“Sir? The cloth?”
“He’s a renegade imager, but he has to see to image.”
“Sir . . . that’s Youdh.”
“How do you know?”
“The one who ran off . . . he was yelling to the others that you’d gotten Youdh.”
Youdh? The imager was Youdh himself?
I couldn’t say I was surprised.
“Sir . . . what do we do now?”
“We tie him up really tightly and cart him to the pickup point and have the pickup wagon take him to Imagisle. Imagers who commit crimes are subject to the laws of the Collegium. Besides, no gaol can hold an imager without special procedures.”
“Ah . . . yes, sir.”
“Do you have another suggestion?”
“No, sir.”
Youdh was neither light nor cooperative, and he squirmed a great deal. We carried him for a time, then rested, and carried him farther, until we reached the pickup point. But I wasn’t about to give him any vision and any leeway whatsoever, not after he’d tried to kill me so many times.
While we were waiting, I decided to see if he’d talk, but I didn’t want to ask him anything that dealt with possible Patrol corruption, not with Lyonyt standing beside me.
“Youdh . . . why did you keep trying to kill me?”
“Friggin’ imager-patroller, spawn of Namer-sow and cursed canine . . . friggin’ everything up . . . couldn’t find a teat on a copper cow . . .”
“What do you get from the equalifiers . . . or do you have to pay them?”
“Give more ’n the Patrol types.”
That was suggestive, but I wasn’t going to pursue it. “So they do pay well. A few golds a month?”
“Frig you . . .” The mutter was low, but clear.
After that, he said even less.
Almost a glass passed before the wagon arrived. When I told the driver where we were headed, he looked at me, then at Lyonyt, almost helpless.
“Take us where Master Rhennthyl wants,” Lyonyt finally said. “You really want to be the one to bring a taudischef imager to the station?”
With the clarity of those words, the driver swallowed and said, “Yes, sir.”
Although Youdh didn’t seem to have much to say, except mutter, I watched him closely on the slow wagon trip down the Midroad and then the Boulevard D’Imagers, thinking. If Youdh was an imager, why couldn’t he have used his abilities in little ways to help the people in his area of the taudis? Or couldn’t he afford to reveal that to anyone except his toughs because the equalifier priests, whom he needed, opposed imagers? Or was he like Diazt, who would rather have been the meanest and least powerful taudischef than a respected imager?
Once the wagon finally came to a halt outside the receiving hall on the east side of Imagisle, I hopped off.
“Lyonyt . . . if he does anything, hit him hard on the head with the truncheon. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Lyonyt’s voice was resolute, but he was far from happy. I couldn’t say I blamed him, but I had no idea where the Collegium’s equivalent of a gaol was. That hadn’t been on the map I’d memorized, or if it had been, I didn’t remember.
I walked into the reception hall. I barely knew the prime on duty and had to struggle with his name. “Jakhob, is either Master Dichartyn or Master Schorzat here?”
“Master Dichartyn, sir, but . . .” He gulped.
“But what . . . ?”
“He’s meeting with someone, sir.”
“In his study?”
“Yes, sir . . . but . . .”
“I’ll take care of it.” I turned and walked down to the study, where I rapped smartly on the door.
There was no answer. So I rapped harder.
“I’m not to be disturbed.” The words were snappish.
“It’s Rhennthyl, and I have the renegade imager trussed up and blindfolded out in a Civic Patrol wagon outside the receiving hall. Exactly what would you like me to do with him?”
As he opened the door, Master Dichartyn glared at me, possibly the first time his expression had ever held such hostility. “Rhennthyl. Is this some jest?”
“No, sir. I have with him a certain amount of physical proof, including five identical rusty knives that he imaged at me, six identical iron crossbow bolts, and three large items that resemble morning stars. I also have the patroller who was with me when he attacked us with a large wagon filled with stones and who saw all the imaging attacks.” I paused. “And, by the way, this renegade imager also happens to be taudischef Youdh himself, which might explain a few things.”
“Why didn’t you-”
“Because you gave me the impression that, first, you were rather dubious about my insistence that I was facing a renegade imager, and second, that some form of proof was necessary. Given that situation, I thought it best that I deliver the renegade to the Collegium, along with all the proof I could provide. I also thought his trial might prove useful. You might find out what else he knows. I’m doubtful about that myself. He’s been awake for most of the trip down here, but he’s only muttered various expletives having to do with my heritage. Oh . . . his vision is probably somewhat impaired. I did image some caustic there, but not nearly so much as in past cases.”
Abruptly a series of laughs issued from the study behind Master Dichartyn.
“Ask and you shall receive, Dichartyn. You might as well open the door.”
I recognized the voice of Maitre Poincaryt.
Master Dichartyn’s glare faded from burnished steel to blank obsidian. Then he shook his head, ruefully, as he opened the door. “You might as well come in.”
I did, inclining my head politely to Maitre Poincaryt. “Sir.”
“Rhennthyl.” The head maitre of the Collegium studied me. “Tell me. What was it that Dichartyn did that so angered you?”
“Sir . . . I know that there’s much I don’t know-”
Master Dichartyn’s expression indicated disbelief or disagreement with my words.
“But when I tell a senior master I’ve encountered an imager, I do know enough to recognize one. I’ve even uncovered one that he’d met and hadn’t recognized. My techniques are rough, and my knowledge of the finer points of many aspects of imaging is doubtless lacking, but when I report two or possibly three senior officers of the Civic Patrol are corrupt and two are deeply involved with the taudis and bribes and killings . . . don’t tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about. You can certainly tell me to ignore it, or that there are other considerations, or that someone else will handle it, but don’t expect me to believe what is not true.”
Maitre Poincaryt raised his eyebrows and looked to Dichartyn.
“He’s asked me to take a great deal on faith, sir,” Master Dichartyn said.
“Has he been wrong?”
“Yes, sir,” I admitted. “I have been, but it’s been because I didn’t know other information. I needn’t have killed Diazt, but I thought I was facing him and Johanyr alone. I thought that the corruption in the Civic Patrol was limited to Mardoyt and Harraf, and I still can’t prove that Cydarth and Harraf are involved.”
“Enough.” Master Poincaryt’s voice was firm, but I sensed tiredness behind it. He looked to Master Dichartyn. “Try this renegade, and make it public and quick. Find out what you can about his ties to the Patrol, but don’t make those public. For the moment, only we three need to know that.” He looked at me. “I’d appreciate it if you’d be a little easier on Dichartyn. You’re still young and worried and upset about your situation. Imagine what it would be if you were handling three times that amount, if not more. You worry about one renegade imager and one High Holder being after you. I doubt that Master Dichartyn has ever had that few enemies in the last ten years. In addition, unlike you, he has a wife and two daughters as well.” He paused. “I’d also appreciate it if both of you trusted each other more.”
Then he nodded and stepped past me and down the corridor.
I turned to Master Dichartyn. “I’m sorry to have upset matters, sir.” And I was, but what else could I have done?