Treachery's Tools (58 page)

At that moment, Alyna appeared. “You'd hoped to be home earlier.”

“I did.”

She handed him an oilskin jacket. “This might take up less space than your full-length one.”

“I hate the idea of taking an oilskin, even the shorter jacket,” declared Alastar. “It's still heavy and takes up space, and everything in that saddlebag will smell of fish oil.”

“Dear … after two days everything will smell, and we've not had a week in the last two seasons when it didn't rain at least once, and sometimes almost every day.”

“If I take it, it won't rain.”

“That alone is reason enough…”

Alastar folded the jacket and put it in one of the saddlebags. “I do have two water bottles for lager.”

“Good. What about spare boots?”

Alastar gestured toward the boots and smallclothes on the side table.

Even with Alyna's help and suggestions, or perhaps because of them, Alastar didn't finish packing his gear until two quints past sixth glass, and it was a quint before seventh glass before Jienna announced that dinner was ready.

Once everyone was settled around the table and Alastar had filled his beaker and Alyna's, and given each of the girls half a beaker of the dark lager, he took a sip and cleared his throat. “Tomorrow morning, as you know, I'll be leaving with most of the senior imagers, except for your mother and aunt, and Maitres Shaelyt, Gaellen, and Obsolym. We'll be traveling with the army battalions in order to stop and defeat the High Holder rebels. They left Nordeau on Mardi afternoon.” He served Alyna two of the gravied pork cutlets, then took two himself before passing the platter to Malyna.

“Why is Maitre Shaelyt staying here?” asked Lystara. “Is he hurt?”

“No, he's not,” replied Alyna, “but Tiranya has stronger shields, and they have a child. That's another reason why I'm staying here. We need to keep some senior maitres here in case some of the rebels decide to attack Imagisle.” She broke off a chunk of bread and handed the basket to Alastar.

“You're a stronger imager than Maitre Cyran, aren't you?” asked Lystara.

“I don't know that's ever been determined,” replied Alyna.

“Your mother will be better at dealing with the factors, the High Holders, and Rex Lorien,” declared Malyna.

Alastar managed not to choke on his lager. “That might be true, but it's not something that either of you should
ever
mention to anyone except the four of us. Is that clear?” His voice was chill as he spoke.

“Yes, sir,” chorused both girls.

“But it is true, Uncle Alastar, and she is a stronger imager,” Malyna added.

Alastar wasn't quite certain how to respond to that, but he couldn't not deal with it. “She is. Almost everyone knows it, but declaring how good an imager anyone is doesn't happen to be the wisest thing to say in public, at least most of the time.”
Particularly if the imager is a woman.

“That's only true if the imager is a woman,” Malyna replied.

“It's true for all imagers. It's even more true for a strong woman imager.”

“How can something be more true, Father?” asked Lystara. “Aren't things either true or not true?”

Alastar could see Alyna trying not to smile. “You're absolutely right, Lystara. What I should have said is that most men don't like to admit that a woman is better or especially that she is stronger in something in which men think men should be the strongest.”

“Men are vain about being strong,” murmured Malyna.

“Most men are,” agreed Alastar, “just as most women are vain about the way they look.”
And just as most women worry about losing their looks, most men worry about losing their strength … or their power, if they don't have great physical strength.
He wasn't about to say that aloud, outnumbered as he was at his own table … and not with the ramifications of his words that Alyna might think about.

He cut another bite of the cutlet and followed it with a mouthful of fried apples, and then dipped his bread in the apple drippings. He was going to miss Jienna's cooking.

“I'm glad you mentioned the vanity of men, dear,” said Alyna dryly.

“I admit it. Men are vain. Most of their vanities differ from those of women, although I've known some men so vain about their clothes and appearance…” He shrugged, thinking that completing that thought was definitely unwise.

“So vain that no woman could compare?” asked Alyna, a glint in her eye.

“I said nothing of the sort.” Alastar took refuge in another swallow of lager.

“I would hope not,” she replied. “I do find it interesting that the birds where the males have the most gorgeous plumage are those who do the least in rearing their young and also that the most effective birds of prey are those where the males and females differ the least.”

“By that reasoning Quaeryt was very wise in insisting that imager grays be essentially the same for men and women. I have no doubt that Vaelora made her thoughts known there.”

“I doubt she had to.”

Alastar laughed. “In turn, I have no doubt of that, coming as you do from her lineage.”

“You're a wise man, dear.” Alyna grinned.

So did Malyna.

“Is there dessert?” asked Alastar.

“Tonight? Of course. Jienna's apple cobbler.”

Alastar was definitely going to miss Jienna's cooking.

Much later, after the girls had retired to their rooms, where they were hopefully sleeping, Alastar and Alyna sat in their sitting room, sipping the last of the lager in the beakers they had brought upstairs.

“… still wonder what part, if any, Bettaur plays in all this,” mused Alastar. “I'd have no doubts whatsoever if it weren't for Linzya. You've never been fond of him. Nor have I been, but … something…” He shook his head. “Am I getting that old, that I'm not seeing what's before me?”

“No. You see what's before you, and it doesn't fit. I have the same problem. I don't trust Bettaur. I never have. I likely never will. But Linzya has always been perceptive, and every detail suggests that, for whatever reason, he loves her, and that, because of her, he wants to prove we were wrong about him.”

“It still doesn't make sense.”

“Some things don't, dearest. Ever.” She took the last sip from her beaker. “It's getting late.”

“I know.”

“I've said it before, but I have to say it again. Please be careful. You're…” She shook her head.

“I'm what? Getting older? Not as strong as I used to be?”

“Not yet … but you've even said that you don't recover as quickly anymore.”

Alastar wasn't sure he'd ever said that, although he'd felt that way over the past few weeks. And Alyna's “not yet” was an indirect way of suggesting that he probably wasn't as strong as he had been ten years earlier. “Then it's a good thing that I've got a bunch of younger maitres who are stronger than they were ten years ago … and recover more quickly.”

“It's a very good thing, and it's time they learned just what it costs to protect the Collegium. Actually, it's past time. I think your choice of who is accompanying you and the troopers was very wise.”

“Even if I didn't include you?” he asked lightly.

“Your choices are wise. I can't argue with them, much as I'd like to. But…” Alyna paused letting the silence draw out to punctuate the words that followed. “If you do something foolhardy, that will mean I'll have to prop up whatever male succeeds you as Maitre. That will weaken the Collegium so much it may not recover. That's even truer because of the decline of the imagers at Westisle.”

“Which is no one's fault but mine.”

“That can be remedied … if you survive the battle or battles to come.” She stood, walked to his chair, and took his hand. “It is late, and you do have to get up early…”

Alastar understood what she wasn't saying. He stood, then took her other hand, and imaged out the oil lamps.

 

35

Alastar had to struggle out of bed on Vendrei morning, even though it was less than a glass earlier than he usually rose. But then, he and Alyna usually didn't stay up so late as they had the night before.
Or is it because you're getting older?

After he and Alyna had a quick breakfast, and Jienna had filled the water bottles with the best lager he'd likely have for who knew how long, Alastar swung the saddlebags over his shoulder and looked to Alyna. “Time to go.”

“I'll walk with you. You didn't think I'd let you out of my sight any sooner than necessary, did you?”

He smiled. “I'd hoped you wouldn't.”

As the two walked through the gray light of early morning toward the stables, Alastar couldn't help thinking how differently the rebellion had developed from the time of madness that had marked the end of Rex Ryen's rule … and how many more High Holders were now involved.

Back then it was only about tariffs.
He almost shook his head. The “simple” issue of tariffs had resulted in the death of the marshal of the army, the rex, and the head of the High Council, not to mention an attempted officer mutiny within the army, and the deaths of more than a regiment of troopers. Now … the struggle over golds, privilege, and power had combined into an armed High Holder rebellion.

“You're awfully quiet,” observed Alyna.

“Just thinking about how small the troubles of when I became maitre were compared to what we face now. I certainly didn't see them that way then.”

“The stakes are higher now. High Holders were secure in their position then. Now many are not, and all of them worry. They worry more because they see the Collegium as powerful and as a potential enemy.”

“Then there are factors like Vaschet,” mused Alastar.

“The factors and the High Holders share a similar belief. They both believe that power should be determined by who has the most golds, property, and other physical resources. Most of them resent any other source of power and would destroy it if they could.”

“Or they believe that golds should be able to purchase it. But since the rex controls the army”—
or some of it
—“and the Collegium controls imaging, and the Collegium places the freedom and safety of imagers above golds, even though we both know it's not that simple…”

“… only the Collegium has the power to keep them both from ruining Solidar in their single-minded pursuit of lands and golds,” concluded Alyna. “Is that what you're suggesting?”

“Something along those lines. But that's not all. The Collegium has taken impoverished children who have very limited imaging abilities and given them the skills to do other things. So far I don't see most High Holders or factors doing that unless they see it bringing them more golds than such training costs.” He snorted. “They always plead an inability to do that when times are hard, and then claim they can't do it when times are good because they have to save for when times are hard. That means that doing things for everyone's good can only be done by the rex and the Collegium.”

“That means higher tariffs and dissatisfaction,” pointed out Alyna. “That's not exactly the most cheerful thought to set out on.”

“No … but it might be more useful in not letting me get too sympathetic toward anyone.” Alastar's words were sardonically spoken.

“Stay sympathetic to me and the girls … and all the imagers who need your leadership … and remember what I said about Cyran.” She paused. “I definitely mean that.”

Still recalling the vehemence with which she had spoken, Alastar said, “I'll remember. There's no way I could forget.”

“Good.”

As they neared the stables, Alyna reached out and squeezed Alastar's hand. “Just take care of yourself.”

“I'll do my best.”

“No. Just do what I said.”

“I will.” He wasn't about to argue with the iron in her voice.

Just at the edge of the stable yard, Alastar halted, turned, and put his free arm around Alyna. Her arms went around him for a long moment before they separated, and he crossed the yard to where Kaylet had the gray saddled and ready for Alastar.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Maitre.”

Alastar surveyed the yard, finally locating the two supply wagons, nodding as he noted the two spare mounts on short lines from the second wagon. After that, he fastened the saddlebags in place behind his saddle and glanced around the yard, looking for Cyran, before realizing that next to Alyna stood Shaelyt, holding the hand of his and Tiranya's son. The boy looked toward his mother, who had just fastened a kit bag behind her saddle and was leading her mount toward Alastar.

From the other side of the yard came Cyran, followed by Akoryt, and suddenly, or so it seemed, the stable yard was filled with imagers and their mounts. Alastar had already assigned the imagers to two groups, one headed by Akoryt, with the other two senior maitres being Arion and Khaelis, and the junior maitres being Dylert, Seliora, and Taurek. The second group was Cyran's, and the senior maitres were Taryn and Tiranya, with Belsior, Chervyt, and Julyan as the juniors.

“Imagers!” ordered Alastar, using imaging to boost his voice. “Form up on your group leader.” Then he walked his mount over to meet Cyran. “Good morning.”

“It's not bad for being early,” replied Cyran.

“Not too bad. Now … when we join up with the army, I'll ride near the van with the first group of imagers, and you'll ride with the second group between the first and second battalion. Later, depending on what Wilkorn's scouts report, you and the second group may be needed with the rearguard. Once we take up whatever position Wilkorn determines is to our advantage, we'll evaluate that and decide where we can be most effective.”