Imager’s Intrigue by Jr. L. E. Modesitt

behind him. “Rhenn, Seliora…please come in.”
    He stepped back, and his wife hurried from the hallway behind to join him.
    Seliora handed the basket to Aelys. “We thought you might enjoy this.”
    “Oh…you didn’t have to…” replied the good Madame Dichartyn, as angular as when I’d first seen her at the Imagisle Anomen six years earlier, “but it was so kind of you.” With her last words, that angular severity vanished with the warm welcoming smile she bestowed on us. “The girls are at Maitre Poincaryt’s, watching over his grandchildren. He and Auralya are entertaining his daughter and son and their spouses. They don’t see them that often, since one couple lives in Cloisonyt and the other in Khelgror. But…you must come and see my indoor herb garden.” Aelys drew Seliora away.
    Master Dichartyn said quietly, “I’d like just a moment with you, Rhenn.”
    I waited for him to speak.
    “Yesterday, you were talking to Baratyn. You gave him quite a worry.”
    “I know. I didn’t mean to. He made a pleasantry about things being quiet at the Council Chateau, and I said that they weren’t likely to stay that way. All I meant was that, with a resumption of the war between Jariola and Ferrum likely, he’d likely be seeing more assassins and the like, the same way as before.”
    “Rhenn,” Dichartyn said quietly, “please think about who you are. Believe it or not, people will read more into your words than you may mean. This time, there’s no harm done, because I told him the same thing this morning, and that was when he said you’d already warned him, but I don’t think you meant it in quite the same way, did you?”
    “I meant that it was likely…not…” I wasn’t quite certain what else to say.
    “Rhenn…how many Maitres D’Structure are there in the Collegium?”
    “There are five here, and Dhelyn. I don’t know if the heads of the two other Collegia besides Westisle—I know they’re all really part of the Collegium, but I think of them that way—are all Maitres D’Structure.”
    “There are only eight, and you are one of those eight. You also are the one who, when Baratyn saw and sensed nothing, stopped the Ferran envoy from poisoning High Councilor Suyrien, managed to create the fortunately fatal accident for the envoy, and survived an explosion that would have killed anyone else. You cannot afford to have your words misunderstood. Neither can the Collegium.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Good. Now…let’s join the ladies and enjoy dinner.”

7
    Dinner on Vendrei night was warm, friendly, and notable and pleasant for the very fact that we discussed nothing of great worldly import, and nothing involving the Collegium or the Civic Patrol.
    I didn’t get up before dawn on Samedi to join Clovyl’s exercise group, and that allowed us to have a comparatively more leisurely morning before I had to leave for Third District. I did stop by the dining hall to pick up Shault’s essay before I took the duty coach. Once I was inside the coach, I glanced from the newsheets to the essay, then decided I’d best read the newsheets first, just in case there was a story that might affect the Civic Patrol.
    Neither newsheet carried anything directly affecting Third District, but there was a story in Tableta about the failure of an irrigation storage dam southwest of Montagne. The cause was unknown, and the dam was supposedly owned by a freeholders’ cooperative. I recalled something about water law, about being first in time being first in line…and if the dam weren’t there, then in the drier seasons, those with the older water rights would have priority. That meant High Holders disenfranchising the freeholders who had established their water rights later, at least until the dam was rebuilt.
    Then I turned to Shault’s essay, not without trepidation, although I laughed as I realized that Master Dichartyn had probably often felt the same way about my essays. The first lines were straightforward