“Yes, sir.”
“Go on.”
“I’d say that the Jariolan system is the next least desirable, because power is held in the hands of so few men, and that is not good-”
“For all the rhetoric and common talk, government is not about good and bad, Rhennthyl. Nor was that what I asked. What is it about?”
“Creating the laws and rules under which people live.”
“Why is government necessary?”
“Things don’t work well among people without some form of government.”
“That’s true. Why not?”
“People would try to do whatever they could get away with. Unless you had golds and power, you couldn’t trust anyone. Even then . . .”
Master Dichartyn nodded slowly. “Effective governments set rules and limits on how power is used in a country. Now . . . that means some who have greater power must accept limits on their power. Why would they do so?”
“Because, otherwise, those with less power will band together and restrain or eliminate them?”
“That’s one possibility. Can you think of another?”
At that moment, I couldn’t.
“If you were High Holder Almeida, would you want to spend tens of thousands of golds on maintaining a private army to defend your lands or would you rather pay a few thousand golds in taxes to a government that generally protected them?”
“If the government rules weren’t too burdensome, I’d prefer the taxes.”
“So do most High Holders of Solidar. What does that tell you about government?”
“It provides a balance of power at a lower cost for the wealthy and greater order and freedom for those with little power.”
“An effective government does. If most people want effective government, why do governments vary so much from land to land?”
“They have different ideas about what is effective and how to make things work?”
“Do you think that a chorister of the Nameless and a priest of the Duality would think of power in the same way . . .”
Master Dichartyn’s questions seemed endless. I was all too happy to leave when he finally dismissed me, despite his assignment of the additional reading.
Again, at lunch, Johanyr had positioned himself where he could watch me, although I didn’t see Diazt. I walked over to him and asked, “How are you doing? I haven’t seen you around, except outside the dining hall.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, clearly taken aback by my addressing him. Then he replied, “I’m fine. There are some things that have to be settled.”
I didn’t feel like saying anything to respond to the implied threat. “I’m sure things will settle out if you give them time.”
“I’m not very patient, Rhenn.”
“Most of us aren’t. I’m not, either, but I’ve learned that sometimes rushing things creates more problems than it solves.”
“Don’t threaten me.”
“I’m not threatening anyone,” I said, managing to smile. “It’s not wise, and it’s not polite. I hope you feel better later.” I nodded courteously and turned toward the dining hall.
I could still feel his eyes on my back, and I still didn’t understand why he was so angry. Was it just that he was angry and needed a target? I certainly hadn’t told anyone about what he thought or his nastiness to me, except telling Shannyr once that Johanyr didn’t seem happy.
I took a chair between Gherard and Whaltar and across from Shannyr.
Whaltar was speaking to Gherard. “. . . got Naquin Samedi night . . . warned him about the Nord quarter, but he said that was where the girls were . . .”
“Did someone get hurt?” I asked.
“Naquin. He was a third. They found his body on the street yesterday morning.” Whaltar shook his head. “Have to be twice as careful if you’re a graycoat.”
I didn’t quite know what to add. I hadn’t known Naquin.
“How is Master Dichartyn treating you?” asked Gherard, clearly wanting to change the subject. “Some of those assignments looked difficult.”
“The reading isn’t too bad,” I admitted, “but the questions he asks about what I’ve read make the reading seem easy.”
“Most of the thirds haven’t made it as far as you have,” Gherard said.
“I’m sure that they’re doing better elsewhere.” I decided on tea, filled my mug, and took a long sip. “That’s why they’re thirds.” The longer I’d been at the Collegium, the more I wondered why Gherard was still a secondus. “If you don’t mind . . .”
Gherard laughed. “I don’t. You’ve waited longer than most to ask. I have trouble reading. The letters don’t make sense to me, and I’ll never be a great imager. I can remember anything anyone tells me word for word, and Master Dichartyn tells me that I have a good feel for incoming imagers.”
Put that way, his position made sense. “Is Petryn still helping there?”
“No. He’s a second now, and another junior prime took his place-Beleart. You know . . . you scared the Namer out of Petryn.”
“I did? I was the one who felt scared.”
All three of them laughed, and Shannyr just shook his head.
They all thought it was funny that I’d felt scared? Did I really project that much confidence? I didn’t think so. I certainly hadn’t known that much about imaging when I’d arrived at the Collegium.
After lunch, when I went to the workshops, Grandisyn escorted me to another workroom, one also with barrels, and showed me a small bar of metal no bigger around than the body of a pen and no more than a digit in length.
“If you’re really good, you ought to be able to do four of these, but if you get really tired after two, stop. We are not certain of the concentration in the ore.” He paused. “Do you understand?”
I understood. I remembered what had happened to Mhykal.
After he left, I fingered the silvery metal, which seemed as heavy as gold. Platinum?
In the end, I managed three small bars, and decided against trying for a fourth. That took less than a glass, and Grandisyn said I was free to go. When I returned to my room, I took a short nap-and I’d never taken naps since I’d been small, not until I came to the Collegium.
At dinner, Johanyr and Diazt sat at the end of the table, with two other seconds I’d barely met. Johanyr never looked in my direction, but Diazt did, and did so more than a few times.
“What did you do to Diazt?” asked Clenard, one of the older seconds who was a friend of Shannyr.
“I asked Johanyr how he was doing. He wasn’t happy that I spoke to him.” My words came out a shade ironic.
“That’s because he likes to ask the questions,” Shannyr added dryly.
“What do you work at?” I asked Clenard.
“I help the machinists. It’s easier to image blanks than to cast them, and then they machine them down. Don’t have to have a furnace, either, but it works best for small parts. . . .”
Every time I thought I’d learned most of what happened at the Collegium, I found out something more. But at least I had a good conversation at dinner.
Afterward, I talked a bit with Shannyr, then walked through the deepening twilight across the quadrangle back to the quarters building-one of two, I’d also learned. Again, I had the feeling of being watched, but I didn’t see anyone. I wasn’t imagining things, and that suggested that whoever was watching and following was a very good imager.
When I got inside, I hurried up the stairs. No more had I stepped off the landing on the second level and into
