After we returned, Seliora didn’t make me groom the mare, but let the ostler do it, noting that she’d prefer not to have to bathe again before we dined, although we both did wash up.
“Now . . . you could actually ride the mare somewhere and arrive,” she said.
“I’m not up for much more than that.”
“No, but that’s all you’ll probably need.”
I hoped I didn’t need even that, but that was hoping against hope, I feared.
In the end we made it to Chaelya’s just slightly after half past six.
We had barely stepped inside the door when Staelia hurried forward to meet us. “It’s so good to see you!”
“We’d hoped to come last Samedi,” I offered, “but things didn’t work out. Shomyr and . . . Haelya . . . they were supposed to meet us here.”
“Four of you, then? We can take care of that.” Staelia immediately escorted us to a circular table in an alcove near the rear of Chaelya’s. “You two sit down, and I’ll have Taelia bring you each a glass of something special.”
“You don’t have to . . .” I began.
“We want to.” With a smile, she turned.
“Is that why we can’t eat here often?” I asked.
“She’d do anything for family, no matter what it cost her.” Seliora paused. “Would you like to come to brunch tomorrow?”
“I’d like that very much. I do have to meet Horazt at the first glass of afternoon, and I should stop by to see my parents. I saw Khethila earlier this week. Matters aren’t going well in Kherseilles.”
“Ryel, you think?”
“Ryel and Rousel’s lack of attention to details. The combination is anything but good, but I can’t say anything about either.”
“You learn failure with details is expensive in crafting.”
“It’s expensive in factoring as well. He just isn’t ever the one to pay the full price.”
“Rhenn . . . I feel sorry for him.”
Sorry for Rousel? I just raised my eyebrows. I didn’t want to say what I really thought.
“People like your brother go through life not understanding the true costs of anything. He didn’t have to pay with pain or patience or much of anything for the love of a woman. He didn’t have to learn factoring from the bottom up with a whipping or loss of coins for failure.”
“That’s true.”
“When you don’t pay, you don’t know what something’s worth. You only think you do, and you make mistakes. That’s why I feel sorry for your brother. He may never learn the worth of what he has.”
I hadn’t quite thought of it that way, but I couldn’t say more because I saw Shomyr and a woman following Staelia toward our table. I rose just before they arrived.
“I’m sorry we’re late,” offered Shomyr with an embarrassed smile. “We were delayed.”
“My parents wished to talk,” added the woman, who was close to a head shorter than Seliora with orange-flame hair, freckles, and a figure with curves excessive for her height. She also had an open smile and exuded warmth.
“This is Haelya. Haelya . . . Master Rhennthyl. You’ve met Seliora.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, Haelya.” I gestured for her to take the seat to my left. “We just arrived ourselves.”
As soon as everyone was seated, Taelia appeared with a tray holding four goblets of an amber wine. The first goblet went to me, the second to Seliora.
“The special tonight,” said Taelia, “is capon marinated in walnut oil and naranje, with special spices, then grilled and served in Father’s special naranje cream sauce. We also have the flank steak especial and a poached sole . . .”
In the end, both Seliora and I ordered the special capon, with greens topped with crumbled cheese and walnuts. Shomyr ordered the flank steak and Haelya the sole.
Once Taelia retreated to the kitchen, I lifted my goblet. “I don’t have a specific toast, except to family.”
“To family.” The others raised their goblets as well.
I sipped the wine, which held a hint of cinnamon and butter, as well as just enough sweetness so that it was not bitter. It was good, but I think I would have preferred a white Grisio.
“How is the portrait coming?” asked Shomyr, looking to his sister.
“I don’t know. I haven’t looked,” Seliora replied.
“Portraits take time,” I said, “and I can’t work on it that much.”
Haelya looked confused, but said nothing.
“Haelya,” I asked, “how did you and Shomyr meet?”
Seliora laughed.
I glanced at her.
“It’s always better to ask the woman,” she replied.
“At the apothecary shop,” Haelya said in a low voice. “He was always so kind and cheerful.”
“And she was always so helpful, especially with the liniments for Grandmama,” added Shomyr. “Her family has four apothecary shops here in L’Excelsis, and they have a separate formulation building. That way, the products are the same in all the shops.”
“Father will be opening a fifth before long,” added Haelya, “a street beyond the Plaza D’Nord.”
At that moment, Taelia reappeared with four plates of greens, three of the mixed with walnuts and one of fall fruits over greens. That was for Haelya.
“How did you two meet, if I might ask?” Haelya looked from Seliora to me and then back to Seliora.
“It’s not that mysterious,” I offered. “I was a portraiturist before I became an imager, and Seliora and I attended the Samedi get-togethers at the Guild Hall. . . .”
“But I had to ask him to dance the first time.” The mischievous grin appeared. “And the second.”
“I was a slow learner.”
Haelya looked puzzled, once more. “But you’re a master imager.”
“A very junior master imager from a very conservative wool-factoring family. Seliora has taught me a great deal.”
Shomyr grinned.
Seliora raised her eyebrows.
Conversation for the rest of the evening revolved around such topics as Haelya’s family and siblings, the range of crafting handled by NordEste Design, the relative taste of the various dinner entrees, and the early coolness of autumn.
After a lengthy and good, but not exquisite, meal, I made a coachman for hire relatively happy by paying him to deliver Haelya to her home, on one of the lanes on the lower slopes of Martradon, Shomyr and Seliora to their place, and me to the foot of the Bridge of Desires.
Once I reached my chambers and undressed, I was tired enough to fall into bed and find sleep quickly.
28
“Ryel will ruin my family, if not worse.” I looked across the study to where Master Dichartyn sat behind his desk. “And the Collegium will do nothing? When I was the one attacked by Johanyr?”
“Rhennthyl, you must understand. The Collegium simply cannot allow you to destroy a thousand years of hard-fought effort that has created the only protection for imagers anywhere in the world.” Master Dichartyn looked calmly at me.
“I’m supposed to sit by and watch this arrogant High Holder destroy my family one person at a time, while the Collegium does nothing?”
“We’re supposed to hazard the lives of hundreds who cannot protect themselves for the sake of a few people?” countered Dichartyn. “Do what you will, but do not involve the Collegium.”
“That’s fine for you to say.” I could feel my anger rising.
“You seem to think that you’re special, Rhenn, and that the world and the Collegium should accommodate to your view. You seem to think that good deeds are always rewarded, and that evildoers are always punished, and that there’s no price to be paid. . . .”
The sardonic belittling in his words touched something . . . somewhere . . . and from I knew not where flame exploded across the study. The entire study was enveloped in it.
Heat flared across my face.
I was lying in my bed . . . and the front of the armoire was aflame.
After a confused moment, I ran to the corridor and grabbed the bucket of damp sand-there were usually five on every corridor-and dashed back into my bedchamber. I immediately imaged a thin layer of sand across the armoire. Most of the flames died away.