“Yes, sir.” There was something behind Cydarth’s words, and it didn’t help that Grandmama Diestra had warned me against Mardoyt.
“Lieutenant Mardoyt has the study two doors down. He’s expecting you.” Cydarth turned and looked toward the window.
I didn’t bother to say more, but stepped out of his study and walked through the empty anteroom and down the slightly dusty hallway. The second door was ajar. I rapped gently.
“Master Rhennthyl?” asked a smooth baritone voice.
“The same.”
“Do come in.”
As I entered, the man who rose from the small writing desk in a narrow room with a single window was blond, blue-eyed, and slender. Slightly shorter than I, he also offered a warm smile, and there was the slightest crinkle around his eyes when he smiled. “I’m very pleased to meet you. Subcommander Cydarth has been most favorable in his assessment of you, and I have to say that anyone who has demonstrated master qualities as both a portraiturist and an imager has my admiration.”
I smiled as warmly as I could in response, even though I felt there was a calculating coldness behind the lieutenant’s superficial warmth. “The subcommander was most admiring of your abilities, sir, and I hope that I’ll be able to be of some assistance in addition to observing.”
“I’m sure you will be.” Another smile followed the words. “What we do-that’s me, and now you, and four patroller clerks-what we do is to prepare the presentation of charges to the justices in the central judicial district here. Not for the minor cases that go to the magistrates; we just send them there with the charge sheets. There are six districts that serve L’Excelsis, and we handle all of the major charges from them. We have to make sure that the charging slip matches the prisoner, that a date and time is set for the case before the justice, and that we have an escort and a covered wagon to take each consignment of prisoners to the court building in the Square of Justice. We also have to make sure any patrollers involved in a case are present, and witnesses as well. Once the sentence is passed, we then make sure the papers are correct and complete before we turn the prisoner over to the penal guards.”
“Is there an advocate for the ones who can’t afford to pay for one?”
“There are two public advocates on duty every day at the court. They get half a glass, sometimes a little less, to meet with each prisoner before they go before the justice. But don’t worry. You’re mostly here to watch and ask questions. Just be here a bit before eighth glass on Lundi. Then we’ll go over the prisoners and the schedule for the day, quickly, so that you can see what’s involved. The clerks actually prepare the final schedule the afternoon before, but schedules are roughed out sometimes a week in advance. . . .”
The lieutenant went on for another quarter glass before he sent me back down to the charging desk. After that, we only charged two more offenders, both for trying to make off with hams from a butcher.
As we got ready to leave for the day, I turned to Gulyart. “Thank you. I appreciate your time and showing me how the charging desk works. On Lundi, I start to observe Lieutenant Mardoyt and the courts.”
“I appreciated the help, especially this week.” Gulyart grinned. “The lieutenant is very smooth, very polished. Watch him closely, and you’ll learn a lot.”
“I’m sure I will. I just might stop back here occasionally.”
“You’re always welcome, sir.”
As I walked back toward Imagisle, I couldn’t help but think that my own impressions, not to mention Gulyart’s polite words, tended to confirm what Grandmama Diestra had said.
Once I got to the Collegium, I did have a little time to clean up before I headed to the dining hall. But when I did head in to dinner, I picked up a copy of Veritum because my eyes picked up the headline-“Ferran Fleet Alert.” To one side was another story about the need for increased conscription.
I saw that the masters’ table had only a handful of people there. Ferlyn was on the side away from me, seated with Ghaend and Draffyd. That reminded me that I had to see Maitre Draffyd at ninth glass on Samedi morning, right after the portrait session with Master Rholyn.
Closer to me were the two women maitres, and I stepped toward them.
“I see you’ve been perusing the scandal sheets,” said Maitre Dyana from where she sat beside Maitre Chassendri. “Did you learn anything?” She flipped back the brilliant blue scarf, one of the many bright-colored ones she wore to complement her imager grays.
“Only that they don’t seem to know much more than I do, and that’s discouraging.” I slipped into the chair beside her.
“That’s the beginning of wisdom,” added Chassendri, “when you realize that almost no one really knows much about anything and that the sum total of human knowledge can explain only a fraction of what we observe.”
“Spoken like a true scientist.” Maitre Dyana’s words were both dry and cutting. “If we know so little, you might explain why we still don’t live in caves.”
“Given how intelligent so many seem to be,” countered Chassendri, “why has it taken so long for us to learn how to build warm and comfortable dwellings, let alone steam engines and turbines, and ironway systems?”
“Politics,” I suggested, “and the fact that there are far too many people who want more than they contribute. Or who would rather take from others than build or make it themselves.”
“You’re almost as cynical as Maitre Dyana,” said Chassendri, “and you’re far younger. I shudder to think of how misanthropic you’ll be by the time you’re her age.”
“Young master Rhenn has lived longer beyond the walls of the Collegium than have most imagers his age,” replied Dyana, her voice gentle, almost sweet. “He’s been required to look at life from three very different perspectives. That sort of experience does tend to create a more realistic outlook than laboratory expertise.”
“A lofty perspective, such as that of a High Holder who has to become an imager.”
“Any High Holder’s daughter would murder if she thought it would make her an imager, and bribe and suborn almost anyone to marry one . . . as you should know, dear Chassendri.”
I froze, unable to say anything. Those were the most cutting words I’d ever heard from Maitre Dyana, as sweetly as they had been spoken.
After the briefest of pauses, Dyana went on in the same tone. “Rhenn has a far wider perspective than a High Holder, and that will make it harder for him to deal with such, but also will make him less understandable to them.”
For the moment, listening to them, I felt more like a chemical substance or a creature on Master Draffyd’s dissecting table. I still smiled, then asked, “What do you two think about the taudis riot?”
Chassendri shrugged. “They do riot at times. It comes with poverty and deprivation.”
“You don’t think it was that, do you?” Maitre Dyana looked at me.
“No. It’s too soon after harvest. Food isn’t dear, and it’s neither that hot nor that cold, and the Council didn’t announce increased conscription levels until after the riot, and the Patrol hasn’t been harassing the elvers.”
“What do you think?” inquired Dyana.
I grinned. “You have far more experience than I, despite your kind words. I was hoping you might offer an opinion based on your expertise.” I poured some red Cambrisio into her goblet, and then into mine. I could use it after dealing with both Cydarth and Mardoyt.
Chassendri managed to hide a grin behind the platter of sliced Mantean beef.
Dyana chuckled. “Unlike my compatriot, I would so love to see you in twenty years.”
I waited through that gambit while Dyana served herself the beef, the gravy, and the brown rice. Then I served myself.
Finally, she said, “The riot was most likely instigated by an outside source, but whoever did so will not have left any direct traces, but evidence leading to some other party.”