Imager's Challenge (69 page)

“Not just because she agreed, but the way she did. No hesitation.”

At the next three houses, there were children, but they were either too young or had left, except for the one who was at work as a tile setters’ apprentice, which exempted him from conscription. The marines on the cordon would have let him pass so long as he showed his apprentice’s card. The fourth house was boarded up, but no one was there. Absently, I noted that all were in what had been Youdh’s territory. I had no idea who, if anyone, had succeeded Saelyhd.

When we reached the fifth house, the door opened but a crack.

“Navy conscription team,” the chief declared.

“Don’t need nothing from no one.” The voice was that of a woman.

“You are required to open your door for the purpose of allowing us to determine whether anyone of conscription age is present.”

“Don’t have to.”

“I will warn you that if you do not open the door we are required to force it open.” The chief paused, then said, “Open up, or we’ll break in.”

The door slammed.

In moments, the marines with the pry bars had the door open, the bolts
ripped out of the casement and wall and the edges of the door splintered. Then five marines charged inside as a woman screamed.

Close to half a quint passed before the five returned. They had two young men, one about fifteen and the other eighteen. The woman, presumably the one who had slammed the door, stood impassively at the back of the tiny front foyer. She was stout and black-haired.

“Does either of you work?” asked the chief.

The younger one shook his head, his eyes darting from one marine to another to the chief.

“Work’s for fools,” offered the elder contemptuously.

“You’re about to become a greater fool,” replied the chief. “Take them both to the wagons. Put the younger one in for boot training.”

As we walked away from the house, he added in a lower voice to me, “The older one will end up as coal loader or some such. The other’s young enough he might be able to make something of his life.”

The next dwelling held an older couple, and an even older bedridden woman.

Then we retraced our steps back to South Middle and crossed to the east side of Mando where we started with the corner dwelling.

The woman there had three children. The oldest was something like seven.

When we came to the second dwelling, the chief made his announcement once more.

The door opened, and a woman stood there. Her skirt and blouse were grayish and close to shapeless, but clean, and her light brown hair was pulled back into a bun. Her face was narrow.

“Is there any man or boy living here who is over age fourteen?”

“I got two.”

The marine with the folder murmured to the chief.

“Those are Aillyn and Dhewn? What do they do?”

“Aillyn just made journeyman roofer. Dhewn’s an apprentice at the foundry.”

“Are you sure they’re the only ones here?”

I stood back, but the woman looked past them to me. “Master Rhennthyl . . . I got no other sons, but you want to look, they can.”

The chief’s eyes flickered, but he only nodded. “Thank you.”

The next two houses produced neither resistance nor conscripts.

At the fourth house, the white-haired man with the wooden peg leg looked past the chief, even before the chief could say anything. “Master Rhennthyl, Alsoran told you my son’s already in the Navy. All’s here is my daughters . . .”

That was the way the next glass or so went, when we finished almost four complete blocks on both sides of Mando.

We were at the second house on the fifth block, in Youdh’s old territory, when, after someone opened the door, a bearded man charged the marines.

“Friggin’ scripties, worthless scum . . . !”

The marines had him down and trussed in moments. The odor of elveweed was overpowering.

The chief looked down on him. “He’s young enough. We’ll take him, but like as not, he’ll end up dead or on a road gang.”

When we went back to the east side of Mando, the first woman to open the door, again, looked past the chief to me. “My oldest is just twelve. Please, Master Rhennthyl, don’t let them take him.”

“He’ll be thirteen in Ianus,” the chief said, “but we don’t take them that young. If he doesn’t want to be conscripted, have him get a job . . . or an apprenticeship.” He nodded and added, “Thank you.”

Once the door closed, the chief glanced back at me. “You know all of them, imager?”

“No, chief. I only know a handful, but I’ve been patrolling the taudis for a month, and they watch patrollers very closely.”

That was the pattern of the day, but I did understand why they needed so many marines on a team, because some were always escorting conscriptees back to the wagons, and there were some who were violent. One good thing was that I didn’t have to use any imaging, but I didn’t get back to the Collegium until almost fifth glass.

There was a note waiting for me, asking me to report to Master Dichartyn. So I turned around, went back down the stairs and across the quadrangle to his study.

He was waiting, his door open, standing by the window.

“Come in, Rhenn. How was your day with the conscription team?”

“Uneventful, sir, as those things go. They didn’t get any of the taudis-toughs, but I didn’t expect they would. They did sweep up a bunch of idlers and able-bodied elvers—that was on the team I accompanied, anyway.”

“You sound as cynical as you think I am. What I wanted to tell you was that the hearing for the Tiempran priests is on Meredi. They pushed it ahead of some other hearings to get it over and done with. It begins at eighth glass. We had thought about sending Master Jhulian with you, but that would have given the wrong impression.” He paused. “Now . . . is there any aspect of imaging that might come up?”

“I didn’t use much imaging, except to shield Captain Harraf and me from
the blast, and some concealment shields in the taudis after the explosion, but there was only one patroller who saw them, and they already know I have shields.”

“That might not even come up. Please don’t bring it up yourself, unless it’s in answer to a question.”

“Yes, sir.”

“How did you know where to find the priests?”

“I didn’t. I asked Horazt.”

“The west quarter taudischef? You didn’t use any imaging otherwise?”

“I imaged smoke into their hiding place until they came out. The priests wouldn’t know that, only that they were smoked out. I can just say that I had help in smoking them out. That’s true enough.”

Dichartyn turned and looked out the window. Finally, he turned back.

“Rhenn . . . no matter what you do, you seem to end up making the Collegium more visible. Why do you think that’s so?”

I’d thought about that, and I had a very good idea why. All the alternatives that would make the Collegium less visible or not call attention to the Collegium happened to be ones that would have resulted in my death or even greater numbers of deaths for others. I wasn’t interested in being a martyr, and I didn’t like the idea of making others involuntary martyrs, either. I wasn’t about to tell Dichartyn that. “I don’t think that it’s necessarily so. The newsheets didn’t even mention me.”

“They will after the hearing on Meredi.”

“What will they mention? That I was worried about explosives because of what the Tiempran First Speaker said and that I helped the Civic Patrol capture the priests? Those aren’t things that will get people upset about the Collegium.”

“What about the Harvest Ball? You think that was low visibility?”

“Sir . . . there was an explosion, and Ferran spies were revealed. No one even mentioned the Collegium. Even when Dartazn and Martyl managed to deflect another wagon filled with explosives near the Council Chateau, very little appeared in the newsheets, and none of it mentioned the Collegium.”

“More influential people know,” he countered.

“Haven’t they always known? Mistress Alynkya D’Ramsael-Alte had no trouble discovering who I was by name even though I never told her who I was. So did Madame D’Shendael.”

Master Dichartyn laughed humorlessly. “Someday, you won’t have such easy answers. I’d also like to point out that master imagers have no private lives to speak of, even if their names never appear in the newsheets. Someone
always knows what you’ve done, even if there’s no evidence and no proof. Part of the success in being covert is handling matters in a way in which it is to everyone’s advantage for them not to become public.”

I didn’t care for that at all.

“You’re young, and you are still somewhat idealistic, less than you should be, I fear, and you don’t like my words. I’m not saying that all actions should be covert in that way, but most should be, and there should be a great and compelling reason for undertaking acts that cannot help but become public knowledge. In that light, I sincerely hope you don’t get yourself and the rest of us into great difficulties.”

“Sir, I would be the first to say that I am well aware that I cannot keep doing what I have been doing, and I am working very hard so that I will not have to.” If I couldn’t deal with Ryel, and soon, I’d end up with no family and far too exposed in dealing with the High Holder, and then indeed, publicly every finger would point at me. “When I rounded up the priests, I was careful to work through the Civic Patrol, and they were not captured by imaging, but by taudis-dwellers with ropes.”

“You didn’t make any under-the-table deals with that taudischef?”

“No, sir.” Even if I had, I wouldn’t have told Dichartyn. “Well, except for the promise to keep an eye on Shault and try to keep him out of trouble.”

He laughed. “Master Ghaend has discovered a powerful tool in dealing with young Shault.”

“Oh?”

“He just asks Shault, ‘Do you want me to tell Master Rhennthyll you haven’t studied hard enough?’ That’s more than enough.” He paused. “What exactly did you do?”

I shrugged helplessly. “You know everything that I’ve done.”

“He acts as though you were the taudischef and not this Horazt.”

“I don’t know why. The only thing I’ve done out of the ordinary is carry a letter of his to his mother because there was no other way.”

“That’s dangerous. How could you know—”

I laughed. “The letter had all the silvers he’d earned in his first month here, and I had to read it to his mother because she can’t read.”

For a moment he was silent. “Shault must have known that.”

“I’m sure he did, but he wanted his mother to get the coins, and I’m certain he felt someone would read it to her.”

Master Dichartyn didn’t look entirely convinced, but he only said, “That’s all I have. The duty coach will be ready for you on Meredi at half past seven. Try not to stir up anything else controversial.”

“There is one thing, sir. I’ll be going to my brother’s memorial service on Jeudi.”

“I thought he died over a week ago.”

“He did, but that was in Kherseilles. My parents returned yesterday.”

“I’m sorry. Take whatever time you need on Jeudi.”

“Thank you.” I nodded and left.

There were no messages in my letter box, for which I was grateful, because anything there wouldn’t have been the best of news. I just hoped dinner was good.

After a quiet dinner in the hall on Lundi night, with Chassendri, Isola, and Ferlyn, none of whom pressed me, I walked back to my room. I was ready to sit down and relax when I realized that I had to work out what I was going to say at Rousel’s memorial service. I couldn’t count on having much time for the rest of the week, because I’d said I’d stop by the house on Mardi after my Patrol duties, and I had no idea how long the hearing might take. While it began on Meredi, it could easily drag into Jeudi morning.

So I sat down at my writing desk and began to struggle to put words on paper. When I finally gave up close to ninth glass, I had perhaps a sheet and a half of disjointed comments. How could I say what I felt? I loved Rousel, and yet, all through my life, he’d subtly and not-so-subtly belittled me. I’d found the woman he’d loved and who had loved him, and while she had thanked me often for that, I wasn’t sure he ever had. Father had accepted Rousel’s faults and trumpeted mine, and yet, in the end, Rousel was dead because of my acts, no matter that I’d never ever meant for it to come to that—and it shouldn’t have. But it had. All that I really could do was to praise his good points and the fact that he had brightened the lives of many.