Imager's Challenge (59 page)

Since the wagon wasn’t what I was seeking, I kept riding, if slowly, then eased the mare off to the side on the upslope, if a good hundred yards below where I really wanted to be in order not to get close to the wagon. The teamster frowned as he passed, probably because he couldn’t make us out too clearly. On the side of the wagon was a legend—“Kaenfyl & Sons, Fine Spirits.”

Would anyone in the spirits business claim that their wares were anything but fine?

Once the wagon passed out of sight beyond the rise to the south, I rode the mare uphill to the swale, then dismounted and tied to a stubby but sturdy short scrubby plant that looked to be half tree and half bush. Then I leaned against the wall to wait.

A quint passed before I heard something and raised full concealment shields.

Before long a private messenger, with the red and white sash, rode down the hill and toward L’Excelsis. Only a few moments passed before a coach followed, ornate in blue with gold-painted trim—some High Holder whose colors I didn’t know. But then, I really only knew Ryel’s colors, although I thought Councilor Suyrien’s were crimson and silver.

All in all, I waited for Alynat for more than two glasses, strengthening the concealment shields every time I heard the sounds of wagons or riders. More than a half score of wagons passed within a few yards of me and the mare, but no one even so much looked in our direction, and the mare didn’t so much as snort or whinny, for which I was grateful.

By the time I reached NordEste Design, it was two quints to second glass. There was no one in the courtyard, and I rode the mare right up to the stables and dismounted, then led her in and unsaddled her and groomed her. I just hoped I’d gotten the saddle on the right rack.

I was leaving the stable, crossing the courtyard when Shelim and Seliora drove into the courtyard with a panel wagon I hadn’t seen before. Both sides were painted with an identical design, an intertwined “N” and “E.”

Seliora jumped off the wagon as soon as Shelim brought it to a halt. “Rhenn!” Her face was filled with concern.

“At the moment, nothing’s happened, except I need to hurry to get back to Third District.” I paused. “Would it be all right to borrow the mare tomorrow?”

“As often as you need to.”

“Thank you.” I put my arms around her. “I appreciated your saddling the mare. You didn’t have to, but I do appreciate it.”

“You need all the help I can give.” Her arms went around me for a moment. Then she looked up and kissed me briefly. “You also need to wash up a bit. You smell too much like horse. Come along.”

I did feel cleaner and fresher after that—and after the slices of bread and cheese I wolfed down before I headed out to catch a hack back to the Third
District. I had the hack drop me on the east side of the Plaza Sudeste. It was nearly two quints past two.

Guessing that Lyonyt was on Quierca, coming back toward the avenue, I headed south, but I’d only gone a block when an older woman, one who often had a cart with coal in it, called to me.

“Officer . . . you looking for Lyonyt, he just passed here heading for South Middle.”

“Thank you.”

I reversed directions and actually caught up with the two of them just short of Saelio.

“I was beginning to worry, sir,” offered Lyonyt.

I shook my head. “Everything, every little thing, takes longer than you think.”

The older patroller laughed.

“Any problems?” I asked.

“Not a one. Did see a few of Jadhyl’s fellows in the green. They looked worried.”

“They probably know something we don’t—like when the conscription team is arriving.” Everyone seemed to know, at least in general terms, except the Collegium and the Civic Patrol. I thought for a moment. Both the commander and Maitre Poincaryt had to know. They just chose not to tell anyone so that they could claim to the Navy that they hadn’t let anyone know. So the Tiempran priests knew more than we did, as did the taudischefs, and Captain Harraf, who could not say much besides telling some patrollers to be careful because he wasn’t supposed to know, either. Whether I cared much for him or not, there was definitely something wrong about that.

We walked down Saelio, but it was quiet, and so were each of the succeeding streets. A good glass and a half later, when we were headed back to the station, passing Dugalle on Quierca, I turned to Lyonyt. “The Tiempran Temple was still shuttered this morning. What about on the last round?”

“Locked up tighter than a High Holder’s daughter, sir. When do you think the scripties will be here?”

“I don’t know. Sometime in the next week, but whether that’s tomorrow or Jeudi or Vendrei, I don’t know. Probably not Solayi, but other than that?” All I could do was shrug.

When we returned to the station, I could see that the door to Captain Harraf’s study was closed, but whether he was meeting with someone or had left for the day, I couldn’t have said. I certainly wasn’t about to ask.

We signed the round sheet, and then I left. The wind had gotten warmer, springlike, even though it was late afternoon, and the hack ride back to Imagisle was uncomfortably warm. When I returned to my quarters, another note was under my door, asking me to see Master Dichartyn.

I hurried back across the quadrangle to the administration building, half hoping that he’d left for the day. I wasn’t that fortunate. His study door was open, and he was standing by the open window, almost as if he had been waiting for me.

“Rhennthyl, come in and close the door.”

I did.

“Maitre Dyana told me that you handled questions about the Autumn Ball with a surprising amount of finesse. Master Rholyn also remarked on your comments about the taudischef’s hearing. He said that he even baited you, but you were quite self-possessed.” He paused and looked directly at me. “Maitre Poincaryt and I would appreciate it if you would continue that practice.”

“I’m working on that, sir, and trying to follow the example that you both have set. Master Poincaryt made it clear that I should do so, and that I should not saddle you with anything that was not absolutely vital.” I paused, then asked, “Are you aware of any inquiries being made by High Holder Ryel about Johanyr’s health? Have any ever been made?”

“Don’t you think that’s an odd question, now?”

“No, sir. After my troubles with him, I asked how he was doing, but the way his sister dismissed him at the Ball brought that question to mind.”

Master Dichartyn frowned. “So far as I am aware, Ryel disinherited Johanyr once he became an imager and has had no contact with his son since. Other members of the family may have.”

And yet Ryel had declared me his enemy?

There was a moment of silence.

“Has anything vital come up today?” Master Dichartyn raised his eyebrows.

“Not vital, sir. Captain Harraf warned the patrollers who do the round in Youdh’s territory that if the conscription teams arrived, they were not to interfere or even patrol the area. He avoided giving us the same information. In fact, he ignored me altogether.”

“He’s being a very wise man in the stupidest way possible.” Dichartyn’s voice was dry.

“Sir?” I doubted he’d say more, but it was worth the attempt.

“He knows you know all about him. He also knows that people have bad things happen when they cross you, but it’s stupid to call attention to it by
ignoring you and putting two more junior patrollers in possible danger because you’re with them. Some of the patrollers will notice. They’re not as dense as arrogant officers think. By the way, that goes for master imagers, too.”

The last was clearly directed at me. I just said, “Yes, sir. I ask the patrollers, and I listen.”

“I would hope so.” He smiled politely. “Is there anything else?”

“No, sir. Not that I know.”

“That’s all I had, Rhennthyl.” He paused. “Your young lady is quite beautiful. I hope you appreciate all she has to offer.”

“I feel that I do, sir.” More than I was about to admit to anyone.

He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t. I didn’t. No one as talented as you and as young as you does. You only think you do. Try to remember that.”

Strangely, his words were delivered kindly, not cuttingly, and with a hint of something I couldn’t identify. I also wondered when he’d seen Seliora. Or had he slipped into the studio and looked at the portrait? Then, we had walked through Imagisle several times.

“Yes, sir.” What else could I say?

He turned back toward the window, and I left. I was more than a little hungry, given that all I’d eaten since breakfast had been a few slices of bread and cheese.

Meredi morning found me slightly less tired, and far less stiff, although I found it was still uncomfortable to sit still on the hard chairs in the dining hall by the time I finished breakfast, but I did manage to banter some with Ferlyn and Master Ghaend. Ghaend told me that Shault’s reading had improved greatly, and that Shault seemed to show a definite aptitude for the mechanical side of science.

“That might be for the best,” I replied.

“His background, you mean?”

I nodded.

“You never know with imagers.” He gave me a quizzical look. “Do you think anyone would have picked a former portraiturist to be one of Maitre Dichartyn’s covert types?”

I managed to laugh. “I’d better not judge too soon.”

Ghaend did smile, if faintly.

I did get to Third District station a good quint before seventh glass. Both Lieutenant Warydt and the captain were there, because as I entered the station, Warydt stepped into the captain’s study and closed the door. Had he seen me and wanted to avoid me? Or was I just suspecting the worst of everyone, or of the captain and lieutenant?

Fuast moved up to me. “Sir?”

“Yes? Is Lyonyt here?”

“No, sir. I was going to ask if you’d seen him.”

“Not yet.”

We didn’t need to worry, because a few moments later, the older patroller hurried through the doors.

“Vierstyn was having trouble with an elver they picked up. I gave them a hand getting him off the wagon. Never know when you’ll need a hand.”

We exchanged glances and then, without a word, headed out of the station, up Fuosta, and then right on South Middle. The day was cooler, and thick gray clouds hovered in the west, suggesting cold and rain. Once we passed Dugalle, and as soon as I could get a clear view of the Temple of Puryon, I studied it, taking in the still closed shutters and doors. I felt better once we were well past it.

“Locked up tight,” observed Lyonyt. “Wager it stays that way until after the scripties come and go.”

“That’s a wager I won’t take,” I replied.

“A wise man you are, sir.”

“Wise enough not to wager against an experienced patroller,” I bantered back.

As on Mardi, I left Lyonyt and Fuast near eighth glass and caught a hack to take me from the Plaza Sudeste to NordEste Design. When I rapped the knocker on the private entrance door, once more Methyr was the one to open the door and to lead the way to the courtyard. Unlike on Mardi, Seliora was there, helping load some heavily wrapped chairs into the two wagons—one the panel wagon and the other the canvas-topped wagon from which I’d made my first sketches of Ryel’s estate.

She handed a chair wrapped in cloth—old blankets—to Shomyr and hurried over to me. “I did saddle the mare for you. Please be careful.”

“Thank you . . . and I will.” I knew I had to be. Then I wrapped my arms around her, and we held each other for several long moments.

Only then did we walk toward the stable and the mare—tied outside and waiting for me. I mounted quickly. Seliora looked up at me. She smiled faintly, but she might as well have asked me to be careful yet one more time.

I guided the mare out of the courtyard, waited for two coaches to pass on Nordroad, and then followed them out and down to the Boulevard D’Este, where I turned left. Before that long I was leaving the Plaza D’Nord and riding along the road flanked by the small estates of those High Holders who wished to have a presence in L’Excelsis.

The road wasn’t that traveled in midmorning, doubtless because any farm wagons had gone into L’Excelsis early, as had those with business in the city. A few wagons and three or four coaches passed me heading into the city, but with my light concealment shields, no one paid me much attention.