“Have you heard anything about someone wanting to replace Commander Artois?”
Alsoran didn’t say anything for a moment. He wasn’t the kind to reply immediately, but rather to think over what anyone said. I appreciated that quality and tried to emulate it, not always very successfully, as I’d shown earlier in dealing with Jhulian.
“Not in anything like those kind of words. Barcuyt-he’s Hostyn’s lieutenant-mentioned that the Council had to confirm Commander Artois for another five-year term before long. I didn’t think much about it. That was after the lieutenants’ meeting at headquarters last month.”
I waited. Alsoran often took his time.
“All the captains and the subcommander have to be reconfirmed,” he added.
“I’ll be up for that a year from now,” I said.
“The strange thing was that one of the other lieutenants-I can’t think of his name, but he’s the one from Second District-he was asking Barcuyt if he’d likely replace Hostyn. Not out in the open, but later, when they were alone, outside waiting for a hack, and I was coming down the steps. I didn’t think it was any of my business so I didn’t even look their way.”
“That’s interesting,” I mused. “Have you heard anything else?”
“No, sir. Not a thing.”
After Alsoran left, I went on to the more routine aspects of my day, if anything in the Civic Patrol was totally routine. The next few glasses were as uneventful as any Patrol captain’s time might be. That is, there were arrests and malefactors dispatched by wagon to headquarters for charging. There were two muggings on the northern section of the Midroad in Third District, both of shopgirls careless with their wallets. And, of course, both happened while I was on the other side of the district, accompanying Recyrt and Fuast on their rounds along Saenhelyn Road. I also received a dispatch from Subcommander Cydarth asking if Third District had discovered anything that might shed light on the explosion. That request crossed my earlier report to Commander Artois summarizing what Menyard had told me, although I had merely referred to “ordnance experts at the Collegium.”
The only thing out of the ordinary was that Smultyn and Caesaro found two dead elvers dumped in the street near where Quierca crossed Mando. Both elvers’ faces were contorted in pain, and they stunk of elveweed. There was no way to tell for certain, but it was likely that they’d had too much of the bad weed that Horazt had warned of, since they had no wounds, bruises, or other obvious causes of death. For a moment, I had thoughts that we might actually have fewer cases of disturbance and assaults by elvers, but that wouldn’t happen. Elvers, like all addicts, or most people, for that matter, didn’t really think things happened to them. Everyone else, but not them.
Horazt had warned me about the bad elveweed, but there was one question I hadn’t thought to ask, and that was whether the dealers in the other taudis were getting the same weed. I doubted he’d even know. Still, it was something to keep in mind…and watch.
The duty coach arrived on time, and Seliora and Diestrya were waiting for me in the lower front foyer at NordEste Design. I took Diestrya by the hand as we walked down the steps and out to the coach.
“Did you find out anything about the explosion?” Seliora asked, once we were in the coach and headed to Imagisle.
“Menyard confirmed that it was designed and planted by an expert. I still don’t have any idea who would go to all that trouble for a wealthy factor.” I couldn’t help shaking my head. “If he had High Holders as enemies, they wouldn’t use explosives, and neither would a workers’ group. It looks like foreign agents, but everyone else would know that as well.”
“So it’s someone who wants it to look like foreign agents, maybe Ferran agents, since the Council has backed the Jariolans-”
“Only because the Ferrans attacked our warships. Nearly half the Council was very unhappy about having to support the Oligarch, and they won’t want to get involved if war flares up again. You’re suggesting Jariolan agents pretending to be Ferrans? What about Ferrans pretending to be Jariolans pretending to be Ferrans? That’s wheels within wheels.”
Seliora nodded. “It’s never simple.”
She was right about that.
“There’s another problem…” I explained about the elveweed. “Is there any way some of your family contacts can find out if Third District is the only taudis getting the fresher weed?”
“Grandmama isn’t in touch as much, now, but…that might be something Mama could ask about. It also wouldn’t hurt to let people know she’s aware of that. I’ll ask her tomorrow.”
“How about your day?” I asked.
“Alhyral D’Haestyr sent his bride-to-be to commission a dining set for the town house he purchased. She’s actually rather nice.”
I recalled Alhyral all too well. He’d propositioned Seliora before we’d been married. “I just can’t imagine why he didn’t come.”
“You’re as bad as any Pharsi,” she replied with a laugh.
“You’ve always claimed I had a Pharsi background,” I countered. “Is it a good commission?”
“Very good, and Shomyr can do all the turning with his new lathes.”
“Who is Alhyral’s finance?”
“Her name is Dhelora D’Zaerlyn-Alte. She’s from around Rivages.” Seliora paused. “She did know who you were. She made a quiet point of that.”
“What exactly did she say?”
“Not much. She just said that her aunt had said you were the first master imager ever to serve in the Civic Patrol. She seemed very bright, far better than Alhyral deserves.”
“She doubtless doesn’t have much choice.”
“No. Few of the High Holders’ daughters do.”
I couldn’t help but wonder who her aunt happened to be, but it could have been some relation of Iryela or even of Alynkya D’Ramsael…or of Madame D’Shendael or someone I didn’t even know.
Again, after we reached Imagisle, as Seliora walked Diestrya home, I hurried back south along the west side of the quadrangle. Shault was waiting by the letterboxes opposite the dining hall.
“Master Rhennthyl.”
“We’ll use the conference room here. We need to talk.”
“Yes, sir.”
Shault was as dark-haired as his “uncle” Horazt, but his eyes were hazel, and he was taller. At age fifteen, after six years of training at the Collegium, he was also healthier and in better physical condition.
I sat at the end of the table, and he took the seat to my right.
“I’ve been talking to Maitre Jhulian. He’s not exactly pleased with your progress with the Code.”
“It’s so dull, sir. That makes it hard to concentrate.”
With that, I could sympathize. I’d felt the same way, but it didn’t matter. “Let me see if I can make it clearer and provide some motivation. Just what is justice?”
“The rendering of what is right, owed, or due. That’s what the book says.”
“The root of the word lies in a Bovarian word meaning ‘law,’” I pointed out. “What does that tell you?”
Shault looked puzzled. “That law should be just? That’s obvious.”
“Who defines what is just? Is it the Nameless?”
“Advocates…the Council.”
“Who writes the laws? Who carries them out?” I pressed.
“People, sir. Patrollers, imagers.”
“Laws are made by people, and they’re carried out by people. So is it wrong for a master imager or a Civic Patrol Captain to quietly create justice, especially when the laws don’t seem fair?”
Shault just looked at me blankly.
“What’s the difference between my enforcing justice and when an ancient rex did it?”
“You’re both imposing your will,” Shault pointed out.
“That’s true, but there’s a fundamental difference. What is it?”
“Who could remove the rex?”
