Madness in Solidar

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  It opened before he reached it.

  “Where have you been?” His mother’s voice was hard, the way it got when she worried. Not so hard as it had been for weeks after Mahara and Dyel had died from the flux. She wasn’t that way with his father, but he could see the brightness in her eyes when he limped in with his crutch, his battered wooden bowl empty.

  “Working. I did some chores, carrying empty pallets on the wharf for a man. He was a quartermaster. That’s what he said he was. He gave me two coppers.” The boy extended the dirty coins. “I thought…”

  His mother looked sternly at him. Then the sternness vanished. “You worked hard, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, Mother.” That wasn’t a lie. He had worked hard, just not in the way he had said. He was so very tired.

  “You should stay away from the south wharf in the future. That’s where the smugglers and the rough ones port. That’s how…”

  “I know … but…” The boy tried to convey the impression that was why he had been there. He had been there, not on the top of the pier, just underneath the shore portion and out of sight.

  “We don’t need the coppers so much that we’d lose you.” She looked at the coppers again. “You’re a good one.”

  He could see the brightness in her eyes. “Things will get better. They will.” Now that he had his own copper, he could make more. He would have to be very careful, he knew. But things would get better. They had to.

  13

  Alastar ended up working well past ninth glass on Samedi evening on a work plan for the new avenue. He then slept later than usual on Solayi morning, three quints later, so that he not only missed his morning run, but did not see Alyna at breakfast. She was at the stables when he walked up under a clear sky and bright sun that made the day seem warmer than it was. He carried the rolled-up map holding the route outlined by Ryen.

  Alyna didn’t look tired, as the duty maitres often did on Solayi morning. Her grays were pressed and crisp, and she smiled cheerfully. Her hair was largely swept up under the visor cap. From a distance, she looked like a young male imager, carrying a leather case in one hand and holding the reins of a brown gelding in the other.

  Alastar saw that his gray gelding was already saddled and tied to a hitching ring at the edge of the paved area outside the stables. He stopped short of the Maitre D’Aspect. “You look like you had an uneventful evening. You usually do, don’t you?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You don’t put up with nonsense.”

  “I try. It seems to work.” She smiled wryly. “I do have a reputation for being mean.”

  “Mean? I don’t believe that.” He paused. “Or is that what the students say when they discover that rules are rules, and most excuses are worthless?”

  “Or when they discover that merely trying doesn’t give the answers to calculations.”

  Alastar gestured to the leather case she held. “Surveying equipment?”

  “No. I do have some, but you said that we’d only be looking today. This holds map paper, and tracing overlays, along with pressed charcoal drawing sticks.”

  He unrolled the map. “This shows the route that the rex has in mind. We can likely change it, but if we have to deviate much we’ll have to go back to him.” He waited as she pored over the map.

  “The map doesn’t show elevation changes,” she observed.

  “I’ve ridden the area, as close to the planned avenue as possible. There doesn’t seem to be a great variation, and the western end is higher than the point where the eastern end would intersect the West River Road.”

  “If you’re going to have to image sewers—”

  “Even small changes in elevation matter. That’s another reason why we’re going to need you. You’ll likely have to suspend some of your instructional duties while this is going on.”

  “You’re planning on using most of the same imagers who worked on the sewers?” Alyna stepped back from the map, as if to indicate that she had seen enough.

  “For the most part.” Alastar rolled up the map and then turned as he heard hooves on the pavement. The two duty escorts—Glaesyn and Neiryn—reined up. Alastar watched as Neiryn looked toward Alyna, then stiffened slightly.

  “Did you instruct Neiryn in mathematics?” asked Alastar quietly as he turned back to Alyna. “He seems wary of you.”

  “Not in that kind of calculation. Some years back, he had difficulty in figuring out something else. He thought that all a man needs is a pretty face. Subtlety isn’t his strongest point.”

  It often isn’t for any man when a woman is involved. Alastar just nodded. “We’d better get mounted.” He walked to the hitching ring and untied the gelding, then mounted after fastening the map to a saddlebag. He adjusted his visor cap before turning to the escorts. “We’ll leave by the Bridge of Desires.”

  “Yes, sir,” replied Glaesyn.

  Alastar and Alyna led the way.

  Even by the time they were riding up the West River Road, Alastar was still mulling over Alyna’s comment about some men feeling they only needed a “pretty face” to appeal to women. You’ll never have that problem.

  More than three quints later, Alastar called a halt on the ring road, facing the narrow lane of the apothecaries. He turned to Alyna. “This is where he wants the avenue to begin.”

  “Twenty-four yards wide? The lane is no more than five wide, at the most, and the buildings on each side…” She shook her head.

  “Rex Ryen has declared that the avenue will be built. Supposedly, all those whose properties are affected have been given notice that the imagers have the authority to do what is necessary. He’s also informed them that they will be compensated. I also have a copy of a proclamation granting that authority.”

  “A proclamation may not be enough.”

  “I doubt it will be. That’s why there will be both escorts and imagers. We’ll also have to be careful that there are always some imagers fully rested.” He paused. “We’re going to follow the planned route as closely as we can. I’d appreciate any thoughts you have.”

  “The entry here should be wider. If the avenue is a direct way to the West River Road, there will be wagons and carriages turning in to it.” Alyna smiled. “I assume you want me to write down what I’m suggesting?”

  “Please.”

  “Also … what do you plan to do if the area you need to clear ends up in the middle of a structure?”

  “I’d thought initially to wall it off, but that would take too much effort. I think we’ll just have to remove the entire structure. That will mean providing some notice, at least several days, to people.” After waiting for Alyna to take out the case, jot down her notes, and make several quick sketches, Alastar eased the mount toward the lane.

  “Sir! Master imager!” A man in the brown tunic of an apothecary hurried out of the first doorway on the left.

  Alastar reined up. “Yes?”

  “Is it true? Are you going to tear down all the buildings along the lane, just for a road no one will use?”

  “The rex has ordered the avenue to be built,” Alastar replied. “Most of the buildings along the lane here will have to be removed.”

  “Just like that? What are we supposed to do?” The apothecary looked to be shivering, but Alastar suspected, given the unseasonable warmth and lack of wind, that the man was holding in anger.

  “You’ll have to remove your goods and equipment to some other place, and apply to the rex for compensation.”

  “My father’s father lived and worked here. We have no other place.” The man’s voice rose.

  “I’m sorry. But like you, we have no other choice.”

  “You have no other choice? You’re an imager. You have choices.”

  “I do have choices. I can obey the rex, and preserve all the students and young imagers who are defenseless, or I can disobey and leave them nowhere to go and with no one to protect them. Without the Collegium…” Alastar broke off as he saw the man was not list
ening. “You will obey the rex’s order. I wish it were otherwise. So do you. Neither of us has a choice.”

  “If I don’t? “

  “Then we will do what is necessary to carry out the rex’s order. If you or others attempt to attack, you will be stopped. You may well die.”

  The apothecary stepped back. “You’re as bad as he is. And he is mad, that Rex Dafou.” He backed away, his face red and flushed.

  You’re as bad as he is. The words echoed in Alastar’s thoughts.

  By the time he and the others were even fifty yards down the lane, his eyes were burning, perhaps from the fumes he had not noticed earlier. Why not? Because this is the first time you’ve ridden down the lane when there wasn’t a breeze? He blotted his eyes on his sleeves and looked closely at the old and ramshackle shops and dwellings.

  “How can they live and work in places like that?” asked Alyna.

  “Because they have no choice. Most people don’t. These people,” he gestured back up the lane, “live in better circumstances than do many.”

  “You know that from—” Alyna broke off her words. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  Alastar had his doubts about that. From what he’d seen and heard from her in the last two days, Alyna was always thinking. But if she had been … why had she only partly asked the question? He offered a pleasant smile. “No apology is necessary. I’m certain that most people know that I came from straitened circumstances, as have many imagers.” Before she could reply, he said, “I don’t see any sign of sewers or drains. Do you?”

  “No, sir.”

  “If we want to build this avenue correctly, that may take more planning. Can you calculate whether we can actually build a sewer from here to the river?”

  “I can give you what I think, but I’d have to survey the route to be certain.”

  “Can you do that? How long would it take?”

  “It’s over a mille … and it can’t be done directly, because, if the map is correct, there are buildings in the way. Two or three days, perhaps longer. I can’t say for sure.”

  “I see.” After a moment, he added, “Keep that in mind as we follow the route.”

  “I will.”

  A quint later, and only about two hundred yards farther east, Alastar reined up facing a two-story structure that stretched across the route on the map. As he was studying the building, checking against the map, a woman in well-washed brown and gray, carrying an infant, walked tentatively toward him, stopping well short of the gelding.

  “Master imager, sir…?”

  “Yes?” Alastar dreaded what was to come.

  “Are you the one? Are you going to destroy our little market for the new street?”

  “Where is your market?”

  The woman pointed back slightly to the south. “The one with the brown and green awning.” In front of the shop were long and narrow tables, with baskets holding potatoes, onions, large cucumbers or green squash, possibly some late beans or something like them. The worn awning barely extended out over the table.

  “Sir…?” the woman asked again.

  “We may have to. The rex has ordered us to create the avenue. You will be compensated if we do.”

  “We will lose everything. The rex is not offering enough.”

  “How do you know?”

  “The day my Faerl got the paper, he went to the place to ask. They told him no one would get more than ten golds, and most would get less.”

  Alastar managed not to frown. Ten golds was not an inconsiderable sum.

  “Ten golds is nothing, sir. My father paid fifteen for the shop when there was nothing in it. That was before I was born.”

  In this part of the city? That brought Alastar up short, although he did not show it. Obviously, property was much more valuable in L’Excelsis than in Westisle. But then, L’Excelsis is the City of the Rex. “I hope it is not necessary, but we must follow the orders of the rex, just as you must.”

  Tears began to ooze from the corners of her eyes. “It is not fair. It is not right. The rex has so much, and we have so little. Now the crops are poor. What the growers ask, we cannot pay. Not and buy what we need to sell.” Her voice trembled as she went on. “Please, master imager, take pity on us. You are powerful. We are not.” She looked directly at him.

  Alastar met her gaze. “We all can only do what we can.” He would have liked to have said more, but saying anything that even hinted that he had other inclinations, especially in public, would have been most unwise.

  Abruptly, now sobbing, the woman turned and trudged away.

  Alastar watched her until she was inside the door that she did not close. Then he turned in the saddle, watching as Alyna sketched out the structure before them. When she finished, he said, “We might as well ride around the building and continue on the other side.”

  Almost three glasses later, the four rode back across the Bridge of Desires and to the stables, where they reined up. Alastar let the duty ostler and stable boys take care of his and Alyna’s mounts, then motioned for her to join him at the end of the paved walk that led to the administration building.

  “Now that we’ve been over the route, what do you think?”

  “I’d suggest that you change the route slightly, so that you have a straight road to the Anomen D’Rex. I know it’s a little south of the avenue, but…”

  “You’re thinking that if we don’t do it that way, once the avenue is finished, and he sees how close it is, we might have to make changes?” Alastar had already considered that, but wanted her opinion.

  “It did occur to me. It also might be better to change the road around the anomen square there to an oval and widen it to match the width of the avenue. Coaches and wagons wouldn’t get too crowded and slowed that way.”

  “You’re right about that. This might take longer than the rex has in mind. But if that’s what it takes to do it correctly…” Alastar shrugged. You’re going to be treading a narrow and dangerous path either way. But then, the reaction of the apothecary and the woman produce vendor suggested that there was going to be a strong reaction once the imagers started to work in earnest—and Alastar wasn’t looking forward to dealing with that at the same time as he had to deal with Ryen and the High Holders and factors.

  “You’re concerned about how people will take it?” asked Alyna blandly.

  “I’m concerned about everything. I’ll need to warn the rex, but I can’t say that I’m not worried about his reaction.”

  “Does he react as … violently … as it is said?”

  “At times. At other times, no, at least from what I’ve seen so far. Is that the way most High Holders view him? As violent when crossed?”

  “I haven’t been close to many actual High Holders, except my brother. When you’re a girl of ten, you don’t see them. Your family doesn’t want you seen, because the only question is whether you’ll be bright enough, but not too bright, and pretty enough to marry well. I saved my father and brother that dilemma.”

  “Very few daughters of a High Holder are as bright as you, and fewer still are talented enough to become maitres.” Alastar wasn’t about to mention that she was attractive, because that would have been most untoward, given his position—and that he was widowed and thus single.

  “You’re most kind, Maitre.”

  Alastar grinned at the honeyed, and patently false, tone. “I’m not kind at all. I’m being accurate. You’re likely too bright to make a good wife for most High Holders, and the fact that you’re a Maitre D’Aspect and probably already know enough to become a Maitre D’Structure before long speaks to your imaging ability.”

  “How do you know that?” Her question was direct, but neither challenging nor obsequious.

  “I watched you image sewer repairs.” He paused. “Thank you again for accompanying us today. I’d like you to bring your surveying equipment tomorrow. Tell Dareyn, first thing in the morning, to post on the board that your mathematics instruction will be postponed until f
urther notice. Will you need a packhorse?”

  “I can manage without one.”

  “Then I will see you later, or in the morning.” Alastar watched for several moments as she walked north toward the quarters cottages. Then he headed to the administration building. Once in his study, he spread the map on his desk and considered what Alyna had suggested and how he could handle matters in a way that minimized difficulties for the Collegium. He frowned and began to study the map thoroughly. Finally, he concentrated, blotting his forehead after a copy of the map appeared beside the original.

  He compared the two, but so far as he could see, they matched. After using some map-tracing paper and a charcoal stick to overlay a rough approximation of what Alyna had suggested, he found himself considering his conversations with her over the past two meals, and during their survey of the proposed route. In two days, he had talked to her more than the total of all interactions with her over the time since he’d arrived at Imagisle. There was something different about those conversations with her, and it wasn’t because she was a woman. Or not primarily. But what? After a moment it came to him. While she had been most respectful, she had not been ill at ease or in awe of him. She had just talked to him.

  Alastar smiled wryly, realizing that was exceedingly rare. Almost no one seemed completely at ease in talking to him since he had arrived at the Collegium. He just hadn’t seen it in that way. But then, she is the daughter of a High Holder, and a rather practical one, it appears.

  Before he knew it, or so it seemed, he was standing in the anomen at services, listening as Iskhar launched into his homily.

  “We’re all familiar with Naming, aren’t we?” asked the chorister, obviously rhetorically. “The arrogation of words over deeds? The pride taken in burnishing one’s name and reputation with words. Or even endless repetition of one’s deeds in an effort to exalt one’s own name and reputation.” Iskhar paused. “I have a question for all of you. Can an act or action, in and of itself, be Naming? Even if one never speaks of the acts.”