I would have preferred not to, but some things had to be faced. “We can’t afford to be wrong about anything for a long, long time. Otherwise, we’ll become feared for our power alone, and everyone will turn against us.”
“Exactly, and that will limit what we can do. That may mean that at times we will have to let minor offenses against imagers or others go unpunished, especially if there is no hard evidence, or if punishing the offender will create the impression of unbridled or arbitrary power on our part. What else?”
“I need to become even less visible.”
“How do you plan to do that? You haven’t been noticeably successful thus far.”
“I’ve thought about that. If matters in Ferrum go well, I intend to follow the example set by my preceptor some years ago.”
“You seem rather confident,” Dyana said. “What if your plan doesn’t work?”
“That’s not the question. The question is how well it’s worked and how many junior imagers and gunboats we’ve lost.”
“If it has worked poorly?”
“It might be best if I took Dhelyn’s position in Westisle.”
“That would be acceptable.” A wry smile followed. “Not perfect, but acceptable. If…just if…Dartazn succeeds in implementing your plan in Cloisera in a moderately successful fashion, what would you suggest I recommend to Caellynd and the Council?”
“Send two communiqués—one to the Ferrans and one to the Oligarch of Jariola.”
“I assume the one to Ferrum should state that they surrender immediately or face greater consequences and the one to Jariola should tell them to reclaim their own territory and nothing more…or face the consequences.”
“Something like that.”
“You know that over time, Ferrum will try for the coal fields again.”
I nodded. “But if they kept the coal fields, then they’d try for something else.”
“I can’t take anything like that to the Council yet,” Dyana pointed out. “Not until we know the results.”
“I know, but I thought you’d like my thoughts before you have to act.”
“Rhenn…we don’t need any more action.”
I merely nodded. I knew we didn’t, but sometimes what one needed wasn’t what life, and survival, permitted. Maitre Dyana, for all her words, knew that as well, and knew I knew it.
I stood. “Unless something else comes up, I’ll see you on Lundi.”
“I hope it’s Monday. I’m moving to the Maitre’s dwelling this weekend.”
“The rebuilding is finished?”
“Mostly. The main floor and the bedrooms are completed. That’s more than enough for me, and the Collegium needs the symbol of the lights in the Maitre’s domicile.” She rose from behind the desk.
“Do you need help? We could—”
“What you could do is spend time with your wife and daughter.”
I didn’t argue.
69
Enjoying Diestrya and Seliora was harder than it should have been over the remainder of the weekend. I kept wondering what had happened with Dartazn and the imagers, as well as whether Caellynd—or the newsheets…or someone—would decide to press the issues around the deaths of Geuffryt and Valeun…and whether I’d still have to testify before a Navy court martial. Lundi came and went, and I heard nothing more.
On Mardi morning, I had barely walked into the administration building when Beleart ran toward me. “Maitre Dyana is looking for you.”
I dropped my cloak in my study and hurried upstairs, where Gherard motioned me into her study, then closed the door behind me.
Maitre Dyana stood, brushing a pale blue scarf back over her shoulder. “Sea-Marshal Caellynd just sent over a copy of the communiqué he received late last night.” She extended the single sheet of paper to me. Her face was somber as she sat back down behind the desk.
I felt like wincing, but I just said, “Thank you.” I sat down in the middle chair and read.
To: Sea-Marshal, Naval Command
From: Fleet Marshal, Northern Fleet
Subject: Imager Incendiary Attacks
Date: 16 Ianus 763
Pursuant to Naval Command instructions, on 11 Ianus, deployment of imagers under the command of Maitre Dartazn was completed. Twenty-eight fast gunboats and one fast frigate composed the strike force. The main fleet body concentrated near Ferdelance Point, as a diversion. The Ferran fleet attempted engagement. The northern fleet conducted a measured withdrawal, with the loss of two corvettes and one Condaign-class frigate. Best estimates of Ferran losses are four frigates and one light cruiser.
Strike force attacked 15 port cities and three non-port industrial works over four days. Destruction of all targets in excess of 90% of structures. Ferran casualties unknown, but expected to exceed tens of thousands. Strike force casualties: eight gunboats lost with all hands; two sunk, but with some survivors recovered; two with light damage and minimal casualties.
Imager strike force survivors returning on Lyiena, estimated arrival in Westisle on 23-24 Ianus.
As directed by provisional instructions, we have sent a request for unconditional surrender and immediate withdrawal of all Ferran forces from Jariola. No reply yet received.
I lowered the sheet and looked at Dyana.
She looked back at me. “Your methods were effective, Rhenn.”
“I’d thought they would be. My concerns were getting the imagers close enough to be able to image the targets…and whether too many would be killed in the attempt.”
“You were even right about the casualties. It would appear that the Collegium lost close to twenty promising young imagers.”
“We lost that many imagers. Some of them might have been fleet imagers.”
“The fleet imagers expect that possibility. The young ones don’t understand. Not really.” She paused. “I’ll make a statement at the midday meal.”
Neither of us spoke for a moment. Finally, I said, “More than a few older imagers are going to feel that the whole operation was a terrible waste of young imagers.”
“Do you?”
“It wasn’t a waste. It was a sacrifice of blood and youth on our part because the High Holders and the factors couldn’t bear to pay the cost of remaining strong. It was a terrible waste of life in Ferrum because they couldn’t understand that we would pay that price.”
Dyana shook her head. “No…you decided that the price had to be paid. I agreed, and, in retrospect, so will the Council and the Navy, but you decided, and, had the operation failed…”
“I’d be fortunate to spend the rest of my life as an isolated regional or in Mont D’Glace.”
“No one could force you, Rhenn, but if that had happened, you’d find no one would spend more than moments in your company.”
“Some won’t, anyway.”
“Not most imagers, but few Councilors will.” She paused. “You will accompany me to the meeting tomorrow with Ramsael, Sebatyon, and Caartyl. I doubt it will be pleasant.”
“You want me to press them on change.”
“Only on the need for change.”
I couldn’t help smiling, if wryly. I was to be the reminder of the need for change, and then Maitre Dyana could seem oh-so-reasonable.
“Speaking of the Council,” I pointed out, “Dartazn can’t go back to the Chateau.”
“That’s true. What do you suggest?
“Make him a Maitre D’Structure and the direct Collegium liaison to the fleets. Give him Dhelyn’s position in Westisle and have him train all the fleet imagers in the tactics and weapons he developed. If any of the juniors showed a real flair for that, make them his assistants.”
Dyana raised an eyebrow.
“If they’re that good at destruction, they’re better off dealing with the fleet and some of the senior officers. It also might head off the kind of problems we had with Geuffryt and Valeun.”
“That’s similar to a rationale I heard years ago.”
I shrugged. “There’s no
reason not to steal from the best.”
“He would have been both appalled and proud of you.”
“He always was appalled. I’m not sure about proud.”
“He was proud of you as well.”
I had my doubts, but I just nodded.
“There’s one other matter.”
“Yes?”
“The Naval Board of Inquiry has found that Valeun was murdered by Geuffryt, that Geuffryt attempted to murder you, and that your actions were justified in self-defense.”
“I’m relieved to hear that.” What was ironic about the board’s findings was that they were all accurate…just not in the way they doubtless had thought in making those findings.
“I thought you would be.”
After I left Maitre Dyana, I went to find Schorzat and Kahlasa. They needed to know before Maitre Dyana informed the entire Collegium. I found Kahlasa leaving the conference room where she’d been talking to Aismeya, one of the youngest female imagers, and asked her to join me in Schorzat’s study.
When all three of us were gathered there, I said, “I just read the communiqué from Fleet Marshal Asarynt. It appears that the operation was successful, but casualties were high. Maitre Dyana will be making a statement at noon in the dining hall.”
“How high?” asked Schorzat.
“Ten out of twenty-eight gunboats carrying imagers were lost, eight with all hands.”
Schorzat winced. Kahlasa nodded slowly, if sadly.
“What do you mean by successful?” Schorzat’s tone was hard.
“There’s not much left of the fifteen largest coastal cities in Ferrum, according to Asarynt.”
“That seems a little hard to believe, don’t you think?” Schorzat’s doubt was clear.
I shook my head. “We taught most of them to image a mixture of jellied lamp oil, etherperoxides, and dry guncotton…as well as some other incendiaries Chassendri and I worked out.” That wasn’t quite true. I’d asked Chassendri to work those out with Dartazn, but it had been my idea, and the blame, or some of it, needed to come back to me. “Ferrum’s heavily forested, and they’re a factoring and profit-seeking nation, and that means they use much more wood in their cities than we do. Asarynt said that Ferran casualties were high. He’s asking for complete surrender.”
“Did he say how high?”
“No.” But Ferrial held more than a million people, and with eighty percent destruction or more in a day or so, I didn’t see how the death toll couldn’t have been less than a hundred thousand, not that anyone was going to be able to count accurately, which might be for the best. That didn’t count the other fourteen cities with populations greater than fifty thousand.
“Will the Ferran fleet surrender after that?” asked Kahlasa.
“I’m sure that their initial reaction will be to continue to fight. That won’t last. They have no place left to resupply or refuel.”
“You’ve definitely taken a scorched earth stance, Rhenn,” Schorzat said, his voice flat.
“There wasn’t a practical alternative. Between them, the Council and the Navy left the rest of us in an impossible long-term position. We had Ferran saboteurs all over Solidar, and I have no doubts that many are still here.” I could tell that Schorzat really didn’t understand. Like so many, he believed that once you fell behind it was always possible to catch up. The problem was that every advance in engines and ships, in manufacturing and in trade, fueled yet another advance, and the only way to catch up was to sacrifice comfort and personal wealth, in part by allowing greater competition and change—and neither the factors nor the High Holders had been willing to do that. That failure was why Ferrum had overtaken us in warship design and construction and would have as well in manufactures and machinery. “You heard how they infiltrated the engine works, the Banque D’Ouestan, and worked with the Stakanarans to bring the nastier elveweed to Solidar. They blew up buildings all over the country, and killed thousands. That doesn’t include what they did in Jariola. Exactly what did the Jariolans do to merit being invaded—except to possess coal fields and mines that the Ferrans wanted? Or was it because they have a form of government the Ferran factors dislike?”
“The Jariolans aren’t exactly paragons of the Nameless.”
I looked directly at Schorzat. I didn’t say anything. I just looked.
Abruptly, he swallowed. Then he forced a laugh. “You know, Rhenn, while you act for the best of the Collegium, there are times when you make Bilbryn look peaceful, kind, and sympathetic.”
That was all I needed, to be compared to the warrior imager champion of Rex Caldor, the man historians claimed was responsible for the bloody unification of Bovaria half a millennium before Rex Regis unified all Solidar the same way. All too often, I’d heard Bilbryn described as Namer-evil-incarnate. I managed a smile. “I’m not sure that comparison is fair to poor Bilbryn. He’s not here to defend himself.” I paused.
Kahlasa smothered a brief smile.
Schorzat looked appalled.
“Life isn’t neat and orderly, Schorzat. It’s messy and bloodier than anyone would like. Politics and personal agendas make it worse than that at times. I cut through all that, and I’ve managed to give us a chance to tidy up things. The only problem is that, like with everything, there’s a cost, and most people want to pretend that there isn’t. Pretending that there isn’t a cost to maintaining what is good only results in matters getting worse. That’s how all this happened. No one wanted to pay, and everyone wanted to keep their personal advantages and the restraints on those who might compete with them, from the artisan guilds to the High Holders. Even in the Collegium most imagers didn’t want to pay, and the irony is that the two who did—Maitre Poincaryt and Maitre Dichartyn—were the first ones killed. They were both probably too good. I’m not. I’m no martyr. I’m young enough and arrogant enough to want to share that cost.” I smiled broadly. “So that’s the way it’s going to be.”
After I walked out of his study, leaving him to think over what I’d said, I laughed, softly and bitterly. Now all I had to do was overhaul the entire economic and political structure of Solidar before Ferrum recovered.
70
Just before eighth glass on Meredi, Maitre Dyana and I stepped from the duty coach and walked through the security entrance into the Council Chateau and up the east circular staircase to the second level and from there to the larger study of the Chief Councilor. All three members of the Executive Council were seated around the circular table. The chairs were arranged so that the three Councilors sat on the south side, with Ramsael in the center, Caartyl on his left, and Sebatyon on his right. Maitre Dyana took the leftmost of the two chairs on the north side, leaving the one to the right to me.
“Greetings, Councilors,” she offered. “I believe you all know Maitre Rhennthyl.”
“How could we not?” asked Ramsael genially. “Greetings.”
Sebatyon and Caartyl merely nodded.
“I trust you’ve all read the communiqué from Deputy Sea-Marshal Caellynd,” began Maitre Dyana.
“I thought he was acting Sea-Marshal,” said Sebatyon.
I managed not to wince.
“He is acting Sea-Marshal,” Ramsael agreed. “His official title is still Deputy Sea-Marshal. Once the Council votes tomorrow to confirm his position, he will be Sea-Marshal in name as well as fact.”
“A mere formality,” sniffed Sebatyon. “With the Ferrans under control, we won’t need to rush back into those tiresome discussions about new ships for the Navy. We should be able to reduce taxes on goods and return to more prosperous times.”
Ramsael glanced to Caartyl.
The guild Councilor cleared his throat. “There are other priorities to consider, Councilor.”
“Such as what? I can’t imagine anything more important than enhancing Solidaran prosperity. Why tax ourselves for ships that are now unnecessary?”
I glanced at Maitre Dyana. She continued to smile pleasantly.
Ramsael frowned, but appe
ared disinclined to speak.
So I did. “Councilors, I hate to be contrary, but if what Councilor Sebatyon is saying represents the view of the Council, what we’ve just endured will be nothing compared to what happens in twenty years.”
“Why, Maitre Rhennthyl? Ferrum will not be a danger for years, it would appear from Marshal Asarynt’s communiqué.” Sebatyon’s smile was ingratiatingly unpleasant.
I smiled as cold a smile as I could. “Perhaps I should put it in another way. We leveled more than half the cities in Ferrum. We may have killed millions. We destroyed most of their industry. Thousands more, perhaps tens of thousands, will die of lack of shelter and the inability to get or pay for food. What will motivate the Ferran people for a generation or more to come? They weren’t our friends to begin with. Do you think they’ve forgotten how to build good ships and weapons? Or to rebuild their manufactories? Their farmland is still untouched, as are their mines. As are manufactories away from the coast. What will happen to your children when our fleets are falling apart twenty years from now and the brand-new Ferran fleet masses for revenge? Or do you plan to spend millions of golds to raise an army we don’t have to occupy Ferrum so that doesn’t happen? Do you propose we continue the same taxing and licensing restrictions on new machinery that hamstrung us so much that Councilor Glendyl mortgaged his entire future in an attempt to avoid what he saw was coming? Do you think it was an accident that both Suyrien the Elder and Glendyl were targeted for assassination by the Ferrans?”
“Maitre Rhennthyl,” said Sebatyon pleasantly, “I would that you would spare us the lectures.”
I looked at him, and projected pure power at him, as well as anger, literally pinning him in his seat. “Councilor…do not patronize me…or the Collegium. We sacrificed close to a third of our most promising young imagers to stave off the Ferran threat. We lost our two most senior imagers to a bombardment. You sacrificed nothing. Neither did most High Holders. You are both interested in merely gilding your profits, rather than investing in the future. You will not do so on the bodies of dead imagers, dead sailors, and Solidarans who died from Ferran explosions, Stakanaran elveweed, and treachery. You will devote yourselves to reforming the tax structure, modernizing the fleet, and reforming the licensing laws so that an inventor of new processes must license them to others, for a fair royalty, after a brief period of exclusivity.”
Imager’s Intrigue Page 57
