Reynardyl was a long and hot three-block walk from Axotol, and I almost missed it, because it really wasn’t on the boulevard but down an unmarked lane off the main walk, with a signboard so faded that I couldn’t read it until I was almost under it. Although the place was twice the size of Lapinina, there was no one inside except a gray-haired server.
“Anywhere you want.” Her smile was tired.
“I’m looking for someone, an older artist named Grisarius. He has a white goatee-”
“He hasn’t been in today . . . probably won’t be. It’s the end of the month.”
“Do you have any idea where he might be?”
“You might find him in the public garden, you know, the one south of the Guild Square . . . lot of older types there.”
I had my doubts, but it was worth a try. “Thank you.” I paused. “If I don’t, I understand he has rooms near here. Do you know where they might be?”
She shook her head.
I waited a moment, still looking at her.
“Well . . . sir, I can’t say as I know, but he did mention going to Mama Lazara’s once.”
“Is that a boardinghouse?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you know where it is?”
“Not the street, but it’s somewhere south of Marchand not too far west of Sudroad. That’s what Makos told me.”
“Thank you.” I gave her a pair of coppers and headed out the door. Since I knew where the public garden was, and I didn’t know exactly where Mama Lazara’s boardinghouse was, I headed back up the boulevard toward the square.
It was too short a distance to take a hack, and there were few around, and too long for the walk to be comfortable under the now-sweltering afternoon sun. I wished I’d stopped for something to drink, but I marched onward. When I reached the public gardens, I strolled along every pathway, checking all the benches. There were perhaps fifty people there, and outside of two women with infants talking to each other, I don’t think that anyone else in the gardens was under thirty, and not a one bore the slightest resemblance to Grisarius. As I reached the north gates, where I had begun, I again had the feeling of being watched.
Since Grisarius wasn’t in the public garden, and since I felt the observer was on the boulevard somewhere, I turned and walked back through the gardens to the south gate. From there, I walked three blocks south to Marchand, crossed it, and came to the next street, much narrower and meaner. The faded letters on the corner wall read LEZENBLY. There was no boardinghouse or pension anywhere among the older and moderately well-kept stone dwellings situated on the two blocks that led north to Sudroad. So I retraced my steps and headed back southward on Lezenbly. At the end of the first block on Lezenbly south of where I’d started, I saw a white-haired figure sitting on a shaded side porch. So I opened the gate and walked around to the side.
“Grisarius? Or should I call you Emanus?”
The older man jerked in the chair. I hadn’t realized that he hadn’t been reading, but dozing, still holding the book. He just watched as I took the stone steps and then pulled up a straight-backed chair across from him. My feet ached, and I was more than a little hot.
The old man squinted at me. “Imager. Ought to know you, shouldn’t I?”
“Rhennthyl. I was a journeyman for Caliostrus before I became an imager. I did a study in the journeyman competition in Ianus that you liked. A chessboard.”
He frowned, then nodded slowly. “You’re the one.”
That suggested something. “Has someone been asking about me?”
“Not as such. Staela-the bitch at Lapinina-she was saying that some imager had stopped by a month or so ago, said he’d been an artist, but he scared off a bunch of people.”
“That was me.”
Grisarius nodded again.
“I went to see Madame D’Caliostrus. She’d sold the place and left. There was something about an annuity. The mason working on the walls said Elphens had bought it.”
“Ah, yes . . . young Elphens . . .”
“How could he afford to purchase it? How did he make master so quickly?”
A crooked smile appeared above the wispy goatee. “Might have to do with his father.”
“Who is his father?”
“A High Holder from Tilbora . . . Tillak or some such.”
“A son on the back side of the blanket?”
“Something like that.”
I shook my head. That figured. “That must have brought the guild a few golds.”
“The masters who voted on him, anyway.” Emanus snorted.
“I never knew Caliostrus had a patron who would have purchased an annuity on his life.”
“He probably didn’t. That’s always what they say when someone makes a settlement.”
“But who . . . why?”
“Rumor was that the fire wasn’t natural-like.” The old artisan shrugged. “It could be anyone. For any reason. That son of his was trouble all the way round. Could be that the fire was meant for Ostrius, and the settlement was because Caliostrus got caught accidentally. Or it could be that it was just easier to send the widow packing so that questions didn’t get asked. You’re young, for an imager. You’ll see.”
“You’ve seen a great deal, haven’t you?” I hoped he’d say more.
“There’s much to be seen, if you only look. Most people don’t see things that are right before them because it goes against what they believe or what they want to believe.”
“You know that I could never find a master to take me on as a journeyman.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” Emanus offered a twisted smile. “I don’t think it happened that way, but it wouldn’t have surprised me if someone went after Caliostrus because you’d have made master if he’d lived, and half the portraiture masters in L’Excelsis don’t have your talent.”
“Were you forced out of the guild?”
“Let’s just say that it was better that I let it happen. Didn’t have much choice, but I got to watch the mess Estafen and Reayalt made when they took over.”
“You were the guildmaster?”
He nodded. “I prided myself on being fair. Most people don’t like that, and when they found out a few things . . . Like I said, it was better that I let them trump up a scandal than what might have happened.” There was a wry smile. “What might have happened remains my business, and I can at least take consolation that I wasn’t the cause of anyone getting hurt.”
“Except yourself, sir.”
“That’s a choice we sometimes have to make.” He shook his head. “That was a long time ago, and there’s nothing that anyone can do now.”
It might have been my thinking about Johanyr and the tactics he’d used, but I couldn’t help asking, “Was it someone in your family you had to protect?”
“Why would you ask that, young Rhennthyl?”
“I watched a High Holder’s son do something like that not too long ago.”
“What did you do?”
“Blinded him enough so that he’ll never image again.”
“And you’re still alive?”
“So far. I’ve been shot once.”
Emanus looked at me, then leaned back in the chair. “Why did you seek me?”
“I thought you might be able to tell me if someone was hiring bravos to go after me, or if I needed to look elsewhere.”
“You seem to think I know more than I do.”
“You’ve seen a great deal, and far more than I have.”
“You flatter me with my own words.” Emanus laughed. “Estafen, Reayalt, and Jacquerl wouldn’t go after you, not once you became an imager. Caliostrus’s and Ostrius’s deaths benefited them, and they’d not wish to have any cloud drawn to them.”
I frowned, but waited.
“Caliostrus had a brother. Thelal. He was a tilesetter, journeyman. Liked the plonk too much. Caliostrus gave him silvers. Madame Caliostrus didn’t like it. If I had to wager, I’d say Thelal was involved. Either him or that High Holder.” He frowned. “High Holder’s not likely. Most High Holders would make you suffer for years.”