My efforts to date, based on my observing during the official “working day” of the Patrol, weren’t resolving that problem, and I had yet to put anything in action to deal effectively with High Holder Ryel.
I was going to have to spend a lot more time on the problems facing me . . . before they overwhelmed me and everyone for whom I cared.
Samedi morning was foggy, and it had rained during the night, leaving the grass and the walkways damp when I headed out for the obligatory exercise and sparring session. None of the older masters was there except for Schorzat. That left less than half of the normal complement—Baratyn, Dartazn, Martyl, and me. I ended up sparring with Baratyn and getting bruises that would turn sore indeed by the end of the day.
“Not bad, Rhenn,” he told me.
If I hadn’t done badly, I certainly didn’t want to do worse. But then, Baratyn had a good ten years’ experience on me.
With so few older imagers undergoing Clovyl’s exercise session, I wasn’t exactly surprised to find myself alone at breakfast with Heisbyl, a Maitre D’Aspect far older and grayer than I, who almost never ate in the dining hall unless he was the duty imager, but I had to wonder because Samedi wasn’t usually a duty day.
“Good morning,” I offered politely as I poured my tea.
“Good morning, Rhennthyl. A mite cool outside, wouldn’t you say?”
“It’s not too bad, not if you keep moving.”
“That’s fine for you young fellows.” He frowned. “You were a portraitist for a time, weren’t you? For Caliostrus?”
“I was, and that was when he did the portrait of your daughter.”
“A good work, if dear. I saw your portrait of Maitre Poincaryt for the first time this morning. Rather fine, I fancy, and I daresay it cost the Collegium far less than what I paid Caliostrus for Verinya’s portrait.” He laughed.
“Far less, at least in coin,” I replied lightly.
“Oh, all of you young masters think you’ve cost the Collegium dearly, and so you have, but so has anyone who’s made master. One cannot make master without self-confidence, and self-confidence combines with youth and ability to make mistakes, and those are costly both in coin and blood.”
I couldn’t argue that . . . and didn’t. I just offered an exaggerated shrug and set to eating the fried cakes dowsed in syrup along with the slab of bacon.
After I excused myself and rose to leave, Heisbyl smiled faintly and said, “It remains to be seen whether you’ll be a greater master imager than you could have been as a master portraiturist. Ability, self-confidence, and dedication suffice for a master portraiturist. They aren’t enough for an imager.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied politely.
“I hope you do.” The smile faded. “I did not.”
“Thank you,” I added.
As I walked northward along the west side of the quadrangle in the cool and still air, Heisbyl’s last words still echoed in my thoughts, as did the sadness behind them. Especially after those words, I didn’t mind getting to the studio early. I’d already wanted to look over what I’d done on both Master Rholyn’s portrait and the one of Seliora that I’d barely begun.
When I walked into the studio, I saw a small iron coal stove that sat almost against the outside wall. An iron chimney had also been installed, with new brickwork around where it went through the wall. A full coal scuttle stood on the stone floor. After opening the stove door to load it, I realized that the ashes were warm and that the studio, while not warm, was certainly not as cold as it had been. That meant Grandisyn, or someone, had been fueling and watching the stove while I was working with the Patrol. After loading the stove, I did manage to image some of the coal into flame.
After that, not only did I get everything set up, but I worked for more than a glass on the background of Master Rholyn’s portrait before he arrived in the studio. By then, the air was far warmer than when I’d first entered the studio, so much so that Master Rholyn had his heavy winter cloak off even before he closed the door behind him.
“Rhennthyl . . . this morning I can only sit for half a glass. I’ve a meeting with Master Poincaryt.”
“If that would press you, sir . . .” I offered.
“No . . . a half glass will allow me more than enough time.”
“I imagine that the events between Ferrum and Jariola—and the Council—have created more than a few problems,” I offered, gesturing toward the crate. “If you don’t mind taking the standing position . . .”
“That’s fine. I’ll be sitting for a good long time after I leave you, I expect.”
I touched the oils on the tray with the brush tip and began to work on an unfinished section where his neck met the collar of his gray shirt. “What will happen now that the Council has declared war on Ferrum, sir? Besides the northern fleet attacking Ferran warships and merchanters, I mean.”
“No one on the Council wishes to land troops anywhere in Cloisera, either in Jariola or in Ferrum itself. High Councilor Suyrien is deeply concerned that Solidar not be perceived as showing favoritism to the Jariolans. He and Caartyl have already drafted a communiqué insisting that the Oligarch and his council immediately begin reimbursing Solidar for its efforts in assisting Jariola.” Rholyn raised his eyebrows. “What does that indicate to you, Rhenn?”
“The Council wants to make clear that the war is about the actions taken by Ferrum, and not about a preference for the Jariolan system of government.”
“That is certainly one purpose.”
I decided against asking what the real purpose was, not directly. “Will the Jariolans actually reimburse us, or is that just a posture?”
“I doubt that they can.”
“But if I might ask why, sir . . .”
“When they demur, we will most likely request a ninety-nine-year lease on Harvik—that’s a small isle off the port of Jaaslk—along with a guarantee of coal sales and shipment, at the prevailing price. The isle does have a harbor, but virtually no inhabitants, and a single pier. But it will make a good sheltered anchorage for the new northern fleet, and we could build our own port there and garrison it. It’s less than a day’s steaming to Ferrial from there.”
“The Council must anticipate problems there for some time to come.” I kept my voice even, trying to concentrate on painting.
“For several centuries, Maitre Poincaryt believes.”
“Problems lasting that long will not please the Council.”
“Lengthy expenditures on anything seldom do.” A quick wry smile crossed his face, and I tried to hold it in my mind, because that expression captured a certain essence of Maitre Rholyn. I stopped working on his neck and switched to his mouth and cheeks. Neither of us spoke for a time.
Then . . . I had the expression, and with the brush itself, and not imaging. Just those touches, and it brought his face to life, not that I didn’t have a great deal more work to do. I even got his neck and collar just right before the bell announced the half glass.
At lunch, I joined Ferlyn and Heisbyl, and we talked about the war, and what might occur once the northern fleet reached the waters off Cloisera. After eating, I took my time walking across the quadrangle and to the Bridge of Hopes, where I stood in the damp chill and waited.
Shortly before first glass, Shomyr escorted Seliora to the east end of the Bridge of Hopes. She was wearing a black cloak over the same outfit she’d worn the week before and carrying a flat parcel of some sort. I walked toward her, and Shomyr waited until we were together. Then he turned and waved, returning to the coach that had brought them.
“That was good of Shomyr.”
“Aunt Aegina, Mama, and Odelia went to a luncheon for Yaena, and he didn’t want them to have to worry about me.”
Yaena? Then the name came to me—Seliora’s cousin who’d gotten married the day after I’d nearly gotten myself killed at the Council’s Harvest Ball. I hoped that the Autumn Ball in two weeks would be far less eventful.
“Oh.” Selio
ra handed me a large envelope. “This is what Ailphens could discover.”
“Ailphens?” The weight of paper suggested more than a few documents.
“The advocate for NordEste Design. We thought going through him would obscure matters sufficiently.”
After she’d explained, I recalled the advocate’s name as one she’d told me months before. I wished I’d recalled it before she’d had to tell me again. “Have you read what’s in here?”
“Yes. It’s typical for a High Holder. He’s got the main holding, and ownership of various other sections of land across Solidar, but most of his known interests outside his main holdings are in various banques.”
“Such as the Banque D’Rivages and the Banque D’Kherseilles.”
“If you knew that, why did you ask . . .”
“I didn’t know. I suspected, but it was only a guess.”
“You knew. You just couldn’t prove it.” Seliora looked at me. “Did you see it, or just know it?”
“I knew it. The only thing I’ve seen is the fire at the factorage.” So far.
“You’ll see more. You will.”
“Is that a promise?” I laughed softly.
She flushed. “You are . . .” Then she shook her head.
I held the package in my right arm and offered the left to Seliora. We walked off the bridge and along the lane and then across the north end of the quadrangle before turning north toward the workrooms and my studio.
“What about dinner? We’ll meet Shomyr and Haelya at Chaelya’s?” I asked.
“At half past sixth glass. That will give you more time to paint . . . and to learn a bit more about riding.”
“You’ve seen me riding—Pharsi farsight—haven’t you?”
“Just that. Nothing frightening, but it can’t hurt for you to know a little about riding.”
“I doubt that I’ll ever know more than a little. I know enough to ask for a gentle horse.”
On the stone walkway coming toward us were two young imagers. I recognized them both—Gherard and Petryn.
The two looked at Seliora, exchanged knowing glances, then stopped.
“Good afternoon.” I paused. “And yes, she is beautiful, and might I present Mistress Seliora D’Shelim. I’m painting her portrait.”
“Good afternoon, sir, mistress.” Their words were not quite synchronized, and they looked away from Seliora.
“Good afternoon, imagers,” Seliora said, her voice warm, her eyes on Gherard.
The older imager inclined his head. Then, so did Petryn, before the two stood back to let us pass.
“There will be rumors all over Imagisle by tonight.” She smiled at me.
“Among the seconds and thirds, anyway.”
“Not among the masters?”
“Even at meals, we don’t see much of each other. Well . . . I might at midday, but I’m not here then. Sometimes there are only one or two of us at the masters’ table. Most are married, and they eat with their families at breakfast or dinner, unless they have work on Samedi or duty on Solayi.”
“It doesn’t sound like there are that many masters.”
“There might be fifteen or twenty here.”
“And you led me to believe that you’ve done nothing special?” She raised her eyebrows. “In less than a year, you’ve gone from being a prime to a master, and there are only twenty masters out of four hundred imagers?”
“I was fortunate to have a great deal of imaging talent.”
Seliora shook her head. “Do you really believe it’s just that?”
I was glad I didn’t have to answer, because we’d reached the studio door, and I opened it. Before I started painting, I opened the stove door and shoveled more coal inside.
The position I’d finally decided on was one where Seliora looked like she’d been walking, then stopped and half turned to look at something. When I got to painting the split-skirts, I knew that I’d depict them as still flared, as if she’d just turned and they hadn’t settled back down.
This sitting, though, I was concentrating on her face.
One of the hardest parts, as I’d known it would be, was to get the right skin tone. Seliora was fair-skinned, but her face was not that pale bluish white that many women of Bovarian heritage—such as Ryel’s daughter Iryela—flaunted. Nor did Seliora have either an olive complexion or the dark-honeyed look of many Pharsi women, yet her skin held the faintest trace of a bronze-gold. I’d have called it goddess-gold, almost, but I kept that thought to myself.
After working on her face for the entire time, I called a halt to the painting at half past three. That gave me half a glass to clean up the oils, the studio, and myself—and a quick stop by my quarters to drop the information package inside. All that actually took a quint longer, but we were still at the NordEste Design stables by half past four.
This time, Seliora rode a gelding beside me, and we chanced some of the side lanes to the northeast of Hagahl Lane. I managed to stay in the saddle, but I still felt awkward. I was certain I looked even worse than I felt.
After we returned, Seliora didn’t make me groom the mare, but let the ostler do it, noting that she’d prefer not to have to bathe again before we dined, although we both did wash up.
“Now . . . you could actually ride the mare somewhere and arrive,” she said.
“I’m not up for much more than that.”
“No, but that’s all you’ll probably need.”
I hoped I didn’t need even that, but that was hoping against hope, I feared.
In the end we made it to Chaelya’s just slightly after half past six.
We had barely stepped inside the door when Staelia hurried forward to meet us. “It’s so good to see you!”
“We’d hoped to come last Samedi,” I offered, “but things didn’t work out. Shomyr and . . . Haelya . . . they were supposed to meet us here.”
“Four of you, then? We can take care of that.” Staelia immediately escorted us to a circular table in an alcove near the rear of Chaelya’s. “You two sit down, and I’ll have Taelia bring you each a glass of something special.”
“You don’t have to . . .” I began.
“We want to.” With a smile, she turned.
“Is that why we can’t eat here often?” I asked.
“She’d do anything for family, no matter what it cost her.” Seliora paused. “Would you like to come to brunch tomorrow?”
“I’d like that very much. I do have to meet Horazt at the first glass of afternoon, and I should stop by to see my parents. I saw Khethila earlier this week. Matters aren’t going well in Kherseilles.”
“Ryel, you think?”
“Ryel and Rousel’s lack of attention to details. The combination is anything but good, but I can’t say anything about either.”
“You learn failure with details is expensive in crafting.”
“It’s expensive in factoring as well. He just isn’t ever the one to pay the full price.”
“Rhenn . . . I feel sorry for him.”
Sorry for Rousel? I just raised my eyebrows. I didn’t want to say what I really thought.
“People like your brother go through life not understanding the true costs of anything. He didn’t have to pay with pain or patience or much of anything for the love of a woman. He didn’t have to learn factoring from the bottom up with a whipping or loss of coins for failure.”
“That’s true.”
“When you don’t pay, you don’t know what something’s worth. You only think you do, and you make mistakes. That’s why I feel sorry for your brother. He may never learn the worth of what he has.”
I hadn’t quite thought of it that way, but I couldn’t say more because I saw Shomyr and a woman following Staelia toward our table. I rose just before they arrived.
“I’m sorry we’re late,” offered Shomyr with an embarrassed smile. “We were delayed.”
“My parents wished to talk,” added the woman, who was close to a head shorter than Seliora with o
range-flame hair, freckles, and a figure with curves excessive for her height. She also had an open smile and exuded warmth.
“This is Haelya. Haelya . . . Master Rhennthyl. You’ve met Seliora.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Haelya.” I gestured for her to take the seat to my left. “We just arrived ourselves.”
As soon as everyone was seated, Taelia appeared with a tray holding four goblets of an amber wine. The first goblet went to me, the second to Seliora.
“The special tonight,” said Taelia, “is capon marinated in walnut oil and naranje, with special spices, then grilled and served in Father’s special naranje cream sauce. We also have the flank steak especial and a poached sole . . .”
In the end, both Seliora and I ordered the special capon, with greens topped with crumbled cheese and walnuts. Shomyr ordered the flank steak and Haelya the sole.
Once Taelia retreated to the kitchen, I lifted my goblet. “I don’t have a specific toast, except to family.”
“To family.” The others raised their goblets as well.
I sipped the wine, which held a hint of cinnamon and butter, as well as just enough sweetness so that it was not bitter. It was good, but I think I would have preferred a white Grisio.
“How is the portrait coming?” asked Shomyr, looking to his sister.
“I don’t know. I haven’t looked,” Seliora replied.
“Portraits take time,” I said, “and I can’t work on it that much.”
Haelya looked confused, but said nothing.
“Haelya,” I asked, “how did you and Shomyr meet?”
Seliora laughed.
I glanced at her.
“It’s always better to ask the woman,” she replied.
“At the apothecary shop,” Haelya said in a low voice. “He was always so kind and cheerful.”
“And she was always so helpful, especially with the liniments for Grandmama,” added Shomyr. “Her family has four apothecary shops here in L’Excelsis, and they have a separate formulation building. That way, the products are the same in all the shops.”
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