“There’s no way to prove it, but someone well-placed in the Naval Command or the Naval Bureau had to be involved,” suggested Kahlasa. “It’s more likely to be the Naval Bureau, because they handle supplies and leases and transport.”
“They also had access to five thousand golds, and we’d know if five thousand golds had been recently transferred from Ferrum or elsewhere or converted to a draft by someone…unusual…” observed Schorzat.
“You mean by someone who isn’t a High Holder or a wealthy factorius?” I asked.
“All large fund deposits from foreign sources have to be reported in time of war.”
“They could have done it years before.”
“That’s possible.”
After they finished, we all trooped back up to see Maitre Dyana, where I let Kahlasa and Schorzat report what they’d told me. Then she excused them and, after her study door was closed, looked to me. “The Naval Command will deny any involvement.”
“I know. I don’t plan to talk to them yet, not before I look into other aspects of it first.”
“How long will that take?”
“As long as it takes.” I offered a smile. “You know I’ve never been one to dawdle, even when I should.”
Once I was back in my study, I just sat at my desk, thinking. If the Naval Command happened to be involved, would Valeun have taken such pains to avoid Glendyl so obviously at a time when it was clear that Solidar needed more ships? Or was the avoidance merely to buy time before something else happened? Or had the Ferrans infiltrated the Naval Command at a lower level years before and transferred those funds equally early?
There was another possibility, and I wrote a quick note to Iryela asking to call on her. She was one source who might be able to answer some questions I didn’t want others knowing I was asking, and she wouldn’t say a word. I had Beleart send it by special messenger.
After that, I decided there was little enough more I could do, and I left the study.
As I walked back across the quadrangle and turned toward the house, and Seliora, I couldn’t help but think about Seliora’s words.
39
First thing on Mardi morning, I was at the infirmary, looking for Draffyd.
As soon as I walked toward him, before I could speak, the medical imager said, “Clovyl said you’re exercising. That’s fine, but don’t push.”
“That’s not why-”
“I know. Yes, it’s likely he’ll recover. No, you can’t talk to him. Maybe late tomorrow. Maybe.” He paused, then asked, “Is it that urgent?”
“I don’t know,” I replied honestly.
“If you, of all imagers, aren’t certain, it can wait. Besides, he’s not awake, and waking him to talk to you would put too much of a strain on him. It would on anyone.”
“You’re not going to let him leave?”
“Maitre Rhennthyl,” Draffyd drew out my name and title, “the most honorable Councilor Glendyl isn’t in any shape to go anywhere and won’t be for weeks. If you hadn’t been beside him and acted in instants, he would have died on the Chateau steps. I will make certain he knows that, when he’s awake enough to understand…which he is not at present.”
After that, I went back to my study, looking to see if I’d received any more reports. There were only two. One was from the Collegium at Mont D’Glace, and that merely confirmed that they knew nothing more about Johanyr’s disappearance. The other was from the Civic Patrol Commander in Alkyra, reporting that a grain freighter scheduled to leave for the Abierto Isles had burned at the pier. Unfortunately, there were no details about what had caused the fire or who owned the vessel.
That led me into thinking about the lack of information, especially the lack of consistent information. The Council and the Collegium received reports from all over Solidar, but they varied greatly in the quality and even the types of information. Both the Council and I, and presumably Maitre Dichartyn before me, had to guess and fill in with estimates. Both the Council and the Collegium needed better information. I doubted that the Ferrans had that problem.
And, as for the Ferrans, why, for the sake of the Nameless, would Glendyl have gotten involved with them? He was influential and wealthy, possibly wealthier than even some High Holders. What could they possibly have offered him? That didn’t make any sense, either.
A knock on my study door interrupted my pondering.
“A message for you, Maitre,” announced a young voice, most likely the duty prime.
“Come in.”
“Yes, Maitre.” The youngster, perhaps all of ten and looking most serious in his grays, scurried in, bowed his head, slipped a striped envelope onto my desk, bowed again, and hurried out. I only knew that his name was Petrion from the duty roster.
Inside the outer envelope was another envelope with a note card inside. Iryela had written simply that she would be available to see me any day of the present week at any time before the first glass of the afternoon, except on Jeudi, when she would be unavailable after midday.
Since I wasn’t getting anywhere by sitting in the study and waiting for inspiration to strike me and since I had no idea where else I might go to find out more information, I immediately pulled on my winter cloak and headed for the duty coach station, stopping only briefly to let the duty secondus know where I was headed.
I crossed the quadrangle against a bitter biting wind from the northwest. Although the sky was clear, I had the feeling we might have snow by evening-or sometime during the night. The inside of the coach was only chill, but I felt sorry for Lebryn, although he was well bundled up. The roads were clear, but it took almost a glass to reach the Ryel estate north of L’Excelsis.
The footman who greeted me at Iryela’s estate bowed and said, “Maitre Rhennthyl…if you’ll be long, there’s a place in the carriage house for your coach and driver.”
“Thank you. I’ll be long enough, and they could stand to get out of the wind.” I turned to Lebryn. “They’ll direct you to the carriage house.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
I had to admit that I was surprised to find Iryela, attired in deep blue trousers and tunic, standing in the foyer to greet me. “It’s good to see you, Rhenn. Kandryl was pleased that you came to his father’s memorial service.”
“Suyrien was an honorable man, and he was Kandryl’s father.” I paused. “And it has been a trying time for you as well.”
“It has…and for you.” After a moment, she added, “The private drawing room is most comfortable in the morning, with the sun and the stove.”
“What ever you think best. I do appreciate your seeing me on such short notice.”
“How could I not?” Her tone was light, with seriousness beneath, as she turned to head toward the left-hand corridor. “Besides, it’s very quiet here in the mornings, even with the children, since they’re at their lessons, and Kandryl is spending the day at the main estate-Frydryk’s, that is. They’re going over the finer points of their father’s bequests and settlement.”
I moved up beside her. “That’s fairly set, isn’t it.”
“Oh, the bulk of everything will go to Frydryk, but there are apparently a number of smaller bequests.” She smiled. “There’s even a small one for Seliora, although it’s really for both of you.”
That there was such a bequest surprised me as well, but not the fact that it was to Seliora, because, as an imager, I could inherit nothing from anyone, and Suyrien had to have known that. “She will be pleased, if sad that she will receive it so much earlier than she should have.”
“You and Seliora impressed Suyrien. He was always pleased that Kandryl and I were married.”
