“I should have asked about coming today before I left last night, but I didn’t think about it after what happened. Do you have any idea-”
“It can’t be Ryel. High Holders don’t operate that way.”
“Unless he knows about my shields and is just having people shoot at me to wear me down and get me upset . . . or upset those close to me.” I really didn’t believe that, but I thought I should mention it.
Seliora frowned. “That could be, but I don’t think so. When I get a moment, I’ll talk to Grandmama Diestra about it. She might have some ideas.”
“I could use some.”
“Rhenn . . . if you walk anywhere with other patrollers, you might consider . . .”
“Extending my shields to cover them? I’ve thought about it. It won’t do me any good if every patroller around me gets shot.” That would tax me even more, but the alternatives were worse. From what I knew about how High Holders handled revenge, Ryal was unlikely to have been behind it . . . but who else would have been? “You will see if anyone knows about any others like the Ferran?”
She nodded.
That was all I could ask. I grinned. “Did I behave acceptably last night?”
“Oh, Rhenn . . . you’re always polite and charming . . . even when people don’t deserve it.”
I wasn’t so sure about that, but it was nice to hear. “Do you think that we could go out to dinner next Samedi? Even at Terraza?”
“We could go to Azeyd’s . . . if you’d like to try authentic Pharsi fare.”
“I’d like that.” I paused. “Is it owned by relatives?”
“Friends of Mother’s. She’d be pleased.”
Another set of chaperones, in a way, but just to be able to talk to her alone would be good, and the thought of Pharsi cuisine appealed to me. “Done. Fifth glass?”
Her smile was answer enough.
After that, we got to spend a few moments talking about nothing of great import, but before too long she had to go.
I spent more coins taking a hack from NordEste Design to my parents’. Because it was Solayi, and Nellica had the day off, Khethila was the one who answered the door.
“Rhenn!” She gave me a warm sisterly hug. Then we went to the family parlor where Khethila dropped into Father’s chair. I took the one across from it.
“Rhenn, I finally got my copy of her book.”
“Whose book?” I did grin as I said it.
“Madame D’Shendael’s. You know that. I still can’t believe you danced with her. You’ve never said any more about what she said, you know?”
“I can’t, except that I did tell her that you had read all her books except for On Art and Society. She asked me twice if I made that up. I told her it was the truth.”
I still wondered exactly what Juniae D’Shendael’s connection had been with the late Ferran envoy, but I supposed I’d never know.
“She had to be polite, but what else was she like?”
“On guard. She’s been pressing for a Council that has some councilors directly elected by the people, the way they do in the Abierto Isles. I heard that Councilor Caartyl invites her to every Council ball just to keep her in view of the other councilors.”
“Would that vote include women? If it didn’t, I don’t see that it would make much difference in the way the Council worked.” Her tone was dismissive.
“As far as the High Holders go, it would.”
“Not that much.”
“You might be right.” I thought it would make a great difference, but I wasn’t about to argue about it.
“You’re being condescending, Rhenn.”
I shrugged, then lowered my voice. “How are matters in Kherseilles?”
Khethila frowned, as if debating whether to pursue what she thought had been my condescension, then shook her head. “Someone bought the notes Rousel took out and demanded immediate payment. We arranged it, but it cost another twenty golds . . . and Father had to post a bond of another hundred with the Banque D’Kherseilles to keep the line of credit.”
“So he lost nearly three hundred golds this season?” That amount of loss was hard for me to understand. Through bad judgment Rousel had lost in two months more than I’d make in six years, and the factorage in Kherseilles wasn’t that large.
“Four hundred, if you count the bond,” Khethila said quietly. “His receipts are down, too. I think someone has put out the word not to buy from him. We’ve even gotten orders here lately, asking us to ship to places like Mantes, and they used to take delivery from Rousel in Kherseilles.”
“Do you know who bought the notes?”
“The Banque D’Rivages, but they wouldn’t have done it except as an agent. Why would a banque nearly thirteen hundred milles from Kherseilles buy notes secured by the stock of a small factorage in Kherseilles?”
I had an idea, but at the moment I certainly had no way to prove it. Even if I did, what had been done was strictly legal. Ryel would have made certain that everything remained within the law, or at least within the appearance of the law.
“Someone’s here . . .”
That was my mother’s voice, coming from the hall.
“Rhenn! You didn’t say you were coming.” Accusation mixed with warmth in Mother’s voice.
“I didn’t know I was coming.”
“That’s probably because he’d planned to see Seliora, and she had other plans,” suggested Khethila sweetly, a statement clearly offered as retaliation for what she thought had been condescension.
“I did see her, already, but it had to be brief because she had to work.”
“On Solayi?” asked Mother.
“A large and urgent commission.”
“Good for her,” Father said bluffly. “She and her family know what’s important. That’s why they’ve been so successful.”
The briefest of frowns crossed Khethila’s brow.
“So long as they don’t do it every Solayi,” added Mother. “Didn’t you have dinner with her family and some of their relatives last night? How was it?”
“They were all very nice. One of her aunts runs a bistro not all that far from Patrol headquarters. It’s called Chaelia, I think.”
“I haven’t heard of it,” Father replied.
“Is it in a good area?” asked Mother.
I laughed. “I don’t know. I haven’t been there, but it can’t be too bad because it’s only a few blocks from Civic Patrol headquarters, and that’s only a half block off East River Road.”
“If you eat there, dear, I do hope it’s in a good area.”
After that, we talked about, or rather I listened to Mother rhapsodize about Remaya and Rousel’s son Rheityr.
I barely made it back to Imagisle in time to eat and then go to services. I stood where I could watch Shault. Lieryns was next to him, I thought, but I wasn’t totally sure in the dim light, and I didn’t want to get close enough that my observations would have been noted.
As often was the case, one part of Chorister Isola’s homily resonated with me.
“. . . Naming is as much about control as about labeling or identity. We tend to think that when we name something or someone we have gained control. The superior always uses a diminutive to an inferior. That, too, is part of the sin of naming. The man or woman who can act as though there were no names is far greater than one who insists on a hierarchy of names. . . . Is it any accident that those who most relish naming are those who are most loath to give up power, position, or control? . . .”
I had to admit that I really hadn’t thought about the way names were used as a symptom of power and of how people used them in that fashion, but it certainly made a great deal of sense, and I made a mental reminder to try to watch for that in the days ahead.
8
Lundi was a very busy day at the Patrol charging desk. So was Mardi. Meredi morning didn’t look to be that much better because, when I got to headquarters, there were offenders waiting everywhere even before Gulyart and I started to register the charges. By tenth glass, when we had three-quarters of a glass off to eat lunch, we both were more than ready to leave the confines of the Patrol building. The rain had subsided to a comparative drizzle, not too uncomfortable for mid-fall, as we stepped outside.