“Did the senior imagers try to stop them?”
“They did, but I didn’t know that they were trying to protect me. I didn’t know they were even around, and when it looked like Johanyr really meant to harm me, I tried to disable him. I disabled him a bit too much. That’s another reason why I can’t leave Imagisle for a while. I need to learn better control of what I do.”
“It isn’t just that, is it?”
I’d known that Seliora was perceptive, but her perception could make it hard for me. “No. The masters think that someone is hiring assassins to kill me, and they don’t want me to leave until I’m fully recovered and I’ve learned some more techniques.”
“High Holder Ryel?”
“They don’t know, and one doesn’t charge High Holders without a great deal of proof.”
Seliora nodded. “I won’t tell Papa and Mama. I’ll just tell them that all imagers run the risk of being targets at times . . . especially the good ones.”
“I’m just a junior imager third.”
“That’s like a journeyman imager, isn’t it?”
I supposed it was. I nodded.
“That makes you good. How many imagers become journeymen in less than half a year?”
Things had happened so fast I hadn’t considered that. “I don’t know, but you’re probably right. I just didn’t think of it that way.”
“You haven’t told your parents, either, have you?”
“No. I won’t say a thing unless I become a master.”
“You’re as proud as any Pharsi, Rhenn.” Her smile was warm, sympathetic, and sad, all at once. “There must be some of that blood somewhere in your background.”
I could only shrug . . . slightly, and I still had to hide a wince.
She took my hands again. “I can’t stay long. Not today. We’re having a birthday dinner for Grandmama.” Another smile followed. “Could we have a picnic here next Samedi?”
“Are you sure you want to go to that trouble?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t. You wouldn’t mind if Odelia brought Kolasyn, would you?”
“I can’t see that as a problem. I am allowed visitors when I’m free, and there’s no restriction, except common sense, I suppose.”
“Half past fourth bell?”
“I’ll be here.”
“So will I.” She leaned forward and brushed my cheek with her lips, squeezing my hands.
After a moment, we stood. Then we walked toward Odelia, who rose.
When they headed toward the bridge, I just sat down on the bench and watched the two of them walk back across the bridge to L’Excelsis, a reminder of sorts that the city I’d grown up in was now a foreign land, at least in some ways.
43
Seeking fame can be as deadly as poison.
On Lundi, I handed in the essay for Master Jhulian. He read it, then nodded. “It is acceptable, and that is all I could expect from an imager who is not a legal scholar.”
I knew the essay wasn’t outstanding, but just acceptable?
On Mardi, I handed in the essay on the qualities of a counterspy to Master Dichartyn. He took his time reading through the four pages. Then he set it down on the writing desk.
“You have noted in some detail the obvious points, that an imager counterspy should be accomplished in technique, be in excellent physical condition, and be able to anticipate what may happen.” The coolness of his words suggested that Master Dichartyn was less than pleased. “Tell me, Rhennthyl. Besides your need to recover, why are you being confined to Imagisle?”
“You had indicated, sir, that was to protect me until I learned enough to defend myself and until the Collegium and I could deal with the perpetrator of the attack.”
“That is true. Why is the perpetrator of the attack seeking you?”
“Because I did something that offended or upset him, or her.”
“That is also most probably true. In connection with your assignment, what conclusion should you draw?”
“Never let anyone know what you are doing, have done, or might do?”
“That is also true, but that is a behavior pattern, not a quality, if you will. I will give you a hint. How did your first meeting go with Maitre Dyana?”
I thought back. Her initial appraisal of me had been strange, because she’d said she could see why I was Master Dichartyn’s protege. “She said I could be any number of things.”
“Rhennthyl! Think . . .”
“Oh . . . the quality of being anything except an imager agent?”
“Precisely.” He shook his head. “The last thing you want is to be noticed-or noticed for what you really are. Any time anyone notices you as excessively capable and bright, you endanger yourself, and sometimes the Collegium.”
That made sense. I wasn’t certain I liked the idea of being invisible, but I couldn’t argue.
“Do you want to be married someday-to the young lady who saved your life or someone like her?”
“I’d hope so, sir.”
“Do you want to have children and live for years with her? How could that happen if everyone in L’Excelsis knew that you were a feared counterspy? No matter how good you became as an imager, would you want to carry heavy shields all the time, never knowing who might be looking for you every time you set foot outside, or even every time you awoke? Or worry whether you would wake up?”
A cold jolt ran down my spine. In a way, I had been thinking of myself as becoming a feared and respected counterspy.
“Do you ever again want to see someone firing a pistol at you a moment too late for you to shield yourself?” pressed Master Dichartyn.
“No, sir.” My words there were firm and heartfelt.
“Then . . . you’d better think about how not to stand out.” He smiled wanly. “It’s not about slinking and slouching, either. That’s an even bigger sign of someone up to no good. The most feared counterspies are the ones no one knows, because they could be anyone in any place. You want to appear so perfectly in place that no thought of offense occurs. Call it first among seconds. Like the lesser moon.”
That made no sense to me.
“Erion was a feared hunter, at least mythologically, but who writes poems to the lesser hunter? Except in a deprecating fashion? Yet no one ever wished to offend Erion in person.” Master Dichartyn smiled. “Say you have three High Holders in a room, and three assistants. You want to be the assistant who’s both perfect and most deferentially confident, so much so that none of the other assistants would think about offending you, and none of the High Holders would either, because you’re deferential and an assistant.”
I didn’t like the idea of being the best second . . . at anything.
“It takes a very confident and superior man to be an imager counterspy, because you have to be better than anyone else, except the few others in your group, and you can never let anyone know how good you are or show it. You have to be able to take pride internally, without needing the recognition of others. Most men can’t live without overt praise and recognition. Lack of praise and recognition can turn them into twisted angry souls, converts of the Namer, if you will, wanting a name and fame beyond anything.”
I had to think about that, and Master Dichartyn let me have time to consider his words.
“What if I said that I couldn’t do that?” I finally asked.
“I’d turn you over to Master Schorzat for field training. You’d make a good field imager. People suspect who field imagers might be, but they can’t ever trace how they do what they do.” He shrugged. “They do get more recognition, but more of them get killed.”
“You think I could be good as a counterspy?”
“If you work at it, you could be very good.” He paused. “There’s an advantage and a drawback.”
“Beside being . . . under-known?”
He laughed. “That’s a good way of putting it. Under-known.” The smile vanished. “Because what we do trains imager capabilities more deeply and widely, imager counterspies get advanced more quickly, and that includes field pay . . . but your public grade is left lower, at least in most cases, until later. If you work, you could become a Maitre D’Aspect fairly soon, but while you would get the pay, your rank wouldn’t be known beyond the maitres of the Collegium. You’d still be viewed as a third. When you master Maitre D’Structure, you will be listed as a Maitre D’Aspect. After that, you can be listed at whatever level of mastery you wish. Most have remained publicly as Maitres D’Aspect until they have left day-to-day countering duties.”