Madness in Solidar

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  The Maitre D’Structure remained silent.

  “Do you have any questions?”

  “Just one.” Desyrk’s voice was even. “Might I ask when I might expect to be returned to my position, or one similar?”

  Possibly never, with that attitude. “I’ve canceled all your instruction sessions for the remainder of the week. That will give you some time to reconsider the matter in light of what I have just told you. It will also provide me and the senior imager with time to consider in what other capacity you would best serve both your interests and those of the Collegium.”

  “I see.”

  Alastar doubted that. “There’s little more to be said now. I’ll let you know on Lundi.” He stood.

  “Thank you, sir.” Desyrk’s voice was almost without emotion as he rose.

  Alastar watched as the Maitre D’Structure departed, then waited for several moments.

  How can he think that way? Alastar shook his head. Most people did think that way, unable to look beyond the letter of the rules or what they believed. That was exactly the problem. And the fact that Maitre Fhaen and his predecessor weren’t able or didn’t see the need to show the Maitres of the Collegium the costs and dangers of thinking that way. A wry smile crossed his face. And how do you know your way is better? Alastar didn’t. But what Desyrk was doing wasn’t working.

  He walked out of the study.

  “Maitre Desyrk didn’t look pleased when he left,” ventured Dareyn.

  “I doubt that he was. I couldn’t find a way to get him to understand that allowing bullying or cliques created by students is not in the best interest of the Collegium.”

  “That might be because he comes from a military family. Army officers don’t like those who stand up to authority. The most successful junior officers are those who develop friendships with others and never say anything against senior officers where anyone can hear. They never disobey, and they never question.”

  “And they always maneuver to make those who are different or who question stand out unfavorably?”

  “So it’s said.”

  “Was Desyrk’s father an officer, too? Someone said his brother is.”

  “His father was a major.”

  Alastar nodded slowly, then shook his head. Deciding what to do with Desyrk could wait, especially since Alastar knew he wouldn’t be as dispassionate as he needed to be if he made any decision at the moment. “I’ll need my horse and two escorts for a ride in half a glass. I need to look at places where the sewers need repairs.”

  Dareyn smiled knowingly and nodded.

  A little over half a glass later, Alastar rode out over the east bridge, a chill wind, stronger than earlier in the day, at his back. Accompanying him were Akkard and Belsior. At the east end of the bridge he turned the gelding north on East River Road. Factor Elthyrd had listed four locations where sewer repairs were necessary. Alastar had decided to start with the one farthest from Imagisle—on Nordroad two blocks north of the Boulevard D’Este.

  Two quints later, Alastar and the thirds reined up on the east side of Nordroad, little more than a block south of Hagahl Lane. While there was a definite odoriferous stench, it did not seem nearly so strong as the one that had engulfed Imagisle. Part of that might have been because of the cold wind. Alastar surveyed the area. To his left was an imposing three-story dwelling constructed of yellow brick, while across Nordroad to his immediate right were two matching dwellings faced in gray stone. Each had black shutters and black double doors festooned with gleaming brass door handles and boot plates. Not a single dwelling was other than well-kept and stylish.

  Alastar nodded, then turned to Akkard. “We’ll take Nordroad south to the next location.” He urged the gelding forward.

  Two glasses later, the three rode back over the east bridge. Each location did in fact have problems with sewers or sewage ditch drainage, but two were located near the residences of factors and two near the largest factorages that Alastar had seen in L’Excelsis.

  As Alastar reined up outside the Collegium stables, he decided that the sewer repairs could be done without undue haste or perhaps with deliberate care. In the meantime, he needed to consider what duties he could assign to Desyrk and how to shift some of Akoryt’s duties to others. He also couldn’t help but wonder exactly what the High Council had decided and how the High Holders intended to oppose Ryen. They will oppose him. The only question is how. Once they did, Ryen would be furious and ask Alastar how the Collegium could possibly have let it happen. As if we had any choice except assassination or blackmail through the threat of assassination or something worse.

  Between one thing and another, Alastar found himself occupied until close to eighth glass that evening when, sitting in his study in the Maitre’s house, he finally finished reviewing the Collegium expenditures that could be reduced, a listing developed with Arhgen.

  He was tired, but he wasn’t in the slightest sleepy. So he picked up the heavy volume that contained the words of the first chorister of the Collegium and continued from where he had left off. For a good twenty pages, he came across little that was of more than passing interest before a particular entry jumped out at him.

  … When the Maitre came back from the Chateau D’Rex and met with the imagers, he said very little, except that Lord Bhayar told the Maitre that the death of Chorister Amalyt was inconvenient. Then Lord Bhayar again requested that the Collegium assist with the repairs to the Anomen D’Excelsis. The Maitre agreed. He also said that the Collegium would now be willing to make the repairs before the new chorister took over the anomen …

  … would now be willing? That suggested that Quaeryt had been less than pleased with Chorister Amalyt, whoever he might have been. Alastar reread the words and those following, but there was no further explanation. He continued leafing through the thick volume until he reached another section.

  … The Maitre gave the homily last evening. He is a far better speaker than any chorister anywhere in Solidar. His words are well-chosen and to the point. Those of us who heard him in the old days wish he would speak more often. I have asked occasionally. His answer is always the same, that a lost one shouldn’t be more than an infrequent speaker in an anomen of the Nameless. He is more than that, but after Rivages, it is clear that, for his sake, and that of the Collegium, his great deeds be allowed to fade from memory. He is far greater than Rholan, but Rholan will be remembered because, in the end, his success was less than complete, unlike the Maitre …

  For his sake and that of the Collegium?

  Alastar kept reading until his eyes burned, but he could find no other reference in the pages he perused to what Quaeryt’s great deeds might have been, or what had happened in the old days … or even anything more about what Chorister Gauswn had known about Quaeryt. As for the phrase “a lost one,” Alastar had no idea what that meant, except that Quaeryt possibly wasn’t the strongest believer in the Nameless. But allowing his greatness to be hidden … or was he greatly flawed and that needed to be hidden as well?

  He finally set aside the book, then imaged out the lamp wick, and walked through the darkened house up to his bedchamber.

  17

  Alastar was still worrying on Jeudi morning when Dareyn stepped into his study, walked to the desk, and extended a cream-colored envelope. “This message arrived by a private courier.”

  Alastar took the envelope and studied it. The outside was inscribed:

  Alastar D’Imagisle

  Maitre, Collegium Imagio

  Alastar did not recognize the seal impressed on the tan-colored wax, but then, there were few he would have known. He took his belt knife and carefully slit the envelope so as not to break the seal, then extracted the single sheet and began to read.

  Maitre Alastar—

  The High Council met on Meredi. High Holder Guerdyn proposed that the Codex of Solidar be changed to state that no increase in tariffs may be imposed without the consent of the High Council of L’Excelsis. While I cannot speak for others, it
is most likely that a great many, if not most High Holders, may not pay tariffs this year until this matter is resolved. The High Council has sent suggested wording to Rex Ryen. In view of your interest in the matter, I thought you would like to be apprised of this.

  With great regard,

  Vaun D’Alte

  Alastar winced. Now he knew why Guerdyn had appreciated his mentioning the codex. But why had Vaun sent the message? High Holders never did anything without a reason, and Vaun certainly impressed Alastar as being very deliberate.

  “Sir?” prompted Dareyn.

  “Let me know when the courier from the rex arrives.”

  Dareyn offered a quizzical look.

  “Before eighth glass, I’d wager. If you’d arrange for my mount and escorts, also.”

  As Dareyn left the study, Alastar thought over the short missive, and what it said … and what it did not. Vaun hadn’t said that the High Holders wouldn’t pay their tariffs, only that most would not until the matter was resolved. Given the geographical spread of the High Holders, and the size of Solidar, Alastar would have thought that there would have been hundreds who had no idea what the High Council was doing and that they would be submitting their tariffs to the regional governors of Solidar, and that those tariffs would wend their way toward L’Excelsis. But the wording of Vaun’s missive indicated that most High Holders would not be submitting tariffs. And that means the High Council had already laid the plans to withhold tariffs. Given the size of Solidar, that had to have been arranged weeks, if not months, earlier, and that suggested very strong opposition to Ryen’s proposed increase. What made that worse was that, in all likelihood, those nearest to L’Excelsis would be most likely to withhold their tariffs, and those would represent the golds Ryen was expecting the soonest.

  The courier from the Chateau D’Rex arrived little more than a quint after Alastar had read Vaun’s message, and Alastar and his two imager escorts—and the courier—arrived at the Chateau D’Rex at two quints past eighth glass.

  When Alastar entered the rex’s formal study, Ryen was standing before the closed windows on the north side of the chamber. He turned, and even before Alastar finished closing the door, stated loudly, in words as much accusation as declaration, “I told you to change their minds! You didn’t. You failed.”

  Alastar stopped several yards short of the red-faced rex. “You also said that I wasn’t to do anything that would threaten or kill them. Exactly how was I supposed to persuade them in less than two weeks when you haven’t been able to get tariffs increased in years? Why don’t you just inform them that the increase will take place?”

  “Then they won’t pay this year’s tariffs, you idiot!” Ryen’s face turned even redder. “You get them to change their minds … or…” The rex offered a raised clenched fist. “… or I won’t have any need for a Collegium and all the golds you cost me.”

  “Without a Collegium, you’ll be at the mercy of the High Holders and the factors, just as Rex Kharst was.”

  “With the Collegium, I already am! Change their decision … or don’t bother coming back here. Ever!” Ryen’s voice finished with a high-pitched yell that filled the study with its echoes. “Then you’ll see what use I have for you. Get out of here, and do something useful!”

  Alastar’s first thought was that the most useful thing he could do would be to remove Ryen. His second thought was that doing so would not address the roots of the problem … and would result in turning the new rex and Demykalon immediately against the Collegium while not gaining any real support from either the High Holders or the factors.

  “As you command, Your Grace,” Alastar turned and walked toward the study door.

  “Stop! You don’t leave without my permission!”

  Alastar turned. “You ordered me to leave and do something useful. Then you told me to stop. Which do you wish?”

  “Don’t fence with words, Maitre!”

  Alastar waited. Saying anything would merely enrage Ryen even more, now that he was truly behaving like a Rex Dafou.

  Abruptly, Ryen shook his head. “Go. You know what I want, and you know what I’ll do to your beloved Collegium if I don’t get it.” His voice was not a scream, but loud and cold.

  Alastar inclined his head, then turned and departed.

  At least, Alastar reflected ruefully on the way down the grand staircase and out to where his gelding and escorts waited, he didn’t go on about the avenue … or the sewers. That would come later, assuming that Alastar and the Collegium survived the conflict over the tariffs.

  After he mounted the gelding, Alastar gestured toward the ring road and then to the northeast. “We’re heading to the Chateau D’Council next.”

  Chervyt and Glaesyn exchanged uneasy glances.

  Alastar did not respond. While he had no idea whether Guerdyn would be at the Chateau D’Council, it wasn’t that far out of the way from the route he’d be taking back to the Collegium, and he doubted that the head of the Council would be far away at the moment.

  The two guards in maroon livery opened the wrought-iron double gates without even inquiring then closed them behind the three imagers. The sound of hooves echoed in the silence of the cold fall air as they rode up the stone-paved lane to the three-storied structure and reined up under the covered entry portico. The same footman who had greeted him every time before stood at the top of the steps.

  “Maitre, High Holder Guerdyn said you might come unannounced. He will see you for a brief time.”

  Alastar nodded in reply, then dismounted, handed the gelding’s reins to Chervyt, and walked up the steps and then into the chateau after the footman.

  Guerdyn was waiting in the study, this time wearing a red and black doublet with black hose and shoes, and a black jacket trimmed in red. He stood beside one of the armchairs set in a circle around the low table. “I thought I might see you after you were summoned to the Chateau D’Rex,” Guerdyn said dryly. “I assume that His Grace Ryen, Rex Regis of Solidar, was not in the best of temper.”

  “Your dear ruler, Rex Ryen, has just learned that the High Council intends to flout the codex and deny him an increase in tariffs that has been overdue for years. Why indeed might he not be in the best of temper?”

  “Maitre … do not try my patience. I have had the kindness to see you.”

  “High Holder, do not try mine. If I determined you would see me, I would see you.”

  Guerdyn frowned. “I take it that you will support the rex, then?”

  Alastar sighed, loudly. “Both the High Council and the rex are behaving like unruly second-year imager students. Neither of you is looking at the needs of all Solidar. The rex wants too high an increase in tariffs, and you want none, and the only possibility you will grant is too small to pay for what Solidar needs. You’re both angered when anyone points that out.”

  “As I have told you, Maitre, the High Council sees no need for additional tariffs at this time. What need do we have for an army of eight regiments when there is no one to fight?”

  “There is a need to fight Southern Gulf pirates and smugglers who cheat both the factors and the rex,” suggested Alastar mildly. “And it appears that there is a possibility of fighting rebellious High Holders.”

  “The army would not take up arms against any High Holder for merely refusing to pay tariffs.”

  “Some officers might, if they learned that their positions and careers were to be destroyed as a result.”

  “There is small chance of that.” Guerdyn shrugged. “Even so, that is a risk we will take.”

  Meaning that your sympathizers control the regiments here in L’Excelsis. “I’ve just come from the rex, as you clearly know. He has threatened to destroy the Collegium if I cannot persuade the High Council to stop opposing an increase in tariffs.”

  Guerdyn raised his eyebrows. “Do you think that will change the Council’s decision?”

  “The way matters are going … no, I don’t. I did think you should know what he said and obvious
ly meant, however.”

  “Then … what is your purpose in informing me and the High Council?”

  “I thought you should know exactly where the Collegium stands,” Alastar replied. “It is often useful to know matters such as that.”

  “That could be termed a veiled threat, Maitre.”

  “It could. But a truly wise man would consider it as a statement of fact, and then make future decisions based on that fact.”

  “Fact or not, it changes little.”

  “I thought as much, but I did wish you to know.”

  “I know, and the High Council will know. That does not put the Collegium in the best light.”

  “At present, it appears there is little light cast upon anything. We will endeavor to do so.”

  Guerdyn gestured lazily. “You will do what you think best. So will the High Council.”

  Alastar smiled politely. “I thank you for your time, High Holder Guerdyn, and I bid you good day.”

  “I could offer a similar pleasantry. I won’t.” Guerdyn’s face was impassive.

  Alastar inclined his head, then turned and walked from the study. When he reached the entry hall, the footman opened one of the bronzed doors and nodded, but did not speak. After mounting the gelding, Alastar rode down the paved lane, intently studying the walls and the approach to the Council Chateau, as he had previously.

  Once he was back at the Collegium, he sent for Akoryt, then drafted a missive to Factorius Elthyrd, informing him that the Collegium would repair the damaged sewers near Nordroad and the Boulevard D’Este on Vendrei. After having Dareyn dispatch the message, Alastar studied the Collegium roster for the short time while he waited for Akoryt.

  Akoryt arrived at a quint before the first glass of the afternoon, easing almost cautiously into the Maitre’s study and closing the door. “Sir?”