Imager

“What’s a regional?” I finally asked.

“A regional representative of the Collegium. All the cities that don’t have Collegia have them, and some of the larger towns do. They’re . . . well . . . let’s say that they operate sort of like field types do, except inside Solidar.”

For a moment, I just sat there, holding my wineglass. Then I took a sip. There was nothing in any of what I had read about regionals, but then there was nothing about silent guards or covert imagers, either. The more I learned, the more I realized how little I’d known . . . and perhaps still did.

62

Well-chosen words create pain that lasts longer

than that from a flogging.

When I returned from the Council Chateau on Jeudi, I found a letter awaiting me in my letter box. It was addressed to me in Mother’s perfect script, and she must have dispatched it by special messenger, rather than by regular post. After looking at it several times, I broke the seal right there in the corridor, opened it, and began to read.

Dear Rhennthyl,

I was delighted to receive your letter, which arrived at the house in my absence, and I am most certain that your father will be equally pleased, especially if you have found a young woman of suitable background and intelligence. Knowing that you have found someone suitable in background and demeanor would bring great happiness to both of us.

Of course, we would be more than delighted to meet her over dinner here at the house, and, if you have no objections, we would suggest next Samedi, the twenty-eighth, at fifth glass.

Khethila was pleased that you stopped by the factorage, as am I. It never hurts to have a male relative of such import appear. Upon reading your letter, which I did share with her, she mentioned that you had declined an invitation to dine with her, and that the reasons for that demurral were obvious in light of your letter. Like your father and me, she looks forward to meeting Mistress Seliora D’Shelim.

The implications were clear enough. While I knew Seliora was certainly up to the not-so-silent inquisition, I wasn’t certain that I would be.

The only other notable aspect of Jeudi was my meeting with Maitre Dyana. She was as composed, as direct, and as contemptuous of foolishness and thoughtless questions as ever, as when I offered a question as to why there was such sudden urgency in my learning about poisons.

“Why indeed? Dear boy, please think. You have shields as strong as any imager, and stronger than most. They could be far more effective if you would practice finesse as well, but you are young, and finesse is seldom appreciated by the young and strong, not until they have been defeated by old age and treachery, both of which are far more effective than thoughtless youth and strength.”

She’d as much as admitted that, were I careful, my shields would protect me against direct attacks. “That suggests that I will be placed in situations where I will be vulnerable to such treachery.”

“Brilliant. Positively brilliant. Now . . . might we continue?” Without waiting for a response, she pointed to the goblets lined up on the conference table of the chamber where she had instructed me before. “What you need to do is image the tiniest bit of the wine or whatever you suspect onto a test paper strip and watch. The paper strips are treated. If it’s a cyanotic poison . . . the strip will turn green, if joraban, a maroon . . .”

I could see a problem there.

“Yes?”

“If there’s joraba in red wine . . .”

“You don’t need to worry about that. You can only put joraba in clear liquids. Its nature is such that it tends to change the colors of anything. But . . .” She shrugged. “. . . that does mean you need to be aware of the proper colors of various wines. That is one reason why High Holders are such experts on vintages. Those who are not often suffer strange and fatal maladies . . .”

I had no doubt that the coming sessions with Maitre Dyana would be even more painful.

63

Rain, shadows, and sunlight all conceal and reveal,

just in different fashions.

Vendrei was without incident, excepting for another long evening session with Maitre Dyana. So was early Samedi morning, except that we had to run through a heavy rain, and my exercise clothes were sodden by the time I returned to my quarters. Even so, I managed to get to breakfast, eat, and arrive at my makeshift studio with enough time to get my paints set up and even get in a little work on the background of the portrait before Master Poincaryt arrived punctually at the first bell of eighth glass.

Recalling his “homily” about observation, I watched as he entered the studio, noting how, without seeming to, he surveyed me and the entire space of the converted workroom before taking his seat. I could see that might also be a good habit to form.

As he sat down, he smiled. “Yes . . . I do. Most covert imagers learn that early, if they survive.”

“I’m still working on what you suggested, sir.”

“You’re still young enough that such intensity can be taken for interest. As you get older, you will have to learn observation with circumspection, but by then, you should be able to pick up on what you see and sense almost without thinking about it.” He laughed. “Among the High Holders, observation is played as a game, if one with very high stakes. The one who can learn the most while revealing the least is usually the winner.”

In that sense, I’d just lost . . . but I’d learned in doing so. “If you would turn your head to the left, just a touch, sir?”

I painted for a solid glass, a little tentatively at first, because I hadn’t been working with the brushes all that much, but I could feel the touch come back before long. I managed to get most of the area around his forehead and eyes, as well as finish the nose, and get the shape of the jaw set with the underlying base.

As the first of the nine bells rang, Master Poincaryt rose. “I hope you will pardon me, Rhennthyl, but I do have a meeting with High Councilor Suyrien and Councilor Rholyn.”

“Yes, sir. I trust it will go well.”

“One never has a meeting without knowing exactly how it will go and how to assure that it does.” He smiled warmly. “Otherwise, what is the point?”

After he left, I thought about his parting words. He’d as much as said that he would be controlling the meeting between Rholyn, the councilor who represented the Collegium on the Council, and High Councilor Suyrien, the High Holder who chaired the executive committee of the Council, and who, in effect, spoke for the Council and all of Solidar. That also suggested that such a meeting was necessary, and that, at the least, there was not total agreement between Suyrien and the Collegium. I had no doubts there would be agreement when the meeting ended.