“I was angry,” I admitted. “I really didn’t think.”
“It wasn’t the best for you that you reacted, but it doubtless saved most of the Collegium…Maitre.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know enough. I don’t even know enough to handle what Master Dichartyn did. Let them think you did it. You’ll need that leverage anyway.”
Dyana actually smiled, if but for a moment. “You won’t escape that destiny, Rhenn. You might be able to postpone it…but not escape it.” Her eyes took in my arms and chest. “It’s still a wonder you’re alive.”
“If any other masters need to know, tell them that it took both of us…or better yet, imply that without saying it.”
“You’ll still have to become a Maitre D’Esprit.”
“Can’t Schorzat take on…”
“No. He knows it. Dichartyn and he already discussed it. His shields won’t take the kind of beating yours can. Frankly, I’m not certain anyone else’s can.”
“Were they using the stolen bombards?”
“We think so. We really don’t have the time or the resources to dredge the Aluse to find out. They were set up on barges.”
I couldn’t help but wonder if the heavier barges I’d seen in the past weeks had carried the bombards upriver. There really wasn’t any point in saying anything about that. What was done was done, and the Collegium-or the river force of the Civic Patrol-couldn’t have checked every barge on the river for weeks on end.
“What else happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“It was all part of a plan, wasn’t it? The stronger elveweed, the Ferran or Stakanaran funding of explosions and violence. I’d guess that the Ferrans have invaded Jariola by now…”
“Is this a guess on your part? Did you-”
“I told Master Dichartyn that was what I thought. We’ve lost two good captains in the Civic Patrol, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the subcommander weren’t involved as well, not that I could prove anything. Oh…and if you haven’t already, you might check with a Sea-Marshal Geuffryt. He has some knowledge about payments to Caartyl and Cydarth. Master Dichartyn probably told Maitre Poincaryt about all that, but I left it to them to tell you, and since I only told some of it to Dichartyn on Samedi morning….” I left the sentence uncompleted, feeling slightly tired just from speaking.
“For someone who almost died, you’re sounding suspiciously like Dichartyn. And, no, they didn’t get around to telling me all of that. What else is there?”
“Did Ferrum invade-” I had to know that.
“Yes…we just got word this morning. It doesn’t look good for the Jariolans.”
“The Council…what have they done?”
“Suyrien announced, on behalf of the Council, that the Northern Fleet would blockade all Ferran ports until the Ferran forces returned to their own territory and would regard any attempt to break the blockade as hostile action against Solidar. The Council also declared that the attack on Imagisle was an act of war.” Her voice turned wry. “They didn’t name who committed the act.”
“So we’re not technically at war?”
“Not yet. We may never be. The Council hates to do that because it gives more power to the Chief Councilor.”
“What about Otelyrn?”
She gave me a sidelong look, then said, “The Stakanarans have invaded the southernmost province of Tiempre, where the gold and diamond mines are. The Tiemprans are appealing for aid. They likely won’t get it…”
“Is Suyrien all right?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because he and Artois are obvious targets. I don’t know more than that.”
“There’s one other thing. You remember Johanyr?”
“Of course.” How could I have forgotten?
“He disappeared from Mont D’Glace. Several weeks ago.”
“You’d better let his sister know.” I had the feeling that his disappearance just might be linked to Iryela’s missing golds, even if I had no way to explain it.
“I already have.”
There were other things I should have asked, but I was getting tired and sleepy, despite wanting to know more…and even with all the aches and sorenesses.
Dyana stepped back. “Thank you. All that will be of great assistance.”
As soon as she left, Seliora and Diestrya were in the gray-walled chamber.
Seliora set Diestrya next to the bed, then bent over and kissed my cheek. The closeness of her, despite how everything hurt, felt so reassuring. Tears were seeping from her eyes. “I wasn’t certain…no one was sure…”
“I’ll be all right.” Now…or at least in time.
“Dada!”
“Your father hurts all over, sweetheart. Don’t touch him.”
“You’re all right?” I managed.
“We’re both fine.” She paused.
“What?”
“There have been fires and explosions all over the city.”
I nodded, if only slightly. “…not surprised…”
“Your parents are all right. So is my family, and they all know we’re safe. I sent courier messages saying you were recovering from working hard after the explosions on Imagisle.”
“Good…wouldn’t want them…to worry.”
“They had the memorial services for Maitre Dichartyn and Maitre Poincaryt and Madame Poincaryt last night.”
“I…would have…should have…been there…”
“Isola spoke so well. You would have liked what she and Maitre Dyana said.”
“…Always…speaks…well…” I was having trouble keeping my eyes open.
Seliora took my hand and held it while the hazy blackness crept up over me.
27
When I finally walked slowly out of the infirmary on Jeudi morning, gray smoke hung over all of L’Excelsis, and that was four days after the attacks. I was headed toward the administration building, thankfully only fifty yards away, to meet with Maitre Dyana before she convened the remaining senior imagers of the Collegium.
Just before I’d dressed, Seliora had told me that the imagers who specialized in construction had already begun repairs to our house. Apparently, ours was the only one that was merely damaged. Those of Maitre Poincaryt, Maitre Dyana, and Maitre Dichartyn had been totally destroyed, and no other dwelling had been touched, with the exception of the Collegium’s boat house on the east side of the river, which had also been destroyed. That bothered me, and it took me a while to realize why. Whoever had used the bombards had been very skilled, had great experience, and had clearly measured the distances from where the barges had been anchored-they had to have been anchored-to the masters’ dwellings. That required a very professional gun crew, and that meant Naval experience and careful advance planning.
I’d allowed a little extra time because I knew I wouldn’t be moving that quickly, and the outer anteroom was empty, except for Gherard, who was sitting at the desk. Both the door to the conference room, to the right, and the door to the Maitre’s study were open.
I nodded to Gherard.
“Good morning, Maitre,” he replied.
“I hope you’re holding up,” I said.
“Yes, sir.”
I stepped through the open doorway into the study, closed the door behind me, walked to the middle chair of the three facing the desk and eased into it. “Good morning, Maitre.”
Maitre Dyana was seated behind the desk in the study that had been Maitre Poincaryt’s for the entire time I’d been an imager-until now. I couldn’t see that much had changed in the study, but it was definitely hers, with a few small items here and there and touches of colors. Finesse had always been her emphasis. She had recovered-she was wearing a brilliant blue scarf to complement her imager grays-although I had the feeling that her iron gray hair was turning more toward white.
“Good morning, Rhenn, pleasantry though it is. I’m sorry you missed the memorial services, but at the time, no one knew how long it might be before you recovered. I’d hoped you might be able to say a few words.”