“If I could have a moment, sir. The subcommander has decided that a week of observing your duties was sufficient. He’s assigned me to observe Third District next week.”
“What we do”-Mardoyt smiled warmly-“isn’t terribly interesting. Necessary, but not intriguing.”
“I’ve learned a great deal.” And I had, if not exactly what Mardoyt would have wished.
“You’re obviously an imager with a future, Master Rhennthyl,” Mardoyt said. “That’s clear from the ease with which you’ve picked up how the Patrol works.”
“You and the others have gone out of your way to make sure I understand, and I appreciate that.”
“You’ve been most diligent in checking the charge sheets against the justice proceedings, I also understand.”
“I just want to make sure that I understand how things really work, Lieutenant.” I smiled pleasantly.
“You’re a very bright man, especially for an imager, Master Rhennthyl, and you have quite a future. That Seliora D’Shelim is quite a beauty, I understand. Like a fine blade or a good pistol. You know, a year or so ago, a young man, not much older than you, Master Rhennthyl . . . well . . . he was shot. He was Pharsi, and he wouldn’t say anything, but there were only two girls who could have done it. One was Seliora.” Mardoyt shrugged. “He got it in the shoulder, but he lived, and no one in the Patrol thought there was any reason to get involved in a Pharsi love spat. Not when no one would say anything.”
I wasn’t surprised that Mardoyt had made his own inquiries, not after Grandmama Diestra’s cautions to me. I couldn’t even say I was surprised that Seliora had shot someone who’d attempted to force himself on her. I’d seen her use the pistol to get me to safety.
“Her family has done well, coming up from the taudis,” Mardoyt went on, “but I wouldn’t be at all surprised if they still didn’t have ties to some people there that the Patrol would like to put away for a long time.”
“They’ve never mentioned anything like that.”
“I suppose they wouldn’t, not to an upstanding young imager like you.”
“It wouldn’t matter.” I laughed softly. “We get all types at Imagisle, from the children of High Holders to those from the taudis. Some have even been brothers to taudischefs. At Imagisle, what you do is what matters, not where you came from.”
“I suppose that’s true.” He shook his head. “It’s too bad that the rest of L’Excelsis and Solidar aren’t like that. I’ve seen families suffer, sometimes even to the point of being ruined, when people find out their past.” He shrugged. “Sometimes, that past isn’t even past. You never know.”
I nodded. “That’s true.” I wanted to add something, but anything I said along those lines, such as that the most respectable-seeming officers were often nothing like that, would have revealed too much. Better to leave the lieutenant guessing. “If you don’t have anything else for me, sir, I’ll be leaving.”
“Best of fortune at Third District.”
“Thank you.” I walked out of the anteroom and down the corridor to the stairs, then I stopped and stepped back into the alcove beside the steps, erecting an image shield that matched the wall-I hoped.
Before long, Mardoyt appeared, and walked past me and down the steps. At the bottom, he eased open the door, looked, and then closed it, before turning and walking back up and past me. His actions were more than suggestive, but certainly not proof. I waited until he entered the courtroom preparation chamber before slipping down the stairs to the charging area.
Gulyart was still at the charging desk, alone with several stacks of paper.
“Would you like some help filling out some of those?” I asked. “I’ve got a little time.”
Gulyart smiled faintly.
“I mean it.” I pulled up a chair. “Just tell me what you want done.”
“If you don’t mind . . . Ghrisha would be glad that I got home before it gets too dark.”
I followed his example, checking the record sheets that had been delivered, and then filing them, after making any necessary changes or entering changes on existing records sheets and then replacing them. Along the way, I sneaked a look at several areas of the files, but the sheets I was looking for weren’t there, including the one that should have been on Chardyn D’Steinyn. Only after close to half a glass, when we were nearing the end of the pile, did I speak.
“Someone mentioned a first patroller named Smyrrt who used to work for Lieutenant Mardoyt. I got the impression that something had happened to him.”
Gulyart nodded. “He was killed last winter, walking by that new stone building some three blocks up on his way home. Someone knocked over a stack of cut granite . . . fell three stories and hit him. Anyway, he was found under the stone, and his skull was crushed. . . .”
“That sounds like accidental on purpose,” I observed.
“Some said it was.” Gulyart shrugged. “But Mardoyt looked into it and said it was an accident. Everyone agreed.”
“Then it was an accident.” I paused. “Have a good weekend.”
“I will . . . and thank you for the help.”
When I left the Patrol headquarters, I did hail a hack to take me back to the Collegium, and not because of the rain, which wasn’t that heavy, but because I wanted to get there in time to talk to Master Dichartyn. I was fortunate enough to find him in and momentarily unoccupied.
“I thought I might be seeing you. Have you been reassigned yet?”
“Third District, starting on Lundi.” I eased off my damp gray woolen cloak and sat down in the armless wooden chair across the writing desk from him.
“What of great import do you have to impart?”
I ignored the sarcasm. “Mardoyt’s taking payoffs to lose charge sheets or get charges reduced before they’re presented to the justices. There’s no real proof except for missing charge sheets.”
“That’s always been a problem, with whoever’s held that position. What else?”
“A taudischef named Youdh is fairly close to the Tiempran priests who incited the riots, and they paid for the advocate to represent some of those sentenced, as well as the bribes to get some of the charges unofficially dropped. It’s well known that Baluzt is the pocket man for Mardoyt.”
“I see that you haven’t confined your observations to what has been presented to you, but you’ll have to do better if you want to change matters.”
“Should I want to change them?”
That brought a frown to Dichartyn’s face.
“You pointed out that I was only to be an observer, sir. If the Civic Patrol structure is such that it encourages bribery, that’s not exactly something for a liaison to address, is it?”
“No. But proof would help.”
I was the one to laugh. “Mardoyt has years of experience in avoiding providing proof. What I know absolutely and what I can prove are two separate matters, and you know that far better than I, sir.”
“I’m glad to see you recognize that. Just don’t mention what you’ve told me to anyone except Master Poincaryt until you do have proof.” He cleared his throat. “There’s one other thing. The Council is having its annual Autumn Ball on Vendrei the thirty-fourth of next month.”
“Do they have one every season?”
“Every season except summer. Although Master Schorzat and I both have some reservations about your methods, your ability to discern trouble is extremely good. We have agreed that your presence will be salutary. Since you are no longer officially part of Council security, you will need to wear the black formal jacket of a Solidaran functionary-and the imager’s pin, of course. This is not a deception because as both a master imager and a liaison to the Civic Patrol, you are exactly that. The tailor is expecting you for a fitting tomorrow at ninth glass, after you finish your session with Master Rholyn.”
“Speaking of that, sir, it’s getting rather chill in the studio. If it gets much colder, I won’t be able to paint because the oils will harden too much. I’m going to need some way to heat the studio on the coldest days.”
“I can see that, but just talk to Grandisyn. I’m sure you two can figure something out.”