Imager's Intrigue: The Third Book of the Imager Portfolio (37 page)

“Yes, sirs. I’ll have to let Commander Daecyn know, sirs.” He tugged on something, most likely a bell-pull.

We only waited a few moments before a Commander strode across the foyer. He was slight of build, ramrod straight, and bore an indifferent expression—until he was close enough to recognize the imager grays. Then, he assumed an solicitous expression.

“This is rather unexpected…”

“This is Maitre Dyana, the head of the Collegium. We have urgent news for the Sea-Marshal,” I said politely.

“I could convey that…” His words died away as he took in the expression on Maitre Dyana’s face.

I didn’t even have to project anything.

“I’ll need to escort you to his study. If you would accompany me…”

“Of course,” said Dyana.

We followed the Commander through the archway at the rear of the foyer, then up a set of marble steps almost as wide as those in the Council Chateau, and then to the double doors at the rear of the building, doors flanked by the Solidaran flag on the right and the Naval ensign on the left. He opened the doors, holding them for us.

The senior ranker at the desk stood immediately. “Sir, Maitres.”

“I’d like to tell the Marshal that the Maitres are here,” offered the Commander.

“Yes, sir.”

The Commander eased through the single oak door, closing it behind him. He reappeared shortly, looking slightly relieved, and held the door open. “Maitre Dyana…Maitre Rhennthyl.”

“Thank you,” Dyana said as she passed.

I also thanked him, and the door closed behind us.

The study of Sea-Marshal Valeun was a good ten yards by six, dominated by an enormous desk, with five chairs facing it. The wall to the right was essentially a small cartographic library, with a center rack on which was displayed a large map of Ferrum. The left wall consisted of bookcases, in the middle of which was a door that doubtless led to an adjoining conference room.

Valeun stood behind the desk, a man of middling height in dark dress blues, with the silver braid and insignia of a very senior Marshal. His blond-and-silver hair was cut short, and he was clean-shaven. He made no effort to step forward. “Maitre Dyana, Maitre Rhennthyl…I understand you are insistent on seeing me.”

“It is rather necessary,” said Dyana.

“Since you are accompanied by Maitre Rhennthyl, I would like to wait until I can summon Marshal Geuffryt,” Valeun said pleasantly.

“No…you really don’t,” I said, projecting absolute authority and power. “Not if you wish matters to go in your best interests. If you really wish to include him, it might be far better to hear what we have to say…first.”

Valeun glanced to Maitre Dyana. Her smile was pleasant, but her eyes were as hard and as cold as frozen granite. The Sea-Marshal smiled politely, but hardly warmly. “Then perhaps we should be seated, and you can convey what you have in mind.” He followed his own advice and seated himself in the large leather chair behind the desk.

“We thought we should be the ones to inform you of several matters.” After seating herself, Dyana nodded to me.

“First,” I began, “it appears likely that any swift action on the part of the Council in dealing with fleet modernization and the building of faster and more capable warships has been dealt a severe setback.”

“How so? I was not aware that any action was even being considered, given the current mood of the Council.” Valeun’s tone was close to smug.

I smiled. I shouldn’t have enjoyed what was coming, but I’d never cared for the politely superior attitude of those in positions of power and command. “Ferran saboteurs destroyed a good portion of Councilor Glendyl’s engine works this past weekend. The turbine facilities were totally annihilated.”

“You did nothing, Maitre Rhennthyl?”

“Oh…when it became apparent that such an attack was likely, I attempted to bring the matter up with the Councilor. That did not work out well, because he was shot just as we began to talk…as you may recall. So I traveled to Ferravyl myself, and as soon as I appeared, the saboteurs set off the charges they had already placed. They had not completed their work, and the locomotive works escaped major damage, as did a few other structures. The remaining structures did have partial explosives in place.” I paused. “That brings up several rather pointed questions. First, exactly how did all these saboteurs happen to reach Solidar? Second, why was the Naval Command unaware of just how many there were? Third, how did they manage to come up with Naval Command explosives? Did I mention that the undetonated explosives bore Navy markings?”

At my last words, Valeun stiffened. “That’s preposterous.”

“Is it? I had a meeting with one of your more junior subordinates several weeks ago, and he confirmed that several tonnes of Poudre B could not be accounted for. But that also brings up yet another matter.”

“Which is?” This time Valeun’s voice held a certain wariness.

“The matter of the bombardment of Imagisle—”

“What does that have to do—”

“Oh…but it does,” I cut him off. “To begin with, the barges and the tug that were employed were leased under a Naval Command contract, by a Navy subcommander, who employed a former pilot known to be a Navy-approved pilot by the lessor. The funds to pay the lease were disbursed by one of two banques known to pay for such contracts. The subcommander knew all of the personnel who had conducted previous leases. Then there is the small matter of the accuracy of the bombards. The very first shell fired struck Maitre Dichartyn’s dwelling. Of the eight shells fired, every single one hit a target. Considering that the shells were fired from the River Aluse, in the dark, after midnight, it’s more than fair to conclude that the men who aimed and fired those bombards were professionals and that they knew the guns and had exact measurements for the distances from their mooring and firing point to every target. That degree of accuracy requires experienced Naval gunners.”

“You’re inventing this.”

“I didn’t invent the damage to Imagisle, or the stolen barges and tugs.” I smiled. “I did think you might find this difficult to believe.” I opened the folder I carried and took out several documents, then stood and laid them on the desk in front of Valeun, ready to image a shield over them if he were to be so foolish as to try to tamper with them.

He did not. He read through them, then straightened. “They have to be forgeries.”

“They may well be,” I said, reclaiming the documents. “But that raises another set of questions. All the authorization codes and numbers are correct. All the procedures were followed to the letter. The forms are standard, down to the ink. That means that, either someone high in the Naval Command was involved, or that your procedures are incredibly flawed.” I sat down and waited.

“You want something, don’t you? You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“Oh…we’re not done, Marshal. There’s another aspect to this. It’s the golds involved.”

His frown showed a certain questioning.

“The lease wasn’t paid on a promise. The lessor received five thousand golds before the tug and barges were released. We’ve spent considerable time checking with the banques involved. The funds came from your secondary banque…”

“The Banque D’Rivages? That’s preposterous. If five thousand golds vanished from the Naval accounts there, I’d have known it.”

“Exactly. I’m certain that you would. You didn’t. However…the funds were transferred from a numbered High Holder account. Shortly before this happened, a former heir to the previous holder of that account vanished from an imager collegium. Now…what makes this intriguing is that the only friend remaining to this heir was a certain Assistant Sea-Marshal. What makes that even more interesting is that that Sea-Marshal also revealed certain details of banking information to me, well before that fund transfer. Now…of course, the former heir is missing…and I have grave doubts he will ever be found. There’s little doubt that this Sea-Marshal also has little love for the Collegium.”

“That’s all speculation, the last part,” Valeun observed mildly, almost cheerfully.

“No. Not all of it. The fund transfers are not. The relationships are not. The missing and nearly totally blind heir is not. Nor is the written note I received from Marshal Geuffryt. Nor is the fact that disclosure of this information would destroy your career instantly. Now,” I said politely, “I am certain that you will find a way to deal with your subordinate in a fashion that does not embarrass the Naval Command nor require the Collegium to act. You do understand that your failure to deal with the matter will result in your being considered an accomplice in treachery after the fact, Marshal? By the Collegium, as well as by the Council, should we be forced to bring the matter up. Obviously, given the dismal Naval situation with regard to Ferrum, we would prefer not to bring it up; but to have you resolve it, quietly but permanently.”

“You are rather insistent, Maitre Rhennthyl.”

“I know. It’s one of my faults. I also have the habit of resolving matters on my own if others don’t. That’s one reason why Maitre Dyana felt that I should speak to you first. Now…let us leave that rather disgusting matter for the moment…and your discretion…and turn to the problem at hand. The problem of Ferrum.”

For just a moment, Valeun’s eyes widened, as if he had no idea why I’d changed the subject. That was fine with me.

“You are struggling to hold the blockade of Ferrum, even by transferring more and more ships from the waters off Otelyrn to the northern fleet. You’ve suffered more losses than have been made public.”

“We would not be in this situation if the Council had agreed to our requests…”

“That may be, but we need to win this war. Even if the Council had funded all thirty capital ships last year, and even if Glendyl’s works had not been destroyed, it would be two years or more before the first ones were ready. We need to look at a different approach.” I paused, then asked, “How many high-speed gunboats do you have in the northern fleet? How many more could you get there in the next few weeks?”

Valeun frowned. “Gunboats? They won’t stand up to even a Ferran frigate.”

“That’s not the point. We’re not interested in destroying the Ferran fleet. We’re interested in winning the war and teaching them a lesson.”

“How will you do that without a larger and faster fleet?”

“By using the one thing that the Ferrans do not have.” I went on to explain. “…But to give the gunboats the best chance of getting close to the ports, they’ll need a diversion…something like a massed fleet attack on their fleet or main naval base.”

“That would undo…” He smiled. “You mean for us to mass the fleet in a way that they’ll bring in everything they can?”

“Exactly…and then you can disperse.”

“It might work,” Valeun finally conceded. “If it doesn’t, then the fleet is no worse off. If it is successful, we will lose some of those gunboats and those aboard. You realize that, I trust.”

“I know, but we’ll lose more men, and your fleets will suffer much more than that, if the war drags on. And it will, because it will be years before you can get the more modern vessels.”

“Also,” said Dyana quietly, “using Rhenn’s plan will show the Council that you’re willing to try other strategies besides spending more and more golds on more and more ships.”

“It will take several weeks…”

“The fewer, the better,” I said. “We don’t want to give the Ferrans time enough to change their tactics to try to pick off your mid-sized warships one by one.”

Valeun’s eyes narrowed for a moment, but he offered a smile. “We wouldn’t want that. Not now.”

Maitre Dyana stood. She smiled politely. “It was so good of you to see us, Marshal Valeun. We do appreciate your desire to resolve troublesome matters, so that we can concentrate on the real problems facing Solidar, and I’m certain that you and Rhenn will be able to work everything out, without my assistance, from here on in. He’ll be in touch with you after you’ve thought about how to bring your gunboats into position. For me, dealing with the new Council and keeping them focused on the real concerns is likely to take some doing.”

I stood as well, inclining my head to Valeun.

“I’m sure you can manage that, Maitre,” he said after a moment.

Neither of us spoke until we were in Maitre Dyana’s coach and headed back to Imagisle.

“You realize what you’ve done, you know?” she said quietly.

“I do. It’s better than Geuffryt deserves.”

“That wasn’t what I meant.”

“You mean, about Valeun looking for every opportunity to do me in, either directly or politically or any other way? Yes, but I didn’t see any other option that would work and be timely. I assume that’s why you told him he’d have to work with me.”

“That…and to let him see, if he will, that crossing you would be unwise. If he can’t see that, then we’ll need a new Sea-Marshal.”

There wasn’t much I could say to that, and I needed to think about how to assemble the imagers I needed and what additional training we might be able to provide on a quick basis.

According to the old saying, “the Namer’s fingers knot the details.” As soon as I returned to my study after returning from the Naval Command, I started to become far more aware of how long and how clutching those fingers were…and how the details might well come back to bite one. Just to start implementing my plan, Schorzat, Kahlasa, and I would have to compile the list of all the junior imagers at Imagisle who had the necessary ability and strength to image flame at a distance. The Collegium had a listing of all junior imagers, with their birth date and where they were born. What it didn’t have was any sort of written or recorded assessment of the abilities of each of those imagers. Only the preceptor of each imager knew that, and not in all cases. With the exception of Shault, I certainly didn’t know any of the abilities of those imagers for whom I was preceptor, and not all of Shault’s capabilities. I’d been so occupied in other matters that I hadn’t had a chance to spend more than a portion of a glass with each one.

So I immediately sent off notes to all five of “my” imagers, telling them to meet me at the Collegium’s steamer pier at a quint past fourth glass that afternoon. After that, to deal with that part of the problem for the entire Collegium and not just the imagers for whom I was preceptor, and to try to obtain some sort of roughly equivalent standards for evaluation, I immediately drafted an “abilities form,” obtained Maitre Dyana’s corrections and approval, and had the duty primes begin to set up the letterpress to make enough copies of the form so that we could then provide a copy with each junior imager’s name on it to his or her preceptor with the notation that the completed form was to be returned to Maitre Dyana no later than noon on Vendrei.

I also had to draft letters for Maitre Dyana’s signature to the three heads of the regional collegia, requesting their cooperation and sending a copy of the form to them, although it was questionable whether we’d receive the information from them in time to be useful for the Naval operation against Ferrum.

While the primes were using the cumbersome letterpress to print off the forms, just before fourth glass on Lundi, I pulled on my heavy gray cloak and hurried through the chill air to the Collegium’s steamer pier near the northeast tip of Imagisle. It was cold enough that there were no mothers or children playing in the park north of the various family dwellings.

Shault was already standing on the pier, as were Eamyn and Ralyea, when I neared the foot of the southernmost stone pier of the three. I heard fast boot steps on the stone walk and turned to see Marteon running toward us.

I couldn’t help calling out, “You don’t have to run. There’s time.”

“Yes, sir,” puffed the muscular and round-faced tertius as he slowed to a walk less than five yards away.

“Just wait here,” I told the four, glancing south toward the quadrangle. In the weak late afternoon sun, I saw no sign of Haugyl, but the glass had just emptied four. I walked up the pier, crossed the short plank gangway, and stepped onto the river steamer, a boat of only fifteen yards in length with a single deck, and the steam engine and the paddlewheel in the rear.

Faeldyn, the obdurate pilot, stood outside the wheel-house, set forward of midships. He nodded as I approached. “Maitre…what will you be having them do today?”

“Some imaging exercises. I’d like you to take us just off the northern tip of Imagisle, as close to the point of the riverwall there as is safe, and hold there while I have them work on something.”

“Water’s a bit rough today. We shouldn’t get much closer than twenty yards.”

“Thirty or forty would be fine.”

The pilot and single crewman nodded.

“Let me get them on board.” I glanced back toward the pier. Still no sign of Haugyl, but I motioned for the four others to cross the narrow plank to the boat.

At that moment, I saw Haugyl sauntering along the walk, a good hundred yards south of the pier. Even when he saw the other four junior imagers begin to board, he made no move to hurry. I thought about calling out to him, then decided against it, since I had said a quint past the glass. We just waited for him. The moment Haugyl crossed the plank, I pulled it onboard and stowed it in the heavy iron brackets attached to the gunwale. Behind me, I heard a low exchange.

“…Watch it. Maitre Rhennthyl didn’t look too happy.”

“…Made it before the end of the quint, didn’t I?”

“You made the rest of us wait…”

“…No real hurry…”

I turned and looked at Haugyl. “No, there wasn’t a real hurry, but since everyone else was here, we could have started earlier, and finished earlier, and that would have saved five of us some time. Is your time so much more important than that of five others?”

Haugyl didn’t meet my eyes.

“Is it?”

“No, sir.”

“You might keep that in mind, especially if you ever hope to be more than a tertius.” I looked toward the pilot. “We’re all ready, Faeldyn.”

“If you’d not mind the line, sir?” asked Faeldyn.

“I can do that.” I jumped back to the pier, untied the line fastened around an iron cleat, then scrambled back aboard before Faeldyn backed the boat out into the river channel. I quickly coiled the line and headed back aft. As soon as we headed upstream away from the pier, the boat began to hit the uneven river waves, and small gouts of spray sleeted back from the bow. That was why I stood just forward of the pilot house.

We were still several hundred yards from the northern tip of Imagisle when Haugyl leaned over the railing and loosed the contents of his stomach. He was pale when he finally straightened up.

Eamyn tried to conceal an amused expression, while Marteon looked concerned. Ralyea, for all his apprehensive looks at me and at the small white-caps on the gray waters of the River Aluse, stood facing into the light but chill wind and seemed to be almost enjoying himself. Shault only watched, his eyes measuring the distances from the boat to the eastern shore and then to Imagisle.

When we passed the tip of Imagisle, Faeldyn swung the river steamer to port, angling north of the gray granite triangle that marked the northernmost point of the isle. The engine hissed and rumbled slightly as he slowed the paddlewheel, then reversed it to bring us to a stop.

I stepped toward the five. “You see the stone triangle there? When I call you by name, I want you to image something that will burn fiercely and set it on the very end of the stone closest to us, then set it afire.”

Eamyn frowned. “Sir…you want us to image fire?”

“Fire isn’t enough. You need something to sustain it. Like this.” I imaged a small pool of lamp oil onto the stone tip, followed by flame.

A burst of red and orange appeared, followed by black smoke, then slowly died away.

“Or this.” The second time, I did a lighter oil, then imaged a mist of black powder into the flame. That was more impressive. “Any more questions?”

There weren’t any.

I pointed to Eamyn. “You first.”

He squared his shoulders and looked southward. After a moment, an oval flame appeared and flickered out.

“You need something more to sustain it,” I commented. “If you’re going to image flame, there’s no point in doing it unless it can last long enough to catch something on fire. Try again.”

The second time he had a flame flaring out of a small pool of something, either oil or bitumen or alcohol.

“Much better.” I turned to Marteon. “Your turn.”

The round-faced imager came up with something that looked like a candle, and only showed a tiny point of flame.

“We need a bigger flame.”

Marteon’s next effort had a bigger flame feeding off what I suspected was a lump of oil and wax.

The other three also managed sufficient flame images, although Haugyl’s was a bit shaky.

When Ralyea finished, I called to Faeldyn. “Take us up short of the Nord Bridge, but where we can see the tip of the isle.”

“Yes, sir.”

The water got a bit rougher, and Haugyl turned from pale to slightly greenish, suggesting that he might not be suited to any sort of shipboard duty.

Once Faeldyn brought us to a stop some fifty yards south of the bridge, I repeated the whole process again, making sure that I could image a flame large enough to be seen.

“Shault, you go first.”

“Yes, sir.”

From a little more than a half mille away, four of the five could manage the flame. Haugyl could not.

Then I had Faeldyn take us to the other side of the bridge, positioned where we could see Imagisle through one of the arches. At a mille, only Shault, Eamyn, and Ralyea could manage the flame imaging. Ralyea’s face was covered in sweat, and he looked shaky. Shault and Eamyn might have been able to do more, but the river turned more northward, enough so that, given the Nord Bridge, I couldn’t have seen the riverwall anyway. So I had Faeldyn head downstream.

On the way back to Imagisle, I had each of them demonstrate their skills in every item on my form, from imaging a ball into an open space in the middle of a hoop to imaging air bubbles into the middle of a curved glass tube.

Shault was the only one to ask, although the others doubtless wondered, “Could you tell us what all this is for, sir?”

“It’s because the Collegium needs to know what all the seconds and thirds can do. A number of you may be required to take a trip and use your skills. If you’re selected, you’ll learn more about it in a few days, and you’ll get more training and learn more.”
More than you may want.
“That’s all I’m going to say right now.”

I didn’t have to say more, because Faeldyn was easing the boat up to the Collegium pier, and I took the mooring line and jumped to the pier and tied the boat fast. Faeldyn had the plank out, and Haugyl was the first off. His steps were shaky.

“Good day, sir,” offered Shault as he stepped onto the pier. He didn’t raise any more questions, but I knew the rumors would be flying across the quadrangle and the juniors’ quarters within moments after they were out of sight.

“Good evening, Shault.”

Once I thanked Faeldyn, I turned and walked southward and then through the gardens and past the hedge maze toward our house. I noted that the imager-builders had finished re-creating the exterior of the Maitre’s dwelling. Maitre Dyana’s previous house still remained a pile of gray stone and shattered roof tiles, as did what had been Maitre Dichartyn’s. I couldn’t help swallowing when I looked at that rubble.

Thankfully, after I reached our house, Seliora was preoccupied with both Diestrya and the loss of two commissions as a result of financial setbacks caused by the Ferran bombings in L’Excelsis, and she didn’t ask me any detailed questions on my day. I really wasn’t ready to explain, although I’d have to soon enough.