Imager

“No. You’re just the only one I thought of-except women I’m related to, like Mother and Khethila.”

“I don’t know as I’d like to be considered a sister.”

I just groaned. “I can’t say anything right, can I?”

“At least you recognize that.” This time she laughed, softly, but not cruelly.

The music started up again, and I decided that silence was the better part of valor. We swirled out into the double handful of couples dancing.

“You’re stronger, too,” she said, after I twirled and lifted her, then set her back on the floor.

“That’s part of the training,” I admitted.

“It suits you.”

“What have you been doing, besides designing and embroidering and needlepointing chair fabric designs?”

“We don’t do the needlepoint by hand. We have several looms, including a small jacquard loom, but I have to punch out the cards once I work out the design. I’m also the one who keeps it running. Father isn’t all that mechanically inclined.”

“How tight can you get the weave?”

She looked up at with another smile. “How tight do you want it?”

I almost flushed at her words. “I guess I recall more of wool than I thought, or enough for you to pull it right over my eyes.”

She squeezed my fingers, just slightly.

We danced and talked until the musicians stopped playing for the evening. Then, I let go of her hand, reluctantly, I realized.

“Do you think I could persuade you to come next month?” she murmured.

“You could. I have Samedi afternoons and nights and Solayi afternoons off.” I realized I didn’t want to wait a month to see her again. “I’ve heard there’s a new bistro called Felters . . .”

“It’s quite good, Kaelyn said. I haven’t been there.”

“Next Samedi?” After I asked, I realized I was supposed to go to my parents’ for their dinner, but I knew I’d far rather spend the evening with Seliora.

“I’d love to, but Father is taking us to see his sister.”

“The seventh, then?”

“I’d like that very much . . . .”

“At fifth glass at your place?”

“That would be good.” A twinkle in her eyes accompanied the next words. “My parents will expect to meet you.”

“I’d be pleased.” I wondered if they would be, though. I didn’t know if all Pharsi families were as accepting as Remaya’s family had been of Rousel.

I did end up spending silvers-on a hack to drive her and Odelia back to the large building on the corner of Hagahl Lane and Nordroad that was clearly home and business to her and her family, and then to take me back to the east side of the Bridge of Hopes.

I was still smiling when I walked into my quarters.

35

Law is necessary because, without it, no one willingly

reins in self-interest.

Throughout the day on Solayi, as I struggled through the pages of Jurisprudence, my thoughts kept drifting back to Samedi. Why had Sagaryn and Rogaris been so distant? We’d been friendly for years, and I certainly hadn’t changed that much. Yet they’d been edgy and uncomfortable, as if they were suddenly afraid. Was their reaction one of the reasons why Master Dichartyn had said that I needed to see L’Excelsis again? But . . . Master Dichartyn had said that I projected what I felt, and I’d only felt friendly to them. Did that mean that they were so afraid that it didn’t matter that I was friendly? Yet Seliora had seemed happy for me, and Odelia had been more than pleasant.

The dining hall was nearly deserted at the noon meal, but I did see Reynol, and we ate together and talked pleasantly before I headed back to my room and the heavy pages of Jurisprudence.

By the time I rubbed my eyes and collapsed into bed on Solayi night, I thought I understood most of what I’d read, but I wasn’t so certain when I woke after a night filled with dreams of advocates and jurists uttering phrases that had no meaning at all to me.

On Lundi, after breakfast, and after half a glass spent reviewing the assignments in Jurisprudence, I left my quarters and headed across the quadrangle, wondering what Master Jhulian would be like in person.

Two seconds-Whaltar and one I didn’t know-were walking toward me.

“Good morning,” I offered.

“Good morning, sir,” returned Whaltar. The other secondus murmured the same.

I could hear a few low words after they passed.

“He’s the one . . . took Diazt down . . .”

“ . . . was always friendly to me,” said Whaltar. “Never pushed his way around.”

“ . . . good to know . . . helps to have friends like that . . .”

Friends like what?

I only waited something less than a quint of a glass before Master Jhulian opened his study door and beckoned for me to enter. His study was almost identical to that of Master Dichartyn, save that he had two chairs set before his desk. I took the one closer to the window.

Master Jhulian was more slender than I had thought, and his hair was almost white-blond, but I had only seen him from a distance, either in the dining hall or at the hearing for Floryn.

“Rhennthyl,” he began after closing the study door, walking to the window, gazing out, and then settling himself behind his desk on a chair covered by a wide and worn gray cushion, “Master Dichartyn has told me about you. He states that you are relatively direct and generally honest. I will attempt to be both with you.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “I would prefer that you ask me about those things you do not understand. Otherwise, you will waste my time and yours because I will assume that, if you have no questions, you will know the material.” He smiled politely, waiting for me to reply.

“Yes, sir. I will try to ask such questions, but some of what is in the text is so complex that . . . well . . . even though I’ve read all of it several times, I’m not sure that I understand enough to ask a question.”

“That is a fair statement, Rhennthyl, and if . . . if you tell me where you had trouble, even if you cannot articulate exactly what you do not understand, that is acceptable. Please begin by explaining what jurisprudence is and why it is of particular import to Solidar and the Collegium.”

“Jurisprudence is the study of the law itself, in terms of both its precedents in case law and in terms of the philosophical basis behind both laws enacted by the Council and those derived through the example of case law.”

“Close enough. What roots of traditional jurisprudence, indeed of law itself, did the establishment of the Juristic Courts of Solidar deny?”

I actually knew that. “Many scholars outside of Solidar claimed that the law historically had four basic roots-eternal, natural, human, and divine. Because the Nameless does not distinguish by appellation”-those words were not mine, but from the text-“but by function, the first judges of the Juristic Courts divided all legal precedents and existing codes into two basic categories, those of human and natural . . .” I went on explaining.

“What is the problem with the idea that laws are to promote good and restrain evil?”

I didn’t see a problem with that idea, and yet Master Jhulian was suggesting that there was. I had to think.