“I see that. Still . . . I should tell Mama and Grandmama to be prepared if he does act against us.” Her smile was cold.
There wasn’t much more to say about that, not really, because I had only a vague idea of how I would actually attempt to carry out what I had in mind. So I looked at Seliora and smiled. “How are your greens?”
“Good. And yours?” The mischievous smile reappeared.
“Excellent, if not quite so good as those prepared by those in a certain kitchen off Hagahl Lane.”
We would enjoy the rest of the evening. About that, I was determined. I was also relieved to have heard Seliora’s words about the shooting. It did confirm what I already knew. She wasn’t about to be demeaned or abused, regardless of the cost. Her reaction also strengthened my own feelings about dealing with Ryel.
23
Because I was the duty master on Solayi, I could do more thinking and reading, and planning, but not much else. The day was uneventful, except for having to get up early. No would-be imagers appeared. No one reported any imagers killed or missing, and the dining hall was so deserted at midday that I was the only master there.
Even though I’d already told Shault that I’d delivered his coins and message on Meredi evening, I did motion him aside after lunch.
“How are your studies with Master Ghaend going?”
He didn’t quite meet my eyes.
“You’re having trouble with the reading?”
“Yes, sir.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that because, to me, reading had come almost naturally. “Is it the letters or the way they sound?”
“No, sir. It’s the words. I can sound them out, but there are so many that I don’t know what they mean.”
“Haven’t you heard of a dictionary?”
He looked absolutely blank.
“Come with me.”
As we walked, I began to explain. “A dictionary is a book that has all the words one could ever use, and it explains each word in smaller words, usually, anyway. . . .”
While the library was dark, as it always was on Solayi, I found a dictionary and signed it out to Shault, cautioning him that he’d have to pay for replacing it if he lost or damaged the book. Then I sent him on his way, but he seemed almost relieved.
A dictionary-something so simple that it was obvious . . . except to a very bright boy from the taudis and one who was still fearful enough that he didn’t want to ask anyone, and who would seemingly tell only me, and only if questioned.
Thankfully, that was the most eventful happening of Solayi.
I did have to get up earlier on Lundi to fit in both Clovyl’s exercises and sparring, as well as report on the duty to Master Schorzat. But I managed to arrive at Third District station before seventh glass in time to meet Alsoran before the morning patrols began.
Alsoran had definitely been picked for his patrol round on the basis of physical appearance and capability. He stood a good ten digits taller than me, and his shoulders were far broader. There wasn’t the faintest trace of extra flesh or fat around his midsection. His black hair was cut short and still faintly curly below his visored cap, and his eyebrows were thick and bushy, almost meeting above his nose.
“Good morning, Master Rhennthyl.”
“Good morning, Alsoran.”
“You ready?”
“As ready as I can be.” That meant that I was only holding very light shields, with triggers, because anything more caused a pounding headache. That wasn’t exactly ideal, but letting anyone know I was less than fully able would have been worse. I thought that it was unlikely that Mardoyt or Harraf would try anything too soon after the last incident, and I hoped I was right.
Without another word, we walked out of the station and headed southwest on Fuosta. We’d almost reached Quierca before Alsoran spoke again.
“I heard about what happened when you went with Huerl and Koshal.” Alsoran’s slightly high-pitched voice was mild. “I recall something like that happened to a first patroller out of headquarters, except he got killed instead of the brigands.”
“I’d heard that. I was assured it was an accident.” I laughed. “I’m not fond of accidents.”
“Being as you’re an imager, I’d wager you aren’t, sir. It does seem strange that they’ve got you walking rounds, not that I’m complaining, mind you.” The bushy eyebrows rose.
“The commander wants me to understand everything that you patrollers do. I got the feeling that he worries that if I don’t have that understanding, I might recommend something that might cause more problems than doing nothing.”
Alsoran shook his head. “Doesn’t hold on this round. In the taudis, someone’s always doing something wrong. You do something, and you got problems. You do nothing, and you got more problems.”
“You’re speaking from experience. How long have you had this round?”
“On and off, for six-seven years. They rotate us, but I always get rotated back here.” He laughed. “Suits me. The elvers and the taudischefs in my round know the rules, and they don’t give us problems. It’s always the young toughs, and most of them don’t last.” He shook his head good-naturedly. “Some of them get it, and they work out, but the others . . .”
I let a moment of silence pass before I asked, “How do you set up your round?”
“Always do a circle on the edges first. That way, you get a feel for the day and what’s happening before you get really inside the taudis. We go out South Middle or Quierca, doesn’t much matter, and then along the Avenue D’Artisans. The stretch along the avenue and the two streets behind it are the only part of the round that aren’t in the South Middle taudis. From the plaza or from Quierca, depending on which way we go, we head back to Mando-that’s the west end of the round. Lyonyt always says that Mando’s the border between nasty tough and really evil.”
“And your round takes in all the really evil side?”
“Nah . . . our side is just tough. But you can’t stop looking. The moment you do . . . that’s when trouble starts.”
We’d walked two blocks along Quierca. On the south side of the street were row houses, most with heavy shutters or bars on the lower windows, but the dwellings-mostly of faded and soot-stained yellow brick-were neat. Through the occasional gaps between the duplexes and triplexes, I could see hints of gardens and trees in the rear courtyards. On the north side, where we walked, there was the chest-high wall at the back edge of the sidewalk. The ground between the wall and the dwellings was mostly bare, except for straggly weeds. Still, after the first four blocks, most of the windows on the lower level had heavy shutters, and almost none had windows boarded shut, although I could see traces of smoke coming from chimneys of the few houses with boarded-up windows.
“Quiet this morning. Usually is on Lundi,” observed Alsoran.
Even the Avenue D’Artisans seemed to have fewer wagons and coaches, but that might well have been because I’d never been there so early in the morning before. The shops were still all shuttered. The walk back down South Middle was equally quiet, but the row dwellings on the south side, in the taudis, looked even more dilapidated than those off Quierca.
When we reached Mando, Alsoran looked to me. “From here on, don’t stop looking.”
“I won’t.” Especially since I was in no shape to hold full shields.
Mando was more like a lane than a street, and an odor of wastes, human and otherwise, drifted up around us.
“Don’t work on the sewers here much,” said Alsoran. “Can’t say I blame ’em.”
The lane ran three long blocks, then turned almost at a right angle and ran another three long blocks back to Quierca. We didn’t see anyone on the lane itself all the way, but a block or so short of the end I caught the smell of elveweed-a strong odor.
“Elveweed,” I noted.
“From the brown place there on the left,” replied Alsoran. “Always smell it there in the morning. Haven’t had any trouble, though. Not yet, anyway.”