“He loved you,” I pointed out.
“Rhenn . . . I know you were once interested in me.” She smiled sadly. “I loved Rousel. I still do. I always will. Besides that . . . your Seliora is far better suited to you than I ever would have been.”
I had to agree. “I know. I just didn’t know it back then.”
“I did.”
“Yes, you did.” I paused. “Why did you say that yesterday, those old Pharsi words about the daughter of the moon? You looked so stunned when you saw us.”
“I couldn’t help it. There’s an old book in my parents’ house. Father said it was very rare. It was written in Pharsi, but he let me read it-look at the drawings, really. I had to promise to be careful. My favorite drawing was the daughter of the moon. Seliora looks just like that drawing, and that’s her name, and you looked so powerful and severe, like Erion. I . . . I never saw anything like it.”
“Farsight . . . or real sight?”
“Both . . . I think.” She paused. “Rhenn . . . please don’t take this the wrong way, but . . . I’ve always known there was something different about you, besides being an imager. Rousel didn’t always do things right, and sometimes he said things that could be hurtful. I know. I saw it with you, but he didn’t mean to. He never did. You seldom say thoughtless or cruel things, yet . . . I think I’d be truly terrified if you ever became my enemy. Not that you would, but do you understand?”
I was afraid I did. I nodded.
“Seliora is like you in that, too.”
“Like him in what?” asked Mother, carrying in a teapot and mugs. “Who is?”
“She was saying that Seliora and I were more alike that we might have realized.” I looked to Remaya. “That was what you said, wasn’t it?”
“They’re both very determined,” Remaya confirmed.
“It’s good Seliora is,” Mother replied. “If a woman doesn’t have a mind of her own with Rhenn, she won’t have any at all.”
Those words surprised me. “Mother . . .”
“You know that, dear. That’s why Khethila’s so strong. She had to be to argue with you.” She smiled and returned to the kitchen.
“She knows you, Rhenn,” Remaya said.
Moments later, Mother came back with a large platter filled with warmed items left over from the afternoon before-pastry crescents filled with spiced ground lamb or cheese, cheese and sausage slices, grape leaves stuffed with rice and lamb, and beef baolas. There was enough on the platter before us to feed the entire family and then some.
“I think that’s more than enough,” I suggested.
Remaya smiled.
Still, I was hungry, and I didn’t talk much while I removed a fair share of what was on the platter.
“This being with the Civic Patrol,” Mother said, “it sounds dangerous. How long will you be doing this?”
“Usually, an assignment there is for a year, sometimes longer. But the conscription teams only visit an area every two to three years. It’s likely that the worst is over for now.”
“I can’t say as I like it.”
“Sometimes, it’s just fate,” Remaya interjected. “Rousel wasn’t . . . he wasn’t doing anything dangerous.” She shook her head, her eyes bright, again. “It doesn’t make sense . . .”
“You mean that I can be standing close to an explosion,” I said, “and escape, while Rousel dies in a freak accident?”
Remaya nodded.
“Life’s never what we expect,” Mother said. “You’ll send yourself to the madhouse if you think it’s always going to work out or make sense. Chenkyr thought Rhenn here would be a factor. Rhenn thought he’d be a portraiturist. They were both wrong.”
“I think he’s better off as an imager,” Remaya said, sniffing slightly.
I stood. “I think I ate too much. I’d just like to walk around in the garden for a bit. I need to stretch my legs and think.” That wasn’t quite true. I needed to see if I could approach Ryel’s chateau in the way I’d planned.
“It’s a bit chill out there,” Mother said.
“I’ll be fine.” I made my way out onto the rear terrace, beyond which lay the garden, more to the north than directly back, a modest wall garden no more than twenty yards by ten, with a stone path making its winding oval way around the bushes and the flower beds, although the annuals had succumbed to the recent frosts.
When I reached the northwest corner, I studied the small lily pond. It was partly dry, but that wouldn’t hinder my attempt. Where I stood also wasn’t visible from the kitchen or the parlor. I looked at the corner of the pond, then concentrated on imaging a narrow bridge along one side. I stepped on the imaged bridge, and it cracked, and I had to jump back. Clearly, I needed a stronger structure.
It took me three tries before I managed to image what I required. In time, I made my way back to the parlor, where Remaya and Mother had gone from the breakfast room. Remaya was nursing Rheityr.
“I see my nephew is awake.”
“Awake and hungry,” Remaya replied dryly. “Very hungry.”
“I’ll need to go.”
“It was nice of you to come, dear. Will you be able to come for dinner tomorrow?” Mother asked.
“I’m afraid not. I can’t make any plans until I find out what the Collegium has planned for me. They’re concerned that I was too visible because of the problems with the Temple.”
“The newsheets were very complimentary,” Remaya said.
“The Collegium tries to avoid being public, even in a positive way,” I replied.
“Will we see you at all tomorrow?”
“Like Father, we often work on Samedis. There are things I have to finish,” I pointed out, “and I’m the duty master on Solayi.”
“It sounds so much like the Navy,” Remaya said.
“In some ways, it’s much easier. In others, it’s much harder.” I inclined my head to her, and then to Mother, before she accompanied me to the front door.
“You do take care, dear,” were her parting words.
“I’ll certainly try.”
I did have to walk out to Saenhelyn Road before I could find a hack, since Charlsyn wasn’t around. By the time I stepped out of the coach on Hagahl Lane it was two quints past fourth glass.
Bhenyt was the one who opened the door. He grinned and called upstairs, “You were right, Aunt Seliora. It’s him!” He locked the door and raced up the stairs.
I followed, more sedately, at least in comparison.
Seliora was waiting, wearing what looked to be her working garb-the dark blue split skirts and a matching jacket over a beige blouse. She still looked wonderful.
She felt wonderful, too, when I put my arms around her and kissed her.
When we disengaged, she said, “It’s a good glass until dinner.”
“We can talk, can’t we?”
“Is that all you had in mind?” She raised her eyebrows.
“No, but that’s all that will happen.”
“It’s too cold to sit out on the terraces, and Father has some friends in the lower plaques room,” Seliora said.
We ended up sitting on the settee in the main entry hall.
“There were more assassins than the one yesterday,” Seliora said carefully.
“That’s what you hinted,” I replied.
“Mama and Grandmama are still looking into it.”
“We should talk about it,” I said, “but can it wait? I’d rather not until after tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? What will you do?” Seliora asked, her voice calm enough that I knew she knew that I intended to act.
I forced a smile. “First, there’s something I won’t be able to do. That’s the sitting for your portrait tomorrow.”
“I thought as much after what Factor Veblynt said.”
“I’d also like to borrow the mare tomorrow afternoon, say around second glass.” I paused. “It’s an imposition, but I hope it’s the last one.”
Seliora raised her eyebrows.
“Not in the same way,” I amended my statement. “I’ll probably always be imposing.”
She did offer that mischievous grin, the one I hadn’t seen in a while, and had missed. I tried to concentrate on that and not what Samedi might bring.
57