“Was what you said about your sister total nonsense or truth used to a purpose?”
Obviously, she didn’t believe in High Holder circumlocution. “It was quite truthful, madame. My sister found a number of the financial advisements of great use in the family business. She was also first captivated by your Poetic Discourse and later by Civic Virtue.”
“I don’t believe you answered my question.”
“I believe I answered it as well as I can, madame.”
She smiled. “That is an answer, of another kind. What is your name?”
“Rhennthyl.”
“Rhennthyl D’Imager, I would imagine. No . . . I know you cannot comment. A rather silly fiction, if you ask me. What about Emanus? Was that true as well?”
“Yes, madame.”
“It is rumored that he was killed by an imager, and that you visited him shortly before he died.”
Rumored? Most likely, Vhillar had told her it was a rumor, possibly as a way to discredit the Collegium. “I had heard something to that effect, but he was well when I left him, and, frankly, madame, I was looking forward to talking to him again. I was shocked to learn of his death, and I did not know of it until several days later.”
That surprised her, and her surprise and her choice of words confirmed what I already knew, even if I could not prove it.
“I am truly sorry for you, madame.” That was a risk, but someone should have expressed some sympathy for her father’s death, especially after all he had suffered for her.
Her lips tightened, as if she were about to retort. Then she nodded. “It is sad when a great artist dies and is not able to be recognized.”
“I have studied the works of all the current masters, and none exhibits his excellence. I suppose that was one reason why I was so pleased when he praised my chess study.” That wasn’t quite true, because I hadn’t realized how great an artist he was until later, when I’d seen the miniature, but the spirit of my words was true.
She was silent for a time as we circled the floor. As we made one turn, I caught sight of Martyl dancing with Alynkya, and the young woman looked happy. I couldn’t help but contrast her to both Iryela and Madame D’Shendael, both surrounded by intrigue and plotting.
Then the music ended.
“Thank you, madame.”
She smiled. I think there was pain behind the smile, but I don’t know that anyone else would have seen it, except Seliora, had she been there. “Thank you, Master Rhennthyl. Take care.” There was the slightest emphasis on the last two words. I escorted her back to her husband, who did not even turn as she rejoined whatever conversation was in progress.
After that, I moved around the dance floor, always watching, but no one else seemed to need rescuing, and no one else asked me to dance. Master Dichartyn was still nowhere to be seen, and although I glimpsed Baratyn across the dance floor, he was headed toward the grand staircase. Should I follow him?
It was nearing tenth glass, midnight, when the Ball would end.
Suddenly, a jolt of something shivered my shields, and my entire body began to tremble, until I managed to erect a second set within the first. Still shaking inside, I turned slowly.
From a good ten yards away, the Honorable Klauzvol Vhillar gave the faintest of nods, and a knowing smile, before turning away, High Holder Guerdyn’s daughter on his arm.
I understood what was behind that. Vhillar clearly wanted to lure me into trouble, or something to precipitate a scandal. Or worse, he would just leave so that he could strike later, and he was letting me know that. I couldn’t let him do that. Yet, what could I do? Master Dichartyn was nowhere to be seen, and I was getting tired of being a target and a lure. A lure? What had Master Poincaryt said? A lure didn’t have to be defenseless, and I could act in the best interests of the Collegium. The Collegium certainly didn’t need a hostile and renegade imager loose in L’Excelsis-envoy or not-and if I waited to discuss such matters with Master Dichartyn I wouldn’t have the chance to stop being a lure and a target.
No matter what both Maitre Poincaryt and Maitre Dichartyn said about my value to the Collegium as a lure . . . they weren’t the one being attacked time after time. I slipped away with the purposeful stride of a man headed for the jakes, except once I neared there, I turned to the steps.
“Sir?” asked the obdurate guard.
“I need to get something for Baratyn.” I tried to project urgency.
“Ah . . .”
“I won’t be long.” I was past him and headed down the steps, quickly, but not at a run. Once on the lower level, I took the west-side service door and eased along the narrow maintenance walk next to the foot of the wall, using a cloak of shadows. Someone might well see someone in the shadows, but not more than a dim figure at best. I found the ornamental topiary that I recalled, the one offering the most concealment close to the outside stone steps, and sat down behind it, where I could view all the steps down to the drive where the coaches and carriages were beginning to queue up.
I waited a good half glass out there, watching as guests departed and worrying about whether Baratyn or Master Dichartyn would come looking for me. That was the last thing I wanted. I was Nameless-tired of being the target, and no one seemed that interested in solving the problem, only in using me to flush out the guilty. Well, I’d flushed him out, and I’d figured a way to deal with him as well-if it worked, I reminded myself.
Vhillar was among the later guests to leave, and he moved casually, yet deliberately, his eyes scanning the area on each side of the outside stone steps. Was he expecting me to act? I had the feeling he was concerned. He should be.
He paused after descending several steps, then spoke a few words to Mistress D’Guerdyn-Alte. After a moment, he escorted her down another few steps, before stopping to exchange a few words with another couple. He glanced toward the outer open carriage gate, and then back toward the east side of the Chateau. That worried me. What besides me was he seeking? Or was something else planned?
I shook my head. For the moment, I needed to concentrate on Vhillar-before he was too far away for my imaging to reach him.
First, I imaged colorless oil across the steps, three deep, directly below him, and well beyond his shields, and used a partial shield-something Maitre Dyana had taught me-to block any reflections from the lamps flanking the stone steps.
Vhillar took one step down, then another, then a third, before his boots slipped, one, then the other. His arms flailed as he let go of Mistress D’Guerdyn-Alte. She just stared, because I’d been accurate enough that she hadn’t stepped in the oil.
In that moment when Vhillar lost his concentration, and his shields faltered for a moment, I drove through them and imaged air, lots of it, into the major vessels in his brain, then imaged a blast of air at the back of his head-enough to drive him headfirst into the stone farther down the steps, angled so that his temple would hit first.
Mistress D’Guerdyn-Alte had frozen, watching as he fell, but then she screamed.
I imaged all the oil away.
At that point, I was more than a little dizzy, and all I could do was sit in the shadows as two guards came running down the steps. Others began to gather.
After several moments, when the dizziness passed, I slowly eased back along the wall and well out of sight.
I was almost to the west-side door when I saw a figure in the shadows outside the Chateau’s lower wall, moving to the west. I decided to keep moving around the Chateau past the west service door and toward the east-side door we used as imager messengers. Why I wasn’t certain, but it felt as though I should. I slipped through the north gardens and then struggled over the wall, once more using a slight shadow shield in addition to full shields, but I still lost sight of whoever it was who had been in the shadows.
At that moment, across the ring road from the Chateau, I saw the same ancient wagon I’d seen twice before, with the same old gelding, and the same porthole windows. The wagon was tied up almost directly across from where the duty coach had stopped and stood waiting, but at a slight angle to the duty coach. It was also located in the direction in which Vhillar had been looking. My stomach tightened.