his upholstered needlepoint armchair. “When I started, I was an imager primus. Now I’m a secondus. Most imagers are tertius, I suppose just like most crafters are journeymen. There are four classes of masters.”
“Names . . . names . . . what do you do?”
“Chenkyr . . .” murmured Mother.
“It isn’t what you’re called that matters,” he replied amiably. “It’s what you do and what you earn.”
“I’m still learning,” I replied, “in the mornings, anyway. I have to learn more about science and about government and history. In the afternoons, I work.”
“What do you
“Imager things. I can’t tell you.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Chenkyr . . .” Mother’s voice was firmer and louder.
“I could, but I’m not allowed to. Since I don’t want to spend the rest of my life doing imaging drudgery in the workshops, I won’t. I get fed better than at Master Caliostrus’s and have a chance at earning a comfortable living.” I smiled politely. “How is the wool business?”
“Very well,” interjected Rousel cheerfully. “We’ve more than tripled sales and shipments out of Kherseilles this year. That won’t last, but with the shipping embargo levied on Caenen by the Council and by Ferrum and Jariola, we’re doing well.”
“If shipments to Caenen are embargoed . . .?” I asked.
“We just ship to factors in the Abierto Isles. They sell to Caenenan factors. We had to advance them a little credit, but the Caenenans send their own bottoms there.”
“Why won’t it last?”
Rousel shrugged. “I had a feeling things would get tense with the dualgodders. So I opened up trade with some cloth factors in the isles. They usually don’t deal that much in wool, and I had to give them . . . some considerations . . . last year, but no one else shipping out of Kherseilles had any arrangements in place. They’re all hurrying and scrambling, but for now, we’re doing nicely. More than nicely, and I’ve got an arrangement for some high-quality Caenenan cotton coming back the other way. We didn’t have that even before the embargo.”
“The Council won’t object?” I asked.
“How can they?” Rousel grinned. “We’re not selling to Caenenans. We’re selling to Abiertans. We can’t control who they sell to.”
“You can’t stop trade with laws,” added Father. “Even embargoes and warships aren’t effective. People want to buy what they want to buy, and they want to pay as little as possible.”
“Unless it’s rare, and then they bid up the price.” I paused. “Is there a difference in the tariff rate between what you’d pay if wool went directly to Caenen and what it costs going through Abierto?”
“You’re still sharp enough to be a factor,” said Rousel. “There’s only a one percent tariff between Solidar and the isles, and we have a reciprocal agreement.”
“And the difference in shipping costs?”
“The landed price per hundredweight is almost the same.”
I had to wonder why the Council bothered with the embargo.
“Can we talk about something else?” asked Mother. “Have you met anyone we know?”
“Not that I know of. There aren’t all that many imagers in all of Solidar.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” demanded Culthyn.
“It’s mathematics, stupid,” replied Khethila. “If there aren’t many imagers, then not many are born-”
“That’s enough . . . I understand, and I’m not stupid.”
I looked to Rousel and Remaya, sitting on the settee. “See what awaits you?”
“We’ll manage,” he replied.
“Are there any women imagers?” asked Remaya.
“Only a few.” Forestalling the inevitable, I quickly added, “I haven’t met any my age, but there might be one or two.”
“I hope you do.”
Behind her smile and the kindness of her words, I could sense the pity. I’d never wanted her pity, and I quickly asked, “How are you finding Kherseilles?”
“It’s charming,” she answered. “It is not too large, and we have a lovely small villa on the hills overlooking the harbor, with a pleasant breeze . . .”
After more chatter, mostly about Kherseilles, Mother rose. “Dinner is ready.”
As people began to move toward the dining chamber, Mother eased up beside me. “We’re going to have a dinner here on the thirty-fifth of Avryl. I think you’d like the people.”
“Who is she?” I couldn’t help grinning.
Mother did have the grace to blush. “She’s nice, and quite pretty, but very shy. You actually have met her younger cousin.”
“I have?”
“Quite a number of times.” Her face had a mischievous expression. “Aeylana D’Weidyn is her cousin. You painted her portrait. Her father is the renowned cabinetmaker, and his brother Tomaz is the largest produce factor in L’Excelsis. Tomaz is also a friend of your father, and we’ve invited them for dinner.”
“And the shy young lady? What’s her name?”
“Her name is Zerlenya.”
I couldn’t say that I’d met or remembered anyone named Zerlenya, and that was probably good, because few of the girls or women I’d met over the years had impressed me. Only a handful had-Remaya, Kalyssa, Larguera, and Seliora-and I hadn’t heard anything about Kalyssa in years, and Larguera had married some heir to a brewery fortune or something like that.
“I’ll be here, and I’ll be as charming as I can.”
“More charming than that, please, dear.” Her smile was affectionate. “Now . . . enjoy the dinner. It’s one of your favorites-the apple-stuffed pork crown roast.”
It was one of my favorites, and I did enjoy it. The conversation at dinner was pleasant. Even Father stopped being the businessman and told stories, including one I’d never heard about the time when he’d first been buying wool and didn’t know that sangora was coney hair.
When I left and Charlsyn drove me back to the Collegium-or the east side of the Bridge of Hopes-it was close to the eighth glass of the evening. I did realize one thing when I stepped out of the carriage just short of the Bridge of Hopes that night. For some people, home is always there. For others, while the structure and the family may still be there, and they may all still care for you, it’s no longer home. I was one of those. Was it that I was an imager? Or had it been that way from the time I’d wanted to be an artist?
I walked across the bridge quickly, alert for whatever or whoever might be around, but I saw no one, except a few figures in gray from a distance. Although Artiema was full, the faint haze dulled her luminous light. To the west the quarter disc of Erion seemed redder than usual, as if the lesser hunter were somehow lying in wait for the greater huntress. Was that because I felt that someone, or more than a single person, was watching? Yet no one appeared as I neared the quarters building.
I had time to work on my shields, and that I could do safely in my chamber. I’d already done the reading assigned by Master Dichartyn.
29
The greatest curse is to inherit wealth or position
without ability.
There was nothing to keep me from leaving Imagisle on Solayi, except no one I wanted to see and no desire to spend my few silvers in L’Excelsis merely for the sake of spending them. Besides, I was still worried about my
