“Most definitely. That was just a convenient, if true, reason to cover up an indiscretion so that the guild would not be tarnished by untoward gossip.”
“Do you think his death might be related to those . . . indiscretions?”
Master Reayalt shook his head. “I cannot say that it is not possible, but it would be highly unlikely. Most of those involved are now dead.”
“The High Holder . . .?”
He looked at me sharply. “It might no longer matter, but I still see no reason to go into that.”
“You don’t think it could involve his daughter, then?”
“Most certainly not. She may not . . . be all that her peers would like, but she is well above any reproach or scandal, unlike her mother. How . . .” He shook his head.
“If that is so, it puzzles me as to how Emanus might know about assassins, and why anyone now might wish to kill him,” I offered.
“It doesn’t puzzle me,” replied the guildmaster. “Emanus was truly brilliant, as well as the finest portraiturist of his time. He watched everything, and could deduce what people might be doing or have done from the smallest of intimations. Yet for all that brilliance, he never truly understood how dangerous that knowledge was to himself, and to the guild.”
“That was why he was removed?”
“Essentially.”
I asked a few more questions, the replies to which offered nothing new, and inclined my head. “Thank you. You’ve been most kind. If you or others do hear of the kind of inquiries I’ve mentioned, I would appreciate knowing of them. The Collegium does not like to lose young imagers, especially when most have still been in training.”
“I can see that, Imager Rhennthyl.”
His glance toward the door reminded me that he was expecting company, and further inquiries would intrude on dinner. So I took my leave and made my way back to the coach, asking the driver to return to the Collegium, but by the lower part of the Boulevard D’Imagers.
Sitting in the coach, I considered what I’d learned. Someone had been looking for me well before I’d been shot. It was likely that the Ferran had hired the first assassin and both were working for someone else. Based on what Master Reayalt had let slip, I was convinced that Emanus’s daughter’s mother had indeed been a High Holder, and that the scandal had been hushed up. What that had to do with the killings of junior imagers I had no idea. I hadn’t talked to Dolemis or Aurelean, but I’d never spent that much time with them, and Aurelean was so wrapped up in Aurelean that he wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone very much about anyone else, and he wouldn’t have remembered what he’d said-unless it bore on his future.
I studied the sidewalks as the coach neared the Bridge of Hopes, but I didn’t see anyone looking even vaguely like the Ferran. But then, if he were there, he wouldn’t be looking as I’d seen him. Master Dichartyn wasn’t in his study, and I hurried to the dining hall, arriving very late, when most were lingering over dessert. But I did sit with Dartazn and Menyard, and we discussed the state of the world, about which we’d heard nothing new. Since we hadn’t, I supposed that war had not yet broken out.
Afterward, I again stopped by the administration building, but no one was there.
57
Numbers can mislead,
but less so if one understands what lies behind them.
On Mardi morning, it was a struggle to get up in time to stagger off to Clovyl’s exercise group, but I reached the exercise rooms just after the sun’s first rays angled over the east side of the quadrangle and just before Master Dichartyn.
“Rhenn!” he called from behind me.
“Yes, sir?” I stopped and waited.
“Meet me in my study before you take the coach to the Chateau.”
“Yes, sir.”
That change in schedule required more rushing, and a very hurried shower and breakfast so that I could get to Master Dichartyn and still have time to make the duty coach. How he managed it, I didn’t know, because he was waiting behind his writing desk, looking calm and unrushed, neither of which I felt.
“What did you discover, if anything, last night?”
“Someone was looking to find me as early as around the end of Avryl. There were two men. They matched the general description of the Ferran and the man who shot me . . .” I told him what I’d discovered, and my suspicions about Master Estafen and Grisarius. “Oh . . . I also talked to Guildmaster Reayalt. He said no one had asked about me . . . but he was expecting Master Schorzat for dinner.”
“That’s not surprising. They’re cousins.”
“I don’t mean to be forward, sir, but Reayalt became guildmaster and had something to do with Emanus being forced to step down-”
“Master Schorzat is aware of that and has confirmed certain circumstances with his cousin. For the moment, that is all you need to know.”
“Yes, sir.” I was already getting a little more than tired with Master Dichartyn’s secrecy. So far, it hadn’t done all that much to protect me, and I certainly hadn’t done anything to jeopardize the Collegium. “Should I make more inquiries or wait a few days?”
“Do you think that you’ll learn that much more from the others you could easily talk to?”
“I don’t think so, sir.”
“Then I’d suggest you wait. We’ve traced Madame Caliostrus to Cleville-that’s a small town near Rivages. We’re waiting on a report.” He paused, then said, “You’d better catch the duty coach.”
“Yes, sir.” I rose, inclined my head, and hurried off in my messenger/guard uniform.
The only interesting event of the morning was when a purported stonecutter on his way to see Councilor Alucion “tripped” and rolled down the grand staircase. The duty coach carted him back to the Collegium to recover. I didn’t get to ask about that until lunch, when Baratyn sent Martyl and me down to the kitchen, where we sat in the small alcove and with platters of creamed rice and fowl.
“How did you know he wasn’t a stonecutter?” I took a mouthful of the rice and fowl, bland, but probably filling, trying to ignore how hot the kitchen area was.
“The little things. He tried not to say much, but he was too well spoken. His hands were too pale and too soft, and he wore soft-leather boots that were almost new.”
“He tried something before you even reached the councilor?”
“He had a pistol hidden in his jacket. I waited until we were on the stairs and suggested that he shouldn’t take it in to see the councilor. He tried to use it on me and lost his balance.”
I didn’t press on that. “Who do you think he was?”
“Jariolan, if I had to guess. The Ferrans usually don’t attack councilors in the Chateau, and the Caenenans are usually darker. Besides, their new High Priest is sending an envoy to work out a trade agreement. That’s what I overheard High Councilor Suyrien telling Glendyl.”
“Their merchanters are all bottled up in Caena, and they’ve lost their High Priest, and we’re talking about a trade agreement?”
Martyl laughed. “It’s better than calling it a surrender agreement, isn’t it? They’ll probably have to lower tariffs on our goods and pay damages. The Council cares more about golds and results, not what they’re called.”
My mouth was full, and I nodded, then took a sip of the grisio that had come with the meal. The wine was the best part.
“Did you hear about Selastyr?” asked Martyl.
