“I’ll be there. No one will think that’s strange for her first visit.” I’d have to be there, because I didn’t want Shault to see what I had in mind. “Do you want me to give her the gold?”
“You can owe me, Master Rhennthyl. You’re good for it.” He slowed and looked at me. “You really think Shault can make a life as an imager?”
“He has the talent, and he has more chances than anyone I know of from the taudis, but he has to want it. It’s not easy for a taudis-kid because the best imagers are those no one sees.”
“You’re good, or you wouldn’t be a master, and people know who you are.”
“I’ve also been shot at and attacked more times than any other master, and I could have died twice. I wouldn’t want Shault to go through that.”
“He’ll want to follow you.”
I didn’t bother hiding the sigh. “We’re all afraid of that, but we’ll help him all we can.”
“His grandfather was quiet. So was his uncle. They both died young.”
“I understand. Quiet doesn’t always work in the taudis. I can only tell you that I’ll do what I can.”
“That’s all anyone can ask.” Horazt raised his hand. “Later. Don’t get too wet.” He turned and crossed South Middle, walking into a narrow lane on the other side and disappearing into the misty rain.
I kept walking until I was on the Midroad. Eventually, I managed to hail a coach for hire.
By the time I reached my parents’ house and walked up under the portico roof, my cloak was more than a little damp. I lifted the knocker and let it drop twice before the door opened.
Mother stood there. “Rhenn! I thought it might be you. Come in before you get any wetter.” Her eyes went over me. “From the look of your cloak, I don’t know that you could.”
Once inside, I immediately shed the cloak.
“Dear, let me hang that up in the kitchen. The stove is still hot.”
“Thank you. Are you here alone?”
“Oh, no. Your father’s in the parlor. Khethila’s over at Brennai’s this afternoon, but you did see her last week when we weren’t here.” Mother bustled toward the family parlor and the kitchen beyond.
As I followed, I ignored her attempt to inject guilt into the conversation. “I can’t always come every Samedi. I was painting until late yesterday.”
“Whose portrait?” asked Father from his chair, setting down the book he had been reading.
“I’ve been working on several, but the important one is Master Rholyn’s. He’s the Collegium councilor.”
“Khethila said that you were working hard.” Mother stopped at the door to the kitchen. “Can I get you some hot mulled wine or some tea?”
“Tea would be good. I can only stay a glass or so.”
“The kettle’s still warm. It shouldn’t take long.” Mother scurried into the kitchen.
I settled into the chair across from Father, grateful for the warmth from the hearth stove. “I haven’t seen you for a bit. Is there anything new happening?” I doubted that Father would say anything about the problems in Kherseilles.
“There is one thing.” Father beamed. “That dinner we had with Veblynt and Ferdinand last month actually led to a contract from the Navy. One of the supply commanders said that Veblynt had recommended me, and he asked me to bid on a large contract. That was several weeks ago. On Meredi, I received notice that the bid had been accepted.” Father smiled. “That was most welcome.”
“Will it be profitable?”
“A solid profit’s to be had, but the margin on military contracts is lower. Always has been, but it’s not to be sneezed at.”
“No contract backed by the Council is to be ignored,” Mother added, returning with a mug of tea.
I took the mug and held it under my chin, letting the steam warm my face for a moment before taking a sip. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, dear.”
I turned back to Father. “I suppose Veblynt showed up on Jeudi to congratulate you?” I kept my tone idle.
Father frowned. “On Vendrei, actually.” After a pause, he went on. “He congratulated me on getting the bid, but he also said that you were to be equally congratulated for your efforts in dealing with his wife’s most distant relations.”
Mother looked up sharply. “You didn’t mention that, dear.”
“I’m certain I did, Maelyna.”
“Perhaps you did.” Mother’s tone indicated that he had not, but that she was not going to make an issue of it-not at the moment. Instead, she looked to me. “What did Veblynt mean, do you think?”
“I don’t know. I suspect that he was referring to my avoiding problems with the daughter of High Holder Ryel.”
“Why would there be problems?”
“Iryela is most determined, extremely good-looking, and to be as safe as possible, she needs a husband who cannot inherit from her. Imagers fit those criteria. By not angering her, and by choosing Seliora, I hoped to avoid involvements of that sort.” All that I said was true, if somewhat misleading.
For whatever reason, Veblynt had steered the wool contract to Father. While I did not know the reason, I had the feeling that it was strictly to give me time to deal with Ryel . . . or at the least to make Ryel work harder to ruin me and my family. Then, it might have been to force Ryel into making a mistake. I had strong doubts that it was merely to help Father, but how could I tell? I wasn’t about to ask Veblynt . . . not now, at least.
“Seliora is beautiful and well endowed . . . especially coming from a crafting family,” Mother offered.
What she really meant was that she was still surprised to find a Pharsi girl who was as beautiful and well off as Seliora. She was also suggesting that I might have done better to look more closely at Iryela.
“Indeed she is, and her brothers are far more welcoming than Iryela’s brothers would have been. High Holders would prefer not to have imagers privy, even indirectly, to their family and their affairs.”
“That’s a pity,” Mother said. “Is this . . . heiress . . . attractive?”
“She’s quite attractive, if in a cold and calculating fashion,” I replied. “You know I don’t do well with that.” I took another sip of the tea.
“Maelyna, even I know that Rhennthyl needs someone warm and kind, especially since he’s become an imager. All the gold in Solidar doesn’t warm a home or a bed.”
That comment from my father surprised me, although it shouldn’t have, because, for all his bluster at times, he’d always been appreciative of my mother, and seldom said anything unkind. He also didn’t tolerate anyone else saying anything negative about her.
“You and Seliora haven’t had dinner with us recently,” Mother said.
I had to think about that, but she was right. It had been over a month.
“You could come next Samedi. Culthyn has never met Seliora, you know?”
“Could we make it for sixth glass?”
“Of course, dear.”
“I’ll have to send her a note.” Seliora had agreed that we’d go out, and I hoped she wouldn’t mind. “Plan on it, and I’ll let you know if there’s a problem.”
“It would be nice to get to know her better.”
That might well be, but it would be nerve-racking for me. I just smiled.
“Will you keep painting?” Mother asked. “Khethila mentioned something . . .”
“I’ve finished one portrait. That’s of the head maitre of the Collegium. They hung it in the receiving hall. . . .” I went on to talk about Maitre Rholyn’s portrait, but not Seliora’s. It wasn’t far enough along that I felt comfortable discussing it yet, although I’d certainly have to by the next Samedi.
29
Lundi morning, Clovyl canceled the running, but not the exercises and sparring, because so much water had pooled all over the isle and because tree limbs had fallen everywhere in the high winds that hadn’t even awakened me during the night. I hurried through cleaning up and breakfast so that I could post the note to Seliora about our change in dinner plans, run down Grandisyn to request a replacement for my armoire, and so I could get to Third District station earlier than usual. Grandisyn didn’t even seem surprised, but he did say it would be a few days.