“None of that, young lady.” I tried to keep my voice matter-of-fact, and the lip quivered, but there was no procession into tears.
Seliora and I managed to stifle smiles, as Diestrya finally looked up and declared, “I like Rheityr.”
“That’s good. He is your cousin.” I added in a murmur, “I’m going to try to catch that expression in her portrait.” Not that I’d had much time to work on it lately, even with the studio now in our house.
“She’ll hate you for it until she has children,” Seliora whispered in return.
That was often the way with children, I’d decided.
It didn’t seem that long before the hack let us out at my parents’ house, and we joined my parents, Culthyn, and Remaya in the family parlor. Diestrya, of course, joined Rheityr in the nursery.
Before Father could ask me how either the Civic Patrol or imager “business” was, I asked him, “How is the wool business these days?”
He shook his head. “There have been times that have been worse, but not in any recent years. We’ve had problems in getting the raw wool to the carders and spinners. It’s not just in any one part of Solidar, either. The shipping delays are the worst in the northeast, and even in the north around Mont D’Glace, and that’s a straight ironway run to L’Excelsis.”
“You always have problems,” Mother said, extending the tray on which rested his goblet of Dhuensa.
“Not like these.” Father shook his head.
“The spice trade has almost stopped now,” added Remaya. “Father says that little or nothing’s arriving from any of the countries in Otelyrn.”
“Is someone else paying more for spices?” I asked.
“That couldn’t be the reason,” Remaya replied. “Father says that the Stakanaran gunboats are blockading the small river ports where the spices are collected. They’re fast enough to outrun larger vessels, and Tiempre and Caenen don’t want to tie up their warships for a trade that doesn’t benefit them that much.”
“How can it not benefit them?” asked Seliora.
My father cleared his throat, then looked at Remaya, who nodded. He cleared his throat again. “Spices are cheap in Otelyrn. They grow easily. The profit lies in transporting them to where they don’t grow-here. The traders don’t want to lose their vessels to the gunboats, and they-and traders like Remaya’s family-are the only ones who suffer.”
“Our cooking and food also suffers,” added my mother.
“So…Rhenn,” asked my father, “how is the Civic Patrol business?”
“About like the wool and spice businesses.” I tried to keep my tone light. “But we won’t solve it here, and I’d like to hear what Rheityr’s been up to lately.” I grinned. “Then, Seliora and I can talk about our wonderful daughter.”
Culthyn actually laughed.
After that, and through dinner, we talked about family and food, and children. Seliora and I-and a very sleepy Diestrya-left just after eighth glass.
The late nights all through the week took their toll on both Seliora and me, and we were asleep in our separate chambers in less than half a glass after Charlsyn dropped us off at the Collegium.
A dull rumbling shook me awake. But that was followed by another, and an explosion. The entire house shook. Even in the darkness, I could see stones falling around me-yet they hadn’t, not so far.
I ran from my sleeping chamber and across the main bedchamber. “Seliora!” I kept moving, snatching Diestrya from her small railed bed and hurrying back toward Seliora’s sleeping chamber, where I sat on the edge of the bed beside her, raising my shields. “Stay close to me.”
Seliora didn’t question me, but she wouldn’t have had time, because a gigantic unseen hammer slammed the north side of the house. Stones toppled into the house, with some fragments and chunks of masonry and stone and tiles sliding off and around my shields, even as all manner of rubble built up in the hallway and rolled into the bedchamber. Glass sprayed against the shields like grapeshot. The house, solidly built as it was, groaned and shifted.
I could sense something-two somethings, I thought-hurtling toward us, toward my shields and in a fit of anger, image-shifted them back to the point from where they had come. At that moment, my entire body felt like it had been squeezed in a vice. That feeling passed, but my eyes blurred, and I felt dizzy.
The house shifted again…and more rubble settled.
Then came the sound of another massive explosion, followed by others, right in a row, somewhere to the north.
At that moment, I was so exhausted I could barely move, and my whole body ached, but I knew I had to hold the shields to protect Seliora and Diestrya until we could get out of the house and the rubble around us. I closed my eyes and concentrated for a time longer.
After everything settled, I turned to Seliora. “I’m holding shields. I don’t know what will collapse. We’ll move to where we can get clothes and boots and then make our way out. I think the south side of the house isn’t as badly damaged.”
We just grabbed clothing and boots before making our way down the rubble-filled staircase, more like sliding down the balustrade, but the dwelling had been so solidly built that the main level was clear, if dusty.
My head was pounding, and my whole body ached. Donning the basic grays quickly in the front foyer was difficult, and my eyes kept blurring, from the dust, I supposed. When we finally stepped out of the house, I was struck by the diffuse light filling the northern sky, as if something were burning brightly on the River Aluse, and yet droplets of ice fell out of the sky.
Yet that light, already fading, allowed me to see the devastation around me. Master Dichartyn’s house was rubble. So was Maitre Dyana’s, as was the larger dwelling that had been Maitre Poincaryt’s. I turned, and my entire body twinged, and a wave a blackness swept toward me, but receded, although I could feel that it had not retreated that far. Out of the smoky haze, I could see Maitre Dyana walking toward me, dressed in working grays.
Behind me, Seliora was saying something, but I couldn’t hear the words. I felt light-headed, and dizzy, and my entire body tingled, but I pushed that away. I had to know what had happened, what Maitre Dyana knew.
Maitre Dyana stopped in front of me, then said, “Sit down. Now!”
I almost made it before the blackness slammed me down.
26
The next time I woke up was with gray walls around me, but my eyes wouldn’t focus, and I couldn’t talk. Someone fed me something soft, and I drank something, and the blackness rose up again. That sort of thing must have happened for a while, because I thought I saw people around, but nothing made much sense.
Then, I finally swam out of that hazy blackness and could actually see, and feed myself, although my entire body remained a mass of soreness and aches. One of the obdurate attendants watched closely, then took the empty tray away. That I’d been watched by an ob all the time suggested I’d been in a bad way.
I took stock of my physical situation. From what I could see, there were purplish-yellow bruises on my arms and my upper chest, and probably on my thighs, from the way they felt. How had all that happened? I’d held my shields and even angled and slipped them the way Maitre Dyana had drilled into me years earlier. Or had it been when I’d imaged back the shells or bombs or what ever had been aimed at the Collegium?
Draffyd appeared, and his eyes were ringed with black. “How are you feeling?”
“Sore and aching all over,” I admitted. “But I can see without everything blurring.”
“Your eyes were so bloodshot that they were more red than white. You’re fortunate to be alive.” He paused. “You were imaging behind shields, weren’t you?”
“Ah…not exactly. I was imaging beyond them.”
His eyes widened, but he only nodded. “Maitre Dyana needs to see you, but I’ve asked her to be brief. You aren’t ready to do much right now.”
“Seliora?”
