaryt appraised me in that way he had that seemed quick and casual and was not, then gestured to the empty chair opposite him and out from the other corner of the desk from where Master Dichartyn sat.

  “Thank you, sir.” I was happy to get off my feet.

  “What disaster have you caused now, Rhenn?” asked Maitre Poincaryt, his tone genial.

  “I had nothing to do with causing this one, sir. The Tiempran priests exploded their Temple in the South Middle taudis. They’d gathered some of their followers, and the people were chanting . . .” I went on to explain exactly what had happened step by step. The only thing I left out was my promise to pay Horazt five golds. “. . . and as soon as I finished writing up the reports and making sure the priests and the taudischef were on the way to the main gaol, I hailed a hack and came here.”

  “I’m not quite clear on one thing,” Maitre Poincaryt said. “Why did you suggest that the Tiemprans might have explosives in the Temple? How did you know that?”

  “I didn’t know that, sir. That was the problem. But I remembered what the Tiempran First Speaker said, and when I saw all the taudis-dwellers chanting and the naval marines ready to charge them, I got a very bad feeling. The priests had already started one riot, and the Patrol had managed to contain it.” I shrugged. “I can’t explain more than that.”

  “Can’t . . . or won’t?”

  “I can’t. I knew, but I had no proof. I just knew.”

  “This has posed a problem before,” Master Dichartyn said mildly.

  “You’ve mentioned that.” Maitre Poincaryt’s voice was dry. He looked back to me. “Why did this Horazt agree to help you? Taudischefs don’t usually help either imagers or patrollers.”

  “I know him. He brought in Shault when I had the duty. He claims young Shault is his cousin, but I’m fairly sure that Shault’s his son. Has Master Dichartyn told you . . . ?”

  “Yes. I know you’ve been acting as an unofficial second preceptor to him.”

  “I’ve also delivered messages from him to his mother, and I’ve run across Horazt several times. He’s provided some information about the taudis. I just pointed out to him that if we didn’t come up with the priests and Saelyhd that the marines were most likely to burn down the taudis and worse than that.”

  “You aren’t very complimentary to the naval marines,” said Maitre Poincaryt.

  “After what I saw . . .” That meant I needed to explain about the lieutenant, but I gave the “official” explanation.

  “That isn’t quite what happened, I imagine, knowing you,” said Master Dichartyn.

  “That is what everyone saw, sir.”

  “And it’s best left that way.” Master Poincaryt leaned back slightly in his chair, then glanced
at Master Dichartyn, then back at me. “It does appear that you have managed to mitigate a disaster. Tell me honestly. Do you think that the marines would have reacted less violently if nothing had happened to the lieutenant?”

  “No, sir. I don’t think the lieutenant’s fate even crossed the mind of the colonel or the major. The major didn’t even consider that more than a hundred taudis-dwellers were killed or injured or that they were as much victims as the marines.”

  “You will be questioned most rigorously at the hearings, you know,” said Maitre Poincaryt.

  “Yes, sir. I had thought as much.”

  “Why did you suggest accompanying one of the teams?”

  “I thought it might reduce the risk of attacks by both sides.”

  “You’re going to bring order to the taudis all by yourself?” Master Dichartyn’s voice was gently sardonic.

  “No, sir. I just wanted to reduce the chance of violence.”

  Once more, the two exchanged glances.

  “Is there anything else we should know about this?” asked Maitre Poincaryt.

  “I’d guess that Captain Harraf isn’t happy about Saelyhd being captured, but I have no proof at all about that.”

  “There is that,” offered Master Dichartyn. “We’ll have to let the plaques fall where they may where he’s concerned.”

  Abruptly Maitre Poincaryt smiled. “I think that will do for now. Oh . . . have you finished the portrait of Master Rholyn?”

  “No, sir. I’m close. One more sitting, two at most.”

  “Good. If we need anything more from you, Master Dichartyn will let you know.”

  “Thank you, sir.” I inclined my head to him, and then to Master Dichartyn, before turning and leaving the study.

  I walked back down the steps and out into the quadrangle, where I looked to the northeast. There wasn’t even a hint of a cloud of dust, or anything to mark what had occurred. Why had the colonel been so intent on ignoring not only me, but Captain Harraf? I already had learned that to preserve some lives, others had to be taken, and I’d done that. But how would riding down taudis-dwellers have solved anything? Removing a Youdh or a Saelyhd might reduce the violence or killing in the taudis, but I wasn’t sure that removing Jadhyl or even Horazt would help matters. And beating up people who hadn’t so much as picked up a stone would only make matters worse. I couldn’t have been the only one to know that.

  After a time, I made my way back to my quarters, where I tried to rest.

  I didn’t, not much, not when I kept thinking about Rousel, and how and why he’d died. Why did the Nameless-if the Nameless even existed-allow people like the colonel and the lieutenant and Ryel to kill so many just for the sake of transitory power? But then, the Nameless had given us free will. Did that mean that it was our responsibility to stop them? If so, if we killed to prevent killing, where did it all end?

  I thought about that for a long time, but in the end, the basic questions remained. Were there any real answers?

  Somewhat before sixth glass I left my quarters and walked slowly to the dining hall. I wanted to be there early because I didn’t know where else to find Shault. I didn’t see him, but while I was waiting, I checked my letter box and found a note from Khethila. It was very brief, just noting that Father and Mother and Remaya and Rheityr would be arriving on the Mantes Express at third glass on Solayi and that she would be sending Charlsyn to pick them up. That made sense because it would have been impossible to fit luggage and any more than four people in the coach. That meant I needed to be with Khethila sometime around third glass.

  I slipped the envelope into my waistcoat and continued to wait for Shault.

  He walked in with Lieryns and Cholsyr, an even more recent prime than Shault himself. When he looked up and saw me, he almost started to run, but then managed to hold himself to a quick walk.

  “Sir, have you heard-”

  “The Temple explosion wasn’t near your mother or Horazt. They were both fine when I left the taudis this afternoon, and the scripties’ commander promised they wouldn’t go into the taudis until Lundi when I’m with them.”

  His eyes widened. “Sir?”

  “It’s a long story that you’ll have to hear later.”

  “Mama is all right? And Horazt?”

  I nodded.

  “Thank you, sir.” He inclined his head seriously, then turned and walked back to the others.

  Once the three entered the dining hall, I waited for several moments, then made my own way in. Ferlyn, Chassendri, and Isola were already at the masters’ table and must have come in by the south doors. I walked toward them.

  Ferlyn looked at me as I sat down. “The word is that a Tiempran Temple exploded in the taudis, and hundreds were killed or wounded.”

  “That’s right. About half marines and half taudis-dwellers and some patrollers. The priests planned it. Some of them and the taudis-leader who helped them are in gaol.”

  “And I suppose you managed to capture them?”

  “With some help, yes.” I smiled. “If you wouldn’t mind passing the red wine. It’s been a very long day.”

  On the far side of Ferlyn and Chassendri, Isola laughed. “You did ask, Ferlyn.”

  “You aren’t going to say more, are you?” he asked.

  “I’d rather not. I’m sure I’ll be asked a lot of questions at the hearing. The wine, if you would?”

  “I’ve told you this before, Rhenn, but you know how I hate the fact that you covert types keep everything so quiet.”

  I offered a deep and loud sigh. “Ferlyn, over two hundred people died this morning. Probably as many as that were injured. The Tiemprans put explosives in their Temple and gathered worshippers to chant for the conscription teams to leave, just to goad the marines into advancing on the Temple. I warned the colonel against it. I couldn’t prove what would happen. He ignored me. The Temple exploded. I did my best to clean up what I could.” I offered a very polite smile. “You’ll pardon me if I don’t feel like saying more.” I paused. “Now . . . might I please have the wine?”

  He passed the carafe to me.

  After a long period of silence, Isola spoke. “Ferlyn, there are reasons why the covert imagers don’t feel like talking about what they do. It might help if you respected those reasons.”

  That was as close to a reprimand as I’d ever heard from Chorister Isola.

  Chassendri winced.

  Ferlyn turned to me. “I am sorry, Rhenn.”

  “I apologize for being short, Ferlyn. It really has been a very long day, and I’ll have to work with the conscription teams next week as well.”

  Isola looked to me. “Shault?”

  “His mother is all right. I found that out and told him before dinner.”

  “Thank you.”

  Ferlyn didn’t quite look at me for the rest of the meal, but I wasn’t certain I wanted to look at myself, either. For all that I’d told myself that I’d done what I could, couldn’t I have done something more? Yet I couldn’t have persuaded the colonel not to attack on the basis of a Pharsi farsight vision, and anything that would have persuaded him would have been an invention, if not an outright lie that would have come back to haunt me, the Patrol, and the Collegium-assuming I could have even thought up something like that quickly enough. Harraf had accepted my warning only because he knew something about me and because it fit in with his own plans.

  50

  I did sleep on Vendrei night. The gray drizzle that greeted me when I woke on Samedi morning and looked out my window wasn’t cheering. On the other hand, when I stopped outside the dining hall and picked up the newsheets, I was gratified to see that while there were stories about the Temple explosion, the stories blamed the Tiempran priests and only noted that patrollers from the Third District had captured the priests and others involved in the explosion. That would change when I appeared at the hearing, as I suspected I would, but for now, few knew, and that was for the best.

  Even more cheering was that no one was a
t the masters’ table at breakfast except Isola when I arrived. I sat down beside her gratefully.

  “Thank you for your words last night.”

  “You’re welcome.” She smiled warmly, and genuinely, not that she wasn’t always genuine. “You were upset. I could tell.”

  “I was.” I filled my mug with tea, then took a sip before saying more. “I knew that it would be wrong to attack the taudis-dwellers. I mean, that something terrible would happen, but I couldn’t persuade the colonel. Even Harraf could see I knew. That’s one of the few times he’s listened, but the colonel wouldn’t listen to either of us.”

  “That’s one of the problems with being a military officer,” she replied. “In combat, you can’t hesitate. Many of them can’t break that habit when they’re not dealing with out-and-out warfare, not unless you can lay out absolute proof. Dealing with people, even mobs, takes a different set of skills.” She shook her head. “I don’t think anyone could have changed the colonel’s mind.”

  “I can tell myself that, but . . . I still keep trying to come up with what I might have said.”

  “That’s why there is a covert branch of the Collegium. That’s also why it must be small.”

  I understood the first; I wasn’t sure I understood the second.

  “There’s always the temptation to think we know better, that our way is better, that everyone else doesn’t see what is obvious to us. Our way usually is better, but that doesn’t matter if people fear and distrust us to the point where they would do anything to destroy us. With a small covert branch, things do happen, but they don’t happen to many people, and the people to whom they happen usually deserve them. Even when people aren’t sure about that, there’s enough distrust of those who are well off and powerful that people are likely to think there must have been a reason. That works only so long as people don’t think it could happen to them, and it can’t with a few handfuls of covert imagers.” She paused. “If they’re careful.”

  That made sense.

  “You pose another problem, though. Covert imagers have great individual powers. You have to have them to survive. We have to let you have them so that we can survive.”