summer, there might even be a proposal for the necessary changes in taxation.”
It was a start.
After Maitre Dyana and I returned to Imagisle, I decided to follow her indirect suggestion and work on matters of a quieter nature, beginning with the design of the report format and the information I wanted conveyed by the Collegium regionals and by the Civic Patrol chiefs across Solidar. I’d been working about a glass when Kahlasa knocked on the door, and then slipped into my study.
“Rhenn…” She slid a single sheet onto the desk. “You should see this immediately.”
I didn’t ask why. If she said so, she had more than enough reason. I began to read the Civic Patrol report from Laaryn…about a body found frozen in the ice of a canal. The dead man had been wearing imager grays. He had short curly brown hair and broad shoulders. He’d been shot once in the back of the head. The only item in his wallet, tucked inside a hidden inside oilskin pocket, was a duplicate banque fund transfer slip for five thousand golds drawn on the Banque D’Rivages. The body was being kept on ice pending instructions from the Collegium.
I looked up and nodded.
“It’s Johanyr, isn’t it? Geuffryt shot him, didn’t he?”
“There’s no one else it could be, but there’s no way to prove it. Not now.”
“He got Johanyr to withdraw the golds by telling him that the gunners would take you out…or something like that.”
“Most likely.” It was also clear that Johanyr had known the sealed codes. He might even have imaged them out and memorized them while he was still at Imagisle and visiting his family. Maitre Draffyd had indicated he’d had considerable raw ability.
I rose and walked to the peg holding my winter cloak, still holding the report. “I need to deliver this to the family.”
Kahlasa nodded.
The wind had picked up and was gusting all around me as I crossed the quadrangle to the coach station, although the sky remained clear. The ride out to Iryela’s seemed longer than the slightly more than two quints that it actually took, and the gate guards didn’t hesitate to let me in.
I only had to wait a few moments in the front foyer before Iryela appeared, dressed as informally as I’d ever seen her, in dark green woolen trousers and a matching sweater, with her white-blonde hair pulled back away from her face, giving her a more severe look.
“Rhenn…what are you doing here?”
“Is there somewhere we can talk unheard?”
“The private drawing room is empty. Would you like tea?”
“Just tea…if you’ll join me.”
Iryela gestured and a serving woman appeared.
“Tea in the drawing room.”
The woman inclined her head and turned down the left-hand corridor, then descended the service steps. I walked with Iryela down the same corridor past the steps. Our boots echoed in the empty hallway. The drawing room door was open, and there was heat from the stove. I did close the door behind us, escorted her to the table, seated her, and took the chair across from her.
“You look very serious, Maitre Rhennthyl.”
“I am. Unhappily. I have a report you need to read.”
“It’s about Johanyr, isn’t it?”
“I think so.” I eased the report across the pale green linen cloth. I waited while she read.
She looked up. Her eyes were clear, although there was a slight mistiness there, I thought. Then, I might have been imagining it.
She cleared her throat. “I feared something like this. Do you know who did it?”
“I don’t
“You asked me about Marshal Geuffryt. Is he the one?”
“He might well have been, but we’ll never know…” I went on to give the official explanation of what happened, except I never finished.
“That’s the official explanation, isn’t it?” she said, interrupting me.
“Yes.”
“Thank you.” She gave the slightest shiver. “Can we take care…of him?”
“Of course. I’ll send an official release from the Collegium to the Civic Patrol in Laaryn, and a copy to you.”
“It seems so strange…it’s almost as if I’ve known for years that something like this would happen… but…”
“It’s still a shock when you find out.” I could remember exactly how I’d felt when I’d gotten the letter from Khethila about Rousel.
“You would know,” she said softly.
And I did, because we’d each lost brothers, all because Johanyr had tried to destroy me when I’d first become an imager.
In the silence, there was a knock on the door.
“You may bring in the tea,” said Iryela.
The server slipped into the drawing room with the silver tray holding a tall green and white porcelain teapot with two matching cups and saucers. She set it on the end of the table closest to the windows and departed as silently as she had come.
“You will join me?”
“Of course.”
She poured two cups, then raised hers and took a sip, before asking, “Would you tell me about Diestrya?”
“If you’ll tell me about the twins.”
She did smile, for a moment.
We talked for a quint, only about the children.
Once I returned to the Collegium, the rest of Meredi went by quietly, and there were few interruptions.
71
Jeudi was quiet, and so was Vendrei, but that did give me a chance to think. At every step, I’d been hampered by the lack of information, from what was happening across Solidar in any meaningful way, to what was being manufactured where in what quantities, to how many High Holders there were. So I asked Ferlyn to join me in my study, and I told him the problem and showed him what I had in mind.
He laughed.
I waited.
“Didn’t you know?” Ferlyn looked surprised. “Quaelyn and I created a whole set of forms over two years ago, for the artisan guilds, the factoring associations, and the High Holders. Maitre Dichartyn told us to refine them, but that it wouldn’t be possible to get the Council to implement the requirements for High Holders and freeholders to comply. He said we’d have to wait for a crisis to prove they were necessary…”
And I’d believed no one had thought about the problem. In what else had Dichartyn anticipated me? After a moment, I said, “Could you get me a set to look over?”
“I’ll have it for you in less than a quint. You don’t mind if it has some of Master Dichartyn’s comments in the margins, do you?”
“Hardly.” His comments were likely to be better than any I’d have.
After Ferlyn returned with a folder containing pages of suggested forms, I read through them, comparing my drafts to the older ones. I could see the need for change in theirs, but also a number of things I hadn’t considered. I hadn’t finished when Gherard rapped on the door.
