“. . . their High Priest . . . changed his mind once the Navy blockaded his ports . . .”
“. . . different High Priest . . .”
‘They’re all the same . . .”
“. . . know the imager?”
“. . . might be the one who was an artist . . .”
“. . . too tall . . . too much muscle for an artist . . .”
As Staela tried to slip by, I motioned. “The Kienyn is good. Have you always had it?”
“No . . . just this summer. Would you like another?”
“In a moment.” I gestured to the chair. “Please sit down. I do have a few questions to ask you, and they’re on behalf of the Collegium. Imager business. Nothing secret.”
She did seat herself, if with an air of resignation.
“I don’t know if you’ve heard this, but someone has been shooting at imagers, often young ones, or those in training. I was one of them. What the Collegium would like to know is whether you ever noticed anyone who seemed to be following me, or who asked about me, or talked about imagers.”
“Sir . . . I try not to pay attention to what people say. I don’t know as I recall anything like that.”
I nodded. “I can see that. Do you remember a man in a square beard-you know, the kind that you see in all the old paintings of artists, but the kind no artist has today?”
There was only a momentary frown before Staela replied. “There was one fellow. Some of the journeymen pointed him out when he left. They laughed and said he was a would-be artist. That’s why I remember. He used to come here on Vendrei nights and Samedi afternoons, maybe for a month this spring. He didn’t say much. He just listened to the others. He was here for a while, then never showed up again.”
“Did anyone ever come with him?”
“There was another fellow once in a while. He wore a yellow vest one time. I only noticed because he paid for the other one’s wine with golds. He didn’t seem to have a silver to his name. Just golds.” She looked at me directly for the first time. “That’s all. Honest. That’s all I remember.”
“Thank you. I would like another Kienyn.”
“Coming up.”
Staela wasn’t quite so stiff after that, but I could tell that she still wanted me to leave. While I didn’t gulp down the second glass, I also didn’t linger over every last drop, but I did leave her a half silver tip.
The only other place I’d ever visited even halfway frequently was Rozini’s, on the far side of the square. I wandered over there, and asked several of the servers, but no one remembered me or anyone asking about me. After that, I still had time to kill, and I didn’t really feel like going back to the Collegium. So when I saw the bookstore sign, I wandered inside.
A soft-looking young man with thick spectacles appeared almost immediately, emerging from behind a carrel of books. “Might I help you?”
“I was just looking.”
“We don’t see many imagers here, sir.”
I smiled. “I’m sure you don’t, but I’d wager you see my sister every so often.”
“Your sister?” While polite, his tone suggested the impossibility of an imager having sisters.
“Khethila D’Chenkyr. Tallish young woman, husky voice, likes books by Madame D’Shendael.”
“She’s very well read.” Again, the tone was condescending, suggesting that, whether we were related or not, no imager could possibly be well read.
“She is indeed, and I’m certain she got the habit from all that I read her when she was younger.” I smiled politely and turned away.
Before long, I did find the shelf that carried Madame D’Shendael. There were copies of both
I flipped the page and came across the dedication:
To my mother, for reasons more than enough.
I would have been disappointed, somehow, if it had been to her father or any man, perhaps because of all that Khethila had said.
Then I leafed back to the portrait etching. At that moment, I recognized her. The etching showed her as a mature woman, but she was the same woman as the girl in the miniature . . . and that realization left me more confused than ever. How could she be Emanus’s daughter? High Holder status always ran through the male line- unless there were no male heirs-and then the eldest daughter, but only if she married within a High Holder family and her husband took the family name. In addition, High Holders were anything but forgiving. Or was the threatened disclosure of Juniae’s parentage why Emanus had let himself be removed? But why would he have been killed years later over that?
It was still only just past second glass. So I took a hack back to the Bridge of Desires, walked across it in the hot afternoon sun, back to my quarters. In the end, I did take another shower, because I was so hot and sweaty, and changed once more.
My timing was more precise than during my call on Seliora the Solayi before, and I stepped out of the hack just before the single bell proclaiming half past four struck. Unsurprisingly, Bhenyt was there to open the door and escort me up to the main living level.
Seliora was waiting, as lovely as ever in a dress composed of a flowing filmy dark green skirt and a black short-sleeved top, not terribly low-cut, but certainly not excessively modest, either. She smiled, then took my hands.
We did embrace and kiss, if relatively chastely and quickly.
“We decided we’ll need to eat on the terrace. It’s just too hot down here in the main dining room. We can go up now.”
I followed her up the steps and then out onto the terrace. She was right. It was definitely cooler there. I glanced to the northwest. Those same clouds I’d seen that morning still lurked in the sky, but they didn’t seem to have moved at all.
“We have a choice of drinks.” Seliora nodded toward a small cabinet-like table set just forward of the north wall, west of the double doors. A serving man in a white shirt and a dark green waistcoat stood behind it.
“Shall we see?” I smiled at her, enjoying being with her.
We walked to the portable sideboard where we agreed on white Cambrisio.
“The table on the east there is still in the shade,” Seliora pointed out.
Not only was the table shaded, but at that corner I could feel a light but cooling breeze. As we sat, I realized we were the only ones on the terrace, except for the serving man.
“The others will be here shortly. I told them all five.”
“You’re a devious woman.”
She laughed, musically “You’ll find I’m far more practical and less romantic than you think. Once everyone arrives, we won’t have a moment to ourselves.” She lowered her voice. “I like being with you, and I see them all every day.”
“How did your week go?”
“About the same as most others, except that High Holder Unsaelt finally decided that he wanted a new dining set for his hunting lodge out near Tacqueville. He has to keep the same crest, but he wanted to know if we could make it a bit less tired and more vital . . .”
For a time, I just listened.
Abruptly, she looked at me. “You’re very quiet. Is something bothering you? Have I upset you?”
“No.” I didn’t have to force the smile because my thoughts certainly weren’t her fault. “I’ve talked to a
