Artois smiled warmly and inclined his head. “I have not, but it’s a pleasure, and I can see why your husband has always been careful and dutiful.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Commander. Rhenn has always commented on your dedication to the Civic Patrol.”
“He was equally dedicated, and we will miss him greatly. The Collegium’s gain is our loss. If you will excuse me, my wife is waiting.” He inclined his head once more, then slipped away, carrying two goblets of the white vintage.
I secured two goblets of the white, a Grisio, and offered one to Seliora. We both took several swallows.
“Not bad,” I said.
At that point we were joined by Iryela and Kandryl.
“Good evening,” he offered.
“The same to you,” I returned. “I saw you dancing, but you disappeared.”
“You two didn’t,” returned Iryela. “Everyone was watching you.”
“Oh?” I had to admit I hadn’t noticed.
“You dance well, Rhenn,” Iryela said, “but Seliora is incredibly impressive, and you two are such a handsome couple. When beauty, grace, and power appear on a dance floor, people will watch.”
“She does have all three,” I said blandly. “I just accompany her.”
“Be careful, Seliora,” cautioned Iryela. “He’s verging on the difficult.”
“For that, dearest,” said Seliora, “you may dance with Iryela.” She handed me her goblet and turned to Kandryl. “If you would?”
Kandryl bowed, and as he straightened, offered me a quick and knowing smile.
As they entered the swirl of dancers, Iryela looked at me holding the two goblets and said, “At our wedding, I did tell you that she was more than a match for you.”
“Every time I forget that, she reminds me.” I took several steps and handed both goblets to a server passing with a tray. “Since we are abandoned, would you honor me with a dance?”
“Why, of course. Who would dare to refuse a Maitre D’Esprit?”
“Between the two of you, there’s no way to escape the Namer’s clutches.”
“It’s good that you see that.”
We moved out to join the other dancers in a stately waltz.
“I can’t say that I know more than a handful of people here,” I said with soft laugh.
“No, but more than a few want to see you. That’s why you were invited. A handful or more will find ways to put themselves in your path as the evening progresses.”
“I can hardly wait.”
“Frydryk’s worried, you know. So is Kandryl.”
“Because of Glendyl’s death?”
“You didn’t call it suicide, I notice,” Iryela murmured.
“I’m not sure it was, but I don’t think Kandryl and Frydryk have anything to worry about. The damage is done. It will be years before Frydryk’s shipworks can complete a modern fast battlecruiser, even if the Council gets around to agreeing to build more ships. Slowing down fleet modernization was what the Ferrans intended.”
“You’re not finished, are you, Rhenn?”
“Iryela, dear, how could you possibly ask that?”
“Because you don’t leave things undone.”
“I’m not having the best of fortune. I still don’t know anything about Johanyr. No one we’ve contacted does, either.”
“That may be for the best.”
I couldn’t help but agree, but I wasn’t about to say that.
“I hated to send Kandryl to deal with Lhoryn, but he did well. The man makes Dulyk look like the Nameless.”
Considering the vices of her late younger brother, that was quite a statement, although I’d never heard much good about Lhoryn. “You were selling some land?”
“Only a thousand hectares, but we still wanted a fair price.”
Intellectually I understood that a thousand hectares was small for a High Holder, but emotionally was another matter. “That was when Kandryl found out about Glendyl’s death.”
Iryela nodded. “He said that Lhoryn smiled.”
How many people had Glendyl alienated? I didn’t dwell on that. “How are the twins?”
“Kyana takes more after her father…”
When the music ended, I escorted Iryela back to Kandryl, who had obtained two goblets of the red wine. I turned back toward Seliora, who was talking to Juniae D’Shendael, when a man with a supercilious smile and back silk formalwear appeared in front of me. Unfortunately, I recognized him.
“Maitre Rhennthyl…I apologize for the intrusion, but I’ve wanted to make your acquaintance for some time. I’m Alhyral D’Haestyr.”
“You come from a noted lineage, and I understand that your fiancee has excellent taste.”
“Ah, yes, and I hear that you’re a most deadly fellow.”
The jocular informality grated on me, as I was certain Alhyral intended. “I’m certain that’s overstated.”
“I’ve been thinking, Maitre.” There was the slightest emphasis to my title, one that bordered on scorn, and I wondered how much he’d already had to drink…or if he happened to be that obnoxious without the aid of wine. “Sea-Marshal Valeun was saying that the Navy needs more modern vessels.”
“That’s true. Assistant Sea-Marshal Geuffryt has also voiced the same concerns. Has he mentioned them to you?”
After the tiniest hesitation, Alhyral replied, “Only in passing. If that is true, as you seem to indicate, why is the Collegium so opposed to spending on them?”
“We’re not opposed at all. Might I ask who would think we’d be opposed to that when we lost two of the highest-ranking imagers to Ferran machinations?” I smiled.
“Yet you have done nothing.”
“The Council does not meet until next week, and we have but one vote of fifteen in the Council. It might well be that the Council’s votes will change after the Councilors begin to meet next week. Not your sire’s, of course, since he has always supported better ships.”
“Do you expect me to believe that anything will change?”
“I have no expectations for your beliefs at all. What will be, will be. Some Councilors opposed building new ships when Suyrien the Elder was Councilor because they thought he would take advantage. Others thought Councilor Glendyl might…”
“Terrible thing, there, with Glendyl…but that’s what happens when one gets too ambitious…or too greedy.”
“…And too overextended,” added another voice, that of another man I didn’t know.
“Oh, this is Petryn D’Lhoryn, my friend.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I said pleasantly.
“The same.” Petryn offered a minimal nod. “There are those who believe that the Collegium supports the factors, discreetly, notwithstanding the fact that the current Maitre comes from a High Holder background. Your background is from factoring, as I recall.”
“My family is in factoring; I was a portraiturist.”
“My condolences,” offered Alhyral.
“And mine,” added Petryn.
“That portraiture training has enabled me to read beyond words and faces, and to realize that ability often has little relation to the grace with which words are uttered, or the indirectness of the insult couched as flattery or condolence. But then, not having had training in verbal hypocrisy, I am afraid that my comments are hopelessly direct. I do hope you enjoy the ball, both of you. Good evening.” I offered the barest hint of an inclined head, as taught by Maitre Dyana years before, and turned, still holding shields on the off chance that one of them might stoop to physical violence. They had enough sense not to.
After departing Petryn and Alhyral, I returned to Seliora and Juniae D’Shendael.
“Greetings,” offered Madame D’Shendael. “Your wife is most charming, as well as perceptive.”
“Far more so than I.”
“You are both observant, I think.” Juniae smiled. “What do you think of those here?”
I waited to let Seliora speak, but she glanced to me. So I replied, �
�It would seem an odd grouping. Among others, I’ve noted the Chief Councilor, a high justicer, the Commander of the Civic Patrol, several heirs of impeccable breeding and with courtesy less than that…”
“Not to mention the second-highest-ranking imager in Solidar, and the youngest ever to hold that position,” added Juniae. “There are also no Sea-Marshals present, although several were invited, but not, of course, Caellynd.”
“He seemed quite pleasant the other night,” Seliora offered innocently.
“He is intelligent and exceedingly perceptive. The former is forgivable; the latter is not.”
“I only thought that being concerned about the state of the fleet and those serving in it was unforgivable,” I countered.
“All Sea-Marshals are concerned about the state of the fleet. Did you not know that, Maitre Rhennthyl?”
“I must have misunderstood. I was under the impression that concern went beyond mouthing words.”
The faintest smile crossed Juniae D’Shendael’s lips as she looked to Seliora. “You are most courageous, Madame, to appear in public with him.”
Seliora laughed softly. “But he is so much better behaved in public, especially when others are watching.”
“You two are so well matched,” said Junaie to Seliora. “His other name could well be Erion…to match yours.”
“My family has noted that,” replied Seliora, “as has Rhenn’s sister-in-marriage.”
I didn’t wince at the Pharsi references that linked the daughter of the greater moon to the red moon, the one that symbolized conquest and unrest—or truth and power—although my mother wouldn’t have been able to avoid such a reaction, and Remaya had made that very same observation the first time she’d seen Seliora and me together.
“Truth and power are a dangerous combination,” observed Juniae.
“For whom?” asked Seliora lightly.
Madame D’Shendael laughed gently. “I will not take more of your time, as I see my husband fretting, but it was very good to spend a few moments with you.”
After that conversation, I immediately eased Seliora onto the dance floor where I took refuge in her charms.
“When you were talking to Alhyral,” she said, “you had that slight stiffness that suggests you’d like to be done with the matter.”
“I couldn’t escape immediately without being excessively and unpardonably rude, and then they were so obnoxious that I was anyway, in the politest manner of which I was capable. I can see why you detest him. From what I can tell, he’s worse than his father, although Madame D’Shendael told me that Haestyr wasn’t as difficult as he now is before Geuffryt’s father seduced his first wife.”
“If the father was a fraction as bad as the son, I doubt much seduction was required.” Seliora’s voice was syrupy sweet.
“Are you suggesting that I need pay more attention to you?”
She laughed. “No, and today has been wonderful.”
As we continued to dance, this time to a pavane, I just hoped life would remain that way…even as I knew that was most unlikely.
63
By Lundi morning, I still didn’t have any better ideas than to actually visit Vyktor D’Banque D’Ouestan. I would have liked to have known exactly who had visited Glendyl after Frydryk, but short of driving out to his estate, there wasn’t any way to determine that. Then I laughed. Why not try? All that could happen would be that I’d be turned away at the gates.
Less than a glass later, I was walking toward the front of Glendyl’s mansion. I hadn’t even had to argue with the gate guard.
As I neared the main entrance, a footman stepped forward. “The family won’t be seeing anyone, Maitre. If you’d care to leave a card…”
“I can understand.” I paused. “Were you here, the day it happened?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did the banque representative come right after Suyrien the Younger left?”
“Don’t know as he was a banque man, sir. He wasn’t right after, maybe a quint or two.”
“And when did it happen?”
“I couldn’t say, sir. No one could. The Councilor had the study proofed when he was selected to be on the Council. Said he didn’t like eavesdropping. The staff heard the study door open and the visitor say good-day and the Councilor tell him to be on his way. Then the door slammed, and the fellow left angry-like. Maybe a glass later, when the Councilor didn’t answer the bell, Carlysa opened the study door and found him. Must have happened after the fellow left. They both sounded angry, Carlysa said, when they parted. She could scarce tell their voices apart.”
It wouldn’t do for evidence, but learning more details wouldn’t change anything. So very convenient. Glendyl’s estate was outside L’Excelsis, and that meant he was responsible for his own security, and that the Civic Patrol had no jurisdiction. Who would petition the Justiciary when there was no real way to prove anything? I extended a card. “If you would leave this…”
“I can do that, sir.”
“Thank you.” I walked back to the waiting Collegium coach.
As I was riding back to Imagisle, I realized something else. The security laws were another pressure that the High Holders and the factors used to keep people either on the estates or in the towns and cities. I hadn’t thought of it in that way because I’d grown up in L’Excelsis.
Once I got back to the Collegium, I just had the coach wait outside the administration building while I hurried inside and found Schorzat.
He looked up from his desk. “You’re obviously going somewhere.”
“I’m going to pay a call, I hope, on one Vyktor D’Banque D’Ouestan. His place of business is at 880 Avenue D’Theatre.”
“What do you hope to learn from him?”
“Something that I can use to prove that he’s a Ferran agent who’s been behind more than a few things. On Vendrei, Glendyl told Frydryk—Suyrien the Younger—he’d never let go of anything, even if Suyrien called in the notes he held. I found out that right after that, Vyktor visited Glendyl, and then Glendyl supposedly killed himself. The only problem is that Glendyl used a heavy pistol at his right temple, and his right arm was too weak to hold it or aim it. I doubt anyone besides Draffyd and I—and now you—knew that. We may have to get a medical opinion from Draffyd before this is all over.”
“What about the Civic Patrol?”
“Let’s just say that there are complications with that approach.” Such as the possibility that Cydarth was involved with Vyktor. “I thought you should know before I left.”
“You don’t want any company?”
“That would just alarm dear Vyktor.”
“I’d suggest strong shields and a stronger degree of caution.”
“I’d thought the same, but we need to get this resolved.” With a nod, I turned and headed back to the coach.
The streets weren’t too crowded, and in less than a quint Lebryn came to a halt outside 880. I sat for a moment in the coach and studied the buildings. The gray stone structure to the right was a good six levels high and looked to be a century old, if not older, built more like a fortress than some commercial establishment. On the left, the River Association Building was of a grayish brick, or perhaps pale yellow brick grayed by time and smoke and almost as high as the gray stone structure. There looked to be a lamp or light of some sort coming from one of the second level windows of Vyktor’s establishment. He might even be in.
I stepped out of the coach. “I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
“I’ll have to circle here, sir,” said Lebryn. “I can’t stop on the avenue.”
“Can you wait around the corner?”
“I’ll try that, sir. If not, I’ll come by every half quint.”
“Thank you.” I walked up to the door and dropped the tarnished brass knocker, twice, then a third time.
From the second level window came a voice. “The door’s unlatched. Just go into the waiting room, and I’ll join you in a moment.”
The door w
as indeed unlatched, and I opened it. Beyond was a narrow foyer. At the end of the foyer was a door, and an archway to the right opened into a sitting room. The archway to the left was closed by the kind of doors that slid out of recesses. I touched it, but the two doors were locked together. I could have imaged out the lockplate, but I didn’t see that such would be helpful. The door at the end of the foyer, presumably leading to stairs, was also closed, and most probably locked, which made sense if the front door were habitually left unlocked.
I stepped into the sitting room, dimly lit by two wall sconces. Where the front window had once been was filled with a heavy built-in bookcase, and the shelves were filled with books. Just out from the rear wall was a green leather couch, with a low table before it, on which were newsheets, neatly stacked. Out from the right wall were two green leather armchairs, set at slight angles to the table. The floor was of dull black tile, largely covered by a cream and green Khelgroran carpet. There were no windows, and the walls were paneled in oak. The only entry or exit was through the archway.
As I turned back toward the foyer, I saw two doors slide into place, sealing me into the room. While I had expected a less than completely friendly reaction, an immediate imprisonment was something I hadn’t anticipated.
“The chamber in which you find yourself is entirely lead-lined. Even you can’t do much in a lead-lined room, not without killing yourself, Master Imager Rhennthyl.” The words echoed softly around me.
I turned, trying to locate the source of the slightly hollow-sounding words that had to come through a speaking tube. As I did, I thought of Maitre Dyana, and the words she’d always spoken when I’d first come to the Collegium—Finesse, dear boy…Finesse. “I don’t see what you get from this, Vyktor. The Collegium will—”
“Don’t talk to me about Maitre Dyana or the Collegium. Without you, the Council and the Collegium will crumble, and so will the High Holders and the artisans and guilds. Now that Dichartyn and Poincaryt are dead, you are the Collegium.”
I couldn’t help smiling ironically at the words. I wasn’t the Collegium. I was the last thing from being the Collegium. I, as Dichartyn had been before me, was almost the anti-Collegium, whose acts freed the Collegium to be what it was, and if I didn’t escape this trap, Dartazn or Shault or some other imager would come along to fill the role of designated target or lightning rod. Still…continuing as the lightning rod or the equivalent was far better than the alternatives. “You overestimate me. I presume that your decision to decline to advance funds to Glendyl was what finally determined his ruin.”
Imager’s Intrigue Page 53
