Imager's challenge

51

Dinner with Seliora’s family on Samedi was good, but what happened before, and especially afterward, was better. But all that did bring up another point-I needed to be more careful with my coins because, if I survived the weeks ahead, I’d need to arrange for a wedding ring for Seliora. I almost regretted my promise to Horazt, because that would take close to half of my meager savings-yet how else could I have persuaded him that I was serious? As a Maitre D’Aspect, I did make a gold a week, but I’d been putting away only three or four silvers a week, if that, since I’d been with the Civic Patrol.

I did manage to get some untroubled sleep, until shortly before dawn when I had a nightmare where my parents and Remaya were all looking at me as if I’d killed Rousel. I didn’t sleep after that because, in a way, I had, although I’d had no idea at the time that my actions would have led to that. So I got up and washed and shaved and dressed and headed over to the dining hall.

Maitre Dyana was alone at the masters’ table, and I joined her.

“I heard from Master Dichartyn about your brother. I am sorry to hear of it.”

“Thank you.” I poured my tea and helped myself to the ham strips and rubbery eggs.

“Do you think it was Ryel’s doing?”

“I have absolutely no proof of High Holder Ryel being involved.”

“No proof. That’s often the case with High Holders. There is little proof on either side, not even after the matter is resolved.”

“I’ve come to realize that, maitre.”

“I also heard that you’re the one responsible for capturing the Tiempran priests who exploded their Temple in the South Middle taudis. Maitre Rholyn felt that the capture and hearing . . . might complicate matters before the Council.”

“He mentioned that yesterday.” I paused and took a sip of tea. “I can understand his concerns, and his points are logically made.”

“He is always logical,” agreed Dyana.

“There are times when I feel logic misses the point.”

“Such as?” She raised her eyebrows.

“Well . . . if one values not having to fight a war or a conflict with the Tiemprans to the point of allowing part of one of our cities to be razed or to permitting the conscription teams to vent their anger on our own people, that implies that at least some of our own people have less value than the merchants and sailors who might suffer from conflict. If the people come to believe that, then that will create more unrest and less support for the Council.”

Maitre Dyana laughed. “You have made a very logical counterpoint, but you haven’t said why or where Master Rholyn’s logic misses the point. Are you sure you aren’t just saying that Master Rholyn offers logical-sounding arguments that aren’t really that logical when analyzed?”

I shrugged. “That could be. I still feel that you can’t reduce every situation to logic.”

“Of course you can’t. People aren’t logical. They just use logic as needed to justify what they already believe. In governing, you have to appeal to their beliefs . . . or minimize the impact of those beliefs when what you are or what you’re doing stands against those beliefs.”

“That’s why you and Master Dichartyn emphasize that the Collegium must be as invisible as possible.”

She nodded. “People in every society in every time in every land want to believe that small groups of powerful people rule them secretly, even that such groups play people as though they were plaques in some arcane and complex game. While such games are played, they usually involve a very few people at high levels, most all of whom know the rules of such games. The majority of the populace thinks such games are widespread because they cannot accept that bad things usually happen because of greed and stupidity, usually involving many people, if not the entire population of a land. So . . . if the Collegium is seen as powerful and influential, according to people’s beliefs, we must be evil and out to rule them, or play them as if they were plaques.”

Unhappily, I could see that.

After breakfast, I walked northward along the west side of the quadrangle through the intermittent fog that rose off the river and drifted in patches through the Collegium. I’d decided to try to finish what I had to do on Maitre Rholyn’s portrait. That was something I could get done before I had to leave for my parents’ house. Seliora and I had talked it over the night before after dinner and decided that it would be better if she did not join me while I waited with Khethila for my parents and Remaya and Rheityr. I had promised either to stop by or drop Seliora a note to let her know what day and time Khethila had arranged for the memorial service at the Anomen D’Este.

Once I was in my studio I set to work and kept at it for close to six glasses, with perhaps half a glass off for a quick lunch. Then I cleaned up the studio, and myself, and set out across the Bridge of Hopes. The fog had lifted, except for patches drifting across the river, but a thin overcast kept the day from being comfortable, and I was glad to be wearing my heavy gray wool imager’s cloak.

The hack dropped me in front of the house at about two quints before three, and Khethila opened the door. She gave me a sad smile and then an embrace. I held her for a moment, then followed her into the family parlor, and we sat down. The hearth stove warmed the parlor, for which I was grateful after the chill ride in the hack.

“Charlsyn left just after two. That should be enough time, shouldn’t it?” she asked.

“On a Solayi, I would think so. How are you feeling?”

“Running the factorage helps. I know I have to keep things going.” She laughed nervously. “Everything is in perfect order, even the sample racks, and I went through all the past invoices and found several that hadn’t been paid in full. So I sent out reminders. Some won’t ever be paid, but some might.”

“How are the finances here?”

“The fire damage didn’t help, but it will still be a good year for the factorage here. Father is supposed to bring back the ledgers from Kherseilles.” She shook her head. “I hope the losses there aren’t too bad.”

So did I.

“When is the service?” I finally asked.

“Oh . . . I should have told you. It’s on Jeudi, the second glass of the afternoon.” She went on to provide the details, including the fact that I would offer the family remembrance.

By a quint before fourth glass, every few moments Khethila would glance out the window that overlooked the drive leading to the side portico.

“The train could have been late, and we don’t know how much luggage Remaya may have brought for her and Rheityr.” I paused. “Will she be staying here?”

“I don’t know. Mother will want her to, but . . . her parents may have their ideas.”

At just after a quint past four the familiar brass-trimmed brown coach pulled up under the portico. Khethila hurried out, and I followed.

Father was the first out of the coach, then Culthyn and Mother. Remaya handed Rheityr, bundled and squirming, to Mother before stepping down herself. All of them looked tired.

I gave Mother a hug. She needed it.

“I’m glad you’re here, dear.”

“Good to be home,” Father said, to no one in particular.

“I’m hungry,” said Culthyn.

“Dinner will be ready at fifth glass. You can wait,” replied Khethila.

Remaya held Rheityr tightly, then looked at me. “Thank you for coming. Rousel . . .” Her voice trembled. “He said you would always be here.”

“How could I not?” I replied gently. “He was my brother, and I did introduce you.” I offered a smile, trying somehow to inject some warmth into the chill that seemed to permeate everything. That was hard, because my acts had led to Rousel’s death, and yet, how could I have known? I smiled at the squirming Rheityr. “He’s beautiful. I’d heard he was.”

“I need to change him,” Remaya said.

“The guest chambers are all ready for you,” Mother said.

Remaya hurried off, close to tears, I feared.

“It’s cool out here,” Mother said. “There’s no reason to stand here in the wind.”

Culthyn had already vanished, doubtless into the kitchen, but the rest of us followed Mother into the family parlor, where she stood before the stove in the hearth.

“The train was cold the entire way from Mantes,” she said.

“And entirely too hot from Kherseilles to Mantes,” Father rumbled.

“Cook says I can’t have anything,” Culthyn interjected, walking dejectedly from the kitchen.

“That’s right,” Khethila said. “We’ll all eat together, and it won’t be all that long from now.”

“I’m hungry now.”

I turned to Culthyn. “Not another word. Sit down and be quiet.” I wanted to slap him silly. Mother was still shivering. Remaya was probably crying again. Khethila had been trying to hold everything in L’Excelsis together, and all Culthyn could think about was filling his stomach.

As I looked at Culthyn, he turned pale. “Yes, sir.” He did sit down on the settee next to Khethila.

Father actually stepped up behind Mother and enfolded her with his arms, one of the few times I’d seen him be that demonstrative even just before family.

“How are matters with you, Rhenn?” he finally asked.

“Compared to what’s happened here . . . I can’t complain. The Tiempran priests blew up their Temple in the South Middle taudis and killed close to two hundred marines and taudis-dwellers. There were a lot of other injuries.”

“You were there?” asked Khethila. “I read about that. What did you do?”

“What I had to. It comes with the assignment.”

She gave me the oddest look, but didn’t say more.

“Can’t trust those Tiemprans,” Father said. “Not any of those southerners, really, Caenenans aren’t any better, maybe worse.”

“I’m just about finished with another portrait. This is the one of the Collegium’s councilor . . .” I explained a bit.

Then Father told us about the train trip to Kherseilles and the one back, but said nothing about Rousel, and that I understood.

In another quint, Remaya rejoined us with a quieter Rheityr. “I fed him, and that helped.” Her eyes were slightly bloodshot, and while she’d removed any other physical traces, I had no doubt she’d shed more tears. How could she not, being in the home where her husband had grown up?

Just before five, Khethila slipped out to the kitchen, then returned to announce, “Dinner is ready.” She glanced to Culthyn. “Even for you.”

Culthyn looked to me before getting up, and he didn’t bound toward the dining chamber in his usual fashion. I didn’t care about that. As the youngest, he’d gotten away with far too much for too long.

Dinner was subdued, and no one talked much about anything except the food, the weather, and the dismal state of the world, but only in general terms where the world was concerned. I wasn’t surprised that no one said much about Rousel. For all his faults, he’d been cheerful and lively, and even alluding to him would have been too painful.

I finally left the house sometime after seventh glass, and I had to walk all the way to the Plaza D’Este to find a hack. I hadn’t been about to ask Charlsyn to stay on what was usually his day off. As I rode toward NordEste Design, I realized that I’d missed services at Imagisle, and I hoped that Seliora would be back from services, but then, hers were at sixth glass, not seventh as was the case at Imagisle.

When I finally walked up to the door and dropped the brass knocker, only a few moments passed before Seliora herself opened the door, dressed in a muted dark blue shirt and jacket, with a silver necklace and earrings.

“I hoped you’d come.”

“I hoped you’d be here.” I stepped inside and let her close and bolt the door. Then I put my arms around her. “I can’t stay too long.”

“I know.”

We walked up the staircase to the main hall and then over to the settee midway back and near the west wall, where we sat down.

“It was hard, wasn’t it?” she asked.

I nodded. “Rousel’s dead, and I caused it, but it’s not really my fault, and yet it is, and I don’t dare say anything. What good would that do?”

“It wouldn’t. Your parents and Remaya don’t need to bear hate for you because of Ryel’s actions.”

“Still . . . it’s hard. I’m glad you’re here.”

“I want to be here for you.”

For that I was grateful, and I reached out and embraced her again. After a time I said, “The memorial service is at the second glass of the afternoon on Jeudi at the Anomen D’Este. You know where that is-just off the Plaza D’Este?”

“We go to the Nordroad Anomen, but I’ve seen it. I’ll be there. Odelia might come with me.”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” She leaned toward me and brushed my cheek with her lips, then leaned back. “Rhenn? How do you feel? Tell me.”

I turned to her. “I feel guilty, even though I had no way of knowing that half blinding Johanyr would lead to Rousel’s death, and I didn’t even mean to hurt Johanyr that much. I’m angry, because Ryel’s arrogance and pride have created so much turmoil and death, and because I’ve had to do things I’d rather not do to protect my family and stay alive. I’ve dragged your family into it, and they’ve supported me because you love me. I’m angry at that, too, because there doesn’t seem any other way to resolve things. I’m angry at the Collegium because their frigging rules mean that no one will stand up directly to the High Holders and because it means I have to fight something all alone except for you and your family, and that’s one family against everyone. That’s the way it feels, anyway.”

“And when you win, what then? Will you be able to put the anger aside?”

When I won?

“You will win.” Seliora took my hands. “You must destroy those who would kill your family . . . and us . . . but no more.”

Were her words based on Pharsi farsight . . . or faith? Or both? Whatever they were based on, there was no doubt of her absolute conviction, and that was more chilling than my own doubts about whether I’d be able to prevail.

For a time we clung to each other, although I was the one clinging, really. Then it was time for me to return to Imagisle.

When I returned to the Collegium, I found my steps lagging as I approached my quarters. Was it because I wasn’t looking forward to anything in the week ahead? The corridor outside my quarters was empty, and so were they, but I could not shake a feeling of apprehension and dread as I laid out my garments for Lundi before preparing for bed.