“Yes, sir.”
“Now . . . there is one other item . . .”
I didn’t care much for it when he was almost done and then said, “Now . . .” It usually meant a reprimand or a very pointed question. “Yes, sir?”
“You know the Ferran envoy-Stauffen Gregg?”
“No, sir. I never met or saw him. I would have thought he would have left L’Excelsis after the Council declared war on Ferrum.”
“He and his staff left L’Excelsis for Westisle on the twentieth, but they did not actually leave Solidar proper until earlier this week, Mardi, in fact, because of the difficulty in obtaining passage on a neutral vessel that would take them somewhere from which they could hopefully take a Ferran ship to Ferrial. That will be risky indeed. But . . .” Dichartyn paused meaningfully. “Certain investigations revealed that some of the Ferran staff serving the envoy had vanished. Our first thought was that they had gone underground. But when we captured and interrogated some of the Ferran agents we have been following, none had ever heard or seen the missing staff members. They truly vanished. Interestingly enough, about the time they did, the shootings of imagers ceased. Did you happen to have anything to do with this?”
“No, sir. I can say in all honesty I did not even know that any Ferrans had vanished, let alone that they belonged to the envoy.” That was absolutely true, even though, in retrospect, I had a very good idea what had happened to them. “Do you know what they were doing?”
“We suspect that they were the ones who killed Thenard and one other junior imager. There were a number of shootings . . . and then they stopped. As I recall, you were shot at twice.”
“Yes, sir, and it’s just as you said. In fact, I’d been wondering about that. I mean, I’ve taken shots since then, but those have been Patrol- and taudis-related. The first ones were when I was in public places.”
“You didn’t have anything to do with what happened to them?”
“No, sir.” And I hadn’t.
Dichartyn nodded. “We’d best leave it at that.”
He suspected what I knew, but neither of us had any proof.
“That’s all for now. On Vendrei, you can take one of the duty coaches with me to go to the Council’s Autumn Ball. Don’t forget to wear the imager’s pin, either.” At that point, he walked past me to where he could see the easel. “It does look like him, even unfinished.”
I forbore saying that creating a lifelike resemblance was precisely the point of a portrait, but just nodded and watched as he left. I’d gotten his message, all right, as if I hadn’t already begun to understand. I understood. I definitely did.
After a time, I shook myself and went back to painting.
Master Rholyn appeared just as the bells were striking eighth glass. “Good morning, Rhennthyl. There’s a definite chill in the air this morning, isn’t there?”
“That there is, sir.”
Rholyn took the position on the crate, and I began to paint.
After a time, he spoke. “You’ll be at the Autumn Ball?”
He had to know that, but I merely said, “Master Dichartyn has insisted that I be there.”
“It might be best if you did not attach yourself closely to any envoys, Rhennthyl.”
“I had not thought to seek any out, sir.” Before he could suggest more, I added, “Did you meet the second Ferran envoy?”
“Only briefly, when he presented his credentials to the Council. It is highly unlikely that he was an imager, or that anyone on his staff was.” Rholyn smiled politely. “But that matters little, since he departed as soon as we declared war. He did have to take an Abiertan ship. I might point out that it is most likely that envoys from almost all the other lands involved in the current unpleasantness will be at the Autumn Ball.”
“Including a Caenenan envoy?”
“Hardly. They conduct all diplomatic affairs through the Gyarlese envoy, and he’s an equalifier of Puryon, because no true believer in Duodeus will live anywhere in Solidar.”
I frowned, if inadvertently. “I thought they sent an envoy to work out trade terms some months back.”
“He was officially a negotiator, and he stayed at the Gyarlese envoy’s compound.” Master Rholyn’s tone carried an edge.
I decided not to press. “Thank you, sir. I did not realize that the Caenenan dislike of Solidar even permeated the question of envoys.”
“It does, and it has, and the Council may yet have to consider Councilor Caartyl’s proposal to remove our envoy from Caena.”
Caartyl again. His name had cropped up more than a few times with regard to issues not exactly favorable to the High Holders’ interests, and now Master Rholyn was suggesting that Caartyl was not exactly one of his favorite councilors.
I concentrated more intently on finishing the right side of Master Rholyn’s face.
He said little more, beyond pleasantries when he departed, except to confirm that he would be available for another sitting the following Samedi.
I worked almost to lunchtime, as much to see what I could do to complete Rholyn’s portrait as well-and as quickly-as possible. While I didn’t particularly like Master Dichartyn or his outlook, I did respect him. I was coming to realize that I neither liked nor respected Rholyn, even if, again, I had little of what Master Dichartyn would have called proof to support my feeling. I also understood something else, something that Master Dichartyn would never say directly. Proof was what was necessary to act officially. It wasn’t necessary for other actions-so long as they seemed accidental or someone else’s fault, but if such actions failed, the imager would always be held totally at fault if they ever came to the official attention of the Collegium, the Civic Patrol, or the Council.
That realization only gave me more to worry about.
The damp and chill morning had given way to a sunny, if crisp, day, and the walk down the west side of the quadrangle cheered me. When I entered the dining hall, I saw a familiar face at the thirds’ table. Kahlasa was standing, talking to Meynard and Reynol. I immediately walked over and joined them.
“I’m glad to see you back,” I offered, noticing that her curly blond hair was longer than when she’d left, and that there was a darkness behind the brown eyes. Had it always been there, and I’d failed to notice it, or was it the result of her last mission? Or did all field imagers hold that darkness in their eyes? That wasn’t something I was about to ask.
She turned. Her smile contained pleasure and sadness, almost in equal measure. “Rhenn! I heard that you’re now a master. Congratulations.”
I nodded. “I’m fortunate to be in a position where my talents are openly recognized.” I paused just slightly. “You must have had a difficult set of tasks with all that’s going on in the world.”
“Not so difficult as Claustyn.”
“His death . . . I was . . . he’d been so helpful to me,” I finally said.
She smiled more warmly, then inclined her head to Reynol. “I heard.”
“I also have my doubts that your tasks were any less difficult.”
“You’re kind.”
I shook my head. “I think not. How long will you be here, or do you know?”
“We never know, but Master Schorzat has promised me at least two months and until after Year-Turn. It could be longer. There are . . .matters to be considered.”
After we talked pleasantly for a time, I finally inclined my head to her and slipped away to the masters’ table. Just from her bearing and choice of words, it was clear to me that she was at least a Maitre D’Aspect, but held it as a hidden rank, as Claustyn had. That bothered me, but was that because she was a woman, who had probably had to work far harder? I wasn’t certain I wanted to know what she had been doing . . . even if someone had been willing to tell me.
Chassendri and Isola sat on one side of the masters’ table, and I joined them. Chassendri stopped whatever she was saying and looked to me. “I hadn’t seen the portrait of Maitre Poincaryt until today, Rhenn. It’s good.”