Imager's Challenge (27 page)

“You . . . trolie bastards . . . sewer-rat sows . . .” From there, his curses grew fouler and far less inventive.

That made it somewhat easier to ignore him, but it was still close to another two quints before the patroller pickup wagon rolled toward us. After we lifted the still-cursing and squirming elver onto the wagon, Zellyn looked to me. “Might as well climb on and ride back. Marshyn won’t mind.” He grinned at the burly patroller driving the wagon.

“Nope. I’ll even head straight back.”

“Only because it’s your last stop.”

“Next to last.”

Since there was no one at the last pickup point, we reached the Third District station about two quints before fourth glass, but it took most of that time to write up our report and give it to the desk patroller.

Since Shault had given me an envelope for his mother on Mardi evening, I really felt that I should deliver it, and it would be easier before dark. So as soon as Zellyn and I finished the report, I hurried off up Fuosta and then east on South Middle. More than a few taudis-dwellers either looked away or disappeared into alleyways or doors when they caught sight of the patroller’s cloak. Because most of the street signs were either missing or defaced, what should have taken a quarter glass took me longer. Slightly before half past fourth glass, I rapped on a door that I thought had to be the right one.

The door itself was age-darkened and cracked oak, without a peephole that I could see. No one answered, and I rapped harder. I also drew open the cloak so that my imager’s grays and the silver imager’s pin would be visible.

A thin-faced woman finally edged the door ajar, but I could see the heavy chain holding the back of the door to the casement. Her eyes were barely above the loop of the brass links. As Shault had said, her hair was black, and she was tiny. I couldn’t make out the shape of the pendant at the end of the silver chain around her neck, but her face was so like Shault’s that it was hard to believe she could have been other than his mother.

“Madame Chelya?”

Her eyes widened more. “Who are you?”

“Master Rhennthyl from Imagisle.”

“No! Don’t tell me . . . No!”

Did she think I was there to tell her bad news? That her son was dead?

“Shault is fine,” I said quickly. “He’s doing very well.”

The wide-eyed alarm in her face turned to suspicion. “Why are you here?”

“You have a good and devoted son.” I eased the envelope through the narrow space between the door and the jamb. “He wanted to make sure you got this.”

She took the envelope and opened it. Three silvers dropped into her hand, and her mouth opened.

I was impressed . . . and saddened. Shault had given her everything he had earned since he’d been at the Collegium. Everything.

She looked at the note, almost blankly.

“Would you like me to read it? He gave it to me sealed.” I didn’t know that she would, but I thought that I should offer.

“Please.” She handed me the note back, but not the envelope. She did not loosen the chain.

I took it and cleared my throat, then began.

“Dear Maman,

I am well. I know times are hard. Here are three silvers for you. Master Rhennthyl promised you would get them. He has always kept his word. I can see you on Solayi afternoon—29 Feuillyt, second glass. Ask Master Rhennthyl. I miss you.”

Chelya looked at me. “Did he write it? All of it?”

“It’s in his hand.” I handed her the letter back through the chain and the narrow opening between the door and jamb.

“He is a good boy.” She smiled, if sadly, I thought. “He said I could see him?”

“Yes. Solayi the twenty-ninth at second glass. Do you know the Boulevard D’Imagers?”

She nodded.

“Just walk down it to the gray stone bridge over the river. After you cross the bridge, there is a walk and some benches on the left. That is where young imagers meet visitors.”

She looked doubtful.

“When I first came to Imagisle, that was where I met my mother,” I added. “Imagisle is very safe.”

Some of the doubtfulness vanished, but not all.

“I need to go, but I’ll tell Shault that you got his letter and his coins.” I offered a smile and stepped back.

Slowly, she closed the door.

I kept my eyes moving on the way back to South Middle. For better or worse, I didn’t see anyone who looked to be a danger, but I could smell elveweed, and caught a glimpse of two elvers up on a low rooftop. They’d had enough that they certainly weren’t looking anywhere near me. Then I glimpsed another one, sitting on a stoop. He looked right at me, or through me, as if he didn’t even see me. When I turned onto South Middle, I felt a trace less concerned, but I kept walking until I was almost to the Midroad, where I hailed a hack to take me to Imagisle.

After I got out at the Bridge of Hopes, I crossed it quickly and headed for Master Dichartyn’s study. He was in, if standing by his desk and preparing to depart.

“What is it, Rhenn?”

“Captain Harraf has ‘offered’ me an evening patrol accompanying two patrollers tomorrow night.”

“I’m certain he wants you to experience what the patrollers do.”

“Captain Harraf doesn’t like having me around.”

“Most patrollers don’t.”

I shook my head. “It’s more than that.”

“That may be, but you’ll have to deal with it, at least until you discover why. If you can.”

“He also said that he’d been told he couldn’t schedule me at night on a regular basis.”

“I did mention that to Commander Artois. Once you’re more settled in at the Patrol, you will have some additional night duties for the Collegium. That’s in addition to your attendance at the Council’s Autumn Ball.”

“And the Winter Ball?” I didn’t ask more than slightly sardonically.

“Assuming you don’t encounter another envoy you dislike,” he replied pleasantly.

“And what about Ryel?”

“What about him? Has he done anything but send you a card with a silver knot? You can’t even prove he sent the card, you know.”

At that moment, I realized that the more I said to Master Dichartyn about Ryel, the more difficult it would be for me to deal with the High Holder because saying anything more—about my family or Rousel, especially—would only provide a trail back to me if anything suspicious befell Ryel. And I was
more than certain that whatever Ryel did in attacking me and my family would leave no traces leading back anywhere close to him—not in a way that would provide any proof.

“You’re right, sir. I should have thought of that.”

“Yes, you should.” He paused. “Is there anything else?”

“No, sir. Have a pleasant evening.” I smiled and left. If nothing else, I did need to tell Shault that I’d delivered his coins and that his mother was fine.

Jeudi’s rounds with Zellyn were relatively uneventful. As the older patroller had predicted, Kantros never offered a list of what had been taken, or even approached us. We didn’t run into any out-of-control elvers, although in late afternoon I could smell the smoke in several places along Faistasa Street. I mentioned that to Zellyn.

“Didn’t use to smell it outside the taudis at all. This whole area’ll be taudis in another four-five years, if you ask me.” He shook his head.

Zellyn had the round calculated to the last fraction of a quint, and we ended up at the station just as the last of the four bells from the nearest anomen tower died away.

I wasn’t about to take a hack to Chaelya’s to get a really good meal. So I opted for eating at Sneytana’s, one of the cafés near the station, not that there was a name posted anywhere, but Zellyn had mentioned it as not being too bad. I had fowl and rice fries, and the meal was edible, but I decided I didn’t ever want to eat anywhere that wasn’t at least “not-too-bad” according to Zellyn. I took my time, but I still ended up waiting nearly a glass, dawdling over a lager, before heading back to the station. I did leave Sneytana’s daughter a larger tip for the time, not that the place was crowded.

A few moments after I entered the station, a tall patroller, about my height, with blond hair streaked with white, stepped out of the doorway beyond the closed door of Captain Harraf’s study and walked toward me. He offered a pleasant smile. “You must be Master Rhennthyl. I’m Lieutenant Warydt.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, sir.”

“I’m glad to have you here, sir,” he replied. “If there’s anything I can do to help you learn more about the Civic Patrol, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I certainly won’t.” I smiled. “Don’t expect any questions until I have a better feel for how the station operates.”

“I won’t.” He paused. “I see Huerl and Koshal coming in.”

“Then I’d best meet them. Thank you, sir.”

“My pleasure, Master Rhennthyl.”

I turned and walked toward the two patrollers. They looked close to what I’d envisioned. Koshal was a few digits taller than I, broader in the shoulders
and looked like he’d have little trouble heaving a wrecked wagon or carriage out of the way. Heurl was thin and wiry, and half a head shorter.

“Master Rhennthyl,” offered Huerl.

“I’m pleased to meet you both,” I returned.

Both nodded, almost as one.

“Shouldn’t be too bad tonight,” offered Koshal. “It’s cold for early fall, but it’s not an end-night, and not a pay-night, either.”

“Didn’t smell any weed on the first round, either,” added Huerl.

I fell in with them, and we walked out of the station and back up Fuosta in the vestige of twilight remaining, although the sun had set more than a half glass earlier.

By the time we reached South Middle, only a thin band of lighter purple remained on the western horizon, and the avenue was lit but intermittently by the tall iron streetlamps, a good third of which were not working. Few shops and dwellings had outside lamps, and that meant a patrol through uneven light.

Koshal crossed the avenue and headed eastward.

“Does the round go all the way out to the plaza?” I asked.

“Just halfway there, maybe a block past the heathen Temple, except it’s on the south side. There’s just one round through the taudis at night, and it takes a three-man team. Ciemyl runs it.” Huerl shook his head. “Wouldn’t want that round.”

Were three men enough?

As if to answer my question, Huerl went on. “The taudischefs could take any team, but if they hit one member, we’d hit back. If they took out all three, then we could go in and level anything we wanted. They know that. No one except the elvers and the stupids gives Ciemyl trouble, and that’s fine with Horazt and Jadhyl. Youdh doesn’t like it, but doesn’t make trouble. Not often, anyway.”

South Middle was not deserted so early in the evening, but most of the traffic on the avenue consisted of occasional hacks and private coaches, and a very infrequent rider, usually one of the private couriers. There were even fewer on the sidewalks, except around the bistros, but there were no bistros once we neared the taudis, just two lonely cafés across Dugalle from each other on the north side of South Middle.

“You need to eat on the round,” offered Huerl, “take Aylsim’s. That’s on this side. That Tiempran slop Rivara serves over there . . .” He shook his head. “It’d be a real long night.”

The two patrollers moved at a moderate pace, not ambling, but not
striding, their eyes constantly moving, checking the closed shutters of the shops on the avenue, as well as the alleyways we passed. At times, they stopped and listened.

Before long, we turned up Elsyor, which ran north and actually, if we were to walk far enough, would have taken us to the Anomen D’Este, where my family attended services. We didn’t walk that far, only to Marzynn, before turning back east. Marzynn was better lit than South Middle and flanked by stylish row houses that gave way to a range of equally stylish trade shops, including the milliner Mother frequented, once we neared the Midroad.

Abruptly a scream rang out, and then just ahead of us, a woman ran down a narrow lane to our right, passing directly under one of the street-lamps. Part of her blouse looked to have been torn away. She vanished down the lane, followed moments later by a larger figure, who did not pass so directly beneath the light.