Treachery's Tools (4 page)

“You're the one who insisted the army was too large.”

“I did. So did a number of others. As a result, you have a surplus of golds, far more than you're letting on. Using some of them is far cheaper than using the army.…” Alastar went on to explain.

Even so, he felt exhausted when he left the study more than a glass later and headed down the grand staircase and then to the center north door that opened into the rear courtyard. The good thing was that the rain had diminished to more of a drizzle.

 

2

When Alastar and Alyna set out from the Maitre's dwelling on Meredi morning, the drizzle had faded into a foggy mist, thick enough that he could only see the faint outlines of the nearest cottages of the married imagers. Lystara had departed less than a tenth of a quint earlier, wearing only her imager grays, with a spring in her step that had definitely been missing during the more than a week of heavy rain.

“She was more cheerful this morning,” observed Alastar. “I don't think it was just because she didn't have to run with us this morning or wear her oilskin.”

“I haven't minded the break, either,” replied Alyna, with the half-mischievous smile that Alastar so enjoyed. “She imaged a set of jet buttons. Each had an embedded brass shank.”

“You were there, I hope?”

“I was. She was worried that she might not be able to do them. The other junior seconds have been doing buttons at the factorage for over a month. Hers were perfect.” Alyna paused, then added, “The second time around. She shouldn't have any trouble keeping up with the others when they do their afternoon duties.”

“You had better fortune than I did. Her essay for rhetoric was grammatically good, but her penmanship…” Alastar shook his head. “She's even more in a hurry than I was at her age.”

“Dearest, I doubt you were ever in a hurry. I fear that trait comes from me. I hated penmanship. Father had to switch me once.”

“You?” That did surprise Alastar, given how deliberate his wife had always been, since he'd known her, anyway.

“Me.” Alyna offered a rueful grin. “Deliberation has never come naturally. I've told you that before. It was so hard to be deliberate with you. Some nights I came back to the cottage and almost sobbed. I knew it was for the best, but…”

“Almost sobbed, except you didn't want to let Tiranya know?” Alastar had heard it before, but still liked to hear it again.

“I just couldn't.” In a voice that was more subdued, she added, “Call it pride.”

“You weren't the only one who didn't want to be deliberate … but you've known that all along.”

“I did get that idea, but you were so polite about it.”

“I'd never been really in love before. I do believe I did mention that.”

“Once or twice … perhaps more than that.”

They were both smiling as they walked the few remaining yards to the administration building.

Once there, Alastar said, “I hope today goes better with your mathematics session.” He opened the door for her, then followed her into the entry hall.

“It will.”

Alastar smiled and watched as she headed to the hallway on the right toward the chamber where, shortly, primes and seconds would appear and realize, again, that they had no choice but to learn.

Alastar's first task, once he reached his study, was to review the Collegium's finances, but the white-haired Dareyn was standing and waiting.

“Is there a problem?”

“No, sir.” The old second paused, then added, “Factorius Hulet has requested a meeting with you at your earliest convenience. He'll come to Imagisle.”

The fact that the chief of the Factors' Council not only wanted to see Alastar, but was willing to come to Imagisle, was a definite concern. Since becoming chief of the council, Hulet had not followed the practices of Elthyrd, his predecessor, and had avoided meeting with the Maitre whenever possible. “Did he say when he'd like to meet?”

“Today, if possible. His messenger is waiting in the reception hall to take back word.”

“First glass of the afternoon, then.”

“I'll tell the messenger.”

“Thank you.” Alastar turned and entered the study, leaving the door ajar. Sitting on the corner of his desk was his copy of the master ledger. Beside it was a single-sheet, badly printed broadsheet, with the one word in bold script across the top—
Veritum.
Alastar picked up the newsheet carefully, by the edges of the flimsy paper. He'd learned that the ink came off on his fingers all too easily. The newssheet—or scandal-sheet, as Dareyn called it—had begun appearing in late Juyn or early Agostos twice a week, usually on Mardi and Vendrei, and cost half a copper. Alastar had no idea who published it, but had found it was occasionally useful in providing information that might not have come to his attention until later.

The first story was about the flood damage caused to the livestock pens behind the old piers on the south side of the River Aluse downstream of the Sud Bridge … and how Factorius Duurmyn claimed he'd end up paying for all the repairs because, while High Holders had the rights to use the pens, they weren't obligated to pay for repairs, and had already informed him that they would not pay higher usage rates. There was also a story about “The Impersonator”—a risqué comic drama at The Yellow Rose about the daughter of a High Holder who posed as a wealthy factor's son in order to make her fortune before being married off to a dissolute widowed High Holder.

Given the subject matter, it must be very comic and even more risqué.

And there was something new—a black-lined box around some text that was definitely not gossip or news, headed by larger type—“The Finest in Men's Tailoring.” The remainder of the text extolled the fine fabrics and fit provided by one Raabyrt, located at the corner of the Boulevard D'Este and Tailors' Lane.

Alastar nodded. Presumably Raabyrt was paying the publisher, and before long, at least if Raabyrt's business improved, there would be others.

After setting aside the newssheet, Alastar picked up the ledger and began to go through the receipts column, a column that thirteen years earlier had shown nothing but a monthly allowance from the rex. He was again reminded of the differences as he noted the receipts from the sales of fine papers, and especially of buttons. The buttons had come as an indirect result of the reason for Thelia's discovery as an imager. Thelia had mentioned that she had tried to image buttons for her mother, the Factoria Kathila, because Kathila had been complaining about how difficult it was to find suitable and durable buttons to supply to the fashionable women of L'Excelsis. The result had been the small factorage near the stables, where seconds and thirds imaged small items of value for a glass a day as part of their training. Factoria Kathila had been skeptical at first when approached by Alastar and her daughter, but after being presented with a matched set of jade-like buttons set in pewter, she had agreed to purchase and resell the buttons.

Before long, the golds brought in by the button-making, as well as other items suggested by Kathila, had quickly outstripped the amount brought in by the sale of high-quality paper, better than anything the papermakers, at least in Solidar, could provide, and far cheaper than parchment. In addition, the careful application of imaging to meeting the needs of the Collegium, in such matters as candles, lamp oil, furnishings, and repairs, had reduced the amount of outside purchases.

Even so, the Collegium still depended on the monthly payment from the rex for more than half of its expenses.
A far sight better than when you arrived.
The problem remained that, despite having been forced to show the power of the Collegium after the death of Rex Ryen, who was still referred to in many quarters as Rex Dafou, and as much as because of that power, Alastar was cautious about what he had the imagers do or make to raise funds, because all too many goods or services would have infringed on the Guilds, the factors, or the High Holders, and the Collegium's survival had already hung once on little more than a thread and the ability of a few imagers.

You still need to make the Collegium less dependent on the rex.
He smiled ironically at the thought, since it was one he had often.

“Maitre Alastar…” Dareyn stood at the door, an apologetic expression on his face.

“Yes, Dareyn?”

“Maitre Bettaur hopes he might have a few moments of your time.”

Why now? Especially so soon after the senior maitres expressed concern about him?
“Have him come in.”

Dareyn moved aside.

In moments, Bettaur slipped into the study, quietly closing the door behind himself. As Bettaur had grown older, Alastar reflected, not for the first time, the Maitre D'Aspect had grown even more handsome than he had been when Alastar had first encountered him as a third. Bettaur was broad-shouldered, yet trimly muscular. His strong and square chin had a slight dimple. A straight and modest nose was set off by striking brilliant blue eyes, a fair complexion with the slightest shade of honey, and fine blond hair. He was always impeccably groomed as well.

“Have a seat, Bettaur.”

“Thank you, sir.” The younger maitre's speaking voice was a pleasant baritone, and he looked directly and openly at Alastar as he settled into the chair directly across the desk. He also waited for an invitation to speak.

“What do you have in mind?” asked Alastar.

“Ever since that trouble when you first came here, sir, I've done my very best to live up to the requirements and precepts you set forth. I'm not looking for praise, but I'd like to ask if what I've done meets with your standards and approval.”

“I'd have to say that your conduct and devotion to the Collegium have been exemplary.”
Even if you don't trust the motivations behind his actions.
“Might I ask why you have brought this up?”

“Yes, sir, you might. I know I made a terrible mistake, and you and Maitre Alyna were more than fair in giving me a chance to redeem myself. I've worked hard to justify your faith in me.” Bettaur paused. “But, sir, I have this feeling that everyone keeps looking at me, that no one will ever forget what happened.”

“We often can't escape fully the effects of our early mistakes in life.”
As you well know, Alastar.
“But you've done well.”

“Sir … I was thinking, if you would consider allowing us—Linzya and me—to leave L'Excelsis and become a part of the Collegium in Westisle. We'd still be imagers there, with all the obligations and requirements, but people wouldn't always be looking at me and wondering about the past. It would be good for Linzya, too. You'd never know.…” Bettaur did not finish that sentence.

Alastar knew at what Bettaur was hinting. Linzya had come a long way from the illiterate girl barely better than the street urchin that she had been. Still … He nodded and paused for several moments before replying. “I wouldn't have thought of it like that, but I can certainly see how that would make sense on several levels. And you have been most diligent. At the same time, useful and attractive as the idea is, I'd like to think it over. I won't tell anyone else, except Maitre Alyna, and she won't tell anyone else, either. That way, whatever I decide, there won't be any other reasons for anyone to look at you and wonder about something else.”

Bettaur nodded and smiled warmly. “Thank you, Maitre. I do appreciate the consideration.”

“You're more than welcome.” Alastar slowly rose and watched as the Maitre D'Aspect left the study, again carefully closing the door behind himself.

Now what was all that about?
Alastar could understand the feeling of others always watching. Certainly, he often felt that way, with the High Holders and factors scrutinizing everything he did, not to mention Lorien. He still felt that there was more here.
But is that because of what happened … or because you distrust his bloodlines? And is that fair?
But then, that was one reason why he'd wanted to think over Bettaur's request.

After a time, he sat down and returned to the master ledger.

Slightly less than a glass later, he set it aside again. While he had not had any difficulty with Rex Lorien, that was because of Alastar himself, as well as Alyna, even if few beyond Imagisle knew that, not because of the strength of the Collegium, and Alastar wanted to leave the Collegium far stronger than he had found it. That would require more income than the Collegium currently created.

You have some time.
He pushed that thought away. Maitre Fhaen had likely thought the same thing, and he'd died at about the age Alastar was now.

Before he knew it, the anomen bells were sounding the ten chimes that signified noon, and he realized, belatedly, that he'd meant to find Akoryt and have lunch with him. The last bell was ringing when he hurried up the stairs to the upper level of the administration building, hoping to find Akoryt.

The red-haired Maitre D'Structure was just leaving his study when Alastar appeared.

“I'd hoped we could talk over the midday meal,” offered Alastar.

“That's the best offer I've had,” quipped Akoryt. “It's also the only one.”

The two headed for the main staircase.

Alastar and Akoryt were later than Alastar would have liked in getting to the dining hall. He saw that Alyna was already seated at the maitres' table, with Tiranya at her left, and Seliora at her right. To Seliora's right was Celiena, who had just become a Maitre D'Aspect, and who looked a little awed, it seemed to Alastar, to be seated so close to the Maitre D'Esprit who was also the Maitre's wife.

Alyna looked up to see Alastar and smiled, the expression that had intrigued and warmed him almost from the moment he had seen her smile … and still did. He couldn't help but smile back before he sat down next to Akoryt near the end of the table. Immediately a second hurried over and placed a pitcher and a mug before him.