Madness in Solidar (50 page)

What Alastar saw was that Akoryt was far better at dealing with students than Desyrk could ever have hoped to be. “From what little I've seen, it's already helping.”
And it will certainly keep Taurek out of trouble for now, especially if Bettaur sees Taurek with Arion.

“We can all meet in the study. That way we won't force out the last students to eat.”

Akoryt nodded.

“I'll see you then.” Alastar reentered the house and walked to the study. There he settled behind the desk, thinking. He still worried about Petayn and the army, and he didn't like the idea of Desyrk running loose, especially when his brother Chesyrk had commanded the cannon firing on Imagisle. Desyrk clearly possessed an outsized sense of self-worth and an equally outproportioned feeling of being unjustly wronged. All that meant trouble.
Then there's Lorien, his wife … and his mother, and who knows what she'll tell him.
Alastar wondered if Lorien was even that close to her, but he couldn't count on the two of them not being close.

He was still pondering when Dareyn knocked on the study door. “Sir … the other maitres are all here. I've taken the liberty of borrowing a chair from the dining room.”

Alastar stood as Alyna, Cyran, Akoryt, and Petros entered and as Dareyn slipped in behind them, added the chair he carried to the three before the desk, then left.

“Are there any more problems?” asked Alastar once everyone was seated. “Besides the ones we've already discussed?”

“What if Desyrk tries to sneak back here and cause trouble?” asked Petros. “How would we even know he was here?”

“We could image a fine layer of dust across part of the Bridge of Desires and have seconds and thirds just watch,” said Alyna. “He'll leave footprints or stir up the dust.”

“That will work … if we don't have a wind,” said Cyran.

“Farther beyond the dust, image a fine layer of heavy dark sand. A light wind or a brisk breeze won't move that,” added Akoryt.

“A goose might help,” suggested Petros, “or a hound that can smell.”

Alastar laughed. “See what you can work out. But don't spend too much time on it. Desyrk may not even try to reach the Collegium. He might feel more comfortable attacking those of us who leave Imagisle.”

“That's more likely,” said Akoryt.

“Do any of you know anything about either Lady Asarya or Lady Chelia?” Alastar found himself looking at Alyna, suspecting she might know something.

She raised her eyebrows. “I've heard it said that Lady Asarya is a forceful personality and that she and Ryen did not share quarters after Lord Ryentar was born. Other than that…”

“Lady Chelia?”

“She is the youngest daughter of High Holder Ryel, the elder. She's apparently unlike the rest of her family in that she is both retiring … and openly less forceful.”

“Wasn't Ryel head of the High Council?” Alastar recalled that Vaun had mentioned something about that.

“Her father was indeed. He was the father of the present High Holder. Chelia is the youngest sister of Ryel the younger. There was a bit of a scandal about that because Ryel the elder wanted Lorien to marry Khanara, the older daughter. Lorien wisely insisted on Chelia. There was supposedly some talk about Chelia marrying Ryentar, but Lady Asarya was said to oppose that strongly.”

Alastar nodded. He wanted to follow up on that later with Alyna, but he merely said, “Thank you. Is there anything else we all should know?” He thought he saw a twinkle in Alyna's eyes at his wording.

She merely said, “Lady Chelia is quiet and faultlessly polite when she's in public … and likely so in private, but that I would not know.'

“Can anyone else add anything?”

The other three maitres shook their heads.

“Petros … where can we store foodstuffs and supplies, once we purchase more?”

“The small supply shed by the stables has some space, and we could use one of the tack rooms…”

For the next glass, Alastar and the others went over the accommodations necessary at the Collegium as a result of the destruction of the dining hall and the administration building.

When they finished, Alyna let the other three maitres precede her out of the study, then paused by the door and said in a low voice, “Chelia is sweet … or she was when we were young. She's very sharp in a quiet way, and I've heard that she and Lady Asarya are on polite but not warm terms.”

“Lorien listens to her?”

“I don't know. He should, but he needs to be careful. Lady Asarya has always wanted her way. She even went hunting alone, even before she took separate quarters in the Chateau D'Rex. That is, with just her personal guards at the hunting park that was hers.”

“Hers?”

“Her father—High Holder Delcoeur—insisted on it, although the lodge and grounds were part of her dowry. Ryen agreed.”

“You mentioned that Lady Asarya opposed Chelia marrying Ryentar, but not Lorien. That seems odd. If Chelia wasn't suited to the younger son…”

“That was just a rumor. I don't know more than that. It happened well after I became a maitre, and I actually…” Alyna offered a rueful face. “I overheard Smarthyl and Fhaen talking. They were arguing in whispers. I didn't dare stay long.”

“Why didn't Ryen … do something?”

“Asarya was a cousin to Smarthyl. He was almost senior imager.”

Smarthyl?
Where had he seen that name? Alastar knew he should know, but he'd really been at Imagisle for such a short time that he didn't remember all the names instantly. To make matters worse, the more he learned, the more interrelated everything seemed to become.
Except it always was. You just didn't know it.
“Fhaen didn't like Smarthyl?”

“No. That was another reason why he named Cyran senior imager.”

Alastar had wondered about Cyran's comparatively young age, but he'd assumed that Cyran had been named because he was the only Maitre D'Esprit.
But maybe he was …
“Smarthyl was only a Maitre D'Structure?”

Alyna nodded. “That was how…”

“And why he had to request that either Zhelan or I become Maitre here when he realized he was dying?”

“He had no choice. No one would have listened to Cyran because of his age.”

“And Fhaen even worried about me.”

“You were already a Maitre D'Image. That was something that Ryen couldn't argue with,” Alyna said.

“Much as he would have liked.”

“How did Maitre Zhelan feel about being Maitre in Westisle when it became clear you were a Maitre D'Image and he was only a Maitre D'Esprit?”

“I deferred to his experience, and he deferred to my ability.” Alastar kept his tone dry. “What else could we do?”

After Alyna left, Dareyn appeared at the study door. “There's a message here for you. A courier in brown delivered it. Said there was no need for a response.” He extended the envelope.

Alastar took it. He did not recognize the seal, or the yellow and brown sealing wax. After a moment he took his belt knife and slit the envelope, leaving the seal untouched, and extracted the single sheet within. He began to read.

Maitre Alastar—

I have just received word of the unsetting events in L'Excelsis. If what news I have received is correct, Rex Ryen died of a seizure. So did High Holder Guerdyn, while you dispatched Marshal Demykalon. Of most concern to me is the report that Demykalon turned cannon on Imagisle and killed and wounded a number of people, including students. Considering the efforts you have made to work out a compromise on the tariff issue, it is clear that the late rex, and his errant marshal, exceeded the bounds of law and the strictures of the Nameless.

In this regard, I offer my condolences and my support in achieving the sort of compromise you have sought from the beginning.

With kindest regards,

The signature was simply “Moeryn.”

Had the brief letter come from Vaun or the other members of the High Council, Alastar would have regarded its contents as entirely political. While Moeryn doubtless had some political interests, from the beginning he had seemed warmer and more open.
Because he listens to his wife? Or because she is worth listening to and he does? Or just because he's more practical?

Alastar suspected it was the latter, with small touches of the others.

“Sir?” prompted Dareyn, still standing just outside the study door.

“It's from High Holder Moeryn, offering his condolences and his support for a compromise over the tariff issue.”

“Little late for that, if you ask me, sir.”

“He wasn't the problem. He was somewhat supportive from the beginning.” Alastar refolded the single sheet and slipped it back into the envelope. “Dareyn, I should know this, but it's slipped my mind. Maitre Smarthyl?”

The second nodded. “We don't hear much from him now. He went to Mont D'Image to take over there, after Maitre Cythan died. Said he was glad to go. He came from up there anyway, somewhere northwest of Asseroiles.”

Alastar could have smacked the side of his own head. He'd seen the name on the seasonal report, but with all the papers and all the new names, he'd been unable to place where he'd seen it. “Thank you. I knew I'd read his name somewhere.”

“Don't hear much from him these days, just his reports.”

“He and Maitre Fhaen were never close, were they?”

“I wouldn't know, sir. They were right polite to each other.”

“Manners are always useful,” Alastar temporized.

After a moment of silence, Dareyn spoke again. “Sir … if you have the key to the strong room here … Arhgen and I will be moving things from the old strong room.”

“I'll bring it out in a moment.”

“I'll be at the table here, sir.”

Alastar waited until the door was closed, then went to the desk and slid open a small panel underneath, and from the small compartment extracted a single brass key before replacing the panel. Then he brought the key out to his assistant. “Here you go.”

“Thank you, sir. Secondus Fherrat will be sitting out here while I'm gone.”

“Thank you.”

Alastar went back into the study, but did not sit down, instead walked over to the windows, where he looked south toward the ruins of the administrative building. While the sleet had begun to melt, the sky remained a hazy gray. He thought about walking around Imagisle, but nothing had changed since the day before, and a walk would do little.
Your time would be better spent drafting recommendations for Lorien … and the rationale behind each.
He also knew he needed to meet with Elthyrd before long, but such a meeting wouldn't be that useful until he had a better feel for Lorien. Then there was the question of how to deal with Petayn and the army.

“First things first,” he told himself as he walked back to the desk. Even as he seated himself, he wondered what else he was overlooking.

 

28

Alastar reined up at the base of the main entry steps to the Chateau D'Rex half a quint before fourth glass. He dismounted and handed the gelding's reins to Coermyd, accompanied by Akkard. “I have no idea how long this will take. Perhaps a glass, but it could be shorter.”

“We'll be here, sir.”

A single guard escorted Alastar up the outside steps, across the spacious entry hall, and up the grand staircase to the upper level and back along the north corridor to the rex's study. As soon as he entered the chamber and removed his visor cap, Alastar noted the changes. The massive black oak desk was gone, replaced by a smaller goldenwood table desk. A small circular conference table, also of goldenwood, with four chairs, had also been added.

Lorien rose from behind the table desk and walked to the table, standing behind the chair closest to the east end of the study. Alastar took the chair to Lorien's right, not the one across from him. He didn't want to suggest any form of confrontation.

As he seated himself, Lorien said, “Now that we have had the family memorial for Father … I've been thinking.”

Alastar nodded for the rex to continue, even as he wondered about whether there would be a public memorial.

“How much can I trust you?”

“More than you can trust most others, including those closest to you, except for your lady.”

“Oh? Why might that be?”

“Because I've heard that she is intelligent, and what befalls you will befall her, what triumphs you have will benefit her.”

“What of you, Maitre?”

“The Collegium has already suffered losses, both in lives and buildings. We were forced to act in self-defense. It would be best if we did not have to act again anytime soon. The High Holders may respect us, but they know their interests differ from ours. The same is true of the factors. Most senior officers of the army would just as soon wipe out all imagers.”

“Because, perhaps, you are the only force that holds them in check?” Lorien brushed back his errant lock of black hair in a gesture all too reminiscent of his late sire.

“That and the fact that they know the army is too large and the navy too small, and that the Collegium will push to redress that balance.” Alastar was not unaware that Lorien did not address why the only member of his family he should trust was Chelia. He hoped that meant a certain understanding of the dangers of younger brothers and forceful mothers. “Part of your father's difficulties lay in the excessive size of the army and the pay of too many senior officers.”

“What of the Collegium? Is not it a drain?”

Alastar laughed, but softly. “At most, the Collegium in all its branches has totaled perhaps five hundred people. What it requires is less than a single battalion of troopers and officers. Just in L'Excelsis, Acting Marshal Petayn has three regiments—fifteen battalions. He has five others spread across Solidar.”