Imager’s Intrigue

Gherard wasn’t there, and she appeared as though she’d been there very early when I knocked and eased into her study. “What is it, Rhenn?”

“This is going to seem silly, but…”

“Yes?”

“For five years, I’ve been using a duty coach to go to Third District and-”

“You don’t want Seliora and your daughter to use hacks regularly, and you don’t want her to have to give up her work or to be in danger.”

“That’s right. I was hoping I could pay…”

“As a Maitre D’Esprit, you now receive ten golds a week.”

I almost choked. I hadn’t realized how much the difference in pay was. “It’s not the cost.”

“I understand. I have thought about this. A hack ride to NordEste Design runs, what, three to four coppers each way? That’s four silvers a week, or two golds a month. A duty coach is better. What if we simply deduct the two golds a month from your pay and transfer it to the transport section?”

“I would suggest three, so that there’s no question, and I would appreciate that very much.”

“Three a month it will be. I appreciate your concern for not wanting to take privileges you don’t feel are appropriate. We also do want to keep Seliora and your daughter as safe as practicable.” Dyana smiled. “If that’s all?”

“For now, thank you.”

I walked back downstairs and toward my own study, although it was still hard to think of it as mine, because it had been Dichartyn’s for so long…and I hadn’t even been able to attend his memorial service.

As soon as I’d settled behind the desk, I picked up the copy of Veritum and began to read the lead story on the progress of the war in Cloisera. The Ferran advance had been slowed by fiercer Jariolan resistance and by an early snowstorm, but the newer Ferran land-cruisers were performing far better than those used in the previous war between the two countries. That was apparently offset to some degree by the new Jariolan land-mines. No one had yet tried to break the Solidaran blockade. I wondered how Glendyl and some of the factors felt about that, with their concern for open trade, at least of their products.

The lead story in Tableta dealt with the “annexation” of the Tiempran diamond and gold mines by Stakanar. I wondered how I’d missed that, except I realized that it must have happened while I’d been unconscious. What else had I missed? Not too much, I hoped.

The first lines of the next story caught my attention more than the war news had, and I read the story twice, then again, going through the key parts.

The Civic Patrol in Ruile, along with the Freeholder Constabulary in the Sud region, raided the lands of High Holder Ruelyr late on Samedi. The combined forces discovered close to a thousand hectares of land in the swamp regions of the High Holder’s lands devoted exclusively to the cultivation of elveweed. “This is the stronger variety. It’s the one that’s been killing so many young Solidarans over the past months…”

High Holder Ruelyr has not been located, but sources suggest he may be in a remote locale on his lands…

Councilor Regial D’Alte expressed great concern. “No matter what the purported cause, invading the lands of a High Holder without a judicial order is the first step toward mob rule and the breakdown of the longest and most successful form of civil government in the history of Terahnar…”

I’d been right about where the stronger elveweed had been grown, but the story didn’t tell me a great deal about who had been the one actually profiting from the growing and selling. The story implied that Ruelyr was the guilty party, but why would a High Holder get involved in that? Did he owe that much? And to whom?

Newsheet in hand, I walked to Schorzat’s study, hoping he was in.

He was, and he immediately announced, “You have a meeting with Sea-Marshal Geuffryt at the second glass of the afternoon. At the Naval Bureau, not the Naval Command.”

“Thank you.”

He grinned at me. “I didn’t see you running this morning.”

“It’s likely to be several weeks before Draffyd will let me pummel my body to that degree.” I held up the newsheet. “The elveweed story?”

“After our talk yesterday, I thought you might be asking.”

“It doesn’t help that we don’t have a regional in Ruile.” I paused. “Who would know any more about what’s happening there?”

“We’ll get some reports, but not for several days.”

“What do the Ferrans know about our regionals? Would they know that there isn’t one in Ruile?”

He shook his head. “That’s hard to say. There’s nothing anywhere except in your study and mine-and Maitre Dyana’s-in a written form that even alludes to a regional network of imagers. People certainly speculate, and it’s known there are imagers across Solidar, but…”

“They might just be calculating where they wouldn’t be, based on…” My words broke off.

“What?”

“Maybe this has been going on for much longer. You remember all the killings of junior imagers six years ago?”

“You think that was part of a longer-term plan?”

“I don’t know, but with fewer young imagers over time…” That was a possibility, but there wasn’t much I could do about the past. “What about Ruile and Ruelyr?”

“Ruelyr owes a great deal,” replied Schorzat. “We’ve known that for a while. Most of the notes were held by the Banque D’Ouestan.”

“Interesting.” It was more than interesting, since that was the banque from which the drafts to Cydarth had allegedly come. By itself, that proved nothing, but I’d always been suspicious of coincidences. “What do you know about the banque?”

“It’s the second-largest banque in Ouestan, and tends to handle non-Solidaran trading and factoring accounts, also foreign currencies and bonds. The Banque D’Cote is the one used by most Solidaran factors and the local High Holders there.”

“Who owns the Banque D’Ouestan?”

“That’s a good question. It’s held by private shareholders and has been for over a hundred years.”

“That makes it a perfect conduit for funds and blind drafts. I presume it’s exceedingly sound financially?”

“It’s the only banque on the entire northwest coast that survived the Panic of ’17 without being reorganized or bought out.”

“Ferran investors?”

Schorzat shrugged. “Maitre Dichartyn and Maitre Poincaryt thought so. We could never prove it.”

“Is there any way to determine if the land that the Civic Patrol of Ruile and the Constabulary raided was actually leased to someone else?”

“That was my thought. We’re working on it.”

“Good…” I paused. “How can we find out if an attractive woman is missing from Ruelyr’s house hold in Sud?”

Schorzat frowned.

“The Civic Patrol found a body a week or so ago. She was young and attractive, wearing an expensive wool suit and an inexpensive bright scarf, and she’d been poisoned, but set up as if she’d been an elveweed death. She wasn’t an elver. Oh…and the body had been moved some considerable distance, and the suit was tailored on a High Holder estate, but not for the holder’s family, and the wools were from the area around Ruile. It bothered me at the time.”

Schorzat shook his head. “We don’t have anyone close to him, and without a regional there…Let me think about it.”

That meant I’d have to think about it as well. “Thank you.”

I walked the few yards down the hallway to my study, thinking. Had Suyrien visited Ruelyr because he’d heard rumors about the elveweed? Or was there something else occurring in Ruile or on Ruelyr’s estates? Frydryk might know. I’d have to talk to him as well, although I wasn’t certain I wanted to intrude at the moment.

After stepping into the study, I closed the door behind me and walked to the window. How many times had I