Treachery's Tools (49 page)

“I'm sorry, sir. I just got word. Most of the other maitres have applied imaging or instructionals right now.”

Alastar should have thought of that, given that it was late morning. “That's all right. Mount up. We're headed for the Chateau D'Rex. This will be your second visit in less than a week, but this time, you'll probably only be waiting with the mounts. Since there might still be shooters around, I need an escort with strong shields.”

“Yes, sir. Maercyl said so.”

Alastar didn't say more until they were riding up the approach causeway to the Bridge of Desires. “Do you still have a scar from that lamp-oil burn?”

“Ah … sir, I'd hoped…”

“That I'd forget it? How could I? It was one of the first instances of misguided student imaging after I became Maitre. I'm sure you'll remember the first time something like that happens when you're duty maitre—if it hasn't happened already.” Alastar frowned. “You were duty maitre on Solayi—the day after the old river port tower caught fire, weren't you?”

“No, sir. Celiena was. But I was out that night, and I saw the flames. One moment, there was just some black smoke and the next flames were everywhere. I told Maitre Cyran that it wasn't natural. It couldn't have been. Thelia agreed. She said some sort of oils had to have been used, probably oily rags.”

“Thelia? Years ago…” Alastar grinned.

Dylert flushed. “I knew she was special then.”

“If you still think so, let her know you do.”

“Ah…”

“You have? Good.” Alastar wasn't about to ask whether the two either were very good friends, sweethearts, or even more intimate. That was their affair. And sometimes friendship turned into love, as it had with Tiranya and Shaelyt, and sometimes it didn't. What he did know was that people didn't share appreciation nearly enough … and that he often was guilty of exactly that.

Before long, the two turned their mounts onto the Boulevard D'Rex Regis, much changed from what it had been when Alastar and the Collegium imagers had built it thirteen years earlier. Now it was lined with shops of the better crafters and merchants, and there were even cafés here and there, not that anyone was outside under the awnings with the rain continuing to fall.

After a time, Dylert cleared his throat. “Sir … the word is that Bettaur fled Imagisle.”

“Bettaur and Ashkyr are missing. So are two mounts. At present we have no idea beyond that. Do you know anything more that might shed light on the matter?”

“No, sir. Well … not directly.”

Alastar nodded, then said, “But you have an idea?”

“It's not that, sir. Last week, I couldn't help but overhear a few words between Bettaur and Ashkyr. Bettaur said something like it was important not to do things that gave people the wrong impression because most people never got over that impression, and that it was almost impossible to change their minds unless you did something truly outstanding. I didn't hear more than that. It just made me think.”

“Do you think he knew you could hear him?”

“I don't see how. I was on the other side of the wall on the south side of the stable. I didn't even see who it was until several moments later when I saw the two of them walking toward the East Bridge.”

“Did you tell Thelia or anyone else?”

“Only Thelia, and she promised she wouldn't tell anyone else, except you, if you asked.”

“What did she say?”

Dylert grinned. “That Bettaur would have to do something really outstanding to change her mind.”

“What do you think?”

“Bettaur might do something really good, but he'd do it so people would think better of him, and not because it was good.”

“That's not always the best motivation, but if wanting to improve people's opinion of you makes you do good things, it's certainly better than the alternatives.”
Especially where Bettaur is concerned.

“Unless you do things that people want you to that they think are good and aren't,” suggested Dylert.

“That can be a problem,” agreed Alastar. “Do you and Thelia talk about things like that?”

“Sometimes. She thinks about that more than I do.”

“She's a very bright woman. You're fortunate. But then, you were fortunate she was around just before I met you for the first time.”

Dylert grinned sheepishly.

A little more than a quint later, Alastar and Dylert rode up the rear lane to the stables of the Chateau D'Rex, since Alastar wasn't about to have Dylert and the horses waiting out in the rain. After persuading the ostler to let them use the stables, not that doing so was difficult, Alastar dismounted and made his way to the rear entry and then inside, where he removed the oilskin and his soaked visor cap and handed them to one of the footmen before making his way up the grand staircase to Lorien's study.

“What's the problem now? Besides all this rain that no one needs?” asked Lorien sourly even before Alastar sat down in the chair across the desk from him. “I'm not certain I want to know.”

“Estafen visited me this morning. He's the one who created the Banque D'Excelsis.”

“You mentioned him earlier. Some of the High Holders wouldn't repay him.”

“He just told me that all the High Holders now refuse to repay any debts to him or to other factors. They say they won't pay any debts until all their ancient privileges are restored.” What they said was they wouldn't pay because Lorien had denied their petitions, but it amounted to the same thing, and Alastar didn't want Lorien focused on the petitions.

“Those self-centered ingrates! I'd have the whole High Council executed for that, except all the ones who first demanded that are already dead. They think their tariffs are high now. Wait until after you and the army take care of them.”

“It might be better to issue a decree stating that the failure of any High Holder to pay all debts owed to any party, whether that party is a High Holder, factor, holder, merchant, or crafter will subject that High Holder to whatever measure the rex deems appropriate to repay that debt, but no measure can exceed twice the value of the debt owed.”

“Make that thrice.” Lorien frowned. “Are you sure you can deal with all of them?”

“No. Not all of them. They're scattered all over Solidar, but most of them either don't have or cannot afford much in the way of arms and armsmen at present. Once we put down the rebels, then the army and the Collegium can take on those who owe one by one … if it even comes to that. If necessary, an execution and confiscation of lands in a few cases might make the point.” Alastar was feeling less and less charitable toward the High Holders the more he learned about what many of them seemed to want.

Then again, if Vaschet were any example, many of the factors likely weren't much better.

“Where are the rebels?”

“Somewhere south of Caluse at this point.” That was really a guess on Alastar's part, but he was fairly certain he'd know as soon as Wilkorn did. Since he hadn't heard anything, it was likely that they hadn't joined up with Aestyn's regiment yet.

“I can't believe they'd do this.”

“Has Chelia received any more messages?”

“Not a one.”

That tended to confirm one of Alastar's suspicions about who could deliver messages to the chateau stables and remain undetected.

“Who should I give Cransyr's lands to … and those of the other three?”

“Wait and see. Given that Cransyr was head of the council and that his son was part of the army rebellion, you can get away with confiscating his lands. The other three might prove a problem because there's no proof—”

“No proof? With a rebellion going on?”

“There's nothing I know of remaining that would tie them to the rebellion. Anything that might have done so didn't survive the fire at the Chateau D'Council.”

“Convenient for their heirs.… Now what should I consider for next year's tariff levels?”

Alastar could tell he wasn't leaving the chateau for a time.

 

30

By Mardi morning, the rain had subsided to a drizzle and then to a mist, allowing Alastar and the group of imagers assembled by Akoryt to manage a morning run, if avoiding all the low spots on Imagisle that resembled miniature lakes, while brushing away more than a few mosquitoes. The River Aluse was little more than a yard below the top of the riverwall—and that was the highest Alastar had ever seen it. Because the air was warm and damp, Alastar, Lystara, Malyna, and Alyna were all thoroughly soaked all the way through by the time they walked up the steps to the Maitre's dwelling after their run, a run that once more had left Alastar lagging his wife.

“At least it looks like it's going to clear up,” Alyna observed, stopping on the porch and looking eastward.

“If it does, the river might not overtop the walls. I can hope, anyway,” returned Alastar. “Downstream will be worse, especially around Reyks. The ground there is barely higher than the riverbanks.”

“Why did the rebels go that way, then?”

“Because the road is good. It was built before the time of Rex Regis, but Quaeryt and his imagers improved it even more. Their bridges still look like they have been built in the past few years.”

“You still wonder about him, don't you?”

“I do.” Alastar blotted his forehead with a sleeve that was not quite dripping wet. “Even Gauswn's journals only give the slightest hint of what he was like and what else he did that we'll never know about.”

“Isn't that true of everyone once those who knew them are gone?”

Alastar laughed softly. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” After a pause, she said, “We need to get ready for breakfast. We can't eat like this.”

Alastar couldn't have agreed more.

By the time the four had washed up, dressed in grays, eaten breakfast, and left the house, the rain had stopped completely, and Alastar could see patches of blue between the clouds to the northeast. He just hoped that they wouldn't have more rain at least for a few days.

Once at the administration building he immediately went to find Thelia to go over the supply list he had planned for the small imager force to accompany Wilkorn's troopers. That took little more than a quint, and he then headed back toward his study. When he walked back into the anteroom, Maercyl stood waiting, holding an envelope. “This just came by army courier.”

“Thank you.” Alastar took the envelope and entered his study, where he immediately opened it, and began to read, concentrating on the body of the text.

Scouts report that the rebel battalions continued through Caluse. They halted on Samedi for the night at Reyks. They continued on Solayi toward Nordeau. It would appear that they will occupy the old army quarters there. My judgment is that they will wait at Nordeau for reinforcements, possibly either from local High Holders or from Commander Aestyn's regiment.

If they do march back north along the West River Road, my plan would be to meet them north of Caluse at a point where the terrain favors us. South of Caluse, the land is boggy and soft, and now that will be even less suitable.

We will inform the Collegium and Rex Lorien daily on the position of the rebel forces.

How long will they wait in Nordeau?
Alastar wondered if it might not be better to attack them immediately, but he was no strategist or military tactician. Then, too, it might be better to let the rebels do all the marching—or most of it—especially given the recent weather. The mosquitoes were already bad enough in L'Excelsis. He couldn't imagine what they'd be like in Reyks or Nordeau, especially with the red flies that infested the reeds along the river south of L'Excelsis.

In the meantime, there was the problem of the brown-shirts that apparently still remained in or around L'Excelsis. Alastar nodded, then walked to the study door. Both Maercyl and Dareyn looked at him.

“If you could, send someone to tell Maitre Cyran I need to see him. If he's giving an instructional or otherwise occupied, it can wait until he's finished.”

“Yes, sir,” said Maercyl, rising.

Alastar returned to the study, still thinking over the possibilities.

Cyran appeared a bit less than three quints later, hurrying into Alastar's study. “I hope I didn't delay anything. I was working with Arthos on something.”

“Image-forging?”

Cyran nodded. “What do you need?”

“I've been thinking about the brown-shirts. Even after the army battalions left, even after we killed most of the lot attacking the Chateau D'Rex, there were those that attacked Imagisle, those that fired the port tower, and the ones who laid waste to Naathyn's factorage and family. That means they're still around. Does the Civic Patrol have any idea where they might be lodged or hiding?”

“I've asked Heisyt. He doesn't know. They appear, and then they're gone.”

“It has to be fairly close to L'Excelsis, if not inside the city. I'd wager it's also fairly close to the Collegium.”

“You think so, sir?”

“The fact that so few people see them suggests they aren't riding very far, and that they know the city. They vanished almost immediately after firing
Veritum
…” Alastar paused. Just why had they set fire to the old port tower that had held the newssheet printing works? Who would have cared most about a newssheet?

“Sir?”

“You'd mentioned that High Holder Laevoryn had a place north of the Boulevard D'Este. Do you know anything about it?”

“No, sir. Not any more than Commander Murranyt told me.”

“I'd appreciate it if you'd find out. I'd like to see how large the stables are there.”

“You think…?”

“I have no idea, but the brown-shirts belong to High Holders. It won't hurt to look at a few of their places to see which High Holders might be quartering them.”