Imager's challenge

31

On Meredi morning, right after breakfast, I stopped by the receiving hall and asked Beleart when he expected Master Dichartyn to return.

“Not for several days, sir. He didn’t say when exactly. He said it would be late this week.”

“Thank you.”

I headed for Master Schorzat’s study, hoping to find him in-and I did.

“Rhennthyl . . . what can I do for you?” He did not rise from behind his writing desk.

“Sir, I was wondering if you happened to know where I could lay my hands on the pay schedules for civic patrollers.”

“Pay schedules?”

“I’m looking into something, and Master Dichartyn said I needed proof. Part of the proof happens to be what a civic patroller makes.”

“If you’re looking for proof of bribes, pay alone won’t do it. They’ll claim legacies, inheritances from widowed uncles without children, even gaming wins.”

“That may be, sir, but I have to start somewhere.”

Schorzat nodded. “I’ll have a copy made and left in your letter box.” He paused. “By the way, I do like the portrait you did of Thelya. I hadn’t realized you’d been the one to paint it.”

For a moment, I wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but then realized that it was the portrait of his niece, Thelya D’Scheorzyl. “She was a very sweet girl.”

“She still is.”

“Do you have any idea when the conscription teams will begin their canvass of L’Excelsis, sir?”

“They started in the western quarter, out beyond Council Hill, on Lundi, but they don’t say where they’ll go next. It usually takes a good week for each area.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome.” As soon as he finished speaking, his eyes dropped to the stack of papers before him.

I slipped out of the study and eased the door closed behind me. Then I hurried toward the duty coach station, still carrying the bag with the brown cloak and plaid cap. Because two wagons had collided and created a welter of carriages around the intersection of the Avenue D’Artisans and Sudroad, it was slightly after seventh glass when I arrived at Third District station.

Alsoran was waiting outside the station. In the shade, his breath almost steamed. “I was wondering . . .”

“Two wagons collided on the avenue,” I explained. “We couldn’t get to the side roads for a bit.”

“Both teamsters blaming the other, I imagine.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, but I didn’t try to find out.” I matched my steps to Alsoran’s, and we headed toward Quierca.

Unlike Mardi, there were no taudis-toughs watching as we walked down Quierca past the section of the taudis that Youdh claimed as his. Why would they be watching one day and not the next?

I didn’t have all that much time to think about it, because the day was busy. The same thief as the one who had burgled the silversmith-or one using the same methods-had broken into a tavern just off the Avenue D’Artisans, and as soon as we finished talking to the owner, we had to subdue an older elver who’d mixed beer and weed and who’d decided that he wanted to pull shutters off a tinsmith’s shop.

After that, a teamster on a wagon carrying lamp oil broke an axle, and one of the barrels rolled off and smashed. With oil in the gutters, we had to make sure no one was smoking or had anything that would cause a fire until the fire brigade arrived with a sand wagon and a clean-up crew. We ate quickly at Florena’s, and with the gut-aches I had for the next three glasses from her special ragout, I decided I never wanted to eat there again.

On the second round of the afternoon, we happened on two youngsters having at each other with knives, but I flattened one with a shield and Alsoran disarmed the other before they had more than a minor cut or two. One of Deyalt’s enforcers showed up, and we let him escort them off. Neither one of us wanted to charge them. Someone might have to later, but it was worth the risk, given what I’d seen about Jadhyl and Deyalt. If they didn’t learn, they’d end up dead, or on a penal crew for life.

All in all, it was a long, long day, and I wasn’t looking forward to tailing Mardoyt yet another night, but Baluzt’s reaction on Mardi had convinced me that I was on the right track. So, after more than a half glass of writing out reports, I took a hack back down to East River Road and Fedre and donned my disguise on the way.

For better or worse, Mardoyt left headquarters later that evening and only took a hack as far as he had on Lundi. Once more, I rode on the rear luggage rack, but there was a trunk with a rounded lid fastened there, and I was more than glad when the hack finally stopped.

I eased up next to a post in order to allow my shields to blend me into the background because Mardoyt didn’t immediately cross the avenue, but stood there for several moments, glancing around. Once he crossed, he didn’t look back, not once, but he didn’t rush, either, just walked deliberately down two blocks or so and then up on Saelio toward his dwelling. I let him have more space, now that I knew where he was headed.

That turned out to be wise, because slouching against a gatepost, across Saelio, was a figure in a black cloak, and that figure looked to be a taudis-tough, although I couldn’t tell if he happened to be one of those who had been watching me on Mardi.

“Over there,” hissed someone.

I turned in the direction of the sound, to see another tough, one who looked to be wearing a purple jacket under yet another nondescript black cloak. The second tough was looking in my direction, but not at me. I took another step, and at the scuff of my boots on the sandy stone, his head turned more toward me.

Then something twisted at my shields, and I staggered for a moment. Another imager? After me? I strengthened my shields and tried to determine from where the attack had come, just as something exploded against my shields, rocking me back again.

Whoever the other imager was, he was powerful, but I could sense the lack of technique. I dropped behind a scraggly hedge, trying to see through the dimness. Could it have been the second tough?

Dust flared into a column, just on the other side of the hedge.

“Now!”

With that single command came a flurry of shots, all aimed at the dust column. Most missed, but several hit my shields, and one twisted me around, and I sprawled on the ground behind the hedge.

I decided not to move, and held my shields as I watched and waited. After a time, perhaps half a quint, I heard footsteps. Then I could see the first tough moving through the late twilight across the street and toward me. He held a pistol.

Given his intent, I didn’t wait any longer, but imaged air into his brain and heart vessels. He convulsed and pitched forward onto the walk. The pistol dropped onto the dirt beside the walk. I grabbed the weapon, aimed it at his head, and fired.

After that single shot, I heard boots on stone, running, followed by voices, and someone yelling.

I got to my feet, dropped the pistol by the dead tough, and eased around the hedge to the street. The second tough had vanished. So had Mardoyt, and his house was unlit.

Holding concealment shields, I walked back toward the avenue, thinking about what had just happened. Mardoyt had known he was being followed, and he’d gotten word to Youdh. That didn’t surprise me, but what did was that one of the toughs, seemingly one of those working for Youdh, was an imager of sorts, and had the ability to detect another imager.

That was anything but good, especially since Mardoyt had to know that I was looking into his activities.

I kept walking until I reached the avenue, where I turned westward, still watching around me and thinking. I’d been shot at, attacked by an unknown imager, and I still had no proof of anything at all-even though I knew Mardoyt was connected to Youdh and the unknown imager. I thought about reporting the imager to Master Dichartyn . . . and decided against it. First, I didn’t have the kind of proof he wanted. Second, I didn’t even know where to start as far as identifying the imager, and third, Master Dichartyn wasn’t even around, and I wasn’t about to report so little to anyone else. Besides, then I’d have to explain too much about what I was doing . . . because I didn’t have any real proof to back that up, either.