Imager’s Intrigue

“What might change their minds?”

Rholyn laughed, softly. “Only very convincing proof that they’d absolutely be worse off without change.”

“As you pointed out,” I replied, “change is inevitable. Managed change is usually less violent and less costly than unmanaged change. In terms of government, unmanaged change equates to revolution.”

“They don’t believe that the Collegium will allow revolution to occur, because we’d be swept away by it as well.”

“That’s an open invitation for Maitre Dyana to ally the Collegium with Glendyl or Caartyl.”

“We don’t want that. Caartyl’s more of a reactionary than the High Holders, and Glendyl, given half a chance, would remake Solidar in the pattern of Ferrum.”

Rholyn’s brief comments were tending to reinforce my thoughts that we might be better off dealing with the Ferran problems first. But then, that was what he doubtless intended.

“Why did Caartyl try to become acting head of the Executive Council? Was he trying to do something in particular?”

“He was,” replied Rholyn. “He was trying to make certain that Glendyl didn’t issue some statement that might have been conciliatory toward Ferrum. He also didn’t want Glendyl to stop the orders transferring ships from the southern fleet to the northern fleet.”

“That sounds as though he already knew what had happened in the sea battle that was reported yesterday.”

“Anyone who’d followed Naval matters could have guessed that any battle would be bloody. We’ve lost much of our edge over the past five years.”

That, unfortunately, made sense. “What’s Caartyl’s greatest weakness?”

“His belief that he knows best, and that what ever is best for the artisans and guilds is best for Solidar.”

“And his greatest strength is their belief in him?”

At that, Rholyn pursed his lips, clearly thinking. After several moments, he replied. “That’s one of his strengths. Another is that he has no doubts. Everything is black and white to him. He understands the need for compromise, and he will, as needed. But compromise for tactical advantage or partial attainment of his goals doesn’t change his views or his objectives.”

“What about Glendyl?”

“Glendyl thinks, as you must know, that artisans and guilds and the High Holders themselves are all anachronistic relics of a past that should be dispensed with as rapidly as possible. The Council should be controlled by factors and some few freeholders, since they’re the ones who produce most of the machinery and goods for Solidar. Those High Holders like Suyrien-or his heir-who are effectively manufacturers should acknowledge the fact and join with the factors. Those who are landholders should be forced to operate under the same laws as the free holders. All High Holder privileges and rights should be abolished.”

“What about the guilds?”

“They shouldn’t be allowed to restrict commerce and trade. Otherwise, he doesn’t care.”

“Will his value-added-tax proposal bring in enough revenue?”

“I asked Jhulian and one of the Collegium’s bookkeepers-a third named Reynol-to look into the plan. According to them, the one percent add-on won’t be sufficient. Two percent would provide a surplus.”

“And what would be Caartyl’s reaction?”

“He thinks the High Holders and the factors and freeholders all want to abolish or restrict the guilds and artisans. He’d probably accept some of what Glendyl wants, if only to restrict the power of the High Holders, but he’ll stand firm on retaining the restrictions on entry to the various guilds, and he wants what amounts to a laborers’ guild for those in the manufactories so that workers have some recourse and don’t have to work for what he terms ‘starvation wages.’”

“Some of the manufactories already allow guilds,” I pointed out.

“But those are the ones located in places like L’Excelsis where the guilds are strong. Glendyl’s proposal would result in factors building facilities in small towns along the ironway where they could get cheaper labor and where people would flee the High Holders’ estates.”

“So it’s likely that Glendyl won’t get much support for what he proposes?”

“Most likely.”

“What if the Collegium proposed some sort of tax reform?”

“Anything that would improve the present system would be voted down…”

We talked for another glass, but I didn’t find what he said terribly helpful.

As soon as Rholyn left, I took out pen and ink and began to write a letter of condolence. It took me several drafts before I had something suitable. I read it a last time.

Dear Iryela and Kandryl,

I just received word of Suyrien’s death, and Seliora and I offer our deepest sympathy for both of you. Although all of us have had loved ones die, death, especially unexpected death, is never easy and falls hardest on those who care the most.

Suyrien was always open and fair and tried to work out solutions that would benefit all those involved. He was warm and gracious to both Seliora and me on the occasion of your wedding, and his cheer and warmth went a long way….

I finally sealed it and set it on the corner of the desk. Then, since my shields still weren’t strong enough for me to leave Imagisle, I decided I might as well begin to get better acquainted with the imagers for whom I’d become preceptor. Over the next glass I wrote notes to each, setting a time for them to meet with me in the mornings over the next few days.

A quint before noon, I set out for the dining hall building, where I slipped the letters into the post boxes for the imagers, and posted the letter to Iryela and Kandryl. There were a number of juniors around, but I didn’t see any of those for whom I’d become preceptor. So I stepped into the dining hall proper.

Maitre Dyana was at the masters’ table, but she had Jhulian on one side and Rholyn on the other. So I sat with Khalasa, Ferlyn, and Quaelyn, the older pattern-master, who was Ferlyn’s mentor.

“It’s good to see you more often,” said Kahlasa.

“It’s good to see you…and to have edible food,” I replied.

“So…we’re not much better than the food?” Ferlyn grinned as he passed a pot of steaming tea.

“That’s an equation of the unequateable.”

“How are you feeling?” asked Kahlasa.

“Better. Enough so that I’ll probably have to deal with Artois and Cydarth before long.”

“You’ll manage,” said Ferlyn dryly.

“I may well manage the wrong way. There’s more going on than I’d like.”

“In what way?” asked Kahlasa.

I served myself rice and chicken before I replied. “Artois tends to want to keep order and ignore the taudis except when they create trouble. He’s gone along with the changes I’ve made in Third District because the results have reduced offenses there without requiring more patrollers. Cydarth seems to quietly oppose Artois, but he hasn’t cared for my changes.”

“That sounds like he’s a partisan of the factors,” said Ferlyn. “You’ve been improving the taudis and getting more of the young men trained in various crafts and skills. If others followed your example, there’d be fewer young men available for cheap labor.”

Quaelyn nodded sagely, but did not speak.

I shook my head. “That won’t happen. After five years, things are pretty much the same everywhere else in L’Excelsis.”

“Does that matter?” asked Ferlyn. “What matters is what people worry about, not what actually is or might happen.”

I nodded. He was right about that, but did it really shed any light on what Cydarth had in mind and might have been doing? For a time, I just concentrated on the rice and chicken. I was hungrier than I’d realized.

As I finished, I turned to Ferlyn again. “You’re dealing with patterns, analyzing them, and the like. What do your patterns say about Ferrum?” I looked to Quaelyn, sitting to Ferlyn’s right. “Or yours, Maitre Quaelyn?”

Ferlyn smiled. “You must be very concerned to ask. But I will defer to my mentor.”