“Won’t it fall?”
“It should, unless you know a way to stop gravity.” He smiled. “That’s not the point. You’ve already shown that you can image small things on a flat surface. One of the next steps is to image something into a place that’s not so easy.”
I took the cylinder and held it, letting my fingers run over it. Then I concentrated on imaging one just like it in the air in the middle of the larger cylinder. Nothing happened.
Master Dichartyn didn’t seem surprised. “Take both cylinders with you and keep trying. It may take a while, but you should be able to figure it out.”
I slipped both into the larger inside pocket of my gray waistcoat.
“This morning, you can accompany me on one of the small riverboats. Some of the primes are going to try imaging on the river. You might as well see if you can do it.”
“Yes, sir.” I didn’t ask why imaging was harder on a boat, not after failing at the exercise he’d just given me. I just followed him out of the building.
Master Dichartyn walked briskly along the east side of the quadrangle, right into the fangs of the wind, a wind that had gotten even stronger and colder. We crossed the open space at the northeast corner of the quadrangle and took the stone lane another half mille north past the walled herb and vegetable gardens, now mostly fallow, until we came to a set of three piers.
Five primes stood on the southernmost pier, clearly waiting for Master Dichartyn. The riverboat didn’t seem all that small to me-not at almost fifteen yards long. It had only one deck and the steam engine was in the rear, just forward of the paddlewheel, in a raised and covered enginehouse. The wheelhouse was roughly in the middle of the boat.
I looked out at the river, running as rough as I’d seen it, with whitecaps on the waves.
Master Dichartyn gestured for us to cross the narrow plank to the boat, then followed after me, because I trailed the other five. A bearded sailor vaulted off the bow and untied the line fastened around an iron cleat, then jumped back aboard before the boat swung downstream with the current. The paddlewheel began to churn as the boat headed out into the river. Once it cleared the calmer water around the pier, it began to roll, then pitch as the pilot turned upstream into the current. Spray sleeted over the bow, and some splattered down like fat raindrops where I stood with the others, just forward of the wheelhouse.
One of the primes, a chubby fellow who looked barely out of grammaire, was turning pale before the boat was even ten yards away from the pier, and another just stood frozen, his right hand clutching the railing so tightly that his fingers looked like a claw. I had to spread my feet a bit to keep my balance as the boat continued both to roll and pitch.
“The first exercise is to image a cube like this,” began Master Dichartyn, holding up a black wooden cube perhaps three digits on a side, “and to image it on the center of the third deck plank inboard. This one.” He pointed with the tip of his boot. “You first, Geoffryn.”
“Yes, sir.” The chubby prime closed his eyes and seemed to tense all over.
A misty shape appeared on the plank, then solidified into a muddy black oblong box.
“A cube, Geoffryn.” Dichartyn’s voice was louder, rising over the wind and the engine, but he did not sound angry. “Do you recall the shape of a cube?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Jakhob, you try.”
“Yes, sir.” The thin prime who had been clutching the rail just looked at the deck plank. His imaged creation was almost a cube, if slightly angled and muddy black, and it appeared above the next plank inboard, possibly because the riverboat was rolling.
The next three primes managed to image cubes, generally close to the center of the designated plank.
“Rhenn?”
I didn’t like doing imaging in public, but those watching couldn’t have been any more critical than Master Caliostrus had been when I’d begun as an apprentice. First, I visualized the cube, shimmering and black, and then I added the positioning.
The cube appeared, almost mirror-like, right on the middle of the plank. As it did, I realized that it was a shade too large. Abruptly, it shimmered, then reappeared as the correct size. I did feel a trace light-headed, and had to put my hand out, steadying myself on the railing.
“You used too much effort,” observed Master Dichartyn. “You should have paid more attention to the size the first time.”
“Yes, sir.” Still, I was pleased, even if he didn’t happen to be. My cube looked better, and had been imaged in exactly the right position-even the first time.
“Now . . . you’re going to try the same thing-except I want you to balance your cube on the railing on the far side of the boat.”
Three of the other primes couldn’t image anything that far away, and one could only create a blob. The last one managed a decent cube on the railing, as did I, but they both slid off into the river when the boat rolled as the steersman made a turn.
“Take us back!” Master Dichartyn finally ordered.
That afternoon, Gherard took me on a quick tour of the various shops and laboratories, as well as showing me workshops in the large gray building north of the quadrangle. Then I went back to my quarters and began reading.
Already it was clear that Master Dichartyn’s assignments varied widely.
I had to stay up later than I should have on Meredi night, but I did discover that the box was made out of a metal called aluminum. The science book described it as a light whitish blue ductile and malleable metallic element almost never found in pure form in nature, but common in natural chemical compounds. It was extremely difficult to refine, requiring special techniques involving potassium, and the price was something like a hundred and fifty gold crowns a pound. The little box I’d imaged, if I’d done it correctly, might have been worth ten crowns or so. No wonder Master Dichartyn had pocketed it-except I knew that he wouldn’t have made off with it, even if the Collegium rules hadn’t prohibited using imaging for personal gain.
The science book was different, almost strange, because it mixed things I’d learned years before with things I’d never heard or thought about. One section had a detailed set of plans for a steam engine of the type used on the ironway, but the next diagram was of a mining water pump, and beyond that was the axle assembly for a carriage or coach. But there were also anatomical drawings of human beings, very detailed, and clearly taken from dissections of cadavers.
The book on history and governing was the thickest of all, and to me, the hardest reading, even just leafing through it. The book led off with the Five Rights of Citizens:
All citizens, whether they be men or women, are of equal stature before the law and as such may hold and dispose of property; unless an authority has reason and evidence to the contrary that is sufficient for indictment in a court of justice, they are presumed innocent.
The laws of the Council take precedence over any and all local or administrative regional laws, ordinances, or restrictions, but no law enacted at any level may identify as a criminal offense any action already taken, nor encumber persons or seize their property without just compensation, save taxes levied on all and approved by the Council.
No individual, whether a citizen or an alien, may be imprisoned without formal charges being posted and without being informed of those charges.
All citizens, unless under indictment for a crime or imprisoned for such, have the right to travel unfettered throughout all regions and territories.
All citizens have the right to petition the Council for redress of any harmful action taken by any level of government, including the Council itself, and all such petitions will be made public.
After that, there were sections on everything, but as I riffled through the pages, just trying to get a sense of what was there, some paragraphs stood out.
A minimum of three Council members must be from areas within fifty milles of either east or west coasts . . . and no more than three Council members can be from within 200 milles of L’Excelsis, with
the exception of the sole representative of the Collegium . . . misrepresentation of domicile mandates immediate removal from the Council, loss of a master’s position, and a fine of 1,000 golds. In the case of a High Holder, such a violation will also include forfeiture of one-fifth of all lands and assets . . .
With fifteen Council members in all, those non-imagers from L’Excelsis could never comprise more than twenty percent of the Council-something that I remembered vaguely-but the penalties I didn’t recall ever seeing.
No refuse or waste, including any liquids, from a factorage or manufacturing facility, nor from any agricultural or commercial activity, nor from any watercraft, shall be allowed to flow or be placed into any waterway, nor shall any human refuse be so allowed . . . whether it be from an individual, a town, or a city . . .
According to that, if I read it right, even a cow couldn’t piss in a stream, not without bringing a fine down upon the owner.
Rates for freight on any ironway must be levied on the basis of weight and cubic displacement. Those rates must be approved by the transportation subcouncil and by the Council before taking effect and must be posted for one month before being imposed. Changes may not be submitted more than once a year . . . Freight or cargo accompanied by a Council representative or a representative of the Collegium Imago has priority over all other freight . . .
That was suggestive in more ways than one, but of what I wasn’t sure.
19
Imaging is as much an art in arranging perception as
in changing reality.
I woke early on the following Mardi morning, and after I bathed in the communal shower room-with water that I had the feeling was never less than chill-and shaved and dressed, I sat at the writing table in my room, looking at the two cylinders.
More than a week had gone by quickly, each day following a similar pattern. Breakfast, examination and instruction by Master Dichartyn, which could be over in half a glass or drag on for as many as two, followed by some sort of imaging exercises, lunch, some other activity involving observation or instruction, ranging from watching experiments in the chemistry laboratories to watching or learning how to handle machinery in either the woodworking shop, the metalworking shop, or the model shop. Then, when I was worn out, I had to read and study.
On Lundi, the day before, I’d had to admit to Master Dichartyn that I still hadn’t figured out the skill of placing a small cylinder in the empty space in the middle of the larger cylinder. It shouldn’t have been that hard, because some of the younger primes had been doing something like it, if unintentionally, during the imaging exercises on the boat.
Master Dichartyn had just looked at me as if I were truly stupid and then gone on to ask questions about what I’d read, and what I hadn’t, in the Natural Science book. He’d started by asking me how much air weighed. I’d never thought about air weighing something, but since a barometer worked by measuring the change in the weight of the air, I suppose I should have.
Air weighing something . . . had his question been as random as it had seemed? But if air weighed something, then I really wasn’t trying to image something into what I’d thought of as an empty space. Why was it easy to image something on a table? Because the air could be more easily moved? Or because I didn’t have to work to hold it up as it was being imaged?
I kept thinking about it, all the way to breakfast, where we had oat porridge, along with raisins and bread, and two thin strips of bacon.
I concentrated on the idea of imaging a raisin into the middle of a spoonful of the oat porridge. A small gout of porridge spouted up.
“Don’t let the masters catch you playing with your food,” murmured Thenard.
Someone else snickered.
I forced myself to eat the mouthful of porridge. The raisin tasted fine, but should I have swallowed it? I looked at the handful of raisins sprinkled on top of the porridge. Why couldn’t I image one of them into my spoon? Wouldn’t it be easier than trying to create a raisin?
Carefully, I took another spoonful, one without raisins, and then concentrated on the raisin on the top of the porridge farthest from me, visualizing it disappearing and then reappearing on top of the porridge in my spoon. The one raisin vanished, then reappeared on the spoon’s porridge. I could feel my forehead beginning to sweat, but . . . I’d done it.
That raised another question. I could feel the energy it took to do imaging, but why hadn’t I when I’d first begun to image? Or was it that what I’d done was so slight than it just hadn’t taken that much imaging? But then, there was the fire . . . Or hadn’t I noticed the effort then because I’d been so angry and then so involved in trying to help the children out of the house?
Later, as I walked across the quadrangle through the misting rain toward Master Dichartyn’s study, I couldn’t help thinking about what I’d done . . . and what it suggested. By using imaging to move something, I’d also proved that it was possible to remove things, at least to some degree. If one removed the cartridge from a pistol aimed at one, or if one removed . . . I winced. I wasn’t certain I wanted to explore those possibilities, not immediately. But I was beginning to understand exactly why the Collegium insisted on such strict rules and such secrecy.
As was usual, Master Dichartyn’s door was closed, and I sat down on the wooden bench and began to read the sixth section of the Natural Science book, which dealt with metals and various alloys. I couldn’t help but wonder how effective imaging might be in creating some of them, at least in small quantities.
Before long, the study door opened, and one of the older imagers, a secondus or even a tertius, departed.
“Rhennthyl?”
I immediately closed the book, stood, and hurried into his study and took my place on the still-warm seat used by the previous imager.
Master Dichartyn came right to the point, as usual. “Only a few of you will ever work in the laboratories. So why does the Collegium insist that you study science and work and practice in the laboratories?”
I gave the best answer I could come up with. “So that we’ll be better imagers?”
“That’s true as far as it goes.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
“Your brain knows more than you recall at any one point,” he went on. “If you have a friend, when you meet him, you don’t think about everything you know about him at that moment, do you?”
“No, sir.”
“But all your actions and all your words take into account everything you know, even if you don’t try to remember it all. What all this study about metals and science is designed to do is to provide the same kind of knowledge in order to improve your imaging skills.”
That made sense. I could see that I was already doing that.
“Do you have the two cylinders?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let’s see what you can do.”
I had the two cylinders, but I hadn’t even thought about them. Still, was air any different from porridge, except thinner? I took out the larger cylinder and propped it in place sideways on Master Dichartyn’s writing desk with two books that had been on the far corner, then held the smaller cylinder. Could I just move it? I decided to try.
The small cylinder vanished from my hand and appeared in the middle of the larger one, hanging there for just an instant before clunking down onto the bottom side of the larger cylinder.
Master Dichartyn’s eyes flicked from my hand to the cylinder and then back to my hand. He nodded slowly. “I wondered when you’d make that connection. Some never do. They’re the ones who remain seconds.”
“Seconds?” I blurted.
“Right now, you have the raw talent of a tertius, but you don’t have the understanding necessary for a secondus of your ability. We’re going to have to work on that.”
“Yes, sir.” While I didn’t mind the work, I didn’t much care for the way in which he’d expressed the words.
“Why is there an absolute prohibition on an imager using his abi
lity for any significant financial advantage for himself personally or for any other individual?”
I’d read that section. So I answered quickly. “That would give him or her an unfair advantage over others, and that would create anger against the Collegium.”
“That’s very true, Rhenn. It’s also very incomplete. Can you think of other reasons?”
“It might create conflict within the Collegium.”
“That’s also true. I’d like you to think about that for a while. Let’s look at it from another perspective. You mentioned that you’d used imaging in painting your own work, but what if you used your talent to copy an entire painting of a master?”
“It wouldn’t work, sir. There’s too much detail.”
Dichartyn sighed and gave a weary smile. “That’s a bad example, then. Let’s take something simpler, a gold crown. You could probably image one now. Doing so would leave you weak and dizzy, if not in far worse shape, and, even if I said you could, you shouldn’t try it, but in time you would be able to image a handful or so of them, at least in the right place. They’d be real gold, not counterfeit, and no one would be the wiser. Why would that be wrong?”
“Besides the fact that the rules of the Collegium forbid it?” I had to think about that. “I don’t know that I can answer that, because that sort of imaging is work, and if I imaged real gold pieces, what’s the difference between painting a portrait and receiving golds and creating the golds. I mean . . . someone mines the ore, and someone smelts it, and someone coins it, and they all get paid. So where is that any different from my imaging a gold crown?”
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