Madness in Solidar (54 page)

“What about your sister?”

“Loryna wouldn't think of it, and, even if she did, she wouldn't likely tell me anything. That's because she wouldn't want me to think less of her. There are certain … ingredients that one can put in certain dishes that create odors or colors if some poisons are used. Those are usually the fast-acting ones.” Alyna shrugged. “But since no High Holder wants a poisoning traced to his table…”

“No one uses fast-acting poisons?”

“Except at other High Holders' functions. Usually ones with many attendees … or small functions where the poisoner is not actually present.”

Alastar found it hard to imagine living in a society that engaged in that kind of rat and terrier game, but he didn't doubt that it existed. “That makes me even happier that I'm an imager … even at present.”

“I think most of the maitres who have considered the matter are glad you're here right now.”

“I'm thankful you're also here.”
For many reasons.

“You're being kind.”

“I'm being accurate. I'm not exactly noted for kindness, especially at the moment.”

“The greatest kindness is to do what is necessary and painful when no one else will.”

“If the act is correct … and that's not always easy to know. I'm still wondering about what I've been doing these past few days.” He paused. “Have any of the other maitres offered suggestions or requests about the new buildings?”

“Akoryt was the first. So did Petros and Taryn … and Cyran—he's afraid of being too forward.” She smiled sadly. “He'll always be a good senior imager, if the Maitre is good, but…”

“Would you ever want to be—”

“No. Neither senior imager, nor Maitre. Solidar isn't ready for a woman Maitre, and I'd rather not be senior imager.”

“You're too strong-willed, behind that quiet and reserved exterior, to be subservient, or appear to be, directly to the will of another. You also don't like to ask for what you deserve.”

“Zaeryl sent me another letter…”

“You're changing the subject.”

“I am.”

Alastar smiled. “What did he say?”

“Not to trust Guerdyn—that was indirectly stated in a veiled way…”

For a moment Alastar wondered why Zaerlyn would say that about a dead man, except he realized that Rivages was days away, even for a fast courier.

“… He also said that he'd heard good words about you from some of the High Holders in the south. That's about as close to praise as anyone gets from him.”

“You come from a demanding family.”

“All families are, I think, in one way or another.”

Far from the first time, Alastar was again struck by her insight. “I enjoy being with you, talking with you,” he said quietly.

“I know. I enjoy it also.”

“But? There's a hint of reservation there.”

“I don't like to do things halfway. So far as the Collegium is concerned, that's sometimes necessary.” She looked at Alastar directly and intently once more.

“I understand. I don't, either.”

“For now … then?”

“For now.”
But only for now.

“Still friends?”

Alastar laughed, gently. “Never just friends, but I'll behave.”

“You always have, dear Maitre. That's one of your many endearing traits.”

Alastar wasn't about to ask what his less endearing traits might be.

Alyna rose from the chair. “I have things to do, and so do you.”

“Until later, then, whenever that is.”

“Until later.”

Alastar walked her to the front porch then watched as she walked briskly through the chill afternoon toward the cottage she shared with Tiranya.

Then he returned to his study.

Given Lorien's peremptory request, Alastar was almost tempted to arrive at the chateau a few moments late, but since he'd derive no advantage from doing so and might pay in some fashion later, he resisted the urge … and reined up promptly at the entry steps a quint before the glass struck. Another guard, one he had not seen before, ushered him upstairs to Lorien's study, where the new rex was standing by the small conference table.

“How are you and the other imagers coming on rebuilding your Collegium?” asked Lorien as he seated himself.

Alastar sat and set his cap on the side of the table before replying. “We've finished all the repairs to buildings that were damaged. We haven't begun on rebuilding the dining hall or the administration building.” Seeing a certain glint in Lorien's eyes, Alastar asked, “Why?”

“Are you going to leave that avenue unfinished?”

“We hadn't thought to, but we won't be able to finish it until we can rebuild some of the Collegium.”

“I trust that will not take an excessively long time.”

“We will be as expeditious as possible.”

Lorien nodded. “Lady Asarya and I thought that it might be appropriate to name it in honor of my sire.”

“L'Avenue D'Rex Ryen?”

“It was his idea.”

“We will complete it. You and Lady Asarya can choose the name you feel appropriate.”

“Good. Have you heard anything from the High Holders?”

“Not yet, but it will likely take several days before we should press. If I don't hear anything by Meredi, I'll meet with Vaun. You'll need to put your proposal in writing, an increase of four coppers on the gold above the existing tariff levels, with the possibility of smaller increases in the years after next year.”

“Smaller?” Lorien's eyebrows rose.

“Smaller. If you establish the right to annual increases…”

Abruptly, Lorien smiled. “Of course.” The smile vanished. “But this coming year, how will we manage?”

“By reducing expenses by the army and by looking at other places where the golds have not been wisely spent. In the end, you will come out better.”

“Speaking of the army…” Lorien drew out the words before continuing, “Instead of our fourth-glass meeting on Lundi, I'd appreciate your being here at first glass for the meeting with Acting Marshal Petayn and Sea Marshal Wilkorn … for those discussions on the future of the army and the navy that you recommended.”

“I will be here.”

“Excellent. There are a few other things we should discuss. First, there is the question of my father's memorial service…”

Alastar almost groaned. He should have thought about that. “Perhaps on Lundi or Mardi?”

“That's too soon to arrange it properly. We have already had the private services, but a public memorial at the Anomen D'Rex next Samedi would be most appropriate, don't you think?”

The less pomp and formality the better.
Alastar wasn't about to say that, not directly. “You'd like to leave the best possible memory of your father, I take it. I would suggest subdued formality. That is, of course, only a suggestion. You and your mother and brother need to decide what is appropriate.”

“Subdued formality…” mused Lorien.

Alastar could tell the afternoon would not end soon, and certainly not soon enough for him.

 

30

Going over the details of what Lorien proposed for his father's public memorial took another two glasses, and more details than Alastar had thought were necessary, many of which, it was clear, were the result of Lady Asarya's “suggestions.” Once he left the Chateau D'Rex, Alastar rode back along the route of the Avenue D'Rex Ryen, noting just how far the imagers had gotten, which was almost a third of the total distance, and how well and with what care to details that Alyna and the others had finished the paving, sidewalks, drains, and gutters on that section. He also noted that already some of the damaged or truncated shops were being replaced with new or refurbished establishments of a far more commercial nature than the apothecaries they replaced. He had the feeling that the apothecaries of the former lane were not faring so badly, and some likely had received additional golds for their property.

When he reached the Maitre's dwelling, the dining room was filled with hungry pupils, unsurprisingly, since all imagers were effectively barred from leaving Imagisle. He waited until only a few students remained in the dining room before joining them, eating quickly, and then retiring to his study. Once there, he began work on the homily he would have to deliver on Solayi for those who died in the cannon attack. That was anything but easy, since he didn't know that much about most of the victims, and, in the case of Johanyr and Klovyl, much of what he did know was not anything suitable for a memorial service. At the same time, he could not slight any of those who died, and he discovered that finding suitable words was extraordinarily difficult.

Well after eighth glass that evening, when Alastar had finally worked out an acceptable homily, and when Jienna and the other cook had long since left for the night, Alastar took three crystal beakers from the pantry that held glassware and platters and carried them carefully into his study, where he set them on the desk and picked up the small lamp that he had imaged into light. Carrying the lamp, he returned to the kitchen, where he opened the door that concealed the narrow steps, then picked up an empty pitcher and made his way down to the cellar. There, he drew a half pitcher of lager from the small keg, then returned to the kitchen, setting down the pitcher in order to close the cellar door, before taking the lamp and pitcher back to his study.

He imaged out the small lamp, leaving the larger one in the wall bracket overlooking the desk still lit, and sat down. He poured half a beaker of lager and sipped it, concentrating on how it tasted before setting the beaker down beside the other two, so that all three were in a row. Then he looked at the first empty beaker and concentrated on imaging the exact same amount of lager into it. Almost instantly, the beaker was half full.

Alastar studied the two beakers, but as far as he could tell, there was the same amount of lager in each.

“So far, so good,” he murmured.

Then he lifted the second beaker and took the tiniest sip of the liquid in it. While the smell was like lager, if a poor variety, at the first taste, he winced. Only by the greatest stretch of imagination could it be called lager, although it tasted drinkable, and he had tasted worse, but not in a very long time. Still, it would do for his purposes.

He set the two beakers directly in front of him, the one with real lager on the right, and the one with imaged lager on the left, then concentrated again. He
thought
he saw the slightest movement of the liquids in both beakers, although he couldn't be sure. He reached for the goblet on the right. It smelled like the imaged lager. He sipped. It was the imaged lager. He set down that beaker and tasted the one on the left. It was the real lager, although it tasted a shade off.

He poured real lager into the other empty beaker, and lifted it, as if in a toast, and then attempted to image out the real lager and replace it with imaged lager. Liquid spilled over his hand.

He set the beaker down, imaged away the liquid, then refilled the beaker and tried again, with the same result.

“Hmmm…”

He set the beaker back on the desk, wiped his hands on the handkerchief he almost never used, then imaged the liquid from the beaker, and poured fresh lager into it. This time, he left the beaker on the desktop and image-replaced the lager. Not a drop of liquid moved.

He went through another attempt with the toasting motion, only to get liquid on his hands, even though he did not image until he held the beaker still.

He set down the beaker and wiped his hands once more, thinking.
Your hand must move imperceptibly, even though you think it's not.
At least, he knew what was possible and what was not, in case certain circumstances arose.

He imaged away all the liquid in the three beakers, picked them up, and took them to the kitchen, then came back for the pitcher and carried it to the kitchen. He thought about trying to wash the three, and decided against it. When he returned to the study, he glanced at the third volume of Chorister Gauswn's journals, then shook his head.

You're tired enough that you won't remember much, and you might miss something.
With that thought, he imaged out the study lamp and made his way to the stairs and up to his bedchamber.

 

31

On Solayi morning, after an early breakfast before most of the student imagers straggled in, Alastar went back over his homily for the memorial services, and then spent almost three glasses working on various possibilities for reducing the costs incurred by the rex, including the number of army regiments. All those costs were estimates, because he had no solid numbers whatsoever, only the base pay rates for troopers and officers and the figures on what various goods and materials cost the Collegium. At the same time, he doubted that either Lorien or Petayn knew even that much, at least from what he'd observed. Add to that the lack of a minister for the army, since the marshal of the army functioned as such.
Not a good system for knowing costs.
That led to a proposal for restructuring the government to increase accountability.
Which is where you should have begun.

When he set aside those papers and walked from the study, he found Alyna sitting at Dareyn's table in the hallway.

She immediately stood. “I thought I might accompany you to the services, if you don't mind.” Her words were almost shy.

“I'd like that. Very much.”

With his words came her smile, the one that likely was not special to anyone else, but which somehow warmed him. “I worried…”

“You don't have to worry.” That was the last thing Alastar wanted.

“You mean that, don't you?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” Before Alastar could reply, she said, “We had better set out, if you don't want to hurry. It's already two quints before two.”