Treachery's Tools (44 page)

“Am I supposed to tell you everything?”

“I generally don't care to hear what you had for breakfast. I do think I should hear when you decide to do a favor for the head of the High Council, especially since he's been plotting with other High Holders to replace you with someone else as rex.”

“That wasn't obvious at the time.” Lorien's voice was sulky.

“No, it wasn't,” agreed Alastar, “but it was obvious even then that Cransyr had anything but your best interests in mind, and when his son does something suspicious … You should at least have allowed Wilkorn to shift his duties.”

“Given him a battalion, perhaps? To lead against me?”

“He took a battalion anyway,” Alastar pointed out, “but it would have reduced the number of heavy rifles in the hands of High Holder private armies.” He looked up as the door opened, and Chelia entered the study, followed by Seliora.
Two very different blondes.

“You requested my presence, Maitre Alastar?”

“I did.” Alastar saw Seliora turning to leave the study and said gently, “Maitre Seliora … it would be best if you remained.”

“Not exactly an impartial witness,” sneered Lorien.

“Rather a perceptive observer,” countered Alastar.

The sneer vanished from Lorien's face, as if Alastar's words had unsettled him, but, after a moment, he said, “You're acting like you're the rex. Again.”

“That happens when you don't.” Alastar could see Chelia stiffen ever so slightly and turned more toward her. “Chelia, Lorien has indicated you received messages about the death of Paellyt's son and about the shootings of student imagers.”

“I did.”

“Why didn't you let me know?”

“Whoever wrote the notes said that it would be best if I didn't … that Charyn, Bhayrn, or Aloryana could just as easily be shot as a student imager … more easily, in fact. The writer said that what he was disclosing was information already known to the Collegium, but not known to the rex.”

“Suggesting without saying so that I was not to be trusted in informing Lorien and not-so-subtly encouraging him not to share information with me.”

“I never suggested that.”

“You didn't have to. All you had to do was show the notes to your husband.”

“What was I supposed to do?” snapped Chelia. “If you couldn't protect your own imagers, how could I count on you to protect my children?”

“You couldn't. That was exactly what the writer wanted you to think. Who is the writer?”

“The notes were never signed.”

“How did you receive them?”

“They were left in the stable in my saddlebags. I had one of the guards watch them, but they never saw anything. Never. But the messages were there.”

Alastar nodded slowly. “That also reinforced your concerns.”

“You would have felt the same.”

“Now … back to my question. Who was the writer?”

“I told you. They weren't signed.”

“I think you have a very good idea who the writer is, even without his signature, even if his hand happened to be disguised.”

“If you know … then why ask me?”

“I suspect … and what I know points to only one person … but I don't
know.
”

Chelia did not speak.

“Does he want to be chief councilor?” pressed Alastar.

“For the sake of the Nameless, no. That would be too obvious. He's never liked being obvious, unlike…”

“His sire?”

Chelia gave the faintest nod. “I've said nothing.”

“No … you haven't,” Alastar agreed.
Not that it will make much difference now.
“Your children will likely be as safe as you are for the present.”

Chelia frowned.

“There's a rebel army that will soon be headed toward L'Excelsis. I wouldn't be surprised if High Holder Regial happened to be the titular commander.”

Lorien gaped, if but for an instant. “He wouldn't dare.”

“You think not? The day before the receiving study at the Chateau D'Council holding some of the High Holder conspirators exploded, a messenger in scarlet and black livery either delivered to or received a message from the High Council, if not both. I doubt it was coincidence.”

Chelia paled. “He wouldn't … couldn't.”

Alastar knew to whom she was referring. “I'm afraid he likely has, Lady Chelia.”

“I knew he was an untrustworthy bastard, but treachery like this…”

“He is willing to use anyone,” Alastar pointed out, “including his sister.”
And both half brothers.
“So is Ryentar. The two of them are a match made in the Namer's parlor.”

“What are you going to do?” Chelia demanded.

“Work with Marshal Wilkorn to defend you and your husband—and L'Excelsis—from that army.”
And its allies.
“When that is done will be the time to reduce further the power of the High Holders.”

“None too soon,” declared Lorien.

“No, it's not,” agreed Alastar.
Let's hope that it's not too late.

What also worried him was how much he had not seen, and the fact that the High Holder behind the rebel plot had foreseen too well what had happened thus far. Someone that bright had to know just how powerful imagers were—and planned for that as well. And Alastar had no idea what that part of his opponent's plan was. That was another reason why he needed to meet with the marshal once he left the Chateau D'Rex. He could only hope that Wilkorn could shed some light on events, but that might prove to be a vain hope.

He rose. “I'll do my best to keep you informed.” Then he turned and motioned to Seliora.

 

25

By a quint before second glass, Alastar, Seliora, and Taurek were less than half a mile from the gates of the Army High Command.

Alastar turned to Taurek. “Your father was a commander, wasn't he?” Alastar knew that, but didn't want to presume too much.

“Yes, sir.”

“Was he posted here?”

“No, sir. Well … not as a commander. He was posted to Estisle when I was little. He was the base commander there.”

“Wasn't that unusual?”

Taurek laughed. “He asked for it. Figured he'd never make commander any other way, and he didn't much care for all the second sons of High Holders who were always jockeying for position here.”

“He'd just taken his stipend, as I recall, when I became Maitre. Is he…?”

“He's fine. He was when he sent his last letter a couple of weeks ago. He keeps his hand in by training merchanter ship guards. Says he doesn't miss L'Excelsis at all, especially the High Holders' sons who become officers.”

“We just might recommend to the marshal that there be a limit on the number of them in senior officer positions here in L'Excelsis. It wouldn't hurt if they spent more time in places like Tilbora or Solis, or Estisle.”

“You know, sir, it wouldn't hurt to have a branch of the Collegium in Estisle.”

“I've thought about it.” Alastar smiled. “Are you jockeying to head it up?”

“No, sir.” Taurek grinned. “Not until I'm at least a Maitre D'Structure. But I do know a bit about Estisle. My da walked me over every street and out every pier, both in Nacliano and Estisle.”

“We'll talk about it after this mess is over … and after you become a Maitre D'Structure.”

“Of course, sir.”

Alastar looked toward the gates. Beyond them, where stood two guards with rifles, Alastar could see a faint haze, or perhaps a thin wreath of smoke. As he started to rein up, a squad leader emerged from the gatehouse.

“You're Maitre Alastar, sir?”

“I am.”

“Go on in. The marshal left orders that if you showed up, he'd like to see you. You know where the headquarters building is?”

“If it survived and hasn't moved in the past year,” replied Alastar dryly.

The squad leader smiled. “Same place, sir. It's got some holes in it now, though.”

“Thank you.” Alastar inclined his head, then urged his mount forward, noticing that the gelding tossed his head just slightly as a vagrant puff of air carried an acrid odor to him.

As they neared the headquarters building, Alastar saw a gaping hole at one side, where he thought Wilkorn's study had been. A handful of rankers were already busy with picks and hammers, breaking apart the rubble and stacking the good bricks in neat piles.

When he reined up in front of the building, he couldn't help smiling at the polished brass of the main entry. Then he turned to the junior maitres. “If you'd wait here, but hold your shields. I hope I won't be too long.”

He dismounted and tied the gelding to the hitching rail, then walked toward the steps.

The trooper on duty started forward, then caught sight of the imager grays and stepped back. “The marshal is in the procurement study, sir.”

“Thank you. Where is that … from where his study is … or was?”

“It's two doors to the left, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Two more troopers studied Alastar as he crossed the center hall and turned to the left, but did not move toward him. A third trooper rose from behind a narrow table in the corridor, obviously moved there temporarily. “I'll announce you, Maitre.” He turned and opened the door slightly, “Maitre Alastar is here, sir.”

Alastar was vaguely amused. Clearly his description had been passed around headquarters. “Thank you.” He stepped past the table and opened the door, entering the study.

Although Wilkorn's left arm was splinted, he rose from behind the small desk, if somewhat slowly, but before Alastar could gesture for him to remain seated. “You look to be in better shape than I am, Maitre.”

“For which I have to admit that I'm grateful,” returned Alastar humorously.

Wilkorn settled back into his chair. “I don't know whether to be angry at the Namer-damned High Holders or just relieved to survive.”

“Maybe you should just promote more sons of factors,” said Alastar, “and post the offspring of High Holders in out-of-the-way installations.”

“I'm giving that great thought. Vaelln would, too, I suspect.”

“How is he? Your message said he was severely injured.”

“Not quite so bad as we thought, but he was cut up all over, and there was a lot of blood. The surgeon thinks he'll recover fully before I will.”

“How many troopers do you have ready to fight?”

“Two battalions, but five companies to a battalion. We've had to restructure, but they'll fight, and they'll fight well. I put Commander Maurek in charge.” Wilkorn coughed and cleared his throat. “Frigging dust. Still everywhere. I heard that a cannon shell wiped out four of the five High Councilors.” He smiled. “Had to be a pretty good gunner to hit a window with one round and no ranging shots.”

“Perhaps someone placed the shell there and set it off with a fuse of some sort.”

“Anything is possible, I suspect. Not that I'm going to worry about a single misplaced shell when I've got two missing battalions, and two thousand stolen rifles to worry about.”

“I have the feeling that Commander Aestyn…”

“So do I. No proof, but with two High Holder brats running in the direction of a third, who used maintenance to get an additional thousand rifles, I'd be a fool to think anything else.” Wilkorn frowned. “You and your imagers took out a whole regiment years back. They have to know that.”

“I've thought of that. Right now, we have two missing imagers. One of them … let's say … might have ties to a High Holder … and even to one High Holder Regial…” Alastar went on to give his version of the messenger in scarlet and black. “… and then there's the problem that someone was sending notes to Lady Chelia providing her and Lorien with information about the killing of young student imagers … and the fact that initially we were unable to do anything.”

“Implying that Lorien shouldn't back the Collegium … or something might happen to their children.”

“That was the conclusion I drew, and the one they did.”

“Who is that someone?”

“The notes were unsigned and the hand disguised. It has to be a High Holder, but she couldn't name him.”

“Probably her brother or someone acting for him. That's just the sort of indirect scheming that family is good at … and they'll sacrifice their own as quick as anyone else.”

“That's the most likely possibility, but there's no way to tell, and probably less chance of proving it.”

The marshal snorted. “Could be he's worse than his sire, and that's saying something.”

“How soon do you think we'll see their forces?”

“That depends on how much they've got in the way of reinforcements and where they're coming from.”

“I'd wager that all the reinforcements are already with Aestyn and on the way toward L'Excelsis from Ferravyl.”

“A good week, most likely.” Wilkorn frowned again. “Might be longer. They've got to be bringing cannon.”

“Because cannon are the only weapon a good imager can't stop?”

“That's the way I see it.”

It was also the way Alastar saw it, although he hadn't initially thought of cannon. “Did Aestyn also requisition cannon to use against the pirates in and around the Sud Swamp?”

“He did, and I granted the request, the more fool I.”

“Might I ask when?”

“Last Mayas.”

In Mayas? How long have they been setting this up?
Much longer than Alastar wanted to think, that was clear. “Do you have cannon to deal with theirs?”

“Not what they have. We moved most of them to Solis and the port cities.” Wilkorn looked to Alastar.

“At my recommendation, I know.”

“Nothing like being sunk by your own guns, is it, Maitre?” Wilkorn's words were warmly ironic.