I held the outer door to the dining hall and followed him into the corridor inside. “From what I’ve heard, there won’t be until winter, and then everything will come unraveled for them.”
“That will mean more casualties for both the Ferrans and Jariolans.”
“And less golds for our factors-because the shipping’s been largely cut off.”
“That hasn’t seemed to bother the Council,” Ferlyn said.
It probably hadn’t, because the longer the war dragged on, the less likely either land would be able to create future problems for Solidar. If the Oligarchy merely survived, the High Holders on the Council would be relieved that another land had not become governed by mercantilists, and the factors and guilds would be happy to see Ferran competitiveness reduced.
Just after we’d seated ourselves, alone at the masters’ table, Shault entered the hall with two other primes. The three talked animatedly, and I caught a few fragments of what they said.
“. . . wouldn’t do any good. No master’s that strong . . .”
“Then why are the Caenenans and Tiemprans so afraid of imagers?”
“. . . against what they believe . . .”
“. . . belief doesn’t make it so,” Shault replied.
I had to smile at that.
“That Shault’s a handful,” observed Ferlyn.
“He was petrified when he came here.”
“That was just you, Rhenn. All the juniors think you’re a later version of Cyran.”
Cyran-one of the handful of Maitres D’Image-the one who had removed Rex Defou? “Me? I’m always polite and thoughtful.”
“The word’s gotten around that you defied Master Dichartyn and took out those Ferran agents outside the Council Chateau by yourself. No one has ever defied him. Then you survived an explosion that killed everyone in an entire block and went to a wedding the next day.”
“But I didn’t defy him,” I protested. It was true that I’d taken out the Ferran envoy without Dichartyn’s permission because Vhillar was an imager who’d arranged for the killing of more than ten junior imagers. But I hadn’t actually defied Master Dichartyn.
Ferlyn laughed. “Sometimes, the facts aren’t the truth.”
I almost winced at his perception, but I managed to laugh.
Lunch, as often happened on Solayi, was a form of tarted-up leftovers, in this case, a pastry-covered pot pie. But it was hot, filling, and tasty, and I could still recall the dry and unsatisfying meals prepared by poor Madame Caliostrus.
When Shault left the dining hall, I excused myself and slipped out. While he might not be heading to the waiting area west of the Bridge of Hopes, I didn’t want him to encounter his mother before I was there.
Although Shault headed back in the direction of the primes’ quarters, I immediately walked past the administration building and then toward the Bridge of Hopes . . . and then out to the middle of the bridge, where I looked down at the gray water, its surface not quite sparkling in the midday sunlight. The breeze was cool, but light, and out of the north. Occasionally I glanced back toward the Collegium, but I didn’t actually walk back to the waiting area until Shault appeared.
As I neared him, I could see that he had grown some and filled out. His demeanor was reserved, but not fearful . . . a good change, and one I was happy to see.
“Good afternoon, Shault.”
“Good afternoon, Master Rhennthyl.”
“How are your studies going with Master Ghaend?”
“They’re better. I’m reading better, and that helps. Thank you for the dictionary.”
“Did it help?”
“Yes, sir . . . but not the way . . . Well . . . it was just easier to start reading it.”
I almost shook my head. “How did Master Ghaend take that?”
“I didn’t tell him. But he lets me image little things.” Shault grinned. “I could do a good copper now, but I promised Master Ghaend I wouldn’t.”
“Please keep that promise.”
Shault looked toward the empty Bridge of Hopes, then back toward me with a quizzical glance, as if to ask why I was there.
“I told your mother I’d be here the first time she came. She seemed to want some assurance that it would be all right for her to visit.” That wasn’t literally true, but I had seen her concerns on her face.
“Oh . . . she worries some. She doesn’t think I see that, but I do.”
“Are you happier here now?”
“Yes, sir.” He paused. “I still miss Ma.” He glanced toward the bridge.
“You should miss her. She’s your mother, and she loves you.” I just hoped that Chelya would come, whether or not she had anything for me from Horazt. Shault deserved that.
“Things have been hard for her.”
“Things are usually hard in the taudis,” I said. “What part of your studies do you like the best?”
“The science stuff. The words are hard, but I like learning how things work.”
“And the hardest subject?”
“Politics . . .” He looked at me.
“Why is that hard?”
“It’s false, sir. It’s all pretend. It’s like they’re all taudischefs with fancy names and lots of lands or people working for them . . .”
I could see how a taudis-kid would be skeptical of the necessary hypocrisy and falseness of government, but I just nodded and listened, prompting him with a question or two, the way Master Dichartyn had prodded me.
At a good quint past first glass, a woman in a brown cloak crossed East River Road and started across the bridge. Her steps were both deliberate and reluctant.
“You can meet her halfway,” I told Shault.
I waited until the two of them walked back, then addressed Chelya. “I’m glad you came. You should be proud of your son.”
“He is growing.” She did not look at me as she went on. “Horazt asked me to give this to you.” She thrust a grayish object at me.
“Thank you.” I took the worn woolen bag, crudely cut and sewn from what had probably been a discarded garment. “I appreciate your bringing it.”
Shault’s eyes widened.
I nodded to him. “Imager business.”
He nodded back solemnly.
I turned to Chelya. “I hope you will come again to see Shault, until he’s free to leave Imagisle.” I hoped that wouldn’t be too soon, because I really didn’t want the boy walking through the taudis as a junior imager.
“We’ll have to meet in the public gardens,” Shault said. “But I can go to the ones near the Guild Square, and we’ll have a real dinner at a bistro.”
Chelya’s eyes were bright.
It was time for me to leave. “Have a good afternoon.”
I started out, taking my time. With my shields in place, I strolled across the bridge, down East River Road two blocks where I paused to open the woolen bag. Inside was a rough-cut small square of purple wool. From what I recalled, it matched the jackets of the two toughs that had attacked me near Mardoyt’s house. I replaced the fabric in the bag and slipped both into the inside pocket of my waistcoat.
I followed the walk on the river side of the road until I reached Fedre, then walked up it past Patrol headquarters. I saw no patrollers. Then I took Aslym across to Saelio. There I turned northeast, in the direction of Mardoyt’s house. A block or so short of his dwelling, I raised partial concealment shields. Even if Mardoyt weren’t there, I didn’t want the neighbors seeing me clearly.
It didn’t surprise me that no one appeared to be home. On Solayi, more than a few people visited friends or relatives, at least until time for services in the evening.
After watching the house for a time, I walked out to the Avenue D’Artisans, where I hailed a hack and rode to the Plaza Sudeste, where South Middle intersected the avenue.
I walked the length of South Middle from the plaza all the way to the Midroad. I didn’t see a single taudis-tough, although in places, especially near Dugalle, the odor of elveweed was close to overpowering. I also didn’t stop by the station.