Imager

At the knock on the door, Baratyn called out, “Come on in.”

I stood. I didn’t like being seated when meeting other people, particularly when they were standing. The door opened, and two men stepped inside. The second one closed the door. Both of them were about my size, and at least several years older. They looked almost politely nondescript, yet I could sense that behind that facade, they were formidable. Was that the kind of impression that Master Dichartyn was seeking-someone who could blend into any group, yet who, if you looked closely, you really didn’t want to encounter in dark corners?

“Rhennthyl, meet Martyl and Dartazn. Martyl is the blond one.”

Martyl smiled politely. “Be good to have some help here.”

“Especially the way things look to be going,” added the dark-haired and dark-eyed Dartazn, who was just a shade taller than Martyl.

“I had Basyl give him the general tour,” said Baratyn. “You two can show him all the places he really needs to know. He’ll only be here mornings for the next few weeks. They’re rushing his training so that he’ll be as ready as possible when the Council goes back in session.”

Dartazn looked at me, his brows furrowed. “You usually sit with Kahlasa and the other field operatives, don’t you? At the Collegium, I mean?”

“I do. That was because I got to know Claustyn when I became a third.”

“You’re the one who took a bullet near the heart and managed to image-shield it until Master Draffyd could take care of it.”

I hadn’t realized the bullet was that close. “Two bullets, actually, but I didn’t know it at the time. And I passed out a little bit before I got to Master Draffyd.”

“Claustyn hoped you’d go field,” added Martyl.

“That would have been my second choice,” I admitted.

“You three can talk later,” Baratyn said, “at the Collegium, not here.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Martyl genially. “All the walls but those here have ears. We hear and understand.”

“Go!” But Baratyn was smiling.

We left.

By the time I climbed into the duty coach at ten bells, with Martyl and Dartazn, my head was swimming with the effort of trying to remember all the hidden nooks and passages.

“We get lunch at the Collegium when the Council’s not in full session,” Martyl explained. “That’s because they close down the kitchens to give the staff their summer break. The Chateau’s practically deserted now.”

That was fine with me. I’d need all three weeks to really learn where everything was-and that was in spite of my study of the Chateau’s plans.

48

Implying guilt in writing is like eating food held too

long, providing neither satisfaction nor savor.

On Mardi, two letters were waiting in my box when I checked after lunch, but I was running so late that all I did was to see that one was from Seliora. I didn’t open it, because I wanted to enjoy reading it, and I didn’t have time for that. The other was from Mother. I had immediately recognized her handwriting. I didn’t open it, either, if for very different reasons, before I hurried back to my quarters and changed into exercise clothes and heavy boots.

Clovyl was waiting outside the exercise hall, with his usual patient smile, a smile that-I was convinced- concealed a hidden glee in at the thought of how hard he’d make me work.

“Good afternoon, Rhenn. You still have a lot more catching up to do.”

I followed him to the chamber, where I began on the loosening-up exercises, although my eyes did stray to the corner that held the free weights. It wasn’t that they were so heavy, but my muscles burned after I went through that routine-and I still had to look forward to another two glasses of special treatment.

Once he had worked me over thoroughly for slightly more than two glasses, Clovyl told me to stop by Master Dichartyn’s study after I cleaned up.

The one advantage of an afternoon shower was that the water was merely cool, rather than ice-cold, and before long I was sitting on the bench outside Master Dichartyn’s study. If I’d known that I’d be sitting there for close to half a glass I would have brought Mother’s letter, but I’d been hurrying so much that I hadn’t thought about that.

The study door opened, and a secondus stepped out. I stood, and his eyes flashed to me and then away.

“Good day, sir.” He fled as much as walked away.

I knocked.

“Come in, Rhenn.”

Once inside, I shut the door and sat down, waiting to see what else Master Dichartyn had scheduled for me.

“Clovyl says that you’re doing well, and that, if you keep at it, you’ll be close to where you should be by the time the Council reconvenes . . . where you should be in terms of physical training and conditioning. You’re still lacking in finesse in your imagery, but we need to get you some experience. On Jeudi morning, you’re to meet me here in the morning at half before fifth bell. We’ll be going to the prison for an execution.”

“Practice, sir?”

“Two kinds of practice. Subtlety and effectiveness. That night, you’ll have to work with Master Draffyd. Mostly, you’ll just be watching him do a dissection. Too much of your knowledge is text knowledge. That’s not your fault, but it’s something we need to remedy.” He stood. “You have to excuse me, but matters are pressing.”

“Caenen and Jariola, sir?”

“Partly. That’s mostly Master Schorzat ’s headache. It doesn’t help much that imaging is banned in Tiempre, and that its practice, if discovered, is punished by execution. Ferrum doesn’t ban it, but known imagers face great difficulties. That makes working in either land even more difficult, the Nameless knows, although neither Ferrum nor Jariola is a place we’d normally want to be. You’d think that we were the disciples of Bilbryn.” He shook his head.

Bilbryn? It took me a moment to recall the name. When Solidar had been warring states using bronze weapons, he’d been the imager champion of Rex Caldor, and his enemies called him the great disciple of the Namer, declaring him evil incarnate.

“I’ll see you on Jeudi,” Master Dichartyn said.

Our meeting had been short enough that I had a good glass left before dinner, and I hurried back to my quarters. Once there, I recovered the letters, opening Mother’s first, knowing full well what awaited me. I forced myself to read the words carefully.

Dear Rhennthyl,

I had hoped that we would be able to host a birthday dinner for you this Samedi and perhaps invite Zerlenya or another suitable young lady, if you did not find Zerlenya to your liking. I do hope that you are feeling better, but I cannot help but worry, since we have not heard from you since your last letter. I do hope that we have not done anything to offend you. I had only invited Zerlenya because she is a beautiful and intelligent young woman, and you had mentioned that there were few women at all on Imagisle. . .

I paused in reading, then shook my head.

. . . and you are now reaching the age where it will become more and more difficult to find someone suitable, as the most attractive ones from a suitable background will already have been spoken for. . .