Imager's Intrigue: The Third Book of the Imager Portfolio (11 page)

It was my nephew’s first year in school, and Mother doted on every episode that indicated Rheityr’s potential.

“He’s already reading the first primer…”

“That’s not new,” Culthyn said. “You really had him reading before he went to school…” His words died away as all three women at the table looked at him.

After that, all the conversation was about family, or food, or the books that Mother and Remaya had read. I had to admit that I missed Khethila’s comments on Madame D’Shendael, and Father’s dismissals of that most intellectual of High Holders. But Seliora and I did add a few comments about Diestrya. Just a few.

Mother had paid Charlsyn to stay late and use the family coach to take us back. We were halfway to Imagisle when Seliora, rocking Diestrya gently in her arms, asked quietly, “The opera explosion still bothers you, doesn’t it?”

“There’s something about it. None of it rings true. A wealthy grain factor is assassinated, except he’s not. He’s sitting where only High Holders are, with seats that are difficult to obtain, and it happens in L’Excelsis, when he’s from Piedryn, and that’s something like a thousand milles away.”

“Maybe he was trying to make a statement, and hedging his wagers.”

“Anything is possible,” I hazarded. What ever it was, it didn’t seem likely that it would ever involve me, but I hated things that didn’t fit.

On Samedi morning, I did make the effort to get up early and struggle through Clovyl’s exercises, although I didn’t have to go to the station, since Alsoran and I had traded Samedis. I’d hoped to see Master Dichartyn there, since, as a member of the security section, even if he headed it, he usually joined the exercise group. Unfortunately, he didn’t show up.

After I finished the run and caught my breath, as I walked back toward the house, hoping I’d get there before Diestrya woke, my eyes turned westward, where, occasionally, I could make out the indistinct shape of the Council Chateau in the faintest graying of the night sky that would soon show the light of dawn. Artiema, less than full, hung over the Chateau in the western sky. Erion had set glasses before.

On the section of the River Aluse that flowed along the west side of Imagisle, a steam tug puffed upstream towing three barges. Although it was hard to tell, two of the three looked to be riding higher, as if they were empty or lightly loaded. Most barges only traveled as far as Ferravyl, or if they came as far upstream as L’Excelsis, they usually docked at the barge piers, adjoining the ironway transfer station south of the city, about a mille south of Alusine Wool. The handful that went farther upriver could only go so far as Rivages before the river became too shallow.

Later, a glass after breakfast, I walked over to Master Dichartyn’s house. He was actually home and was even the one to open the door. I could hear the voices of two girls, with tones that suggested either a heated discussion or an argument.

He glanced back over his shoulder and shook his head before saying, “This isn’t social, is it, Rhenn?” His smile was faint but knowing.

“No, but it won’t take long.”

He stepped out onto the porch, closing the door. He waited for me to speak.

“You may recall that there’s a newer and stronger form of elveweed coming into L’Excelsis, and we’re seeing a lot more elver deaths everywhere…” I explained what I’d seen in Third District and told him about Commander Artois’s directive. “…and I found out that the stronger version seems to be distributed only in Estisle, Solis, Westisle, and Kherseilles, and, of course, L’Excelsis. Interestingly enough, in the other four cities, there have been a number of deaths of Pharsi men, married men, far more than would seem natural. All of them were the eldest sons.”

“What do you consider more than natural?”

“There have been at least fourteen deaths in the last month, all of oldest sons.”

For several moments, Dichartyn was silent. “What do you think?”

“I don’t even have an idea, except that they must be connected in some fashion, since the cities involved are the four largest ports and the capital.” I stopped. “Oh…there’s one other thing. There’s a story going around that smoking the stronger elveweed will make youngsters like imagers, or even something better.”

Dichartyn shook his head. “That rumor comes up every few years. It has ever since I’ve been here. If it were true, most of the Collegium would have come from the taudis. Still…that’s troubling, especially now.”

“Why now?”

“What do you think?”

He was always turning questions back to me, but I answered anyway. “It’s only a matter of weeks before Ferrum finds a pretext—or makes one—to invade Jariola. If we don’t help the Oligarch with troops, which I don’t see happening, the Ferrans will take the coal fields, along with a large chunk of Jariolan territory. The Council will be split, and if there’s more unrest in the taudis, along with the unresolved conflict between the freeholders and the High Holders, the Council won’t want to get involved in the Ferrum-Jariola fighting, and that will lead to the eventual decline and fall of Jariola.”

“Why would that be bad? I don’t think you’ve ever been a supporter of the Oligarch.”

“I’m not, but the Ferrans pose a far bigger danger to Solidar than Jariola ever will. The Jariolans just want to hang on to what they have. The Ferrans want to rule the world, and they’d like it to be a mercantilist empire, with factors as commercial High Holders or the like, without any of the internal restraints present here in Solidar.” I paused just briefly. “I’ve offered my thoughts. What about yours?”

He smiled, ruefully. “I agree with you about the Ferran motives and the likely outcome of war in Cloisera. Our Navy is presently somewhat under-strength, and while the Council has debated funding ten additional warships, nothing has happened. Suyrien’s works would build them, and Glendyl’s manufactory in Ferravyl would supply the engines and turbines, and those details are causing delays. The Naval Command is also complaining that they’re having trouble getting enough recruits and that the conscription teams have been restricted in recent years.”

“Only in L’Excelsis,” I replied dryly.

“It appears that the Civic Patrols in other cities have also decided that the precedent you set is one that keeps the taudis areas more peaceful. The Navy can’t argue against that, but they don’t like it. Then, there is the grain problem.”

I waited.

“The Navy purchases a great deal of grain—flour, actually. They prefer not to deal with a large number of sellers. So they put out orders for bid, and the bidders have to guarantee the quantity, the quality, and the lowest bidder who can satisfy the first two criteria wins the order.”

I thought I could see what was coming. “The bids have all gone to High Holders?”

“Until this year. One Broussard D’Factorius assembled a flour cooperative, to which most of the freehold growers and flour factors in the area around Piedryn belong. He built a large mill and storage facility.”

“They’re undercutting…Haebyn,” I had to struggle for the name, “and the other High Holders.”

“Not so much as they could,” Dichartyn went on. “They’ve had to employ a large number of guards at the facility to prevent thefts and vandalism that doesn’t seem to occur at the facilities of High Holders. That cuts into their profits. They’re complaining to the various factoring associations, and to the Council. The High Holders are complaining that a flour cooperative is unfair collusion.”

“That’s why mills and silos and other facilities are suffering damage?”

“No one can prove it. Not yet.”

“That can’t make Broussard all that popular with the High Holders. Even so, I still don’t see why someone would blow up Broussard’s carriage. Anyone with enough skill and knowledge to do that surely would have known that his assistant was in it.”

Dichartyn shook his head. “Broussard claims he came down with stomach poisoning at dinner just before the performance. He and the assistant were attired in a similar fashion…”

“So he knew or suspected that someone was after him, and he let them take care of his domestic difficulties?”

“That’s only a surmise, but he is a very, very intelligent man.”

“That way, he’s still around to point the Civic Patrol and the Council in the direction he wishes.” I paused. “Does he have any Ferran connections?”

“Not that Schorzat or I have been able to discover. That doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”

“Are any other factors or freeholders following his example—the idea of cooperatives and the like?”

“Councilor Caartyl is pressing for a change in the laws to declare such cooperatives unable to bid on governmental procurements unless their organizational structure binds them to commitments made by a permanent head of the organization with a fixed term of office that is at least two years and not more than five, who cannot succeed himself for more than one term.”

“He doesn’t want the Ferran mercantile structure creeping into Solidar under the guise of cooperatives.”

Dichartyn nodded. “Not surprisingly, the factoring associations oppose the proposed law. The guilds, of course, support it, and the High Holders are split. Suyrien is leaning to support it as a compromise, but he hasn’t said so publicly.”

“Has the Ferran envoy commented?”

“In recent years, no Ferran envoy has commented on much of anything. Publicly or privately.” He looked to me.

There was no point in replying to that. Envoy Vhillar had more than deserved what he’d gotten. “What else is happening that you haven’t told me?”

“Besides the fact that you gave Draffyd pause with your medical imaging?”

“I didn’t know what else to do.”

“As I recall, when you get into those positions, usually trouble follows.”

“That was why I went to Draffyd.”

“He was grateful. He did admit you might make a competent imaging medical surgeon, but he wouldn’t want to put a scalpel in your hand. You have the dexterity, but not any practice.”

“I wouldn’t, either.” The thought of cutting into people, even for a good reason, wasn’t all that appealing. “What else?”

He shrugged. “Everything is very quiet at the moment.”

“That’s the most disturbing thing you could have said.”

We both laughed, and before long I was headed back to our house to spend what I hoped would be a quiet afternoon and evening with my family.

The rest of Samedi was quiet and pleasant. So was Solayi, until I had to stop by Third District station for a glass or so in the afternoon. As I’d suspected might occur, there had been five more elver deaths, three in the taudis areas, and two others, one just off the Plaza SudEste and one in a quiet area only a block from the Anomen D’Este, where my family attended services. There wasn’t much to do but record the deaths. The rest of Solayi was pleasant, or as pleasant as it could have been with the drizzle that oozed over the city in late afternoon and turned everything chill and gray.

The beginning of the week was routine, even for Seliora, with only few more orders coming into NordEste Design. As for Third District, on Lundi, Mardi, and Meredi, the patrollers reported another six deaths from elveweed, three in the taudis and three outside. Thefts and assaults were down, and there was only one killing, at a tavern off Sudroad, near the Guild Square. That was also low for half a week, but I wasn’t complaining.

When I arrived at Third District Station on Jeudi, my first question to Lyonyt, seated behind the duty desk, was, “How many last night?”

“Just one, sir.”

That was about what I’d expected, because elvers tended to come into coin near the end of the week, either through casual labor or from pilfering money from those with whom they lived and who were generally paid on Vendrei.

At that moment, Zylpher, one of the junior patrollers in Third District, rushed through the door. “Captain! There’s been another explosion! This one was in the Banque D’Excelsis, the one on the Midroad just south of Plaza D’Este. Khallyn had me take a hack. It’s waiting outside.”

That branch of the Banque D’Excelsis was in Third District, if barely, and that meant I’d need to look into it, and in a hurry. “Lyonyt, send a messenger to headquarters and have them send an explosives expert to the banque. Also, tell the lieutenant that’s where I’ll be.”

“Yes, sir.”

I hurried back out through the door I’d entered moments before, followed by Zylpher.

The hacker took us up Elsyor, but with all the congestion near the Plaza we got out a block away, where I hurriedly paid the driver and then half-walked, half-trotted the distance to the banque.

People had stopped and were looking at the front of the banque. Khallyn and two banque guards had stationed themselves before the entrance to the building. I stopped for a moment to survey the scene. The damage appeared to consist of a set of iron doors bent apart and a great deal of broken and shattered glass scattered everywhere. What I didn’t see were metal fragments or anything like shrapnel or grapeshot.

As I stood there, a messenger hurried up to me. He wore the orange and black sash of one of the private services. “Sir? Are you Patrol Captain Maitre Rhennthyl?”

“Yes.”

He extended an envelope, unsealed. “This is for you, sir.”

“Can you tell me who sent it?”

“No, sir. He didn’t give his name. He paid a gold for an anonymous private delivery.” With that, the young messenger was gone.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to open the envelope, thin as it was, but I eased shields around it as I slipped out the single sheet. The lines were written so perfectly they might have been engraved.

Khallyn and Zylpher both looked at me.

“Some information.” I slipped the envelope into the inside pocket of my tunic. “Zylpher, if you would take Khallyn’s place here?”

“Yes, sir.”

When I stepped through the bent doors, followed by Khallyn, another burly guard stepped forward as if to block our way, then took in the uniforms. “Sir…”

“Patrol Captain Rhennthyl and Patroller Khallyn.” I smiled politely.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’d like to see the director about this.” I gestured back to the front of the building and the windows that had shattered against their iron bars.

He didn’t look very happy, but I hadn’t met a guard yet who wanted to turn away a Civic Patrol Captain who also wore the emblem of an imager, although I doubted he knew I was a master imager as well.

As I stepped past him, a thin man in a blue pinstriped jacket and trousers, with a cravat patterned in silver crescents, stepped forward. His face was dominated by sweeping waxed black mustaches and slightly bulging green eyes. “Officer…everything is in hand here.”

“Captain, Captain Rhennthyl. Also Master Imager Rhennthyl. Physical violence against an inhabited structure and injuries to inhabitants is a criminal offense, even when it involves the interior premises of a private enterprise.” I smiled politely. “Perhaps you could tell me exactly what happened here. Oh…and you are?”

“Director Tolsynn. This is my branch.”

“Good. What happened?”

“We hadn’t opened for the day. A wagon stopped in front, and two men jumped out and rammed the door ajar. They forced something between the doors and drove off. It exploded. Some of the clerks were cut by splinters and glass, but no one was seriously injured. A few have cuts and scratches.”

“Did anyone see the men well?”

“I only saw that they wore dark brown, with hoods. Cheluryn was the closest clerk. And Mhanyn. He was the guard. He was about to unlock the door.”

“If you’d have them talk to Patroller Khallyn…” I nodded to the dark-eyed patroller. “I’ll need some more details from you.”

Tolsynn glanced to his left, toward the guard who had wanted to stop us.

“Khallyn, if you would find out what you can from the guard and the clerk?”

“Yes, sir.”

I looked at Tolsynn. “Please continue.”

“Captain…no one was seriously hurt, and nothing was taken.” He shifted his weight from one foot to another.

“A bombing that causes damage to a banque and injury to its employees is not trivial,” I said mildly. “It’s also against the law, and enforcing the law and finding the perpetrators—and the reasons for their actions—is the duty of the Patrol.”

At my mention of reasons, I could sense an increase in tension. “I see you think there might be someone who had a reason to bomb this branch of the bank. Could you tell me who that might be and why?”

“I cannot. I really don’t know of any reason.”

I had a good idea that he was lying. “I presume, with your location here, that you handle the accounts of some of the Guilds and factoring associations.”

“Our client list is privileged, Captain.”

“I did not ask who your clients were, Director.” I smiled coldly. “I asked if you had clients of that nature.”

Tolsynn moistened his lips. “It would be logical to assume that.”

“Would that assumption be wrong?”

“No, but I shouldn’t say more than that.”

“Has any client indicated that you needed to take special precautions?”

“Of course not.” His tone bordered on outrage.

“There is one other matter that might be related…”

“Oh?” His tone was close to that of dismissal.

“The clerk who was recently found drowned.”

His eyes flickered. “I don’t understand. What does Kearyk have to…What business is that of the Patrol?”

“It could be that people don’t believe that Kearyk drowned. Not on his own accord, at least. It just might be that drowning was a convenient way to keep matters from being exposed. So-called accidents and suicides do happen that way.”

“That’s a serious allegation, Captain.”

I smiled again. “I don’t believe I alleged anything. Bombing a banque is a serious offense. When a bombing occurs following a drowning of a clerk and the Patrol is informed that the two might be connected, we are obliged to pursue the matter.” I waited a moment. “What can you tell me about Kearyk?”

“He was an account bookkeeper. He’d been with the bank for eight years. Very neat. Very well groomed. Very accurate with his figures. He was very reliable.”

“Where did he live?”

“How would I know? He was referred to us by the Grammaire D’Martradon. That was years ago.” Tolsynn looked past me.

I turned. A squat patroller with a leather case stood just inside the doors. “Excuse me for a moment. We have a few more things to discuss.” I walked over to the patroller with the case.

“Captain…I’m Chenoyt. You sent for me? With reason, it appears.”

“I did. We’ve tried to keep people clear, but I’d like you to look all this over and tell us what you can.”

He nodded.

“If you don’t need me at the moment…”

“No, sir.”

I returned to Tolsynn. “We were talking about your clerk Kearyk. Would you care to give me your thoughts on his drowning and the disappearance of funds from the account of the Portraiture Guild?”

Controlled as he was, Tolsynn still twitched. “There’s no problem with the accounts.”

One of the many things I’d learned over the years was that the world was far smaller than people realized, and that someone always knew someone else. Most times I had to look to find the connections. Once in a while, as now, I already knew. “You know, or perhaps you don’t, that before I became an imager and a patroller, I was a member of the Portraiture Guild. What you probably don’t know is that the head of the Guild is the cousin of a well-known Maitre D’Structure. Now…we can discuss these matters now, or Master Reayalt and Maitre Schorzat can come and discuss them, doubtless with less courtesy.”

“We’d best go to my study.” Tolsynn didn’t quite sigh, but I could sense the resignation.

I followed him to a study smaller than mine at Third Station. He did not sit behind the narrow desk, but stood beside it, clearly hoping our talk would not take too long.

“After Kearyk’s death was reported,” he said after several moments, “I immediately audited the ledgers and the accounts he handled. I didn’t expect anything unusual. That’s just the normal procedure when an employee dies or leaves. It’s to make sure that whoever takes over the accounts starts with a balanced and accurate set of records. The accounts balanced, but…there was a letter from the clerk at the Guild claiming that the account had one hundred golds missing, and with the letter was a listing of withdrawals and deposits. I checked the daily ledgers and found a withdrawal that was not in the list sent by the Guild, but it was the last one of the day, and the hand was different.”

“Someone entered it later?”

“Kearyk was the one who closed the daily ledger that Meredi, but the hand wasn’t his.”

“He could have disguised it.”

Tolsynn shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“That suggests someone had access to more records than that one ledger,” I pointed out.

“We’ve checked through all the ledgers. We’re not finished, but so far, there seem to be no other discrepancies. We have, of course, returned the hundred golds to the Guild account.”

“Might I see one of the daily ledgers?” I asked.

He turned to the case beside the desk and handed a wide ledger to me. While the account book was bound, the binding was secured with brass screws so that pages could be added.

“Could you show me a page that closes the daily transactions?”

Tolsynn turned several pages, then pointed. Right below where the last entry was a stamped ornate foil seal pressed into the paper.

“Who has access to that seal?”

“I do. So does the head clerk. No one else.”

“Where is it kept?”

“In the vault at night. It’s locked in the head clerk’s desk during the day.”

I nodded. “I may have some more questions for you later, Director.”

“Do you have any idea…why?”

“Someone wanted to send a message to the Patrol. I don’t think it has much to do with the banque, but it’s too early to say. I’ll let you know as soon as possible what else we find out.” I stepped back and nodded. “Thank you very much.”

It was clear enough to me that neither Tolsynn nor the head clerk had anything to do with matters, except as unwitting accomplices, but someone in the banque did, someone who knew the routine, probably poor Kearyk, who had been pressured to switch a single page in the ledger and enter the withdrawal on the Guild account. The entire routine had been designed to call attention to the funds transactions involving Caartyl and Cydarth. The bigger questions were who was behind the gambit and why.

Once I left Tolsynn, I made my way to Chenoyt, who was closing his leather case. “What have you found out?”

He lifted the case, then turned to me. “This wasn’t so much a bomb as an explosive. It looks like they used damp guncotton packed in heavy pressed paper with a fuse set to ignite a dry guncotton primer.”

“They wanted a big explosion but limited damage?”

Chenoyt nodded.

“If you’d write that up for me…and headquarters.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Before we left, I talked to Khallyn, but he hadn’t discovered that much more than we’d heard when we’d first gotten to the bank. So I left the two patrollers and hailed a hack.

When I returned to the station, I stopped at the duty desk. “Lyonyt, send an inquiry to the other districts. See if they have any information on a bank clerk by the name of Kearyk D’Cleris. He drowned recently. Send whoever’s on unattached duty to the Grammaire D’Martradon to find out what they can on him. He left school there maybe eight or nine years ago, but they might have records, or someone might remember him.”

“Yes, sir.”

I headed to find Alsoran and to brief him. I wouldn’t write up a report for the commander until I got the rounds report from Kallyn and Zylpher and the report from Chenoyt. I’d also decided that I wouldn’t be able to accompany any patrollers.

By the end of the day shift, I had a written report on the banque explosion and some information on the drowned clerk. The drowning had been reported in District One, because it had taken place in the River Aluse a mille south of the Bridge of Hopes. That was where Kearyk’s body had been found. I decided against talking to the clerk’s family until I had checked with Dichartyn.