Imager's Challenge (65 page)

“I’m not quite clear on one thing,” Maitre Poincaryt said. “Why did you suggest that the Tiemprans might have explosives in the Temple? How did you know that?”

“I didn’t know that, sir. That was the problem. But I remembered what the Tiempran First Speaker said, and when I saw all the taudis-dwellers chanting and the naval marines ready to charge them, I got a very bad feeling. The priests had already started one riot, and the Patrol had managed to contain it.” I shrugged. “I can’t explain more than that.”

“Can’t . . . or won’t?”

“I can’t. I knew, but I had no proof. I just knew.”

“This has posed a problem before,” Master Dichartyn said mildly.

“You’ve mentioned that.” Maitre Poincaryt’s voice was dry. He looked back to me. “Why did this Horazt agree to help you? Taudischefs don’t usually help either imagers or patrollers.”

“I know him. He brought in Shault when I had the duty. He claims young Shault is his cousin, but I’m fairly sure that Shault’s his son. Has Master Dichartyn told you . . . ?”

“Yes. I know you’ve been acting as an unofficial second preceptor to him.”

“I’ve also delivered messages from him to his mother, and I’ve run across Horazt several times. He’s provided some information about the taudis. I just pointed out to him that if we didn’t come up with the priests and Saelyhd that the marines were most likely to burn down the taudis and worse than that.”

“You aren’t very complimentary to the naval marines,” said Maitre Poincaryt.

“After what I saw . . .” That meant I needed to explain about the lieutenant, but I gave the “official” explanation.

“That isn’t quite what happened, I imagine, knowing you,” said Master Dichartyn.

“That is what everyone saw, sir.”

“And it’s best left that way.” Master Poincaryt leaned back slightly in his chair, then glanced at Master Dichartyn, then back at me. “It does appear that you have managed to mitigate a disaster. Tell me honestly. Do you think that the marines would have reacted less violently if nothing had happened to the lieutenant?”

“No, sir. I don’t think the lieutenant’s fate even crossed the mind of the colonel or the major. The major didn’t even consider that more than a hundred taudis-dwellers were killed or injured or that they were as much victims as the marines.”

“You will be questioned most rigorously at the hearings, you know,” said Maitre Poincaryt.

“Yes, sir. I had thought as much.”

“Why did you suggest accompanying one of the teams?”

“I thought it might reduce the risk of attacks by both sides.”

“You’re going to bring order to the taudis all by yourself?” Master Dichartyn’s voice was gently sardonic.

“No, sir. I just wanted to reduce the chance of violence.”

Once more, the two exchanged glances.

“Is there anything else we should know about this?” asked Maitre Poincaryt.

“I’d guess that Captain Harraf isn’t happy about Saelyhd being captured, but I have no proof at all about that.”

“There is that,” offered Master Dichartyn. “We’ll have to let the plaques fall where they may where he’s concerned.”

Abruptly Maitre Poincaryt smiled. “I think that will do for now. Oh . . . have you finished the portrait of Master Rholyn?”

“No, sir. I’m close. One more sitting, two at most.”

“Good. If we need anything more from you, Master Dichartyn will let you know.”

“Thank you, sir.” I inclined my head to him, and then to Master Dichartyn, before turning and leaving the study.

I walked back down the steps and out into the quadrangle, where I looked to the northeast. There wasn’t even a hint of a cloud of dust, or anything to mark what had occurred. Why had the colonel been so intent on ignoring not only me, but Captain Harraf? I already had learned that to preserve some lives, others had to be taken, and I’d done that. But how would riding down taudis-dwellers have solved anything? Removing a Youdh or a Saelyhd might reduce the violence or killing in the taudis, but I wasn’t sure that removing Jadhyl or even Horazt would help matters. And beating up people who hadn’t so much as picked up a stone would only make matters worse. I couldn’t have been the only one to know that.

After a time, I made my way back to my quarters, where I tried to rest.

I didn’t, not much, not when I kept thinking about Rousel, and how and why he’d died. Why did the Nameless—if the Nameless even existed—allow people like the colonel and the lieutenant and Ryel to kill so many just for the sake of transitory power? But then, the Nameless had given us free will. Did that mean that it was our responsibility to stop them? If so, if we killed to prevent killing, where did it all end?

I thought about that for a long time, but in the end, the basic questions remained. Were there any real answers?

Somewhat before sixth glass I left my quarters and walked slowly to the dining hall. I wanted to be there early because I didn’t know where else to find Shault. I didn’t see him, but while I was waiting, I checked my letter box and found a note from Khethila. It was very brief, just noting that Father and Mother and Remaya and Rheityr would be arriving on the Mantes Express at third glass on Solayi and that she would be sending Charlsyn to pick them up. That made sense because it would have been impossible to fit luggage and any more than four people in the coach. That meant I needed to be with Khethila sometime around third glass.

I slipped the envelope into my waistcoat and continued to wait for Shault.

He walked in with Lieryns and Cholsyr, an even more recent prime than Shault himself. When he looked up and saw me, he almost started to run, but then managed to hold himself to a quick walk.

“Sir, have you heard—”

“The Temple explosion wasn’t near your mother or Horazt. They were both fine when I left the taudis this afternoon, and the scripties’ commander promised they wouldn’t go into the taudis until Lundi when I’m with them.”

His eyes widened. “Sir?”

“It’s a long story that you’ll have to hear later.”

“Mama is all right? And Horazt?”

I nodded.

“Thank you, sir.” He inclined his head seriously, then turned and walked back to the others.

Once the three entered the dining hall, I waited for several moments, then made my own way in. Ferlyn, Chassendri, and Isola were already at the masters’ table and must have come in by the south doors. I walked toward them.

Ferlyn looked at me as I sat down. “The word is that a Tiempran Temple exploded in the taudis, and hundreds were killed or wounded.”

“That’s right. About half marines and half taudis-dwellers and some patrollers. The priests planned it. Some of them and the taudis-leader who helped them are in gaol.”

“And I suppose you managed to capture them?”

“With some help, yes.” I smiled. “If you wouldn’t mind passing the red wine. It’s been a very long day.”

On the far side of Ferlyn and Chassendri, Isola laughed. “You did ask, Ferlyn.”

“You aren’t going to say more, are you?” he asked.

“I’d rather not. I’m sure I’ll be asked a lot of questions at the hearing. The wine, if you would?”

“I’ve told you this before, Rhenn, but you know how I hate the fact that you covert types keep everything so quiet.”

I offered a deep and loud sigh. “Ferlyn, over two hundred people died this morning. Probably as many as that were injured. The Tiemprans put explosives in their Temple and gathered worshippers to chant for the conscription teams to leave, just to goad the marines into advancing on the Temple. I warned the colonel against it. I couldn’t prove what would happen. He ignored me. The Temple exploded. I did my best to clean up what I could.” I offered a very polite smile. “You’ll pardon me if I don’t feel like saying more.” I paused. “Now . . . might I please have the wine?”

He passed the carafe to me.

After a long period of silence, Isola spoke. “Ferlyn, there are reasons why the covert imagers don’t feel like talking about what they do. It might help if you respected those reasons.”

That was as close to a reprimand as I’d ever heard from Chorister Isola.

Chassendri winced.

Ferlyn turned to me. “I am sorry, Rhenn.”

“I apologize for being short, Ferlyn. It really has been a very long day, and I’ll have to work with the conscription teams next week as well.”

Isola looked to me. “Shault?”

“His mother is all right. I found that out and told him before dinner.”

“Thank you.”

Ferlyn didn’t quite look at me for the rest of the meal, but I wasn’t certain I wanted to look at myself, either. For all that I’d told myself that I’d done what I could, couldn’t I have done something more? Yet I couldn’t have persuaded the colonel not to attack on the basis of a Pharsi farsight vision, and anything that would have persuaded him would have been an invention, if not an outright lie that would have come back to haunt me, the Patrol, and the Collegium—assuming I could have even thought up something like that quickly enough. Harraf had accepted my warning only because he knew something about me and because it fit in with his own plans.

I did sleep on Vendrei night. The gray drizzle that greeted me when I woke on Samedi morning and looked out my window wasn’t cheering. On the other hand, when I stopped outside the dining hall and picked up the newsheets, I was gratified to see that while there were stories about the Temple explosion, the stories blamed the Tiempran priests and only noted that patrollers from the Third District had captured the priests and others involved in the explosion. That would change when I appeared at the hearing, as I suspected I would, but for now, few knew, and that was for the best.

Even more cheering was that no one was at the masters’ table at breakfast except Isola when I arrived. I sat down beside her gratefully.

“Thank you for your words last night.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiled warmly, and genuinely, not that she wasn’t always genuine. “You were upset. I could tell.”

“I was.” I filled my mug with tea, then took a sip before saying more. “I
knew
that it would be wrong to attack the taudis-dwellers. I mean, that something terrible would happen, but I couldn’t persuade the colonel. Even Harraf could see I knew. That’s one of the few times he’s listened, but the colonel wouldn’t listen to either of us.”

“That’s one of the problems with being a military officer,” she replied. “In combat, you can’t hesitate. Many of them can’t break that habit when they’re not dealing with out-and-out warfare, not unless you can lay out absolute proof. Dealing with people, even mobs, takes a different set of skills.” She shook her head. “I don’t think anyone could have changed the colonel’s mind.”

“I can tell myself that, but . . . I still keep trying to come up with what I might have said.”

“That’s why there is a covert branch of the Collegium. That’s also why it must be small.”

I understood the first; I wasn’t sure I understood the second.

“There’s always the temptation to think we know better, that our way is better, that everyone else doesn’t see what is obvious to us. Our way usually is better, but that doesn’t matter if people fear and distrust us to the point
where they would do anything to destroy us. With a small covert branch, things do happen, but they don’t happen to many people, and the people to whom they happen usually deserve them. Even when people aren’t sure about that, there’s enough distrust of those who are well off and powerful that people are likely to think there must have been a reason. That works only so long as people don’t think it could happen to them, and it can’t with a few handfuls of covert imagers.” She paused. “If they’re careful.”

That made sense.

“You pose another problem, though. Covert imagers have great individual powers. You have to have them to survive. We have to let you have them so that we can survive.”

“I feel like everyone wants me to resolve things, but they don’t like the way I do things, but can’t suggest a better way, at least not until after I’ve acted.”

“It’s always that way when people have great abilities. You’ll learn to live with that. You have a greater problem than that, Rhenn.” Her voice turned sad, yet sympathetic. “What happens when an imager’s powers are too great to conceal? Does he refuse to act, because it will make him and the Collegium a target? Does he limit his power, when that limit will assure that others die? Or does he act and endanger all that generations of imagers have striven to build?”