Treachery's Tools by L. E. Modesitt Jr. Page B

absolutely faultless in his public conduct. He works hard, and he’s willing to take on any task assigned to him. He’s even suggested and accomplished some good projects that took a fair amount of work.” Not an exceptional amount, but solid effort.
    â€œSo why did he marry Linzya?”
    â€œYou, dearest, would know that better than I. My masculine suspicion is that he had to. You told me that she’s expecting. He likely felt that, if he didn’t, we’d think much less of him.”
    â€œShades of his father,” Alyna said softly. “Even if he has no idea who his father was.”
    â€œThat’s definitely for the best.” For all concerned. Alastar doubted that anyone living since Lady Asarya’s “accidental” riding death, except himself and Alyna, knew that Bettaur and Lady Chelia were actually half-siblings. He didn’t say more as he saw Alyna to the doorstep of Tiranya and Shaelyt’s cottage, then continued on to the administration building—one designed and largely imaged into being by Alyna after the army’s attack on Imagisle years before.
    Dareyn was waiting with an envelope in hand. “It’s from High Holder Meinyt, sir.”
    Alastar studied the seal and frowned. He’d never seen one like it, not that the design was complex. It wasn’t. The wax was a grayish-green. The design didn’t show a crest or some form of heraldry, just a single-span stone bridge under the two moons of Terahnar. Trying to bridge between two shores … two views … two … somethings?
    He took his belt knife and slit the envelope. He definitely wanted to preserve that seal, at least for a while. After reading through the short note, he then turned to Dareyn. “High Holder Meinyt will see me at two quints past second glass. We don’t have to send a messenger. He’ll be expecting me unless I inform him otherwise. He’s very practical.” Alastar paused. “Is there anything else?”
    â€œMaitre Cyran wanted a moment.”
    â€œThat’s fine. I’ll see him immediately.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    In little more than moments, even before Alastar had a chance to look at the studies and discipline report left by Akoryt, Cyran was stepping into the study and closing the door behind himself.
    â€œYou’re slowing down, Maitre. Some of the student thirds almost managed to keep up with you on your run this morning.”
    â€œThey should be doing better than that. Compared to them, I’m ancient.”
    â€œI did mention that they should be able to keep up with a man twice their age.”
    More like three times the age of some. “What’s on your mind?”
    â€œYou know I meet weekly with the commander of the Civic Patrol…”
    Alastar nodded and waited.
    â€œThere have been a few … episodes … between young men in the last few weeks.”
    â€œYoung men often have episodes, over either claims of physical prowess or women. Or over cheating at plaques. You’re suggesting these are different.”
    Cyran offered a twisted smile. “These have been between the sons of wealthy factors and the sons of High Holders.”
    It took Alastar a moment before he said, “It has to be about plaques or bones and at the gaming houses. That’s the only place … well, except at the Yellow Rose, but…”
    â€œThere was one episode at The Yellow Rose, but the others were at Alamara’s and at Tydaael’s.”
    â€œAlamara’s? I thought they claimed to be factors of artworks.”
    â€œSmugglers of art and other items of dubious provenance, you mean?” asked Cyran. “That’s the father. The son is Alamara the younger, and he has a tavern of some elegance, with several gaming rooms.”
    â€œI’m missing something, Cyran. Usually those establishments forbid weapons at the tables and enforce that with