“Not yet,” replied Martyl. “I don’t think he’s hurrying, either.”
“Any new kinds of attempts to attack councilors?”
The two exchanged the quickest of glances.
“Cannons?” I pressed. “Gunpowder devices?”
“Someone tried to drive another wagon through the gates,” Martyl admitted. “Like the one you exploded. It was filled with black powder and grapeshot. Dartazn, here, got it to explode outside the gates. Two guards were injured, and they had to put down a half-dozen dray horses. Good thing it was on a day when only the High Council was there.”
Did that mean that it had been a Jariolan plot? Or a Tiempran one? Would anyone ever know?
We talked a bit more and then went to our separate tables. I sat with Ferlyn, but he didn’t know as much as Dartazn and Martyl had. After breakfast, I hurried back to my studio, not because I had that much to do in preparation for the sitting with Master Rholyn but because I wanted to start on some design sketches for Seliora’s portrait. Her portrait wouldn’t be one where she was seated, although most were, but Seliora had too much energy for that. I wasn’t certain how to capture her standing, either.
By the time Master Rholyn arrived just after ninth glass, I’d gone through something like four different design sketches and found each of them lacking. I was ready to set them aside for the task of working on finishing Rholyn’s face, or as much of it as I could.
“Good morning, sir,” I offered.
He only nodded as he took off his heavy cloak and walked over to the low crate. “The same position?”
“If you would, for a moment.”
I decided not to ask any questions while I worked on the part of the portrait dealing with his neck and chin. After perhaps two quints, when I’d done what I could and he was getting stiff and tired, I said, “If you’d like to sit down, sir.”
After several moments, while still painting, I said, “I heard that someone tried to send a wagon filled with explosives into the Chateau.”
“It was rather hard to miss . . . the explosion, that is.”
“Do you think it was the Jariolans or the Ferrans?”
“The Jariolans are most secretive, and it’s rather hard to find out things when the Solidaran embassy in Ferrial is closed, even temporarily,” replied Rholyn. “The Ferran parliament, if you can term it such, was not exactly pleased at the demise of their previous envoy, accidental as it may have appeared.”
“That sounds to me like the death of envoys, however accidental, is unacceptable, but the death of tens of imagers is . . . from the Ferran point of view, at least.”
“The deaths of imagers are always acceptable, anywhere in Terahnar.” Rholyn raised his eyebrows. “Haven’t you learned that yet?”
“I’ve learned it, sir, but I’d hoped such deaths wouldn’t be that acceptable within the Collegium.” I was baiting Rholyn a bit. That was probably unwise, but I’d gotten more than a little tired of a leadership attitude in the Collegium which seemed to regard junior imagers as expendable targets and lures.
“That is an assumption that you lack the facts to support, Rhennthyl.”
“That’s quite possible, sir. Would you be willing to affirm that my personal experience or the killing of more than ten junior imagers by assassins so far this year are completely at odds with the Collegium’s actual practices?”
Rholyn actually sighed. “Master Dichartyn did mention that your inquiries could prove difficult.” After a lengthy interval, he finally spoke. “Let me reply in this fashion. It is not widely known, nor do we wish it known, that some two hundred years ago, the chief maitre of the Collegium protested, both in word and action, the practice of local patrollers and others who engaged in killing young imagers. More than two-thirds of the imagers in Solidar were seriously injured or killed. Close to two hundred High Holders died as well, and more than a thousand factors and artisans. The fleet was less than united or effective, and the Ferran autocracy was overthrown and replaced by the commercial barons who now rule Ferrum. You will find little mention of anything like this in the histories, only the mention of the Navy’s inability to affect events in Ferrum. At that time, there were close to four hundred imagers in the Collegium-before the pogroms. Less than two hundred survived. You can check the figures by going through the old rosters of the Collegium. I’m sure that Master Poincaryt would open them to you. With the widespread use of firearms now, we are possibly even more vulnerable. You would doubtless survive, but what of those who cannot raise the shields that you can?”
I didn’t have a quick answer to that. In fact, I didn’t have any good answer.
“Difficult as the present situation is, Rhennthyl, any action the Collegium takes independently and as an institution that suggests it would or could arrogate itself over the Council, the guilds, the factors associations, or any government anywhere on Terahnar would result in extreme danger to every imager, especially those you would protect. The Collegium as a whole must always be seen to support the Council and never to oppose any of the three groups it comprises.”
“As a whole . . .” I mused half aloud.
Rholyn smiled. It was a cold expression. “Personal difficulties must be handled personally and in a fashion that can never involve the Collegium as an institution, nor be seen to involve it. That is how it has been for the past two centuries and how it must be, for the sake of all imagers, not just those who have the imaging strength to stand against armed force.”
“I see, sir. Thank you.” Both Maitre Dichartyn and Maitre Dyana had been more than clear on that policy, but not the full reasons behind it. I almost asked why, but after a moment I understood. The issue arose only for the handful of imagers with abilities such as mine, and we could be handled as discrete individuals, while raising the point that Rholyn and Maitre Dyana had for all imagers would only emphasize the Collegium’s vulnerability. I also realized another reason why the Collegium guarded the Council members-to remind them that there was power in the Collegium and that such power served them.
Needless to say, I asked no more questions, but just worked on the portrait, then partly cleaned up after Master Rholyn left. I didn’t have to put everything away because Seliora would be sitting for me in the afternoon.
At lunch, I listened to Ferlyn and Quaelyn as they discussed the patterns of where imagers had been born. I hadn’t even realized that the Collegium kept such records.
After I ate, I hurried off to wait for Seliora. On the previous Solayi, she had agreed to meet me at the end of the Bridge of Hopes at the first glass of the afternoon-but only if I agreed to spend a glass on horseback in the courtyard at NordEste Design before we could have dinner. I pondered just how well I might do as I stood on the middle of the bridge a good quint before the bells rang out from the Imagisle Anomen.
A coach for hire pulled up at the east side of the bridge, and three people emerged-Odelia, Kolasyn, and Seliora. I immediately hurried toward them. The bells began to peal the glass, their sound both more mellow and yet sharper in the cool fall afternoon. As we neared each other, I could see that Seliora wore black split skirts, a simple red blouse, and a black jacket also trimmed in red.
We hugged each other briefly, then separated, and I turned toward Odelia and Kolasyn. “Thank you for accompanying Seliora.”
“It was our pleasure,” replied Kolasyn. His voice suggested that he definitely meant that.
“But we do want to be among the first to see the portrait,” Odelia added.
“You will be,” I promised.
“Until later, then,” Odelia replied.
Seliora and I watched from the middle of the bridge as the two walked back toward the Boulevard D’Imagers.
“They look good together,” I offered.
“He’s good for her,” Seliora said.
I understood all too well what she didn’t say-that nice as he was, Kolasyn didn’t have the strength to replace Shelim. Nor did Shomyr. I turned to her again. “You look good.”