Treachery's Tools (31 page)

“I cannot believe that you have the temerity even to suggest a comparison between High Holders and mere factors, Maitre Alastar. I would have thought better of you.…”

“You must admit, Cransyr, that it poses an interesting puzzle, but it becomes more than interesting when one considers that several innocent young imagers have already been killed by these rifles that no one seems to want to admit even exist, let alone admit that they or their peers might actually possess and use.”

“It is outrageous that you—”

“Please dispense with the protestations and the outrage. The rifles exist. Those who are shooting and killing young imagers exist. Were young High Holders being killed, I am more than certain your outrage would far exceed what I have expressed.”

“Very well.” Cransyr smiled. “There's a myth that imagers cannot be easily killed. Yet from what you tell me, three have been killed in the past few days. Why … at that rate, there wouldn't be any left in a year. Fancy that.”

And if you don't stop this and they decide on mass fire, things will really worsen.
“Please don't tell me that you have no knowledge of who might be creating a private army.”

“I wouldn't do that, Maitre. Any High Holder might be doing that, especially if Rex Lorien continues his attempt to restrict or eliminate the traditional powers of High Holders.”

“Lorien hasn't restricted any powers. He hasn't changed the Codex Legis with regard to the High Holders. He's merely enforced the limits set forth in the Codex Legis.”

“Those limits restricted the traditional powers.”

“They may have, but that wasn't Lorien's doing, and you're being disingenuous in making that claim.”

“If Lorien insists that High Holders are subject to every common justicer in Solidar, that will be an unacceptable restriction.”

“At present, that is a matter between the High Council and the Rex,” Alastar pointed out, “and if any High Holder is found to be attacking imagers on those grounds—”

“Spare me the threats, veiled or otherwise, Alastar. If you had any solid proof, you wouldn't be sparing with me.”

Alastar shrugged, managing not to wince. “That's your problem, not mine.”

“That's as much as admitting you have no proof.”

“I don't believe I said or intimated that.”

“Acting without proof will anger many. You really don't want to anger all the High Holders.”

“I wouldn't think of angering any of them.”
Possibly removing a few of them.

“I find that hard to believe, given your past actions.”

“You shouldn't.” Alastar stood. “I appreciate the time you've spent with me.”

A hint of a frown flickered across Cransyr's forehead as he rose. “You came to make unfounded assertions and ridiculous claims?”

“No. I came to discover what I needed to know.”

“Just what might that be?”

“As I said … what I needed to know.”

“Maitre Alastar … if you act precipitously without proof … you will regret it.”

“High Councilor … I fully understand that. You of all High Holders should know that the Collegium does not act without solid reasons.”
Or proof, even if action is required to find that proof.
Alastar smiled politely before nodding, and then turned and headed for the study door. He could feel Cransyr's eyes on his back as he departed.

In another three quints, more or less, Alastar was back at the Collegium, walking into Thelia's small study.

She looked up from the ledger before her and started to stand. “Maitre…”

Alastar motioned for her to sit back down, then took the chair across the desk from her. It did feel good to sit down. “What have you found out, if anything?”

“The factor doesn't want anyone to know much about his activities. The entries are almost a cipher in themselves.” She paused for a moment before adding, “It does appear that he was struggling until about three months ago, assuming the ledgers are accurate.”

“What happened then?”

“There was an entry for a thousand golds, which appears to have been a deposit on future goods. That's if I've interpreted it correctly.”

“Would you show me that entry?”

Thelia paged back in the ledger, frowning as she did so, before finally stopping, and then running her finger down the columns. “Here…”

Alastar read the line:

The “Xs” were so heavy that they, clearly by intent, blotted out the letters that had originally been placed there.

“‘Ag' with the slash following it usually means the funds were received by or the goods delivered to an agent or intermediary for a third party,” added Thelia.

“Why would the second entry be blotted out if Vaschet never intended anyone else to see the ledgers?”

Thelia smiled and leafed to the next page, pointing out another entry:

“He had to show the ledgers to Estafen at the Banque D'Excelsis?”

“That's what I'd suppose, Maitre, but it's only a guess.”

Alastar paged forward to the entries he'd noted earlier. “What do you make of these?”

“The numbers have to be how many units were sold, but there's no way of telling exactly what ‘R-2' happens to be, except that it must be made of precious silver or even gold, because at two and a half golds apiece…” Thelia looked to Alastar. “Or it could be spices, but you said these were ledgers from Vaschet, and he's an iron factor.”

“Can you think of anything made of iron that is that costly for each item and sold in that great a quantity?”

“No, sir.”

“What about heavy rifles?” suggested Alastar. “He does have a new factorage that produces them.”

“That is possible.” Thelia paused. “But he must have been doing this longer than just this summer. He couldn't have built the factorage in a month and then made that many rifles.”

“Not in that short a time,” Alastar agreed.

“There might be more indications farther back.” Thelia looked sheepish. “I had to deal with some problems with kitchen provisions so I've only been able to study this for less than a glass.”

“See what you can find and let me know in the morning.”

“Yes, sir.”

Alastar stood and stretched. His entire body was sore and aching. While he'd had more and more times in the last year or so when his back was sore, and he wasn't happy about that in the slightest, all the aching and the muscle pain had to have come from the impact of all those bullets on his shields at the same time.
And that's more than a little worrisome.

He nodded to Thelia, and headed back toward his study, wondering if he'd ever find out the whole story about the rifles … or anything else.

 

17

Alastar awoke early on Mardi, or at least early enough that he was one of the first to arrive for the run around Imagisle. He was also rested enough that he did manage to be among the first of the men to finish, if further behind the leader than usual, unsurprisingly, given the bruises that had shown up on his body. Alyna finished a good hundred yards in front of everyone else, as she usually did, and even farther in front of him than normal.

But then you weren't at your best this morning … and she is fifteen years younger and built like a natural runner.
That thought wasn't terribly comforting, because it reminded him that he was no longer a young man, as had Alyna … and yesterday's events.
Or not so young as you think you are.
He was also well aware that he hadn't been that far in front of either Lystara or Malyna, and that it likely wouldn't be all that long before Malyna would be running as fast as Alyna.

He was still half-pondering that after breakfast and as he and Alyna walked toward the administration building, when she asked, “How sore are you?”

“More aching than sore.”

“I still can't believe—”

“I'll try to be more careful. As I said before, seeing a factor with what amounted to a fortified factorage and a small private army wasn't exactly expected.”

“There's likely to be more of that,” she pointed out. “Just what will you do if you find the High Holder behind the shootings?”

While the question might have appeared simple, it wasn't, Alastar knew. “Capture him, if possible, and force him to stand trial before a justicer.”
And make sure that he's convicted of murder and treason.

“Do you think any justice would convict him … and if one did, would any High Holder think that the conviction and execution was anything but forced by the Collegium?”

“Some might, but most would think exactly the way you've voiced it.” He paused. “In a way, it wouldn't matter, so long as the precedent is set and enforced. People, even High Holders, tend to forget the circumstances of the past and remember the results.”

“We may be very busy seeing that such precedents are continued,” she replied dryly.

“Do you have a better approach?”

“No,” Alyna replied with a short sardonic laugh, “although wiping out any High Holder who is part of this rebellion would be my second thought.”

“Perhaps a combination … but we have to find out who's behind it.”

“You know Cransyr is. Finding out the others and proving any of it will be harder.”

“We both know that.” Alastar looked ahead to where Malyna and Lystara were entering the administration building. “They look happy this morning.”

“They weren't so happy last night when we drilled them on shields.”

“No … but they were so tired that they slept soundly.” More soundly than Alastar had, that was certain, since no part of his body had felt without sore spots or bruises.

With shared smiles, the two parted once inside the administration building.

Both Maercyl and Dareyn were waiting in the anteroom when Alastar entered.

“I'll need a few words with Akoryt and Cyran in about half a quint, after I talk to Maitre Thelia. If you two could arrange for that … and for a mount and one escort. I'll be going to the Chateau D'Rex after I finish with Akoryt and Cyran. Oh … any messages?”

“No, sir.”

Reflecting that it would have been too much to expect any response from Lorien, Alastar made his way to Thelia's small study. When he entered it, he could immediately see that she must have come in early, because the ledgers were spread across her desk, and she had a sheet of paper on which she had written what looked like a list.

“Have you been able to wrest any more information out of those ledgers, anything that might be useful to the Collegium, anyway?”

“A few, Maitre. Possibly more. There's no sign that he contracted to deliver rifles—if that's what the ‘R-2' refers to—before the first sale of fifty rifles in mid-Juyn. There was a payment there of a hundred golds as well. The buyer was just listed as ‘R/ag/A/W.' After that, there was the sale and delivery you pointed out. That was in late Juyn. He also received a shipment of walnut wood in late Mayas.”

“How do you know it was walnut?” asked Alastar.

“There are some things where everyone uses the same abbreviations.”

About when Elthyrd said he'd sold some to Vaschet.
“That makes it even more likely that ‘R-2' means heavy rifles.”

“I thought it might, sir.”

“Is there anything else?”

“Vaschet started buying soap from my mother.”

“Soap? Why would an iron factor buy soap?”

“It's often mixed with water to cool and lubricate turning benches drilling into metal.”

“Rifle barrels?”

“It could be … or any kind of drilling into iron or steel.”

“That doesn't give us another factor who might know more,” Alastar pointed out.

“Have you considered who manufactures cartridges, and who is buying them?”

Alastar wanted to shake his head. “No. That's an excellent idea … except I don't even know who has a brassworks.”

“There are two in L'Excelsis that I know of. Cuipryn is the most likely. He has the best rolling mills … or so I've heard.”

“Do you know where his brassworks is located?”

“It's on the west bank of the Aluse about three milles south of the Sud Bridge. There's a stream that enters the river there, and his works are on the north side.”

“Might I ask … or does your mother sell tallow and oils…?”

“She does. I had to know where many factorages and works are located.”

“Thank you.”

“You're most welcome, Maitre.”

As Alastar left her study, he was thinking that Cuipryn's brassworks was yet another place to visit … or perhaps he could send Cyran. Whoever went needed to be a maitre with strong shields.
And you definitely haven't fully recovered your shields.

Cyran and Akoryt were waiting in his study. Alastar didn't bother to sit down, although he closed the study door before he began to speak.

“The ledgers confirm, for all practical purposes, that Vaschet is manufacturing and selling large quantities of rifles. His entries are partly in cipher, and that means that those entries don't provide any proof of who is buying the rifles.” He turned to Cyran. “I'd like you to ride south to Factor Cuipryn's brassworks—Thelia can tell you where it is if you don't know—and see if you can find out if he is manufacturing brass cartridges for those rifles and who is buying them.”