“The Bureau building there,” I confirmed, then slipped into the coach.
Desalyt took the Bridge of Desires and then followed the Boulevard D’Council to the Council Chateau and around it, and then half a mille northwest to the Naval Bureau, located in a gray stone building on the east end of the Naval Plaza. The Naval Command was in a larger imposing structure at the west end.
A lieutenant was waiting for me by the guard desk just inside the entry doors. “Maitre Rhennthyl, sir?”
“Yes.”
“This way, if you would, sir.”
I followed him a good fifty yards back to a wide staircase with polished marble steps and a brass balustrade, and then up to the second floor and back to an outer anteroom, with a senior clerk-rating seated behind a desk. Marshal Geuffryt’s spacious corner study had windows on both outer walls. He stood as I entered.
“Good afternoon, Maitre Rhennthyl.”
“Good afternoon, Marshal.”
Geuffryt gestured to the small round conference table set back from the windows at the north end of the study. There were four chairs. I took the chair that faced the door. He took the one to my right.
“How might I help you…and the Collegium?”
“As I am certain you always have, with information.” I smiled.
“We always attempt to be of assistance.”
“What other potentially dangerous explosives, munitions, or military equipment is missing or otherwise unaccounted for?” I offered the question casually.
“I can’t really tell you that,” Geuffryt replied.
“I don’t mind so much if you you’re not allowed to tell me,” I said. “But I’m going to be very worried if no one in the Naval Command knows whether such materials are missing. After all, the last batch of missing munitions and equipment had some very unfortunate consequences. Especially for the Collegium.”
“I really can’t say.”
“Should I be worried, then?”
“I can’t-”
I image-projected pure fury at the Sea-Marshal. Given the way I felt, it wasn’t difficult.
He turned pale.
I smiled. “Let’s try this again. The Collegium has the responsibility of protecting the Council and Imagisle itself. The Naval Command has the responsibility for maintaining and safeguarding munitions and equipment. It’s rather difficult and costly for us to do our job when we don’t have any idea what you and the Army have lost or allowed to be stolen. And if nothing else is missing, then there’s certainly no reason to hide that. Your response indicates fairly clearly that other explosives and equipment are missing. I don’t think anyone on the Council would want to know that you’re trying to hide that.”
I had to give Geuffryt credit. Outside of the momentary paling and the slight dampening of his brow, he hadn’t reacted.
“You’re only surmising,” he said with a faint smile.
“No. I know. Proving it might be harder, but I’m an imager, and if I go to certain members of the Council and suggest that’s the case, as well as pointing out that the Army Depot Commander vanished and that no one still investigated matters there…” I shrugged, then paused. “I’d rather not. You’d rather I didn’t. So what exactly is rumored to be missing?”
“We don’t know. There’s nothing missing on the scale of the bombards. But we have five major depots and some twelve smaller port and fleet depots, with tens of thousands of tonnes of munitions. We have four hundred armed vessels. Some only have three-digit cannon, but those still require munitions.” He shook his head. “We’re fairly certain we’re not missing something on the order of a thousand tonnes, but accounting errors, errors in resupply…how do you tell the difference between that and a tonne or so of Poudre B bags or the like that might have been deliberately misrouted or diverted? A few tonnes aren’t that much spread across four fleets.”
“But they’re quite a bit spread across five or ten cities and set in the right place.” I nodded. “You could have told me that to begin with. You didn’t. That suggests…a number of possibilities. How much do you think you’re missing?”
“There are two dubious manifests from the main resupply depot for the rework yard at Solis. They’re for one and two tonnes of bagged Poudre B for the standard five-digit guns.”
“Those are the most common fleet guns, I take it?”
Geuffryt nodded.
“And the manifests are over a year old,” I suggested.
“If you already knew…”
“I don’t, and I didn’t. It just had to be that way. All of this has been planned years in advance so that people would tend to forget. Or, as you put it, believe that the discrepancies were merely clerical errors. Are there any other dubious manifests or unaccounted-for munitions?”
“Nothing more than a few stones’ worth here and there. Those can add up, but we think it’s unlikely that outside agents would try to gather munitions that way.”
I had to agree with that.
“Let’s talk about a certain note I received, written by a certain lady we both know, which contained information of a suggestive nature.” I looked directly at Geuffryt. “You’ll find that I am both discreet…and direct. As my predecessor noted, I am inclined to weary quickly of hints and indirection.” I paused to let him consider the words. “Who do you believe is transferring funds to the Artisan on the Executive Committee and why?”
“We don’t know. The transfers are blind.”
“Try investigating a factor or trader named Alhazyr, if you haven’t already.” With only the slightest pause, I asked, “What exactly is your relation to Juniae D’Shendael?”
He smiled politely. “It’s not that much of a mystery. I’m a cousin on her mother’s side.”
“Are you, perhaps, an expert in hunting weapons? Their construction, and…their explosive fallibilities?” That was a guess, but I had a feeling about such matters.
“What a truly strange question…I scarcely know what to think.”
I’d glimpsed enough. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For answering the question. It explains a great deal.”
“You’re a very dangerous man, Maitre Rhennthyl, but had Juniae not had demonstrated proof of your good will, you might still be in a precarious position.”
“I’d prefer not to be in such a position, or even to have anyone suggest that possibility.” I smiled. Now…I knew why Juniae had conveyed the message, and how her only male relative who could have inherited had perished years before. What I didn’t know was why the message had been given to me long before it was even likely I’d end up with the position that events had thrust upon me. Or had it been designed as a convenient way of getting the information to Master Dichartyn? I almost nodded. That was the most likely answer, not that the method of conveyance mattered so much as the reasons for letting the Collegium know. “Let’s talk about the subcommander of the Civic Patrol.”
“Is it wise to discuss a superior?” He raised his eyebrows.
I was getting tired of his superciliousness. “You obviously are worried about Cydarth. From a professional point of view or a personal one…or both?”
“I won’t deny the personal element, but that’s secondary to the professional.”
The personal is never totally secondary to professional, as I well knew, but the professional had to be the matter at hand. “Why does he want to remove or replace Artois?”
“Artois’s mother was the daughter of a High Holder who committed suicide when Haestyr’s grandfather ruined him. Cydarth’s father was killed by Iryela D’Ryel’s father, merely as a demonstration of power to the factor for whom Cydarth’s father worked. Cydarth believes Artois is an apologist for the High Holders, and that Artois hopes some day to prove that he is worthy of his background.”
That didn’t seem to make much sense, so far as Artois was concerned. “Artois has always been impartial. Sometimes harsh, but I’ve never seen bias. How does Cydarth fit in with the Ferrans? Or the Jariolans, or Stakanarans, or whoever?” I asked.
“He fits in with none of them. He will support-or not oppose-so far as he is able, anyone or anything that will reduce the power of the High Holders. He believes he is totally fair and unbiased in his views of what is best for Solidar.”