“And?”
Shault’s face brightened. “You have to answer to Master Dichartyn and the Maitre of the Collegium.”
“Or, as a Patrol Captain, to Commander Artois and to the laws enacted by the Council. Even, in the end, the Collegium has to answer to the Council. To whom does the Council answer?”
“Well…the guild representatives answer to their guilds. The factors represent the other factors, and the High Holders on the Council answer to the other High Holders.”
“In total…what does that mean? To whom, in general, does the Council answer?”
“The people, I guess,” Shault said slowly. “But…no one person can tell the Council what to do.”
“Let’s get back to my question. Is it wrong for a master imager to create justice, as opposed to following or enforcing the law?”
“Aren’t they the same?”
“Are they?”
Shault got that confused look on his face again. “No…but…”
“Is what I think just the same as what you think is just? Or what Horazt thinks is just? Or what a factor in Tilbora thinks is just?”
“They should be.”
“Are they?”
“No, sir.”
“So why shouldn’t I as a master imager and a Patrol Captain do what I think is just if it conflicts with the law?”
“Oh…”
I forced myself to wait.
“Are you saying that laws are written to make sure everyone knows what is just?”
“Not quite.”
Shault looked blank…again.
I repressed a sigh. “Write me an essay explaining in logical terms what any Patrol Captain should do when he finds that what he believes to be just is in conflict with the law. Then explain why he should do that. Leave it in my letterbox here by Vendrei evening.”
“Sir…”
“It’s more than enough time.”
“Sir…that wasn’t what I was going to say. You got me thinking. You’re changing the taudis in Third District, aren’t you? You’re accountable to the Collegium and the Council, and you’re trying to make the taudischefs accountable to you so that they’ll follow the law more.”
“You’re right, but the problem is that I’m making them accountable through fear of my abilities, not out of respect for the law itself and the reasons behind it. As a Patrol Captain, I don’t have time to make each one of them think.” And some of them never would, and would only respect force. I knew that, but it still bothered me. “I can only hope that they’ll see that things are better when more people follow the law.” I stood. “I need to go home, and I’m sure you have lessons to prepare.”
“Yes, sir.”
I hoped he would come to understand, sooner or later, the balance between justice and codified law, and the narrow line that imagers always walked.
I hurried back to the house, hoping that Seliora hadn’t had too much trouble with a hungry daughter.
4
On Jeudi morning, after the four mille run, I loitered just enough to catch Baratyn, for whom I’d worked briefly as a member of the Collegium’s covert imagers at the Council Chateau some six years earlier.
“How is the Council handling the heating up of the Jariolan-Ferran hostilities?”
“How do they always handle things until they have to act? They’re talking and talking. You shouldn’t have forgotten that.” He laughed, although he was still a bit out of breath.
“Does anyone there even remember me?”
He frowned, paused, then replied, “As a matter of fact…the other day, Councilor Caartyl asked how you were doing as a Patrol Captain. He said you’d proved that artisan enterprise was possible, even in the taudis, and that not everything new had to be larger and operated with less skill and craft. I couldn’t say anything to that.” Baratyn shrugged. “What did he mean by that?”
“Oh…I managed to get people interested in building a small paper mill and a woodworks. They barely break even, but it’s helped some taudis-youths get apprentice positions.”
“You come from a factoring family, don’t you?”
I laughed. “I’d never be any good at it. I found other people who are. Has anyone else said anything?”
“No…except for Martyl and Dartazn. They’d like to have you back. Dartazn says things are too quiet.”
“I don’t think they’ll stay that way.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, sir. If you’ll excuse me?”
“Of course.”
As he trotted off, I managed to collect myself. Baratyn was a Maitre D’Aspect, a master imager in his own right, and I’d once reported to him. He’d been very friendly until I’d made my last comment, and he’d almost frozen, and then hurried off. What had that been about? I’d have to think about it, but I needed to get back to the house and get ready for the day.
Diestrya was already up and active, and that meant dressing and breakfast were the usual rush. We didn’t say much beyond the necessary until we were in the duty coach and crossing the Bridge of Desires.
“Have you started working on the design for the upholstery fabric for young Haestyr’s bridal dining set?”
“She won’t be back to look at the proposed designs until next week.”
“How many chairs does he want?”
“Twenty-two side chairs, two end chairs.”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“What?” Seliora turned and shook her head. “No. I have a lot to think about in balancing what we’ve promised. We’re either without enough work or swamped with more than we can handle.”
I had the feeling those were the two normal states of human affairs. “At least, the twins can help with Diestrya.”
“At times, she wears them down as well. Bhenyt’s the one who can calm her down, and so can Grandmama, but Diestrya tires her out quickly. Our daughter’s at that age where she’s bored quickly.”
“That’s an age all children are at until they have responsibilities of their own…and children.”
Seliora sighed. “She’s your daughter in that.”
Unfortunately, I knew that.
Once I’d left NordEste Design, I quickly read through both
There was a short story in
