“Self-defense is always allowed, and you did attempt not to kill them. There will be no hearing. You will be restricted to Imagisle for the next few weeks, not as punishment, but as protection, of a sort, and you will spend one glass every evening practicing with shields and imaging against one master or another. That’s another form of protection, both for you and for others.” He smiled sadly. “You need to learn a few less lethal ways to use your abilities.”
Why hadn’t he taught me those before?
“Because, unless you could protect yourself in some way or another, or talk your way out of it, doing so would have been a waste of everyone’s time, because you’d have been crippled or died in the first confrontation. Tonight, we would have stepped in, if you’d managed to hold them off, or even if you’d reacted well, but not had the skill. You moved so quickly that all we could do was help them.”
“You knew they were planning something?”
“It was obvious. You knew, didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir. I didn’t know when, but I had the feeling that it wouldn’t be long.”
“We have a shade more experience, Rhenn. Now, gather all your gear. You’re moving over to the wing with the other thirds.”
“The other thirds?”
“What do you think distinguishes a second from a third? Or one factor, anyway.”
“The ability to use shields?”
“Let’s make it more general. Seconds don’t become thirds at your age unless they have very useful skills. Some seconds will never develop their skills beyond a certain point, but they will often become thirds later on when they have more life experience.”
“Seconds like Shannyr or thirds like Grandisyn?”
Master Dichartyn nodded. “And others. Experience in the Collegium is also valued, and sometimes it is more valuable than imaging skills alone.” He smiled, briefly. “Another matter which I’m sure you’ll appreciate is an increase in your weekly stipend to a half gold.”
Five silvers a week? That was more than all but the best master portaiturists made, and certainly more than journeymen made.
“You will more than earn it.” He rose, and his words were a promise close to a threat.
I got up more slowly than he had.
Tertius
31
The more exalted the position, the heavier and yet less
obvious the burden of responsibility and the greater
the expectations of others.
One thing I noticed immediately about my new quarters. They were larger and actually consisted of two rooms-one that was both parlor and study and a second smaller sleeping chamber that held a much larger armoire as well as a separate chest of drawers. The other thing was that I was totally exhausted. I could barely put away clothing and books before I collapsed onto the unmade bed beside the clean linens I was too tired to use.
The next morning I was up early, arranging my new quarters. They were not only much more spacious, but the bed also had a larger headboard of golden oak with simple carving. In the sitting room were an armchair for reading and a desk chair in front of a writing desk.
Once I washed, shaved, and dressed, I stepped out into the corridor and started toward the stairs down to the main level.
An older third came out of the next doorway and smiled. “You’re Rhenn, aren’t you?”
“Ah, yes.” I was surprised by the friendliness in his voice, because everyone in the other quarters section had been far cooler.
“Claustyn. I heard that you took care of Johanyr and Diazt.”
“I was just trying to disable them. I didn’t do a very good job of it.”
Claustyn laughed heartily. “The way I heard, you did a very good job of it, and the masters were most relieved.”
“Because Johanyr was disabled when he was attempting to injure someone badly?”
“And because you’re the son of a noted factorius.”
Unhappily, that made sense. In the past, I suspected, most of Johanyr’s victims had parents of little status, and Johanyr had assumed that my inability to remain as a portraiturist had meant that my family had effectively abandoned me. That assumption had doubtless been strengthened by the fact that I had nothing of value with me, no golds, no pillows or bedding or anything that I could have brought. I had no doubt that as the son of High Holder Ryel, he had brought everything permitted. Because his assumption was incorrect, the masters could simply report to his father that his son had broken the rules of the Collegium and attacked another imager, one who was the son of a noted factor, and had been injured by my attempts to defend myself against an unprovoked attack.
I also realized something else. Master Dichartyn had known exactly what was likely to happen, and he and Master Ghaend had waited just long enough to make sure that neither Johanyr nor Diazt would be able to image again. “Has he been a problem for a while?”
Claustyn shrugged. “For long enough. High Holder Ryel is not on the Council, but a number of those on the Council are beholden to him. The factors on the Council are not.”
That would make my personal situation more difficult in the future, although I could not have explained why. So I just replied, “They attacked me, and I really didn’t have much choice.”
“That’s all the better.”
Claustyn and I walked to the dining hall together and sat with several other thirds-Reynol, Menyard, and Kahlasa.
Kahlasa was plump with bright light brown eyes and curly sandy-blond hair, and she was the first to speak after we sat down near the foot of the table and Claustyn introduced me. “You really were a portraiturist?”
“A journeyman, not a master.”
“Could you paint my portrait?” Her lips and face conveyed an expression that was half grin, half smile.
“I could . . . if I had paints, brushes, supplies, canvas, and the like, but I couldn’t take coins for it. If I did, the guilds would bring it before the Council, and I doubt that’s something the Collegium would look favorably upon.”
Reynol laughed. “The Council doesn’t look favorably upon much.”
“They favor more golds in the treasury,” suggested Meynard.
“But not those taken in taxes from their guilds or peers . . .”
All in all, it was one of the more enjoyable meals I’d had at the Collegium. After eating, I made my way to Master Dichartyn’s study, where the door was open.
“Come on in, Rhenn. How are you feeling?”
“Fine, mostly. I was so tired I collapsed last night.” I closed the door and slipped into the chair across the desk from him.
“That’s not surprising. Holding shields and imaging behind lead can be very tiring. As your technique improves it will get easier, but working in a restricted area is always more difficult.”
“Are Johanyr and Diazt all right?” I didn’t want to ask, but felt that I should.
Master Dichartyn shook his head slowly. “Johanyr will live. He’s likely to remain with such poor sight that he can barely make out shapes and light and dark, and he won’t regain all his strength, but he can have a productive life in Mont D’Image, if he chooses. Diazt died shortly after he was taken to the infirmary.”
I swallowed. “I didn’t intend-”
“That was most obvious, Rhenn. You allowed them to pummel your shields viciously, and you tried to tell them that they had no grounds for their attack. When you did attack, it was only after great provocation, and your intent was only to disable. Had they attacked you outside, they both would have lived. In that sense, they chose their own fate.”
I had a strong sense that Johanyr had lived and Diazt had died because of who their parents were and were not. I also had another suspicion that I wanted to voice. “Shannyr kept you informed, didn’t he?”