Imager's Challenge (38 page)

“Why do you say that?”

“He goes out of his way not to make enemies, and those he can’t charm, and who continue to cause trouble for him . . . they vanish.” Betara smiled ironically.

“A very polite local despot.”

“Less of a despot than most, and he doesn’t let his men take liberties with the locals.”

“What about Youdh?”

“He’s more like the older taudischefs. He doesn’t take slights easily, and he doesn’t think much of women or those less fortunate.”

In the end, I did enjoy the meal, as much for Seliora’s presence as anything, but I left while most everyone was still at the table, although I didn’t see Grandmama Diestra anywhere.

The clouds outside were darkening when I hailed a hack, but because I’d caught the coach earlier than I’d calculated, I had the driver drop me almost directly outside Third District station. Then I hurried inside through a rain so fine, but so wind-driven, that the small droplets stung my face and neck like needles.

The antechamber was empty except for Sansolt, the patroller on the duty desk. I’d only passed a few words with him over the past weeks. Taciturn as he’d been, he’d seemed solid.

“Master Rhennthyl . . . you aren’t supposed to be accompanying someone today, are you? No one told me—”

I shook my head. “I have to meet someone near here, but I was thinking, What do you know about the taudischefs?”

Sansolt glanced toward the door, although no one had entered the station, then cocked his head to one side. “You hear a lot. Some of it might be true. Some might not. There’s four right now in the taudis—you’re talking about our taudis, right?”

I nodded.

“Horazt is the new one on the west end. Grausyn and Lykyt patrol that round. They haven’t had any trouble, but the equalifiers and the Temple types don’t like him, and that could be trouble before long. The chief before him disappeared just before the riots. The east end, there are two, Jadhyl and Deyalt, but Deyalt might as well be the subchief because he goes along with whatever Jadhyl wants. But you’re patrolling with Alsoran, aren’t you?”

“I am. Jadhyl talked to us last week. He said the toughs who attacked us weren’t his.”

Sansolt frowned. “Alsoran said that. Guess I believe it, but . . .”

“You think Youdh was trying to set up Jadhyl or Deyalt?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him. Don’t know as there’s anyone with a good word to say about him.”

“So why is he still taudischef?”

Sansolt laughed. “Anyone who crosses him ends up dead real quick.”

“Have you ever seen him?”

“No one’s ever seen him. I mean, no patroller ever has. Not that I ever heard.”

“Has the captain ever met any of the taudischefs? To get the plaques on the table, face up, so to speak?”

“When he was a lieutenant, he met with Worazt, the taudischef before Youdh. That’s what Melyor said, anyway. Didn’t do much good. The next week some toughs tried to take out a patrol on rounds. The captain hasn’t said anything about meeting any of them since.”

“Thank you. Everything I can learn helps.”

“Sir . . . some say you know Horazt.”

“I do, but not from working with the Civic Patrol. He brought his nephew to Imagisle on a day when I was on duty. The boy is an imager. He’s very young, but he has promise.”

I didn’t like the idea that someone was circulating word that I knew Horazt, because I’d told no one. The most obvious answer was that Youdh had gotten word to Harraf—or someone—at the station because of the time I’d openly walked through the taudis with Horazt.

“An imager . . . from the taudis?”

“Imagers can be born into any family. My father’s a wool factor, but I’ve known several imagers whose parents were High Holders.”

I could tell that surprised Sansolt, but he only nodded and said, “Hadn’t thought of that, but you say so, it must be.”

“Thank you again.” I smiled and turned, heading out of the station.

The wind and rain were stronger as I walked up Fuosta toward South Middle and then east to Dugalle. The Puryon Temple ahead seemed empty, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if people were watching.

A bell struck, the sound coming from an anomen I couldn’t see, announcing the first glass of the afternoon. Of course, Horazt was nowhere to be seen.

I kept moving, walking a ways east on South Middle, and then back, back and forth, for what seemed like glasses, but was probably closer to two quints, before a figure emerged out of the mistlike hard rain.

“Afternoon, Master Rhennthyl.”

“Good afternoon, Horazt.”

“You paid coin to get a message to me. Must be urgent.” He turned and began to walk westward, back toward the Midroad.

I took two quick steps to catch him, then matched his pace. “It might be. Youdh’s put out the word that you don’t like the equalifiers and the Temple priests.”

“So?”

“It doesn’t sound like Youdh’s any sort of friend of yours.”

“Taudischefs aren’t friends with other taudischefs.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Not much I can do about what he feels.”

I waited to say more until we passed an old man trudging eastward. He didn’t even look in our direction, just kept his head down against the fine rain.

“Do your men have something that identifies them as your taudis-men? A kind of belt buckle, a certain cloak, like the green cloaks that Jadhyl’s men wear?”

“You think I should tell you?”

“I’m not asking what it is. I’m thinking that each taudischef’s men carry or wear something like that. I’d like to know if you know what Youdh’s men use, or if Youdh sends messages with a special seal or sign.”

Horazt laughed harshly. “The only message he sends is a slashed throat, with a wide-bladed dagger through the voice box. That’s how he deals with squeals.”

“No tattoos for his men? No jackets of a special color?”

“His enforcers wear purple jackets. That’s only the top ones.”

“Can you get me—”

“You don’t think—”

“Not a jacket. Just a small piece of the material.” I held my fingers barely a digit apart. “Just a shred like that. I’ll pay a gold for it.” Once I had it, I could always image something just a bit larger.

A sly grin crossed his face. “Might be worth the risk at that. If I can get it, I’ll send it with Chelya when she goes to see Shault. You and me, we been seen too much together.”

“I’ll be there. No one will think that’s strange for her first visit.” I’d have to be there, because I didn’t want Shault to see what I had in mind. “Do you want me to give her the gold?”

“You can owe me, Master Rhennthyl. You’re good for it.” He slowed and looked at me. “You really think Shault can make a life as an imager?”

“He has the talent, and he has more chances than anyone I know of from the taudis, but he has to want it. It’s not easy for a taudis-kid because the best imagers are those no one sees.”

“You’re good, or you wouldn’t be a master, and people know who you are.”

“I’ve also been shot at and attacked more times than any other master, and I could have died twice. I wouldn’t want Shault to go through that.”

“He’ll want to follow you.”

I didn’t bother hiding the sigh. “We’re all afraid of that, but we’ll help him all we can.”

“His grandfather was quiet. So was his uncle. They both died young.”

“I understand. Quiet doesn’t always work in the taudis. I can only tell you that I’ll do what I can.”

“That’s all anyone can ask.” Horazt raised his hand. “Later. Don’t get too wet.” He turned and crossed South Middle, walking into a narrow lane on the other side and disappearing into the misty rain.

I kept walking until I was on the Midroad. Eventually, I managed to hail a coach for hire.

By the time I reached my parents’ house and walked up under the portico roof, my cloak was more than a little damp. I lifted the knocker and let it drop twice before the door opened.

Mother stood there. “Rhenn! I thought it might be you. Come in before you get any wetter.” Her eyes went over me. “From the look of your cloak, I don’t know that you could.”

Once inside, I immediately shed the cloak.

“Dear, let me hang that up in the kitchen. The stove is still hot.”

“Thank you. Are you here alone?”

“Oh, no. Your father’s in the parlor. Khethila’s over at Brennai’s this afternoon, but you did see her last week when we weren’t here.” Mother bustled toward the family parlor and the kitchen beyond.

As I followed, I ignored her attempt to inject guilt into the conversation. “I can’t always come every Samedi. I was painting until late yesterday.”

“Whose portrait?” asked Father from his chair, setting down the book he had been reading.

“I’ve been working on several, but the important one is Master Rholyn’s. He’s the Collegium councilor.”

“Khethila said that you were working hard.” Mother stopped at the door to the kitchen. “Can I get you some hot mulled wine or some tea?”

“Tea would be good. I can only stay a glass or so.”

“The kettle’s still warm. It shouldn’t take long.” Mother scurried into the kitchen.

I settled into the chair across from Father, grateful for the warmth from the hearth stove. “I haven’t seen you for a bit. Is there anything new happening?” I doubted that Father would say anything about the problems in Kherseilles.

“There is one thing.” Father beamed. “That dinner we had with Veblynt and Ferdinand last month actually led to a contract from the Navy. One of the supply commanders said that Veblynt had recommended me, and he asked me to bid on a large contract. That was several weeks ago. On Meredi, I received
notice that the bid had been accepted.” Father smiled. “That was most welcome.”

“Will it be profitable?”

“A solid profit’s to be had, but the margin on military contracts is lower. Always has been, but it’s not to be sneezed at.”

“No contract backed by the Council is to be ignored,” Mother added, returning with a mug of tea.

I took the mug and held it under my chin, letting the steam warm my face for a moment before taking a sip. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, dear.”

I turned back to Father. “I suppose Veblynt showed up on Jeudi to congratulate you?” I kept my tone idle.

Father frowned. “On Vendrei, actually.” After a pause, he went on. “He congratulated me on getting the bid, but he also said that you were to be equally congratulated for your efforts in dealing with his wife’s most distant relations.”

Mother looked up sharply. “You didn’t mention that, dear.”

“I’m certain I did, Maelyna.”

“Perhaps you did.” Mother’s tone indicated that he had not, but that she was not going to make an issue of it—not at the moment. Instead, she looked to me. “What did Veblynt mean, do you think?”

“I don’t know. I suspect that he was referring to my avoiding problems with the daughter of High Holder Ryel.”

“Why would there be problems?”

“Iryela is most determined, extremely good-looking, and to be as safe as possible, she needs a husband who cannot inherit from her. Imagers fit those criteria. By not angering her, and by choosing Seliora, I hoped to avoid involvements of that sort.” All that I said was true, if somewhat misleading.

For whatever reason, Veblynt had steered the wool contract to Father. While I did not
know
the reason, I had the feeling that it was strictly to give me time to deal with Ryel . . . or at the least to make Ryel work harder to ruin me and my family. Then, it might have been to force Ryel into making a mistake. I had strong doubts that it was merely to help Father, but how could I tell? I wasn’t about to ask Veblynt . . . not now, at least.

“Seliora is beautiful and well endowed . . . especially coming from a crafting family,” Mother offered.

What she really meant was that she was still surprised to find a Pharsi girl who was as beautiful and well off as Seliora. She was also suggesting that I might have done better to look more closely at Iryela.

“Indeed she is, and her brothers are far more welcoming than Iryela’s
brothers would have been. High Holders would prefer not to have imagers privy, even indirectly, to their family and their affairs.”

“That’s a pity,” Mother said. “Is this . . . heiress . . . attractive?”

“She’s quite attractive, if in a cold and calculating fashion,” I replied. “You know I don’t do well with that.” I took another sip of the tea.

“Maelyna, even I know that Rhennthyl needs someone warm and kind, especially since he’s become an imager. All the gold in Solidar doesn’t warm a home or a bed.”

That comment from my father surprised me, although it shouldn’t have, because, for all his bluster at times, he’d always been appreciative of my mother, and seldom said anything unkind. He also didn’t tolerate anyone else saying anything negative about her.

“You and Seliora haven’t had dinner with us recently,” Mother said.

I had to think about that, but she was right. It had been over a month.