Imager's challenge ip-2

by L. E. Modesitt

  At that moment, an image flashed before me-clear, instant, and then gone-of an angular figure with a rifle looking at the main doors of the Anomen D’Este.

  “. . . let us set aside the gloom of mourning, and from this day forth, recall the glory of Rousel’s life and the warmth and joy he has left with us . . .”

  With those words, all the women let the mourning scarves slip from their hair.

  Then came the traditional closing hymn-“For the Glory.”

  “For the glory, for the life,

  for the beauty and the strife,

  for all that is and ever shall be,

  all together, through forever,

  in eternal Nameless glory . . .”

  As the last words of the closing hymn echoed through the anomen, I squeezed Seliora’s hand, then eased away toward the side of the chamber, hurrying toward the open doors. I stopped just inside them and surveyed the buildings across the street, especially along the roof lines, where a sniper might well be concealed. I saw no one that looked out of the ordinary.

  Then, people began to depart. Some of those at the back left immediately, hurrying past me as if they had fulfilled some obligation. One of them was Ferdinand, the masonry factor. Another was his brother, Tomaz, the produce factor.

  For a bit, then, no one departed. I judged that was because many of them wanted to offer condolences to Remaya and my parents, some of them at the anomen, so that they would not feel obligated to call at the house later.

  After a short time, a trickle of mourners began to file out, but I didn’t see Veblynt or others I would have expected.

  Before long, I could hear Culthyn’s voice. “There he is, by the doors.”

  I glanced back, but didn’t see Seliora, and that bothered me, but I had the feeling that she wouldn’t be a target of an assassin. I hoped not, but I waited as my parents approached.

  “Go ahead,” I said, “I’ll be right behind you.”

  I looked back again, and Seliora stepped out of one of the alcoves and moved up beside me. We walked down the steps just behind my parents, Khethila, Remaya, and Culthyn. I extended shields, trying to make sure that they protected Father and Culthyn.

  Something slammed into me-my shields, rather-and I barely managed not to stumble, even when a second bullet struck.

  Almost without thinking, I imaged a line of caustic back along what I felt was the path of the bullets, even as I kept walking and shielding my family. Remaya never looked up, or looked in my direction.

  Khethila looked back at me with a puzzled expression. “Rhenn.”

  “I stumbled.” That was all I said.

  “What did you do?” Seliora leaned toward me and murmured the words.

  “Another assassin,” I murmured back.

  Seliora looked at me. “There shouldn’t have been . . .”

  I understood what she meant. “Maybe there were too many.” This time, I had no doubts who was behind the attempt, because none of the shots had been at me. All had been aimed at members of my family. The attack also confirmed that I had no choice but to carry out what I planned, because Ryel would not stop until he was stopped. Nor would Dulyk.

  For that moment, though, either I’d been successful or the shooter had fled, because there were no more shots all the way to the coach. Father helped Remaya inside. She was trying to hold herself together, I could tell, so much so that she had not looked back or in any direction during the service or on the walk back to the coach.

  After the others were all in the coach, except Father, I said to him quietly, “We’ll just take a hack.”

  He nodded and climbed into the coach.

  Seliora and I left the family coach and walked back down Elsyor for less than thirty yards to the two hackers remaining. They knew when there were memorials. We took the first coach.

  Once we were inside and on our way, Seliora studied me. “You knew, didn’t you?”

  “I had a flash during the service. That’s why I hurried off.”

  “Grandmama thought someone might be shooting after the memorial service, but she arranged for people to be watching.”

  “I’m sure they were, but there might have been another. She’ll get a report, won’t she?”

  Seliora nodded, then reached out and squeezed my hand. “You spoke well and lovingly.”

  “I loved Rousel. Sometimes I could have strangled him, but I still loved him, and I didn’t want anything like this to happen to him.”

  “You’re worried about what someone might say at the house, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “I don’t want anyone to suspect what really happened. Everyone’s suffered enough.”

  She nodded.

  Charlsyn was just pulling the brown coach past the portico toward the rear stable at the house when Seliora and I alighted from the hack and began to walk through the front gate and up the walk.

  Remaya was standing under the portico, holding Rheityr against her shoulder and rocking him gently. She didn’t see us until we neared the front door. Then she stared, and even from yards away, I could see that she paled.

  “Salari Seliora ind puitre d’esprit vengael . . .”

  I couldn’t believe I heard the words, because Remaya hadn’t spoken that loudly, but more in an involuntary murmured exclamation, but I did. The only word I knew was Seliora, and that meant “daughter of the moon” in old Pharsi, something I hadn’t known until Seliora had told my parents months before.

  Remaya’s words halted Seliora as well. We looked at each other, then back toward Remaya, but she had turned away and fled, almost, into the house.

  “What did she say?” I asked.

  “That’s an old Pharsi expression.” Seliora hesitated, then went on. “It doesn’t translate directly, but it means something like ‘Protect us from the daughter of the moon and the spear of vengeance.’ The other part’s not really in the words, but the spear of vengeance traditionally refers to Erion, the lesser moon, and the coupling of the daughter of the greater moon with the lesser moon creates the terror of combining truth and power.”

  “The terror of combining truth and power,” I repeated. “Why would she say that?”

  “You said she had farsight.”

  “Not so much as you, but she said she’d had flashes. One was that she’d marry Rousel.”

  Seliora shivered. It wasn’t that cold out.

  “You two,” called Khethila from the door. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you coming inside?”

  “We’re coming,” I replied.

  One of the first people I saw when we stepped into the formal parlor was Factor Veblynt. I hadn’t seen him at the anomen, but he might have been there.

  He immediately came toward us. “Master Rhennthyl, I am so sorry for you and your family. Such a tragedy for you all, especially when matters like this happen to those who are innocent.” His eyes did not quite meet mine.

  “Often the worst happens to the innocent,” Seliora replied. “They don’t realize how unpredictable life can be, and they’re not prepared.”

  “That is true, Mistress Seliora.” Veblynt nodded to her, then looked to me. “Did anyone ever discover the cause of the . . . accident?”

  “For everyone concerned, it was a terrible accident,” I replied. “Terrible.”

  “Did you know that a similar sort of incident occurred last week here in L’Excelsis?”

  “I would not be surprised,” I replied. “There are far more wagons and horses here than in Kherseilles.”

  “Alynat D’Ryel died racing his trap on the road last week. Rather sudden, it was. Apparently, the wheel bearings froze suddenly.”

  “Alynat?” I frowned. “Wasn’t he the nephew or some such of High Holder Ryel?”

  “He was. Apparently, Ryel took his death rather hard, although, interestingly enough, he has not canceled his Fall Foliage Festival on Samedi. I thought you might find that interesting.” His eyes glittered.

  What I found interesting was that Veblynt
had brought it up. I managed to smile. “He has a foliage festival this late in the year?”

  “A whim of his,” Veblynt said with a smile that was anything but sincere. “Oh . . . I see your mother. If you would excuse me?”

  Seliora looked at me. “He’s very afraid of you. He also hates Ryel. He would not have spoken so otherwise.”

  “His wife must be a very close relation to Madame D’Ryel,” I said dryly.

  Seliora’s eyes followed Veblynt.

  After that people began to arrive, including Donalt and other relations I had not seen in years, if at all. We did not see Remaya anywhere, and I assumed she had retreated to her quarters, overwhelmed by people and grief.

  Despite the close to thirty people who descended upon the house, by sixth glass everyone who was not family had left, and Charlsyn was more than ready to take Seliora back to NordEste Design and me to the Collegium. The way things were going, I wanted Seliora home safely.

  “Tomorrow?” she asked.

  “I could see you for dinner.”

  “At home . . . that’s better until . . . for now.”

  “When will you be done with work?”

  “Whenever you get there.” Her smile lit up the interior of the coach.

  “Between fourth and fifth glass?”

  We held tightly to each other for the rest of the way to NordEste Design, and I walked her to the door, making certain my shields protected her. No one shot, not that I felt, in any case. Then I hurried back to the coach, and Charlsyn drove me to the Bridge of Hopes.

  Comparatively late as it was, when I returned to the Collegium, there was a prime waiting for me at the Collegium end of the bridge.

  “Master Rhennthyl?”

  “Maitre Dichartyn wishes to see me?”

  “Yes, sir. He’s still in his study.”

  “Thank you.” I didn’t hurry, but I didn’t dawdle, either, in making my way into and through the administration building to the study with which I was all too familiar.

  Dichartyn was actually sitting behind his writing desk, working on something when I stepped inside the study and closed the door. I took the chair across the desk from him.

  “How were the services, Rhenn?”

  “As I would have expected, sir, mainly family and close friends. Many came to my parents’ house afterward.”

  He nodded. “I wanted to talk to you tonight.”

  That suggested something was not well.

  “I had a report on your testimony yesterday.”

  There was nothing to say to that. So I didn’t.

  “Actually . . .”-Master Dichartyn drew out the silence-“you handled it very well. By bringing up the Tiempran problem and bringing in the priests, you got everyone off the hook. The conscription team can’t be blamed for not knowing there were explosives there. The taudis-dwellers can’t be blamed for being pawns of the evil Tiemprans. And the marine major can’t be blamed because his superior failed to heed your warnings. Captain Harraf and his observers were quite clear that you were not trying to tell the marines what to do, but only to point out that they had not been resisted. The justice found that your account was true in all particulars. That didn’t hurt the Collegium . . . too much.” He leaned back and sighed. “That brings up what seems to be the eternal question. What exactly are we going to do with you?”

  “Let me keep being a liaison,” I suggested.

  “After this? You’re powerful and dangerous, and too visible to discipline publicly. Not a single officer in the Patrol would dare to order you around after all this-or even suggest that you do anything. Like it or not, the word is out that sometimes strange things happen to people who cross you. The new-sheets already have a story about how you stood up against a power-hungry scriptie officer for the poor downtrodden taudis-dwellers.” He snorted.

  I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t about to suggest a solution because it was clear I wasn’t suited to quiet covert work, and that Master Dichartyn knew it. I also wasn’t suited to merely observing, and he knew that as well. And I didn’t want to end up imaging machine parts, either.

  “Rhennthyl, you’ve just lost a brother and survived a harrowing week in Third District. Just spend some time with your family and the young lady for the next few days. Try not to get into trouble. I’ve already sent a note to Commander Artois saying that you’ll be tied up with the Collegium for a few days. Maitre Poincaryt and I need to consider your situation.”

  “Yes, sir.” I wasn’t about to argue with that.

  As I walked across the quadrangle to my quarters, I kept thinking about Veblynt’s comments. Why he hated Ryel, I had no idea, but he as much as suggested that I act during the Foliage Festival. What bothered me was that was when I’d already planned to do just that.

  Were Veblynt’s words a lure? Or a suggestion?

  In the end, it didn’t matter. I was running out of time, and some opportunities occurred only once . . . and it was more than clear that waiting would only result in more attempts on my family-and eventually, if I did not act, more deaths.

  56

  Somehow, I didn’t think that taking off the next few days meant skipping exercises and running. So I got up and subjected myself to Clovyl’s tortures, then cleaned up and headed to breakfast.

  Kahlasa, Ferlyn, Chassendri, and Maitre Dyana were all at the masters’ table. Maitre Dyana was on the right and beckoned for me to sit by her. There was no reason not to, and I might learn something.

  Dyana let me pour my tea and take a sip before she spoke. “The events of the past week cannot strengthen your position in certain matters.”

  “That’s likely.” I wanted to see what she might say.

  “Have you decided what to do?” Dyana might have been asking about the weather.

  “My brother’s memorial service was yesterday. What I decide does not matter. Only what I do and how I do it matters.”

  “That is true.” She sipped her tea. “It also matters who knows what.”

  “Or who does not,” I pointed out.

  “Someone always knows, even if there is no proof.”

  “Master Dichartyn always wants proof.”

  “Does he? Or does he merely want proof when you wish the Collegium to act?”

  I smiled. “There is a difference.”

  “Exactly.”

  I knew what she had conveyed, but I appreciated the confirmation. “What do you think about the Jariolan-Ferran war?”

  “The Ferrans will attempt to hold on until spring so that they can then attack with their superior equipment. They will likely lose before then. Even if they win, they will lose.”

  “Because they will lose so many men?”

  “Because they will lose so much expensive equipment and so many highly trained men while the Jariolans will lose men that they can easily replace. We have already destroyed the best vessels in the Ferran fleet.”

  “Why didn’t they see that would happen?”

  “Technically advanced equipment is only effective when it is used where it was designed to be used and when its use embodies superior tactics. You have among the strongest shields of anyone in the Collegium, but you know enough not to use them against a heavy cannon. That is a question of usage. . . .”

  Mostly, I just listened.

  Then, after breakfast, I went to the studio and worked for close to two glasses on the final touches to Master Rholyn’s portrait, then made arrangements with Grandison for framing it, after Rholyn saw the final version when I showed it to him on Samedi morning.

  I cleaned up the studio to some degree, then washed myself up again, before heading out across the Bridge of Hopes to find a hack to take me out to my parents’. I walked more than a block up the boulevard before finding one. Once in the hack on the way out the Boulevard D’Imagers and then the Midroad, I went over what I’d planned for Samedi and decided on one change-if I could make it work.

  I arrived at the house at a quint before noon.

  Mother opened the do
or. “Rhenn! What a pleasant surprise. Are you here for lunch?”

  “I’d thought so . . . if it’s possible.” I stepped inside and closed the door, then followed her back through the parlor toward the kitchen.

  “Remaya will be pleased. Just the two of us are here . . . and Rheityr, of course, but he’s napping right now.”

  Remaya looked up from where she was sitting at the table in the breakfast room. “Rhenn . . . I’m glad you came. I wasn’t at my best yesterday.”

  “I cannot imagine why,” I said lightly. “Are you feeling better today?”

  “There are days, and there are days that are not quite so bad.”

  “Rhenn . . . just sit down,” Mother insisted. “I’ll be out with lunch in a bit.”

  I sat down across from Remaya.

  “Thank you for what you said about Rousel. It was so like him. He was so alive. You should have seen him with Rheityr.” Her eyes brightened with moisture that did not quite turn into tears. “You never did.”

  “No. I’ve not been allowed to travel much.”

  “He did have that,” she said. “He loved Rheityr so much.”

  “He loved you,” I pointed out.

  “Rhenn . . . I know you were once interested in me.” She smiled sadly. “I loved Rousel. I still do. I always will. Besides that . . . your Seliora is far better suited to you than I ever would have been.”

  I had to agree. “I know. I just didn’t know it back then.”

  “I did.”

  “Yes, you did.” I paused. “Why did you say that yesterday, those old Pharsi words about the daughter of the moon? You looked so stunned when you saw us.”

  “I couldn’t help it. There’s an old book in my parents’ house. Father said it was very rare. It was written in Pharsi, but he let me read it-look at the drawings, really. I had to promise to be careful. My favorite drawing was the daughter of the moon. Seliora looks just like that drawing, and that’s her name, and you looked so powerful and severe, like Erion. I . . . I never saw anything like it.”

  “Farsight . . . or real sight?”

  “Both . . . I think.” She paused. “Rhenn . . . please don’t take this the wrong way, but . . . I’ve always known there was something different about you, besides being an imager. Rousel didn’t always do things right, and sometimes he said things that could be hurtful. I know. I saw it with you, but he didn’t mean to. He never did. You seldom say thoughtless or cruel things, yet . . . I think I’d be truly terrified if you ever became my enemy. Not that you would, but do you understand?”