still was a quarter-glass late in reaching NordEste Design.
Happily, Seliora had had a better day, and our ride with Diestrya back to the Collegium was short and uneventful. Seliora didn’t even complain too much about my wanting to talk to Master Draffyd, especially after I told her why.
Draffyd was in the infirmary, but he almost glared when I walked in. Then he recognized me and smiled. “Rhenn…I haven’t seen you in a while, and you’re on your feet.”
“I wanted your advice.” I explained what had happened the day before with the child who’d swallowed the elveweed. “I didn’t know what else to do. I knew it was dangerous. But…” I shrugged.
“I’m glad you realized how dangerous it could have been. The child was fortunate you were the imager there. But you were still very lucky. If you could come in after dinner next Meredi, I’d like to work with you then. Don’t eat much supper.”
“I’ll be here.”
I hurried back to the house and arrived with enough time to spare that we both spent a half-glass playing with Diestrya before readying her for bed, and then dressing for dinner at the Dichartyns’. I just washed up and brushed my grays. Seliora changed into an outfit consisting of a dark gray shimmering blouse, with a matching long skirt trimmed in a deep burgundy, and a jacket of the same shade of burgundy.
Then we set out, Seliora carrying a basket filled with two bottles of an amber Grisio that her Aunt Staelia had suggested was quite refreshing. Since Staelia owned and very successfully operated Chaelya’s-what I would have called a gourmet bistro-her recommendations were worth heeding.
Master Dichartyn’s house was two dwellings to the north of ours. We walked past the dwelling of Master Rholyn and then the one of Maitre Dyana. From the outside, all four looked similar: gray stone walls, with dark slate gray roofs, and leaded glass windows. Each had a low stone wall enclosing the space around the house, with raised beds for gardens flanking the walls, and lawn between the raised beds and the stone walkway surrounding each house. Running along the wide spaces between the walls surrounding each house were stone walks, flanked by low boxwood hedges and, except in winter, flower beds. The dwellings’ window casements were painted dark gray-with one exception. Not surprisingly, Maitre Dyana had the trim on her dwelling painted two shades of blue, one a dark grayish blue, and other a light mist blue. But then, she always wore a bright scarf with her imager grays, and more often than not those scarves were either blue or contained blue.
Just beyond Master Dichartyn’s dwelling was that of Maitre Poincaryt, or more properly, the official dwelling of the Maitre of the Collegium Imago, located on a low flat knoll doubtless raised two yards above the others just to distinguish it from the houses of the other senior masters. It was also half again as large as the dwellings of the senior masters that surrounded it. Seliora and I had only been inside Maitre Poincaryt’s dwelling little more than a handful of times, usually at the year-end reception he held for all the masters of the Collegium.
When we reached the door of the Dichartyns, I didn’t even have to lift the knocker, because he opened the door, his gray hair backlit by the lamps of the foyer behind him. “Rhenn, Seliora…please come in.”
He stepped back, and his wife hurried from the hallway behind to join him.
Seliora handed the basket to Aelys. “We thought you might enjoy this.”
“Oh…you didn’t have to…” replied the good Madame Dichartyn, as angular as when I’d first seen her at the Imagisle Anomen six years earlier, “but it was so kind of you.” With her last words, that angular severity vanished with the warm welcoming smile she bestowed on us. “The girls are at Maitre Poincaryt’s, watching over his grandchildren. He and Auralya are entertaining his daughter and son and their spouses. They don’t see them that often, since one couple lives in Cloisonyt and the other in Khelgror. But…you must come and see my indoor herb garden.” Aelys drew Seliora away.
Master Dichartyn said quietly, “I’d like just a moment with you, Rhenn.”
I waited for him to speak.
“Yesterday, you were talking to Baratyn. You gave him quite a worry.”
“I know. I didn’t mean to. He made a pleasantry about things being quiet at the Council Chateau, and I said that they weren’t likely to stay that way. All I meant was that, with a resumption of the war between Jariola and Ferrum likely, he’d likely be seeing more assassins and the like, the same way as before.”
“Rhenn,” Dichartyn said quietly, “please think about who you are. Believe it or not, people will read more into your words than you may mean. This time, there’s no harm done, because I told him the same thing this morning, and that was when he said you’d already warned him, but I don’t think you meant it in quite the same way, did you?”
“I meant that it was likely…not…” I wasn’t quite certain what else to say.
“Rhenn…how many Maitres D’Structure are there in the Collegium?”
“There are five here, and Dhelyn. I don’t know if the heads of the two other Collegia besides Westisle-I know they’re all really part of the Collegium, but I think of them that way-are all Maitres D’Structure.”
“There are only eight, and you are one of those eight. You also are the one who, when Baratyn saw and sensed nothing, stopped the Ferran envoy from poisoning High Councilor Suyrien, managed to create the fortunately fatal accident for the envoy, and survived an explosion that would have killed anyone else. You cannot afford to have your words misunderstood. Neither can the Collegium.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now…let’s join the ladies and enjoy dinner.”
7
Dinner on Vendrei night was warm, friendly, and notable and pleasant for the very fact that we discussed nothing of great worldly import, and nothing involving the Collegium or the Civic Patrol.
I didn’t get up before dawn on Samedi to join Clovyl’s exercise group, and that allowed us to have a comparatively more leisurely morning before I had to leave for Third District. I did stop by the dining hall to pick up Shault’s essay before I took the duty coach. Once I was inside the coach, I glanced from the newsheets to the essay, then decided I’d best read the newsheets first, just in case there was a story that might affect the Civic Patrol.
Neither newsheet carried anything directly affecting Third District, but there was a story in
Then I turned to Shault’s essay, not without trepidation, although I laughed as I realized that Master Dichartyn had probably often felt the same way about my essays. The first lines were straightforward enough.
The law sets rules for the people of Solidar. That is so that all of them know what to do. The Civic Patrol is required to enforce that law. Patrol Captains must make sure that their patrollers carry out the law. The law is not flexible, and there are times when applying the law would not be just. When a Patrol Captain comes across a case like this, he must find a way to apply the law without punishing too much the person who breaks the law. If possible, he should warn the person, but not charge them if they have not broken any laws before…
In essence, what young Shault was suggesting was letting the offender know that he’d broken the law and not charging him when possible, and then asking the courts for mercy when there was no way to avoid the charging the offender. Where he was weak in logic was explaining why, and we’d have to discuss that, because imagers needed both to understand and to able to explain the reasons for their actions.
Once I got to the station, I went over the logs with Huensyn, who had the duty desk, then checked the holding cells, which held two disorderlies, whom we’d forget to charge once they sobered up, since they hadn’t done much besides sing far too loudly in far too public a place, and a theft and assault case. He’d tried to take a knife to the patroller who’d arrested him, and had suffered broken fingers and a lump on the head from a Patrol truncheon as a result. The brand on his hip marked him as a previous offender, and that meant he’d be spending the rest of his life in the work house or on a penal road crew, and that life wasn’t likely to be all that long.
