Imager's Challenge (30 page)

I didn’t have a quick answer to that. In fact, I didn’t have any good answer.

“Difficult as the present situation is, Rhennthyl, any action the Collegium takes independently and as an institution that suggests it would or could arrogate itself over the Council, the guilds, the factors associations, or any government anywhere on Terahnar would result in extreme danger to every imager, especially those you would protect. The Collegium as a whole must always be seen to support the Council and never to oppose any of the three groups it comprises.”

“As a whole . . .” I mused half aloud.

Rholyn smiled. It was a cold expression. “Personal difficulties must be handled personally and in a fashion that can never involve the Collegium as an institution, nor be seen to involve it. That is how it has been for the past two centuries and how it must be, for the sake of all imagers, not just those who have the imaging strength to stand against armed force.”

“I see, sir. Thank you.” Both Maitre Dichartyn and Maitre Dyana had been more than clear on that policy, but not the full reasons behind it. I almost asked why, but after a moment I understood. The issue arose only for the handful of imagers with abilities such as mine, and we could be handled as discrete individuals, while raising the point that Rholyn and Maitre Dyana had for all imagers would only emphasize the Collegium’s vulnerability. I also realized another reason why the Collegium guarded the Council members—to remind them that there was power in the Collegium and that such power served them.

Needless to say, I asked no more questions, but just worked on the portrait, then partly cleaned up after Master Rholyn left. I didn’t have to put everything away because Seliora would be sitting for me in the afternoon.

At lunch, I listened to Ferlyn and Quaelyn as they discussed the patterns
of where imagers had been born. I hadn’t even realized that the Collegium kept such records.

After I ate, I hurried off to wait for Seliora. On the previous Solayi, she had agreed to meet me at the end of the Bridge of Hopes at the first glass of the afternoon—but only if I agreed to spend a glass on horseback in the courtyard at NordEste Design before we could have dinner. I pondered just how well I might do as I stood on the middle of the bridge a good quint before the bells rang out from the Imagisle Anomen.

A coach for hire pulled up at the east side of the bridge, and three people emerged—Odelia, Kolasyn, and Seliora. I immediately hurried toward them. The bells began to peal the glass, their sound both more mellow and yet sharper in the cool fall afternoon. As we neared each other, I could see that Seliora wore black split skirts, a simple red blouse, and a black jacket also trimmed in red.

We hugged each other briefly, then separated, and I turned toward Odelia and Kolasyn. “Thank you for accompanying Seliora.”

“It was our pleasure,” replied Kolasyn. His voice suggested that he definitely meant that.

“But we do want to be among the first to see the portrait,” Odelia added.

“You will be,” I promised.

“Until later, then,” Odelia replied.

Seliora and I watched from the middle of the bridge as the two walked back toward the Boulevard D’Imagers.

“They look good together,” I offered.

“He’s good for her,” Seliora said.

I understood all too well what she didn’t say—that nice as he was, Kolasyn didn’t have the strength to replace Shelim. Nor did Shomyr. I turned to her again. “You look good.”

“Simple, you mean.” The mischievous smile appeared. “I don’t want a portrait that shows me in something I’d never wear.”

“I could still paint it that way,” I said teasingly.

She raised her eyebrows.

“But I’d better not.” I laughed. “I thought we’d take the scenic walk to my studio, around Imagisle, so that you could see more of it.”

“I’d like that.”

I took her arm, and we turned northward and began to follow the stone-paved path on the east side of the isle that paralleled the river, if some five yards back from the granite river wall.

“That’s the administration building, and those are the quarters for primes and seconds. I had a room on the second level there.” I pointed.

“It looks rather severe,” Seliora replied, “although it’s pleasant enough with the oaks beginning to turn. I imagine it’s more austere in full winter.” She paused. “There aren’t that many trees this old left in L’Excelsis.”

“Some date back to the founding of the Collegium.”

We walked farther north, past the small docks that held two modest training steamboats, on one of which I’d done my first public imaging, although I couldn’t distinguish which of the two it might have been.

To our left was an expanse of grass, surrounded by the ancient oaks, and farther west were the armory and the building holding the various workshops. Before long, we reached the houses for the married imagers. The larger dwellings fronted the river on both the east and west sides of the isle, but all were of two stories, and of solid granite with tile roofs, and with garden courtyards behind them and stone lanes flanked with grass and hedges between. While the exteriors were similar, from the window hangings, flower boxes, and various small touches, the sizes varied somewhat, and it was clear that those who lived there had very differing tastes. I wondered which might belong to Master Dichartyn.

“That’s where the imagers with families live. The larger dwellings are mostly for the senior masters, but they’re not nearly so grand as NordEste Design,” I said with a smile.

“They have a great deal more privacy, Rhenn.”

“I can see that, and there are a few that are spacious.”

Seliora stopped. So did I. She looked at me. “They’re built so that imagers can live safely with their families, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Could an imager . . .” She didn’t finish the thought.

“It’s rare, but I once lit a lamp in my sleep. I was dreaming, but thought I was awake.”

She nodded thoughtfully.

North of the houses was the park with the open grassy spaces for play and walking and, of course, the hedge maze. I would have liked to have played in one of those as a boy. Most of the time I’d walked there, I hadn’t seen many people, but perhaps because it was a Samedi afternoon, there were at least half a dozen families there. Four or five children were running through the head-high boxwood maze, occasionally shrieking and having a wonderful time.

We reached the northern tip of the isle, where there were several shaded benches with a view of the gray waters of the River Aluse. Seated on one of
those in the middle were Shannyr and his new bride. I couldn’t remember her name. Although I hadn’t seen her before, he’d told me about her. He’d also been more than friendly at the time of my difficulties with Johanyr, one of the few seconds who had been truly supportive.

“Shannyr?”

He turned, then rose. “Master Rhennthyl.”

His wife stood almost immediately as well. She was slender, but with a round face and pale green eyes washed out somewhat by the dark blue woolen coat. She grasped his hand.

“I haven’t ever had the honor of meeting your wife.” I smiled, looking at her. “I have heard him speak most flatteringly about you.”

She flushed ever so slightly as Shannyr said quickly, “Ciermya, this is Master Rhennthyl.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, sir.” She smiled, a trace apprehensively, I thought.

“And I you. This is Seliora,” I said.

Seliora offered a warm smile, then said, “I’m glad to meet you. All I’ve seen here are men.”

“This is the first time she’s really seen Imagisle,” I added. “How are you finding it, Ciermya?”

“I like it very much, sir. Our quarters are lovely, and it’s a short walk to work . . . so long as I keep working, leastwise.”

“You do . . . drafting, is it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“She’s outstanding at it,” added Shannyr proudly.

“I’m sure she is.” I could tell Ciermya was not exactly at ease, so I smiled again. “We won’t keep you, but I did want to meet you after all Shannyr said. He won’t tell you, but I appreciate all that he did to help me.”

“I just did—”

“You did more than anyone else then, and I won’t forget it.” I could tell he was embarrassed, but I wasn’t about to let him minimize his actions.

As we began to walk along the west side of the isle, I looked to Seliora.

Her eyes met mine, and she nodded.

“What was that supposed to mean?”

“He’s older than you, a good five years or more, but he respects you. She fears you.”

“Am I so fearsome? I didn’t do all that well at the Council, and now I’m pounding the stone pavement of L’Excelsis with patrollers.”

“You did very well at the Chateau. It could be that you did too well.”

I almost missed a step as the combination of her words and what Master
Rholyn had said earlier struck me. Did Master Dichartyn—or Maitre Poincaryt—worry that my inability to conceal my imaging might unsettle the Council? Or had I been removed as a purported disciplinary action to show the Council that the Collegium did not approve of “accidents” occurring to foreign envoys, regardless of provocation?

“Frig . . .” I barely murmured the words. It made far too much sense.

Seliora stopped, still looking at me.

“I just realized something. I’m going to have to be far more circumspect than I’ve been before. Master Rholyn hinted at that earlier today, but what you said made me think about it in a different way.”

“How so?”

“What I did at the Chateau was too much a reminder to the Council of how powerful an imager can be, and the Collegium does not want that.”

“Wasn’t it acceptable, in protecting them?”

“I’m sure it was. Once, or very occasionally.”

She nodded again.

I pointed across the river to the west where the gleaming white walls of the Council Chateau, sitting on its hill, almost sparkled in the fall afternoon light. “We do have a good view of the Chateau.”

South of the park was the armory, set almost next to the gray stone river walls on the west side of the isle. The massive gray-walled building with the workrooms was next.

“What’s that?”

“That’s where we’re headed. My studio is a small converted workroom, on the northeast corner—right there.” I pointed.

“Do they all have outside doors?”

“Most of them, and they’re all lead-lined, with leaded glass windows, and leaden sheets in the center of the doors.”

“That’s not true of the houses, is it?” She frowned.

“Just one sleeping chamber, I’m told.” I led the way to the studio, where I opened the door and gestured for her to enter.

Once Seliora was inside, as I closed the door, she glanced around the studio, her eyes alighting on the sheets of paper that held the various design sketches that I’d worked on earlier. “Can I see?”

“Be my guest. I wasn’t happy with any of them, and I decided that I needed to have you here to do a decent design.”

Then she looked to the uncompleted portrait of Master Rholyn. “I saw your study at the Guild Hall, but this is the first portrait I’ve seen.”

“It needs more work.”

“It will be good, better than he deserves.”

“How do you know that?”

“There’s a cruelty there. I can see it, even now. You paint what you see and feel, Rhenn. Isn’t that so?”

Cruelty? I studied what I’d portrayed so far. Perhaps there was a hint of that. Certainly, there was a hardness to the set of his eyes that combined with the strong jaw and the too-full lips to create an image of . . . what, I still wasn’t sure. When I finished the hair and forehead, and the one side of the neck, I’d know more.

“This afternoon is for your portrait, not his. I’d like to work on some more sketches. If you’d take off the scarf and drape it loosely over your left shoulder . . .”

“Like this?”

“That’s good.”

From there on, I began to sketch.

The third design had something, but it was too head-on; so I did a fourth . . . and the angle was perfect.

“Good. Just hold that.”

She didn’t say a word.

I called a halt when I realized that the bells had rung half past second glass. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize . . .”

“That’s fine.” She shook her head, then shrugged her shoulders, trying to loosen them. “Posing is hard work. How much did you get done?”

“The design, and I got that all on the canvas, just a light outline, as well as the lines of your face, the eyes, the cheeks. It’s a very good start, but it could take several months because I’ll need you to sit, and we can only do that on end-days.” I began to clean up, not that I had that much to do, because I hadn’t used any oils, just the fine-lined drawing pencil.

“How about tomorrow?”

“I can’t. I’m the duty master, and I really shouldn’t be this far from the administrative building.”

“Oh . . .”

“I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

“That’s all right.”