As soon as everyone had wine, Father offered a simple toast. “To friends and family.”
Then he carved the marinated and crisped lamb, and various dishes appeared, beginning with individual salads of wild greens. Then came rice fries, sliced and boiled new potatoes in butter and mint, asparagus under lemon cream, and, of course, dark spicy gravy. Nellica carried them all in with her usual dispatch.
I’d just finished handing the gravy boat to Mother when Eliesa turned to me. “Are there any High Holders at Imagisle?”
“Even the children of High Holders must go to Imagisle, dear,” Veblynt said. “Is not that so, Rhenn?”
“Very much so.”
“Are they . . . treated the same as others?” Eliesa asked.
“So far as I’ve seen, everyone is treated in the same fashion.” That was true in terms of the way the Collegium operated, but not necessarily in terms of the way people reacted, as I’d discovered with Johanyr, the eldest and most spoiled son of High Holder Ryel, who had tried to maim me for life and whom I’d partly blinded-enough to ruin his imaging and set his father after me.
“Have you known any? Personally, that is?”
“Imagers generally don’t talk about their backgrounds, but I’ve known two, and there certainly might be others.”
“I would imagine that with their training they might do well.”
“One is a Maitre D’Structure, and she is quite accomplished. The other had far too great an opinion of himself and did not like to work, and ended up partly blinded because of his arrogance.”
“I had heard rumors about something like that,” mused Veblynt. “That might make matters rather difficult for the Collegium were his father a powerful High Holder.”
I smiled. “One runs that risk in doing anything of value, as I imagine you have discovered in building such a profitable enterprise.”
“Building something is often the easy part, young Rhenn,” replied Veblynt. “Holding it is what takes talent. That’s one reason why High Holders are called that.”
“Some of them have reputations for, shall we say, ruthlessness,” I offered. “Do you think that such reputations are overstated or understated?”
“Both. It depends on the High Holder.” Veblynt smiled. “What would you think about Councilor Suyrien?”
“I’ve only seen him at official occasions,” I temporized, “but I’d be most hesitant to cross him without a very good reason.”
“That is true . . . from what I know. Yet he is considered a man of honor and moderation compared to, say, those such as High Holder Lhoryn and High Holder Ryel . . . as you may know.”
The last words suggested that Veblynt knew that I’d had some dealings with Ryel-and that bothered me, because I’d never told anyone in my family about my blinding his eldest son. Johanyr had been a total bastard, who’d used his position to abuse young women and torment younger imagers. He and his toady Diazt had tried to cripple me, and in self-defense, I’d partly blinded Johanyr so that he couldn’t image any longer. The only ones I’d ever told about the depth of my problems with Ryel were Seliora’s family-and that was because Grandmama Diestra had discovered them in investigating my suitability as a suitor for Seliora. One never knew, but I doubted that anyone in the Collegium had told Veblynt-and that suggested High Holder Ryel-or Dulyk or Iryela, his other children-had been the ones to spread the word.
“I can’t say that I’ve had any personal dealings with either, with the possible exception of dancing one dance with High Holder Ryel’s daughter.”
“Rhenn . . . you didn’t ever mention that,” Mother said, her voice containing hints of wonder and worry.
“That was at the Council’s Harvest Ball. She asked me, and my duty required me to dance with her.”
“What was she like?”
“She is quite good-looking, much in the same way as Madame D’Veblynt is.” I nodded to Eliesa. “In appearance, they might well be related.”
Eliesa flushed. “You flatter me.”
“I think not.” I paused. “I did not mean to imply more than I said, yet you could have changed places with her, and few would have noticed the difference.”
“I must confess to being slightly older than Iryela.”
I managed a polite and warm smile. “Will you also confess to being distant cousins . . . or some such?”
“Alas, you have discovered one of my secrets, sir.”
“You really are related?” asked Mother.
“In a very roundabout way, but I would appreciate it if you did not mention this. Explaining can be so troublesome.”
If explaining was so troublesome, why had I been set up to reveal the relationship? To give Veblynt some advantage in dealing with Father? Or was it the first step in High Holder Ryel’s campaign against me? Or something else entirely?
“Family ties-and unties-can be most tedious, and better not plumbed in depth,” said Veblynt smoothly before turning to Ferdinand. “We will be building an addition to the mill shortly.”
“You’re looking for stone and brick, like before?” asked Ferdinand, his voice hearty.
“As always.”
I glanced at Seliora, but she had already begun to speak. “Eliesa . . . are all the High Holder balls as stiff and formal as Rhenn has said?”
“They are most formal, and the slightest misstatement can lead to difficulties.” Eliesa laughed, if with a slight brittleness behind the sound. “That is why so often so little is said, for all the words that are exchanged. You are very fortunate to have wealth without holdings.”
“I am fortunate to be able to contribute through honest work to what we have,” Seliora replied warmly. “I’ve found it most rewarding to help create things of beauty. I must say that I pity anyone who must scheme and plot just to hold on to what they have, especially when they create nothing of lasting beauty or substance. Even worse are those who seek to destroy others because they spoke the wrong words.”
I managed to suppress a smile at Seliora’s ability to say everything so warmly and apparently guilelessly.
“And you, Rhenn, what do you think?” asked Veblynt.
I shrugged. “I was an artist. Now I’m an imager. We all do what we can, but it seems to me that scheming and plotting leaves one with very little in the end.”
Veblynt actually frowned thoughtfully. “There are certainly High Holders and even some factors who would disagree with that.”
“I’m sure they would, but that’s why they’re what they are and why I’m what I am.”
Ferdinand laughed, perhaps more loudly than necessary. “Well said, Rhenn.” He turned to Veblynt. “You know, that’s one of the things I like about bricks and stone. I’d almost forgotten.”
Almost everyone at the table looked confused.
Following a moment of silence, Ferdinand went on. “Worked stone and well-fired bricks are what they are, and they stay what they are. They don’t rot like wood, and they don’t say things that they don’t mean, like all too many folks do.” Then he looked at Father. “Excellent lamb, Chenkyr. Crisped just right, and I can’t say that I’ve had better new potatoes in a long time.”
After that, conversation stayed limited to food, the weather, the harvest, and general observations about just how irrational the Caenenans were with their dualogic god. Dessert was a solid apple and raisin cobbler, followed by brandy.
When both the other couples had left, while we were waiting for Charlsyn to bring the coach, I turned to Father. “I know you’ve always been close to Ferdinand, but why did you decide to invite Veblynt? He’s nice enough, but I didn’t realize that you were that close.”
Father stiffened, as he always did when I asked a question he didn’t like. “I just did. Besides, he hasn’t been buying the offcasts as much as he once was.”
“Dear . . .” Mother interjected, “wasn’t it Ferdinand’s idea? Didn’t he say that it had been too long . . . or something like that?”
“Oh . . . that. He also said something about the fact that Veblynt had contacts, and that they might be useful if the Council had to order more uniforms and cloth goods.”