It took him almost half a glass to find what he sought, and he had barely given himself a self-congratulating nod when Dareyn rapped on his door.
“Imager third Glaesyn is here, sir.”
“Have him come in.”
The young man who entered was tall and broad-shouldered. From his observations and inquiries, Alastar knew he had an even disposition and was probably unlikely to progress beyond third, even with the more demanding training exercises that Cyran had begun to implement.
“Did you find High Holder Guerdyn, or one of his assistants?”
“Yes, sir. He was at the Council Chateau. He took the message himself. He said he would be pleased to grant you a meeting at half past second glass at the Council Chateau, despite the short notice.”
Pleased to grant you a meeting? Not “pleased to meet with you”? Or “honored to meet with you”? “Were those his exact words?”
“Yes, sir. You told me to report back exactly what he said.”
“Thank you. You’ve done well. I’ll need you and another third as escorts at a half past second glass. Tell Imager Dareyn that, and have him work it out with Maitre Desyrk.”
“Yes, sir.”
For the next glass, Alastar pondered how far he needed to go with High Holder Guerdyn, jotting down thoughts … and rejecting most of them. Then he walked to the front of the building, carrying an oiled leather cloak in case the growing clouds decided to drop rain on L’Excelsis before he returned.
With Tertius Glaesyn was Chervyt, another third no longer a student. Chervyt held the reins to Alastar’s gray gelding.
“Thank you,” the Maitre offered as he took the reins and then mounted. “We’ll take the north bridge.”
From the time his gelding reached the slightly raised middle of the north bridge, formally called the Bridge of Desires, until he left the bridge and turned north on the West River Road, Alastar studied the buildings to the west of the bridge, knowing that, regardless of what Ryen had said, some of the crafters and owners of other buildings would suffer as a result of the rex’s desire for a direct route between the Chateau D’Rex and Imagisle.
Somewhat more than half a glass later, the three crossed the Boulevard D’Ouest. Even from a half mille away, Alastar could see their destination clearly because the chateau stood on a low rise.
“Is that it, sir?” asked Chervyt. “The Council Chateau, I mean?”
“The building on the low hill? It is indeed.”
A pair of guards in maroon livery opened the large, wrought-iron, double gates hung on gray stone pillars more than three yards high, then closed them almost silently, except for a slight squeaking. Although too small to be a true chateau, the High Council Chateau was definitely imposing, with a stone wall almost as high as the gate posts surrounding the grounds, a good quarter mille on a side, and with formal gardens on both sides of the stone-paved lane up to the dwelling itself, three stories high, a frontage width nearly twice that of the Maitre’s dwelling at the Collegium, with a slate-tiled roof, wide windows on the upper two levels, and a covered entry portico wide enough for two coaches. Alastar had also heard that the rear wing held a sizable ballroom that opened out onto a formal walled garden, but, if so, that part of the chateau was not visible from the front lane.
A footman in the same maroon livery stepped out from the bronzed double doors at the entry to the chateau and descended two of the four wide stone steps before saying, “Maitre Alastar, welcome to the Council Chateau.”
Alastar dismounted and handed the reins to Glaesyn. “You can dismount, but wait here. It may be a while.” And it may not. He wasn’t about to voice that thought as he strode up the steps after the footman and into the circular entry hall beyond the double doors, tucking his visor cap under his arm.
The footman closed the door. “High Holder Guerdyn will be here shortly.” Then he departed down the corridor leading directly back from the entry.
The hall itself was spacious, some eight yards across, with a domed ceiling as high as the hall was across. Alastar stood alone in the circular entry hall for only a few moments, just enough to make the point that the High Councilor could make the Maitre wait, before a tall man with gray-shot brown hair and a warm and very practiced smile appeared. Guerdyn wore a gold and black doublet with black hose and shoes, and a black jacket trimmed in gold.
Quite a contrast, thought Alastar, given that he, and all imagers, wore deep gray shirts, trousers, and jackets, with black boots and belts.
“Maitre Alastar … I’ve heard so much about you. I wondered when you might attend to the High Council.”
“Attending to the High Council will always be a priority of mine, and to the councilors, beginning, of course, with you.” Alastar smiled, imaging a sense of warmth as well. “I would have attended to you sooner, if not for rather more pressing matters at the Collegium.”
“Ah, yes … the death of Maitre Fhaen. A pity. He always understood the … shall I say, delicacy of the relationships between the High Council and Rex Ryen.” Guerdyn presented a pleasant smile. “We should continue our chat in the study. It’s quite comfortable there.”
“Then lead the way.” Alastar offered the words lightly.
Even so, Guerdyn stiffened almost imperceptibly, if but for an instant. He turned and walked toward the archway on the right.
Alastar followed, a half pace behind.
Guerdyn did not speak until he stopped opposite the third door on the right and gestured. “This is the receiving study.” Two sets of armchairs were spaced in a circle around a low table on which refreshments might be placed, with two higher side tables set between the two chairs on each side.
“From where one can see whom one might be receiving,” said Alastar after entering and observing that the windows afforded a clear view of the entry portico.
“It does come in useful at times.” Guerdyn motioned toward one chair, then the one across from it, before seating himself in the first.
“All knowledge is useful, and those of us in the Collegium endeavor to understand even that which is never mentioned. It’s one of our vices, I fear, you know, knowledge not just for power, but also for its own sake.”
“Acquiring some knowledge may be more costly than it is wise to purchase.”
“You are doubtless correct in that,” replied Alastar as he seated himself across from Guerdyn, not that he hadn’t thought of taking one of the other chairs. “The problem there is that one does not know the value of such knowledge until after it has been obtained. While I have the feeling you care little for anything that is not useful, usefulness is often hard to determine in advance.”
Guerdyn offered a cool smile. “I do have a fondness for a few items of beauty that may have limited usefulness, but only a few.”
“Artworks? Sculpture? Views from your chateau? Poetry?”
“They’re few and eclectic. Some day, if you visit my own chateau, I’d be pleased to show you.” Guerdyn’s smile vanished. “You’ve been Maitre for little more than a month, and you’ve not been in L’Excelsis much longer than that. Many were surprised by how quickly you became Maitre, and that you were called here to become Maitre rather than Maitre Zhelan, especially since Maitre Fhaen wasn’t that old, as I recall.”
“No … but he had a progressive flux of the lungs, not consumption, but the results were the same. He summoned me when he realized his days might be limited.” In point of fact, Alastar suspected Cyran and some of the more junior maitres, likely pressed by Shaelyt, had persuaded Fhaen to do so, but Cyran had avoided any direct answers to general inquiries, and Alastar hadn’t felt it wise to press. As it was, Fhaen had lived only a few days beyond the week after Alastar had arrived. “Maitre Zhelan had long let it be known that he had no intention of leaving Westisle.” What Alastar wasn’t about to say was that Zhelan had already been feeling uncomfortable about Alastar’s greater abilities as an imager, and by refusing the post as titular head of the overall Collegium, Zhelan could maintain his p
osition and allow Alastar to advance without overtly ever admitting Alastar’s superiority.
“That hasn’t caused a problem? He was senior to you…”
“I can assure you Maitre Zhelan is most happy with the situation. If you wish to write him, I am certain he will confirm that. He would confirm that in private with no witnesses.”
At Alastar’s last statement, Guerdyn laughed softly. “I already knew that. I wondered if you would confirm it.”
Alastar shrugged. “I’m not surprised.”
“I presume you are here at the rex’s behest to inquire about the High Council’s opposition to his proposed increase in tariffs?”
“I’m not aware of any proposal. If the rex were to decide to increase tariffs, it would not be a proposal. It would be the law. As a measure affecting all Solidar it falls under the definition of High Justice under the original legal codex of Solidar.”
“So he did instruct you to talk to me about the tariffs?”
“That is obviously a matter of interest to both the rex and the Collegium, but he did not instruct me to see you, or even suggest that I do so.”
“Then might I ask what he expects of you and the Collegium?”
“You can certainly ask, but you would know his expectations, far better than I would, since you have dealt with him for far longer than I. What do you think they might be?”
“His intentions are obvious. He wishes to strengthen his position at the expense of both the High Holders and the factors.”
“His position or that of Solidar as a whole?”
“Most of the wealth and productive resources of Solidar belong to the factors and the High Holders. Anything that weakens either weakens Solidar.”
“You don’t consider the small holders, the laborers, or the crafters of the guilds as productive resources?”
“You’re sounding very much like an advocate, Maitre Alastar.”
“Perhaps … but it is a fair question.”
“They produce, but they would produce little without what the High Holders and factors do. Higher tariffs would hurt them more than anyone. That is another reason why, if the rex were to propose an increase in tariffs, it would be a poor idea.”
“You believe that rather strongly, but … as I observed before, if the rex decides to increase tariffs, it is not a proposal. It is the law. Tariffs do not have to be paid, I understand, until he does set the levels for the following year, but there is no provision for withholding of tariffs once the rex does so. How the law is enforced … or how lawbreakers are treated … is up to the High Justicers. Of course, it might not come to that.” Alastar uttered the last few words softly.
“That would appear to be a threat, Maitre.”
Alastar shook his head. “The Collegium cannot afford to make threats. If you examine my words, you will find everything I stated is of a factual nature.”
“Then you have made a factual threat.”
“I have said that, if the rex increases tariffs, it is not a proposal, but a law, and he has the power to make that law to raise golds. Anyone affected by a law who does not abide by it is a lawbreaker. If High Holders break the law, their cases are decided by a High Justicer, not by the rex. If the rex imposes a tariff increase, and High Holders pay it, then it will not come to lawbreaking. How is that a threat?”
“You are fencing with words.” For the first time, Guerdyn’s voice hardened.
“And you are not?” Alastar smiled gently. “Besides, and more important, fencing with words is far less destructive than doing so with blades or golds … or other methods. Isn’t that why everyone agreed on a legal codex when Solidar was founded?”
Abruptly, Guerdyn nodded. “That is a very good point. Thank you for bringing it up.”
“You’re welcome.” Alastar immediately worried about Guerdyn’s reaction to what he had said. You’ve given him a tool, and you don’t even know what it is.
“Now that we’ve talked around that point,” Guerdyn said easily, “might I ask what your plans for the Collegium are?”
“I’m happy to tell you. We’re strengthening the requirements for studies and imager training for students, and we’re looking into areas where imagers can produce goods that are wanted and necessary, but which do not compete with those produced by either factors or High Holders.”
“Admirable goals. The first is certainly attainable. I would be curious about the second.”
Alastar laughed. “I’m curious as well. We’re not so far along in that, but the last thing the Collegium needs is to compete with either High Holders or factors. First, it doesn’t make sense, because there are so few imagers that trying to make something that others can produce by the score seems unwise, and frankly, not terribly profitable. Second, I’d prefer to see the Collegium, the High Holders, and the factors working harmoniously, rather than in competition.”
“I fear you have your work cut out for you, Maitre.”
Alastar could tell that the two would exchange pleasantries and generalities for a time yet, before Guerdyn signaled that it was time to end the discussion … and that was perfectly fine with Alastar, since he had learned what he needed to know—for the moment.
3
After briefly meeting with the senior imagers early on Jeudi morning in the conference room, Alastar returned to his study to go over the list of imagers, both those considered full imagers, and those who were student imagers. Another thing you should have done earlier …
As he suspected, there were less than a double handful from factor families, and exactly two from High Holder families. The first was Alyna, a Maitre D’Aspect, who was the Maitre in charge of the female students and who also taught mathematics. She had been Alyna D’Zaerlyn. That meant, given her age, that she was likely the sister of the current Zaerlyn D’Alte, rather than of his late sire. The other was Arion, the son of Calkoran D’Alte, still a student, some fifteen years old, although he had enough promise that he was already a tertius, and, if he did not do something incredibly stupid, might well become a Maitre D’Aspect within a few years, if not sooner.
Because Alastar didn’t recognize any of the parents of the seven student imagers and the two full imagers from factoring families, he wrote down the names of the nine, then walked out to the anteroom.
“Sir?” asked Dareyn.
“I’d like to find out more about the parents of these students and the two imagers. You can ask the imagers, but I’d prefer you didn’t ask the students. They might get the wrong impression.”
“I can see what I can find out, Maitre.”
“I’d also like to find out, without it coming from me or the Collegium, whether High Holders Haebyn and Nacryon have arrived in L’Excelsis and where they might be staying. More immediately, send someone to find Obsolym. I’d like to talk to him for a moment.”
Dareyn nodded.
Alastar walked back into his study. Are there any imagers whose fathers are senior officers in the army? The only way he might be able to find that out would be to obtain the names of the senior commanders, but he didn’t want to request that list from Marshal Demykalon, or in any way that could be traced to the Collegium, and he didn’t know anyone at the Chateau D’Rex well enough to ask either. He paused. Desyrk had mentioned that his brother was a commander. Somehow … trying to get a list that way didn’t seem like the best idea. That will have to wait.
He’d barely settled behind his desk when Dareyn knocked and then opened the door. “Sir? I thought you should know. One of the imager students, Secondus Dylert, had an accident. He has severe burns on one hand and his arm.”
“How is he doing? How did that happen?”
“Maitre Gaellen says he’ll recover, but he wants to keep him in the infirmary for a few glasses. It was something about imaging lamp oil.”
Alastar shook his head. “I’m waiting for Obsolym. After I meet with him, I’ll go over and see Gaellen and the student. Thank you for letting me know.”
Dareyn nodded, then
closed the study door.
Imaging and lamp oil? Alastar decided not to speculate. He’d find out soon enough.
In less than a tenth of a glass, Obsolym arrived and seated himself in front of Alastar’s desk. “You may be getting results with this new training, but one or more of those young imagers will die.”
“That’s possible, but if I don’t, the Collegium will die.” At that moment, Alastar wasn’t about to mention Dylert’s injury, especially since he didn’t know the details. Obsolym would find out quickly enough, anyway, and likely bring it up at the next meeting of senior imagers. “That’s not why I asked you here. You’ve been here the longest, and you’re the archivist, and I’d like your thoughts on another matter.” Alastar couldn’t understand how the old Maitre D’Structure could be a historian of sorts and not understand the lessons of history, but he’d already decided that there was little point in raising that question. “Both Maitre Alyna and Tertius Arion come from High Holder families. What can you tell me about their backgrounds?”
“You don’t know about Alyna, sir?”
“If I did, I wouldn’t have asked. I grew up in Liantiago, not in L’Excelsis. What is so obvious that I should know and don’t?”
“She’s a descendant of Quaeryt and Vaelora.”
“I wasn’t aware … they only had daughters, didn’t they?”
Obsolym nodded. “Their eldest daughter Chaerilla was a powerful imager, or so it is noted in the archives, and she played a part in putting down the Solian revolt when the High Holders around Solis—”
“Just a part?” asked Alastar dryly. “With her heritage…”
“She may have done more, but the Collegium records do not contain any detailed account, only that she and five other imagers were dispatched to Solis by Rex Clayar, and that she and three others returned after successfully dealing with the insurgents. There are detailed records of who obtained the holdings of the rebels, but nothing more about Chaerilla, except that she served for many years as the senior imager.”
Madness in Solidar Page 3
