thought deeply about the greatness and majesty of those aspects of life that are without a name? We come into the world, born of woman and man through the agony of a woman, often so painful that no words can describe that birthing. Likewise, there are no words to describe death, for those who pass through it cannot speak of it to us. For each of us, these are the beginning and the end, as we know them here on Terahnar, and there are no words that will do justice to either.
“Words cannot describe the most magnificent of sunrises or sunsets, or even the greatest painting of the greatest representationalist or the most beautiful of statues, or the most stirring and harmonious of melodies. Words are all that we have to convey to each other what we see and what we feel, but never should we accept a belief that words truly or fully describe the world created by the Nameless. Even less so than words do names describe what is . . .”
Chorister Isola went on from there. I thought it was one of her better homilies, and one that made me think.
On the way back from chapel, I matched steps with Sannifyr, another second, not necessary because I’d disliked the younger primes, but as soon as I’d made secondus, they shied away from me. Sannifyr didn’t say anything, and I didn’t really know what to say to him, either. The walk back to quarters was fairly long, because the anomen was at the point on the southern end of Imagisle, but the night wasn’t that cold, especially compared to those when I’d first come to the Collegium.
25
Deduction is limited by knowledge, and knowledge is
limited by preconceptions.
On Lundi morning, when I made my way to Master Dichartyn’s study, the door was open.
“You can come in, Rhenn.”
I eased inside and closed the door, taking my seat opposite him.
He leaned back and fingered his chin. “How many people are there in Solidar?”
There had to be millions, but I didn’t recall the exact figure. “Forty million?”
“The last enumeration showed around fifty million. How many are in L’Excelsis?”
“There were over two million in 750 A.L.”
“How many imagers do you think there are here at the Collegium and in L’Excelsis?”
“If I’ve counted correctly, there are somewhere over two hundred and forty, sir.”
“Add another fifty or so, and that’s close enough. It doesn’t include those who can image just a tiny bit and haven’t been discovered, or those who have never discovered their talent, but most people with the ability get found out sooner or later. Later is seldom better, and very few survive. Let us just say that there are five hundred imagers in all of Solidar. What is that ratio?”
“One hundred thousand to one, sir.”
“Now . . . does that tell you why caution is necessary in every imager action?”
“Yes, sir.” It also told me that Floryn’s greatest failing was telling anyone anything.
“What else should it tell you?”
What else could there be? “There can’t be very many in the rest of the world, either.”
“Why not?”
I’d had a moment to think. “If there were, we’d know about it. The Collegium seeks out imagers. If you can only find five hundred in Solidar, and we have more people than other countries . . .”
“You’re making several assumptions. What are they, and are they correct?”
“It would be hard to hide imagers in other lands, but if you could find out so much about me, how could they hide imagers from you?”
“That assumes we would be allowed to look. While places like the Abierto Isles are open enough, and so is Stakanar, Ferrum and Jariola don’t like snoopy outsiders and have rather unpleasant habits of making them disappear. The Tiemprans ban imaging and imagers, and the same is true of Caenen. You’re also making assumptions about people. What are they?”
“Oh . . . that people are the same everywhere.”
“Are they? If they are, what makes them that way?”
“Sir . . . I know I haven’t traveled far, but I have seen people who have come from many places, and they all seem to love or hate, or want to be better . . . and I think we’re all born with similar general abilities and wants.”
“Is imaging something people are born with, or something learned?”
I was definitely unsure what Master Dichartyn sought . . . or why. “I don’t
“That’s true, and women imagers almost always come from families where an older brother has the talent. Why that’s so, we don’t know, but there are traits that work that way. Very few women are bald, compared to men. But . . . back to the question at hand. If the imaging skill can arise in any people, why are there more practicing imagers in Solidar than in the rest of the world? If you can tell me that, it will provide the rest of the answer to the first question I asked and that you did not answer completely.”
I had to think for several moments. Exactly what had I failed to answer?
“I’ll give you a hint. Why are most bulls gelded and why is the Cyella Ruby valuable?”
After a moment, I answered. “Imagers are scarce but more plentiful in Solidar because we provide valuable and rare services and people are more willing to have imagers around so long as there aren’t too many of us?”
Master Dichartyn nodded. “We have created an institution that not only fulfills needs, but also has established a reputation for being trustworthy in carrying out those duties for Solidar and for the Council. Without unique services, we have no value, and without trust, our value cannot be relied upon. And if there were too many of us, then no one would trust us. Because the Oligarch of Jariola can trust no one, what we do is either not done there, or done in a more costly fashion, and any imager is either executed or exiled. In Ferrum, they use machines and exile imagers because they cannot quantify how to value trust.”
Abruptly, he looked up. “We have not gone over your philosophy readings, but I need to meet with the other masters.” He paused. “The Puryon believers of Tiempre have faith in an omnipotent, beneficent, and just god. Write me a logical proof of why this is either so or why it cannot be so. Have it ready for me in the morning. That should provide some practical application of what you’ve been studying.”
“Yes, sir.” How was I going to prove that logically? And why was a philosophical proof a practical application?
“We’ll meet outside the dining hall after lunch today, and I’ll take you to your work assignment from there.” He stood.
So did I, scooping up the unopened books and hurrying out of his study before him.
I had almost two and a half glasses before lunch, but, as I crossed the quadrangle under the first truly warm sunlight in days, I had no idea how I was going to prove or disprove the statement Master Dichartyn had given me.
“Where are you going so early?” called Johanyr from the stone walk intersecting the one where I walked. He was also a secondus, about my age, I thought, with short-cut curly brown hair and massively broad shoulders, as if he were better suited to be a stonemason or the like. We’d talked briefly over meals, and I had the feeling I’d seen him somewhere before, but I couldn’t recall where.
“Master Dichartyn had a meeting with the other masters, but he gave me a logical proof to figure out, and I have to have it all written out by tomorrow.”
