Madness in Solidar

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Alastar could see the unasked question on the faces of both Belsior and Neiryn. “I have some more possibly unpleasant duties to undertake. They may be dangerous, but it’s unlikely you’ll have to do more than hold your shields and wait.”

  The liveried guard at the gate looked up, but before he could speak, Alastar said, “I’m here to see High Holder Guerdyn.”

  “He’s not expecting—”

  “That doesn’t matter. Open the gates.”

  The guard looked at Alastar and the three other mounted imagers, then offered a resigned expression. “Yes, sir.”

  Once the gates were open, as Alastar passed the guard, he said, “Thank you. Just leave the gates open. I’m sure we won’t be very long.”

  “Yes, sir.” The guard’s voice was as resigned as his expression had been.

  Within moments of Alastar’s arrival at the front portico of the Council Chateau, the same footman who had greeted Alastar on every visit strode forth and announced, “High Holder Guerdyn is not receiving, Maitre.”

  “Then he is here?” said Alastar.

  “Sir, all I can say is that he is not receiving.”

  Alastar dismounted and handed the gelding’s reins to Neiryn, then walked up the steps to where the footman stood. “I will see him. You can attempt to stop me and regret it. Or you can stand aside.”

  “Sir … I beg you. You can do no worse to me than he will—”

  Alastar clamped shields around the footman, watching closely, then released them when the man turned blue and his eyes rolled. He caught the falling figure and lowered him to the stone tiles at the top of the steps, then turned to Shaelyt and the two thirds. “If he wakes before I return, suggest to him that interrupting my meeting would be most unwise.” With that, he raised a concealment, opened the right-hand door, and let himself in. He walked through the domed circular entry hall and through the archway on the right, making his way to the study door, which he opened, then closed after he entered. Only then did he drop the concealment.

  “I told you I was not to be disturbed—” Guerdyn bolted from where he had been sitting at his desk and took a step toward Alastar before halting. “What are you doing here?”

  “If I wish to see you, Guerdyn, I will. You should know that.”

  “That may be, but I do not have to talk to you.” Guerdyn smiled.

  “If you wish to test that, you may. I’d advise against it.”

  “You are serious, Maitre, I see.”

  “I’m very serious. Neither the High Council nor the rex appear willing to compromise on the matter of tariffs. Since neither of you will, I’ll place a compromise on the table. Four coppers on a gold.”

  “Ryen will never accept that. Neither will the High Council.”

  “One way or another, the rex will accept it. One way or another, the High Council will.”

  “That sounds like a threat. I do not appreciate threats. Neither does the High Council.”

  “It’s not a threat. It’s a statement of fact, Guerdyn. You, or your successor as head of the High Council, will accept higher tariffs. Four coppers on the gold for the coming year. That will be adjusted, one way or another, next fall.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.” Guerdyn’s smile was close to insolent. “You’ve already demonstrated that.”

  “That was before Marshal Demykalon attacked the Collegium with cannon.” Alastar’s smile in return was cold. “I don’t threaten, and I don’t make dares. Will you convince the High Council to accept four coppers?”

  “No. They won’t accept it, and I won’t demean myself to insist on it. Nothing you can do will change my mind.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that.” Alastar clamped shields around Guerdyn, then stood, waiting until the High Holder turned red, and then bluish. Only then did Alastar release the shields.

  Guerdyn staggered, barely managing to put both hands on the desk to catch himself. His breath was ragged.

  Alastar waited. “Four coppers or your death. And if you accept four coppers and back off, we will find you and kill you. That is not a threat, but a certain promise.”

  “You can threaten all you want. You wouldn’t dare.”

  Alastar imaged stronger shields around Guerdyn. He held them for a long time. When he released them, the High Holder’s body slumped over the desk, then slid to the floor. Holding shields, but nor raising a concealment, Alastar left the study, closing the door behind himself and walking to the main hall and then out to the portico.

  The footman stood beside the doors, his eyes darting from the mounted imagers to Alastar, even as he shrank back against the wall without speaking.

  Alastar nodded to him, without speaking, and walked to the gelding, taking back his mount’s reins from Neiryn, and then mounting. Once in the saddle, he said, “We’re heading south to the Nord Bridge, and then about a mille and a half north on the East River Road to High Holder Vaun’s L’Excelsis chateau.”

  At roughly two quints past ninth glass, Alastar spied the brick wall set back some ten yards from the East River Road that surrounded Vaun’s lands. As before, he had to wait for a man in workman’s brown to reach the iron gates. The man looked as if he would open them, then stopped and asked, “Ah, sir … is the master expecting you?”

  “He’s not, but you really don’t want to turn us away,” replied Alastar.

  The man studied the four only for an instant before he opened the gates, then nodded politely as they rode through, and immediately closed them. A footman in tan livery, trimmed in black, the same one that had received him previously, Alastar thought, hurried out the front door. He just looked at Alastar.

  “I assume the High Holder is here,” offered Alastar.

  “He isn’t expecting company, sir.”

  “The matter is urgent, and I think he will see me.”

  “Might I tell him…?”

  “Just tell him that Maitre Alastar is here. I’ll wait in the entry hall.” Alastar dismounted and followed the reluctant footman back into the entry hall, where he stopped and waited, if only for a few moments before the footman returned.

  “He has a few moments, sir.” The footman turned and led the way to the study door, stopping and gesturing to the open door. Once Alastar had entered, the footman closed the door.

  Vaun turned from the window. He was wearing hose and shoes, but not a doublet, and a plain white shirt and a simple velvet tan jacket. His expression was bland, but Alastar could sense a certain irritation in the High Holder’s movements.

  “How is whatever you have in mind urgent enough to arrive without any notice and demand to see me?” Vaun did not gesture to any of the chairs or make a move toward them.

  “I presented a compromise offer on next year’s tariffs to High Holder Guerdyn. An increase of four coppers on a gold over the present tariff level. He refused to even consider it. I told him that the rex and the High Council would agree to it. He stated that he did not care whether the rex agreed or not. I suggested he should care. I even demonstrated why he should. He refused to consider the matter. Now, he doesn’t have to worry.” Alastar smiled coolly. “I thought you should know, and it might be best if you let Nacryon, Haebyn, and Moeryn know that.”

  “That is urgent?” Vaun didn’t conceal the irritation in his voice.

  “Since one of you will have to take over as head of the High Council, I thought you’d like to be the first to know.”

  To his credit, Vaun only nodded. “I see. What if whoever takes over refuses?”

  “We will deal with his successor, and every other successor until the Council agrees.”

  Vaun frowned. “Why did you not do this earlier? What has changed?”

  “Last night the army shelled Imagisle. Several buildings were destroyed. Some imagers and others were killed. Others were wounded. The attack was because we did not kill every member of the High Council to force agreement with Ryen’s demands for higher tariffs.”

  Vaun’s expres
sion turned from concern to puzzlement. “Ryen ordered the shelling of Imagisle? I presume Demykalon did not act on his own initiative.”

  “Ryen did.”

  “Then why did you remove…” Vaun broke off his words. “Who is rex?”

  “I assume Lorien is. Assuming he supports the compromise, he will remain so.”

  “Lorien…” Vaun nodded slowly. “How will Marshal Demykalon respond to this … change of circumstances?”

  “The new marshal of the army will be the one to decide that.”

  “Don’t you think…?” Abruptly, Vaun shook his head. “You actually planned…”

  “I gave all of you the chance to be reasonable,” returned Alastar. “That opportunity is still open to you … and the other members of the High Council.”

  “There might be some question about your definition of reasonable.” Vaun held up a hand as if to forestall any comment Alastar might make. “But I’m certainly not going to quibble. I doubt most of the other councilors will either.”

  “Except Haebyn?”

  “He will not quibble, but he will never forget.”

  “Neither will I.”

  “I just might make that point,” replied Vaun dryly. “Once it is timely, say in a day or so, I will suggest that the High Council meet and agree to the terms you proposed, subject, of course, to the prior agreement of the rex.”

  “That would appear perfectly reasonable.” Alastar inclined his head. “Unless there is some other matter we need to discuss, I will not intrude further upon you.”

  “I think this matter is quite enough for the present, Maitre Alastar.”

  “So do I, and I thank you.” With another nod and a smile, Alastar turned, made his way to the study door, and from there to where Shaelyt and the thirds waited. He mounted quickly.

  “Where are we headed now, sir?” asked Shaelyt.

  “Back to the Chateau D’Rex to pay our respects to the rex.”

  Belsior and Neiryn exchanged glances.

  “Rex Lorien,” added Alastar. “He needs to know the terms for the new tariff schedule … and the reasons for them. He might also need a slight briefing on the situation.” And possibly more than that. He turned his mount and started down the paved lane toward the East River Road.

  26

  When Alastar and the other three reached the main entrance to the Chateau D’Rex, it was two quints past the first glass of the afternoon, and Alastar had finished off the first water bottle filled with dark lager and most of the second. Five guards stood at the bottom of the white stone steps leading up to the main entry to the chateau—a good indication of consternation and disarray, since five guards weren’t enough to stop any sort of attack and enough to reveal that there were problems. Alastar did not dismount when he reined up just short of the steps.

  “Sir … the chateau is closed.”

  “Why? I’m here to see the rex.”

  “I can’t say, sir. I’m sorry, sir. We’re not to admit anyone.”

  “I’m not just anyone,” Alastar said firmly.

  “Sir … I can’t make that decision.”

  “Who can?”

  “Guard Captain Fonteau, sir.”

  “Then I suggest you find him … and quickly.”

  A guard hurried up the steps and in a few moments returned with an older guard, presumably Fonteau, who, upon seeing Alastar, looked very unhappy. “Sir…”

  “I’m a very displeased master imager,” Alastar said. “The army fired cannon on Imagisle last night. Imagers and others were killed. You don’t want to make me even unhappier. You really don’t.”

  The guard captain swallowed. “Sir … the family…”

  “I’m not here to see the family. I’m here to see the rex.”

  “But … sir … Maitre Imager … the rex is dead.”

  Alastar paused. “Then it’s even more important that I see Rex Lorien. He is all right, I trust?”

  “Yes, sir, but…”

  “The Collegium has been fired upon. Imagers are dead and buildings destroyed. Rex Ryen is dead … and you don’t think matters aren’t serious enough for me to see the new rex?” Alastar let his voice rise slightly in incredulity.

  The guard captain sighed. “When you put it that way, sir … Perhaps you should join Submarshal, I mean Acting Marshal Petayn and Rex Lorien.”

  “Acting Marshal Petayn? Has Rex Lorien already removed Marshal Demykalon, not that he shouldn’t have?”

  “Marshal Demykalon was murdered.”

  “I cannot say I’m surprised … or even regretful, but under the circumstances, I think that meeting you mentioned is an excellent idea.” Alastar dismounted, handed the gelding’s reins to Belsior, then looked to Shaelyt. “I should be back in less than a glass. If I’m not, let Senior Imager Cyran know. He’ll know exactly what to do to the chateau.”

  The guard captain swallowed.

  Alastar turned to him. “Shall we go, Captain Fonteau?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Not surprisingly, the guard captain led Alastar to the same second-level study where the Maitre had left Ryen before dawn. The guard outside glanced from the captain to Alastar, then stepped aside. The captain opened the door, and announced “Maitre Alastar of the Collegium.”

  Alastar stepped into the study, immediately seeing Lorien behind the desk. The new rex, more like ten years younger than Alastar, had the same lank black hair as his father, although his was cut shorter. His gray-blue eyes focused on Alastar. He did not wear any sign of mourning.

  Alastar nodded, but did not smile. “Greetings, Rex Lorien.”

  “How did you get in here?” demanded Petayn, who sat across the broad desk from Lorien. Alastar had never met the submarshal, in fact, had never even heard of him in the time he had been in L’Excelsis. Petayn was smooth-faced, his sleek black hair graying at the temples.

  “Through the main entrance.”

  “I’m surprised your entry was without bodies, although I did expect you far earlier.”

  “Given the death and destruction your cannon caused, you should be surprised that I am here at all.”

  “Death and destruction?” Lorien turned to Petayn. “You only mentioned warning shots.”

  Before Petayn could reply, Alastar did. “The cannon destroyed two of the three bridges and took out the middle span of the third. The administration building and the dining hall were totally destroyed by explosive shells that caused them to go up in flames despite their stone walls and slate roofs. Cottages and dwellings were also damaged. We still do not know the extent of the deaths and injuries.” That was true, if misleading. “Had we not removed the cannon and the troopers manning them in less than a glass, the damage would have been far, far greater. If those were warning shots, Submarshal, I would not wish to witness an actual attack.” With the briefest pause, Alastar went on. “And where might Marshal Demykalon be?”

  “He’s been murdered, and you doubtless had something to do with that. He was pinned to the floor with his own sabre stuck so deep into the floor and the stone beneath that we had to snap the blade to free his body.”

  “Rather an emphatic way to suggest that those who live by the blade might well die by it,” said Lorien wryly.

  That’s not something his father would ever have said. Those few words gave Alastar some slight hope that working with the new rex might be easier than with his sire.

  “Some might find that ironic, even amusing,” declared Petayn. “But it was scarcely an honorable act. Imagers must not consider honor. They never have … at least.”

  “Honor?” Alastar raised his eyebrows. “You have a strange idea of honor. Firing on students and working men and women doesn’t represent a concept of honor I’ve ever heard of.”

  “We were carrying out Rex Ryen’s orders.”

  “Carrying out a dishonorable order makes it honorable?”

  Petayn drew himself up stiffly. “Without order, there is chaos. We answer to the rex. If we questioned every order, th
e army would not work. Solidar would fall apart.”

  Alastar watched as Lorien’s eyes focused on one man and then the other.

  “I didn’t suggest questioning every order—just the stupid or unwise ones. A good senior officer owes his superior not only obedience but the exercise of judgment.”

  “You seem to know a great deal about officers … for never having been one.”

  “No. I only know those things that are so obvious that you and Marshal Demykalon have long since forgotten them. Before I forget, have you recalled the cannon sent to destroy High Holder Guerdyn’s chateau?”

  “I don’t believe you mentioned that, Submarshal,” said Lorien, his voice every bit as cold as his sire’s had been when irritated.

  “I had not finished briefing you when the Maitre arrived,” replied Petayn smoothly.

  “The submarshal has informed me that you and your imagers destroyed almost a battalion of his men and damaged most of the new cannon. Is that an accurate assessment?” Lorien looked at Alastar, who remained standing.

  “Most likely. It might have been less. We didn’t bother to count or take prisoners. We needed to stop the attack before more students were killed.”

  Lorien looked at Petayn. “You will refrain from any more attacks on anyone until you have specific orders from me. Any troopers or working cannon outside of army posts will be returned to those posts immediately.”

  The submarshal appeared as if he wanted to protest, but then nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Given the army’s position thus far,” added Alastar, “the Collegium will support the rex’s order as it can.”

  Petayn stiffened.

  “You may go, Submarshal,” said Lorien. “You need to promulgate and enforce that order.”

  “At your command, sir.” Petayn stood easily, but Alastar sensed that Petayn was anything but pleased.

  Once Petayn left, Alastar took the chair that the submarshal had not used, settling into it and looking directly at Lorien, deciding to let the rex say whatever he had in mind.