Imager's Challenge

by Jr. L. E. Modesitt

  “I do, thank you.”

  He nodded, and I stepped into the justicing chamber, a good thirty yards from the back to the black dais at the north end with its wide and featureless black desk, and close to fifteen yards from side to side. Already, more than half the low-backed benches that faced the dais were filled, although there seemed to be more people on the side to the right of the center aisle. The shorter rows of benches on each side of the open space before the dais were empty.

  When I entered the witness chamber, I saw that Captain Harraf was already there, as were the two patrollers who had stood behind us when the Temple exploded.

  “Good morning, Captain,” I said as I took a seat on the other end of the bench on which he sat.

  “Good morning, Master Rhennthyl.” Harraf’s voice was pleasant, and he actually smiled as if he meant it.

  I wondered if he’d been wanting to strike a blow at the scripties for years.

  A few moments later Major Trowyn stepped into the room and sat down on the other bench. He did not address us, nor did he look in our direction.

  No one else entered the witness chamber.

  Somewhat later, outside the closed door, I heard the bailiff. “All rise!”

  A time of silence was followed by the bailiff’s next words, somewhat muffled. “You may be seated. Bring forth the accused.”

  We sat there for some time before the bailiff opened the door to the witness chamber, and a voice, presumably that of the prosecuting advocate, announced, “Naval Marine Major Trowyn to the bar.”

  The major rose and, without looking at the rest of us, left the witness chamber. The bailiff closed the door.

  Close to a glass and a half passed before the door opened, but the major did not return. The bailiff left the door open, and the prosecuting advocate announced, “Maitre D’Aspect Rhennthyl to the bar.”

  I stepped out and walked down the center aisle until I was standing below the dais. I inclined my head politely to the justice, whom I had never seen before.

  “Master Rhennthyl,” began the justice, “do you understand that you are required to tell the whole truth, and that your words must not deceive, either by elaboration or omission?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Proceed.”

  The prosecutor turned to me. “Please recount what occurred on the morning of Vendrei, sixth Finitas, after you reported to the Third District station, with particular attention as to how those occurrences relate to the Temple of Puryon and the naval conscription efforts scheduled to begin nearby.”

  “Yes, sir. When I reached Third District station, Captain Harraf explained to me that the Navy was concerned about what might happen in the taudis because there was already a group of taudis-dwellers gathered around the Temple of Puryon. He had already requested that a squad of mounted riot patrollers be dispatched to the area, but only half a squad had arrived. I told him that I had concerns about what the Tiempran priests might be planning because of the reports about what the First Speaker of Tiempre had said earlier. . . .” I went on to explain what had occurred once Harraf and I had arrived to observe, emphasizing that both the captain and I had suggested that the chanting taudis-dwellers did not pose a threat and that the colonel had ignored our warning. Then I just detailed what had happened and what I had done after that, all the way through to the capture, preliminary charging, and transport of the three priests, Saelyhd, and Donmass.

  “Thank you, Master Rhennthyl,” the prosecutor said. “Can you explain in more detail how you managed to come into possession, as it were, of the three Tiempran priests and the so-called taudischef Saelyhd?”

  “Yes, sir. I knew from questions I’d asked of various people in the taudis that Saelyhd’s predecessor—that was Youdh—had been working with the Tiemprans. I thought it was likely that Saelyhd was as well. After the explosion, I went into the taudis to see if I could find them. I was fortunate enough to find one of the other taudischefs. He was deeply concerned that he and his people would be blamed for the explosion. They had nothing to do with it, but he realized that unless some of the priests could be found and brought to justice, the entire taudis would suffer . . .” That and what followed was oversimplified, but essentially true. “. . . because of the justifiable anger of the marines, I managed to sneak the priests and Saelyhd into Third District station.”

  “They did not give you any trouble?”

  “The men with the taudischef helped tie them up. Saelyhd did object, and it took several men to march him to where the patrollers could bring him in.”

  “Master Rhennthyl . . . we understand that you advised Captain Harraf not to aid the marines. Why not?”

  “First, I believed that attacking those who were chanting was not justified unless they blocked the marines from doing their duty, or resisted in some way, and at that time, the taudis-dwellers were not. Second, as I mentioned earlier and told the captain, there were rumors that the Tiemprans had placed explosives in the Temple. While I could not verify that, it seemed unwise to attack people who were not an immediate threat, especially that close to the Temple.”

  “Master Rhennthyl . . . do you have any experience in conducting conscription?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then why did you see fit to recommend what you did?”

  “Sir . . . the colonel wanted to make an example of people. I had learned earlier that the First Speaker of Tiempre had vowed to strike at the heart of Solidar. There had already been one riot in the taudis, over a month ago, and it was caused when the Civic Patrol tried to put down another demonstration by force incited by the Tiempran priests. This looked to be uglier than the last one because the taudis-dwellers hate the conscription teams.”

  “Master Rhennthyl . . . what happened with the conscription efforts on Lundi and Mardi?”

  “I accompanied the first teams through the taudis. There was no violence.”

  “And how did this marvelous change come to pass?”

  “I told some of the local leaders that any more violence would likely result in the marines leveling the entire South Middle taudis, that peaceful cooperation was their last chance.”

  “Why would they believe you?”

  “I can’t explain that, sir, except that I have been accompanying the local patrollers through part of the taudis for nearly a month. I wasn’t going to question why they cooperated, not after what had already happened.”

  The questions seemed to go on forever.

  When the prosecuting advocate finished, the advocate for the defense stepped forward.

  “Master Rhennthyl, as an imager for the Collegium, you are known to be able to protect yourself from weapons. Why did you not employ your abilities to contain the damage and protect the marines?”

  “Sir, contrary to stories and popular belief, the abilities that we as imagers have are often overestimated. I did attempt to use those abilities. Even at the distance we were from the Temple, when it exploded, I was only able to offer limited protection to Captain Harraf and the patrollers close by. Had we been closer, I would not have been that successful.”

  “How did you come to the remarkable conclusion that this explosion was caused by those accused?”

  “First, as I mentioned earlier, there were public statements by the First Speaker of Tiempre. Second, in accompanying patrollers past the Temple in the days previous to the explosion, we had noted that the Temple had been closed and shuttered, as if the priests had advance knowledge of the arrival of the conscription teams. Third, I had heard the statements of those involved in the earlier riots that they had been incited by the priests. At the very least, the priests had to have some knowledge of what was in their Temple, and I thought that by capturing them, the Patrol would have a chance to determine how much they knew and how involved they were . . . ”

  After another half glass of questions, the advocate for the defense stepped back and turned to the justice. “I have no more questions for this witness, Your Honor.”

  The ju
stice looked to me. “You are excused, Master Rhennthyl. You may leave the hall, but you may be recalled at a later date. If so, you will be notified.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I had the feeling that wouldn’t happen, that no one really wanted to see my face there again anytime soon, but I was more than relieved to be able to walk out of the hearing chamber and then out into a sunny, if chill, afternoon.

  By that time, it was well past second glass, and I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Thankfully, there were always hacks around the Square of Justice, and I caught one almost immediately. I had the hacker drop me off on the Boulevard D’Council, just short of the Bridge of Desires, because there were several patisseries there.

  I chose Jhesepa’s and took my time over a rolled lamb flatbread and some hot tea. Then I walked back over the bridge and made my way to my quarters.

  Once there, I forced myself to sit down at the writing desk and take out the two sheets of paper that held what I had written about Rousel. Over the next two glasses, I rewrote everything twice, but only ended up with another half page of thoughts and comments, but I felt better about what I had. Then I slipped them into a folder and left to make my way to dinner.

  The quadrangle was windy, but not quite so chill as earlier, or so it seemed. When I entered the dining-hall building, I saw a group gathered in the corridor outside the hall proper. In the center was Kahlasa, surrounded by Reynol, Meynard, Engmyr, Martyl, and Dartazn. The conversation was animated, and I eased my way toward them.

  “Kahlasa’s been made Maitre D’Aspect,” announced Reynol, turning to me as I approached. “Now you’ll have to listen to her again at meals.”

  “When he’s here, and that’s not often anymore,” Kahlasa replied.

  “Talk about not being here,” I countered. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.”

  “She had to have done something special, but she won’t talk about it,” added Meynard.

  “You wouldn’t want her to,” replied Engmyr, who was close to finishing his training as a field operative.

  As the bells chimed six, I walked to the masters’ table with Kahlasa. She sat between Ferlyn and me.

  “When did you find out?” I asked.

  “This morning, but Master Schorzat had hinted it might be coming.”

  “You already held it as a concealed rank, didn’t you?”

  “For a while.”

  “Does that mean you’ll do more planning and less fieldwork?”

  She nodded. “It’s the right time. Besides, it’s hard to do fieldwork when you’re expecting.”

  I almost choked on the wine that I’d begun to sip. “I . . . I didn’t know.”

  “Claustyn and I were married just before we were sent out on our last tours.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, but it had to conceal pain.

  “That has to be a true mixed blessing,” I said. “I’m glad for you, but . . . it can’t be easy, either.” I’d liked Claustyn, and that he had a legacy seemed only right, but that Kahlasa would be without him seemed so wrong. Maybe I felt that way because of what had happened to Rousel, but I would have liked to have thought it wouldn’t have mattered.

  “We’ll manage.” Her smile was slightly forced. “The word is that you’ve upset the Collegium, the Civic Patrol, and the Navy all at once.”

  “Something like that,” I admitted. “I warned the naval marines not to ride down unarmed taudis-dwellers outside a Tiempran Temple. They did, and the Tiemprans exploded the Temple and killed something like two hundred people, half of them marines. I persuaded one of the local taudischefs to help me capture the priests and the collaborating taudischef and also persuaded the major left in command not to raze the taudis, and then I accompanied one of the conscription teams after things settled down.”

  Kahlasa shook her head. “The Collegium will look good when it’s over, and everyone else will hate us for making them look bad, including the Council. Master Dichartyn is doubtless already ruing the day he decided to recruit you for security. For an imager who’s supposed to be covert, you’re not exactly invisible.”

  I tried another sip of wine before replying. “Enough people had already been killed, but it’s been pointed out to me that more will die because pinning the blame on the Tiemprans will lead to more violent acts on their part at a time when we can’t spare the ships to retaliate quickly to put an end to such a response.” Master Rholyn hadn’t quite said that, but he might as well have done so.

  “The joys of security and operations, Rhenn. No matter what you do, someone’s unhappy, and the better you do it, the more who are displeased. That’s why it helps to remain out of sight. That way, there’s no direct target for blame.”

  That bothered me, but I couldn’t argue against her point. “Let’s talk about something more cheerful. Do you think you’ll have a boy or girl?”

  She smiled. “It doesn’t matter. He or she will likely be an imager, anyway.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “If the mother is an imager, and so is the father, the child is almost certain to be one.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “If the mother isn’t an imager, even if the father is, there’s less than one chance in a hundred that the child will be, and that’s only if there are imagers in her background somewhere. Or a strong Pharsi background, for some reason.”

  “Is there . . . pressure . . . ?” I didn’t know whether I wanted to know.

  “No. Not as such. I was told early what the odds were. I wanted those talents to continue. Some women imagers don’t.”

  Just as I thought I’d gotten close to understanding the Collegium, something like this came up. “Then I’m glad for you.”

  “Thank you.” She sipped her tea. “Have you heard that another blizzard struck the Jariolan hills, and the Oligarch’s troops are pushing the Ferrans back and inflicting heavy losses?”

  “I hadn’t heard, but Quaelyn speculated that might be the case some time back. His patterns suggested that . . .”

  Our conversation for the rest of dinner dealt with the war in Cloisera and all the implications for the Council.

  After breakfast on Jeudi, since I didn’t have to report to Third District station, I returned to my quarters to go over what I’d written about Rousel . . . and to study my drawings and notes about Ryel’s estate. Then, at ninth glass I walked across the Bridge of Hopes and then slowly up the Boulevard D’Imagers until I found a hack to drive me to my parents’ house.

  Khethila, dressed in a gray jacket, a green shirt, and flowing gray trousers, was the one to open the door. “Rhenn, we didn’t expect you so early.”

  “I took the day off. You’re doing door duty?”

  “Nellica’s helping cook.”

  With all the people who might well drop by after the memorial service, that was certainly understandable. I followed her back to the family parlor, where Father sat in his chair, wearing a gray jacket he’d last donned, I thought, at his older brother’s memorial service close to ten years ago. It still fit. So did the green shirt.

  Father gestured toward the trays set on the side tables. “No lunch. Eat what you need.”

  Culthyn was sitting on the edge of the settee closest to the tray that held an assortment of sweet rolls.

  “Culthyn . . .” Khethila’s voice was low, but warning. “Leave the rest of the rolls for Rhenn and the others.”

  “All right. . . .”

  Mother hurried from the kitchen. Like Father and Khethila, she wore gray and green. “Rhenn, you’re early.”

  “Sometimes, I can manage that. Can I do anything?”

  She glanced toward Culthyn. “Keep your brother from eating all the rolls.”

  “Mother . . .” Culthyn’s voice was almost plaintive.

  I looked at him.

  “Don’t do that, Rhenn. Please . . . I won’t eat any more.”

  “How’s Remaya?” I asked.

  “She’s feeding Rheityr. Nellica will take car
e of him while we’re at the service.”

  No one said anything profound or disturbing, and after a while Remaya joined us, holding Rheityr, who was awake and smiling. At his age, I wondered if he even knew what he was smiling about, but his bright face, showing so much of Rousel, cheered the others. Knowing what I knew, every time I looked at him, I wondered what else I could have done . . . and yet, given Johanyr and the institutionalized arrogance of the High Holders, I felt that what had happened would have been fated no matter what I’d done—unless I’d allowed myself to become Johanyr’s sycophant.

  That didn’t help the way I felt.

  Finally, it was time to leave for the anomen. I took my place next to Charlsyn on the driver’s seat so that the others wouldn’t be that crowded inside the coach. Given the comparative warmth of the day, with the slight overcast, I was doubtless more comfortable beside Charlsyn than I would have been inside the coach.

  The ride to the Anomen D’Este wasn’t that long, only about a quint, and we arrived early enough that Charlsyn had no trouble drawing the brass-trimmed brown coach along the east side of the building, on Elsyor. Once I helped Mother and Remaya out of the coach, I took a few moments to see if Seliora happened to be in any of the coaches that had just stopped to leave those coming to the service. She wasn’t. So I hurried up the steps into the anomen.

  There were already close to fifty people there, gathered near the front below the chorister’s pulpit. I caught sight of Culthyn, Khethila, and Father in the east side corridor, set off by columns, that flanked the main hall. Khethila’s dark green mourning scarf had slipped off her hair and lay across her shoulders.

  “Mother? Remaya?”

  “They’ll be back in a moment,” Khethila replied. “They’re fine.”

  I nodded. “I’m going back near the doors to wait for Seliora.”

  “You didn’t say she was coming,” Culthyn said.

  I hadn’t, I realized. I just thought it would have been obvious. “I’m sorry. She wanted to come.”