Madness in Solidar (5 page)

 

3

After briefly meeting with the senior imagers early on Jeudi morning in the conference room, Alastar returned to his study to go over the list of imagers, both those considered full imagers, and those who were student imagers.
Another thing you should have done earlier …

As he suspected, there were less than a double handful from factor families, and exactly two from High Holder families. The first was Alyna, a Maitre D'Aspect, who was the Maitre in charge of the female students and who also taught mathematics. She had been Alyna D'Zaerlyn. That meant, given her age, that she was likely the sister of the current Zaerlyn D'Alte, rather than of his late sire. The other was Arion, the son of Calkoran D'Alte, still a student, some fifteen years old, although he had enough promise that he was already a tertius, and, if he did not do something incredibly stupid, might well become a Maitre D'Aspect within a few years, if not sooner.

Because Alastar didn't recognize any of the parents of the seven student imagers and the two full imagers from factoring families, he wrote down the names of the nine, then walked out to the anteroom.

“Sir?” asked Dareyn.

“I'd like to find out more about the parents of these students and the two imagers. You can ask the imagers, but I'd prefer you didn't ask the students. They might get the wrong impression.”

“I can see what I can find out, Maitre.”

“I'd also like to find out, without it coming from me or the Collegium, whether High Holders Haebyn and Nacryon have arrived in L'Excelsis and where they might be staying. More immediately, send someone to find Obsolym. I'd like to talk to him for a moment.”

Dareyn nodded.

Alastar walked back into his study.
Are there any imagers whose fathers are senior officers in the army?
The only way he might be able to find that out would be to obtain the names of the senior commanders, but he didn't want to request that list from Marshal Demykalon, or in any way that could be traced to the Collegium, and he didn't know anyone at the Chateau D'Rex well enough to ask either. He paused. Desyrk had mentioned that his brother was a commander. Somehow … trying to get a list that way didn't seem like the best idea.
That will have to wait.

He'd barely settled behind his desk when Dareyn knocked and then opened the door. “Sir? I thought you should know. One of the imager students, Secondus Dylert, had an accident. He has severe burns on one hand and his arm.”

“How is he doing? How did that happen?”

“Maitre Gaellen says he'll recover, but he wants to keep him in the infirmary for a few glasses. It was something about imaging lamp oil.”

Alastar shook his head. “I'm waiting for Obsolym. After I meet with him, I'll go over and see Gaellen and the student. Thank you for letting me know.”

Dareyn nodded, then closed the study door.

Imaging and lamp oil?
Alastar decided not to speculate. He'd find out soon enough.

In less than a tenth of a glass, Obsolym arrived and seated himself in front of Alastar's desk. “You may be getting results with this new training, but one or more of those young imagers will die.”

“That's possible, but if I don't, the Collegium will die.” At that moment, Alastar wasn't about to mention Dylert's injury, especially since he didn't know the details. Obsolym would find out quickly enough, anyway, and likely bring it up at the next meeting of senior imagers. “That's not why I asked you here. You've been here the longest, and you're the archivist, and I'd like your thoughts on another matter.” Alastar couldn't understand how the old Maitre D'Structure could be a historian of sorts and not understand the lessons of history, but he'd already decided that there was little point in raising that question. “Both Maitre Alyna and Tertius Arion come from High Holder families. What can you tell me about their backgrounds?”

“You don't know about Alyna, sir?”

“If I did, I wouldn't have asked. I grew up in Liantiago, not in L'Excelsis. What is so obvious that I should know and don't?”

“She's a descendant of Quaeryt and Vaelora.”

“I wasn't aware … they only had daughters, didn't they?”

Obsolym nodded. “Their eldest daughter Chaerilla was a powerful imager, or so it is noted in the archives, and she played a part in putting down the Solian revolt when the High Holders around Solis—”

“Just a part?” asked Alastar dryly. “With her heritage…”

“She may have done more, but the Collegium records do not contain any detailed account, only that she and five other imagers were dispatched to Solis by Rex Clayar, and that she and three others returned after successfully dealing with the insurgents. There are detailed records of who obtained the holdings of the rebels, but nothing more about Chaerilla, except that she served for many years as the senior imager.”

“Senior imager? The second only to the Maitre?”

“She was the senior imager for three different Maitres, beginning with the last years of Elsior.”

Because she thought a woman Maitre would make matters too difficult for the Collegium?
“And she only had daughters, too?” That was a guess.

“Two. Apparently, neither were imagers. Neither were their daughters. Daughters seemed to run in the family. One of their descendants married the heir to a high holding and became Vaelia D'Zaerlyn.”

“And Alyna is not only the sister of Zaerlyn D'Alte, but distantly related to Rex Ryen?”
And to Quaeryt and Vaelora.

Obsolym nodded.

“What about Tertius Arion?”

“His father is Calkoran D'Alte. He has a sizable holding in Vaestora—that's a pleasant town well south of Rivages. He's one of the few Pharsi High Holders in this part of Solidar. That's about all I know.”

“How did you come to be an imager?”

For an instant, the white-haired maitre frowned, as though the change of subject had been unexpected and not totally welcome. “The same as many, I would suppose, sir. My father was a tinsmith in Tuuryl. He found me imaging holes in tin plate he'd hammered out. Before I knew it, I was here on Imagisle. I can't say I regret it. There have been times…” He shook his head. “There are always times.”

“That's true. What do you think has changed the most since you came here?”

“Not too much changed until Maitre Fhaen got ill. Then he began to demand more, and he sent for you. They'll change more, won't they?” The last words were more of a challenge than a question.

“They'll have to. The High Holders and possibly even the factors are thinking of defying the rex. No matter how that turns out, nothing will be the same after that. What do you think of young Lorien?”

“The heir? I've never met him. Maitre Fhaen always said he seemed more sensible than his sire, but that wouldn't be hard, according to what I hear. There's a reason so many call Ryen Rex Dafou behind his back.”

“Can you name any factors who have shown an interest in the Collegium in recent years?”

Obsolym frowned, tilted his head, then worried his lips before he finally spoke. “Factor Wylum … his son Gherard is a student … a secondus … Factor Veramur … he has a … niece…”

“Niece … as in the daughter of his mistress?” asked Alastar dryly.

“I would surmise so, but Maitre Fhaen never said.”

Alastar waited.

“Factoria Kathila … her daughter … she often inquires.”

Alastar did not speak for a moment, considering that out of the hundred or so full factors, those meriting the title Factorius or Factoria, there was only a handful of women. “Why? Don't they speak?”

Obsolym shook his head. “Young Seconda Thelia had a privileged life. Factoria Kathila is on the factors' council.”

Meaning that she is very rich and powerful.
“What does she factor?”

“Jewels, fine fabrics, oils, scents, all manner of soaps … and … ah…”

It took a moment for Alastar to put the pieces together. “Rendering and tanning? Where she obtains the fats and materials to provide the substance for those soaps, potions, and lotions?”

“Yes, sir.”

Most interesting.
“Any others?”

“There must be, sir, but I'm not aware of who they might be.”

After Obsolym left, Alastar sat at the desk. He'd been so preoccupied with cleaning up all the loose ends within the Collegium in the short period since he'd arrived in L'Excelsis that he'd had little time to learn more about the problems outside the Collegium.
And now it's becoming all too apparent that you should have learned more … as if you'd had any time for that.
He took a long slow breath, then stood and left the study, pausing for a moment to address Dareyn. “I'm headed over to the infirmary. I'll be back shortly.”

“Yes, sir.”

Alastar walked down the long corridor to the old main entrance and then outside, wincing at the odor that assailed him even before he could start to cover the fifty yards or so to the infirmary, a comparatively small structure that held a few treatment rooms, a surgery, and eight other chambers, each of which could hold two beds. What made the stench worse was that the air was heavy and still. Every day the odors escaping from the sewers on the east side of the River Aluse seemed to worsen, while Ryen and the factors' council each insisted it was the other's responsibility to remedy the problem.

The imager second on infirmary duty must have seen the Collegium Maitre approaching, because Gaellen was waiting in the small entry hall when Alastar entered.

“Greetings, Maitre. You're here about Dylert?”

“What else?” asked Alastar, his voice dryly warm. “Or are there more injuries or illnesses you haven't mentioned?”

“Outside of two cases of mild flux, likely caused by eating in the wrong places in L'Excelsis, and Dylert, the infirmary is, thanks to the Nameless, without others who are ill.”

“Do you know how Dylert burned himself?”

“I didn't ask. I thought you or Maitre Cyran would be more effective. Besides, if I ask too much, some of them aren't likely to come here when they should.”

Alastar didn't like that idea, but he did understand. “How badly was he burned?”

“Not so badly as it could have been. There's one place on the top of his forearm that needed a dressing. We'll have to watch that. One of the junior seconds, Thelia, got most of the burn in a bucket of cool water fairly soon. She made him walk over here with his arm in the bucket. I asked her how she knew that. She said she knew about burns from hot oil.”

Thelia … the daughter of the factoria? Maybe she isn't so spoiled as Obsolym thinks … but what was she doing in the young men's quarters?
Alastar repressed a sigh. He'd have to look into that as well. “Where is he?”

“The third door back past the surgery on the left.”

“I'll let you know.” Alastar smiled wryly, then made his way past the closed door to the surgery and past the open doors of the next two chambers, both of which held imagers, each young man seemingly asleep, although Alastar had his doubts. The third door was only ajar, and he pushed it open and stepped into the room.

Dylert sat in a wooden armchair, wearing only an undertunic, the right sleeve of which had been cut off at mid-biceps. Immediately below the ragged linen, there was a dressing around his arm above the elbow. Below the elbow, Dylert's right forearm was bare, but bright red, as if badly sunburned, and his wrist and hand were also red.

“Maitre, sir…” The student imager started to rise.

“Just stay seated.” Alastar gestured. “Tell me how you managed to get this burn. The whole story, please, including the parts that might reveal your stupidity. The fact that you're here already reveals that.” Alastar's voice remained pleasant, as if he were asking about the weather or what the imagers' dining hall might be serving that evening.

Dylert swallowed. “Ah … sir…”

“Go on.”

“My chamber is on the lower level. It's dark. I had some time before I was to go to exercises with Maitre Cyran. So I took the lamp outside. I know it's not wise to image in the quarters. I imaged oil into the reservoir. I don't know what happened, but there was lamp oil everywhere, and it caught fire…” The student shook his head.

“The lamp wasn't lit, I hope?”

“No, sir.”

Alastar nodded. “I think I know what happened. First, you imaged too much oil, and it spurted out everywhere. Second, I suspect you thought of the lamp as being lit when you imaged the oil into it. That would account for why everything caught fire.” He paused. “Weren't you told not to image anything without permission?”

“Yes, sir.”

Alastar could see that Dylert had almost said more. “But you've done it before, and nothing happened?”

“Yes, sir.” The admission was grudging.

More sloppiness.
“I want you to remember what I'm about to say. If you don't remember and practice what I'm about to tell you, sooner or later, your imaging will kill you.” Alastar paused. “Imaging is controlled by your thoughts and concentration. If you do not concentrate exactly on what you are doing, on precisely the image you need for that imaging, you create great danger for yourself. The errant thought of a lit lamp and a lack of precision in how much oil you needed for the lamp created burning oil over your arm and wrist. You're fortunate that imager grays are thick and that Seconda Thelia knew what to do.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You are not to do
any
imaging from now on unless a maitre is present. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I'd also like to know what Seconda Thelia was doing to be close enough to keep the burn from being even worse.”