“Would such a villain have allies, not just those whom he controls, but others with coinciding interests? How could he?”
Juniae D’Shendael shrugged. “Everyone, even villains, thinks they have friends and allies. I suppose such a villain might seek allies among those with similar interests or those associated with outland banques or investment houses. Or flatter his superiors into thinking they are friends.”
“Have you any other thoughts about such a marvelous villain?”
“One has many thoughts, but none that bear on such a villain.”
“Have you thought, were you to write such a novel, what might happen to such a villain?”
“That is why I do not write fiction, Maitre Rhennthyl. In fiction, some improbable hero would charge up to such a villain, attack, and destroy him, and all would live happily ever after. In life, such charges usually result in the death of the would-be hero, and the continued success of the villain in his devious ways. Yet, if an author were to have the villain merely…disappear, the readers would feel deprived of some sort of moral victory, voyeuristic and improbable as that victory might be. Alas, in real life, such open confrontations result in wounds for all involved, sometimes worse than the defeats and degradations already suffered.” She smiled politely once more. “Those are the other reasons why I do not write fiction.”
“I can see that you have a more realistic view of life than most.”
“I doubt that it differs markedly from yours, Maitre Rhennthyl, not if even a fraction of the rumors that surround you are correct.”
“If they are rumors, their truth is false, and their deception true.”
“That is a lovely phrase. I might just borrow it.”
“But not for fiction,” I replied with a laugh.
“Of course not. Perhaps for an essay on rumors.”
While we shared another half quint of polite conversation, she had said what she would say, and my other hints were turned aside gently. As she had implied, I had limited leverage.
After I departed from Madame D’Shendael’s, I returned to Imagisle where I was late to lunch at the dining hall. Interestingly, not a single Maitre mentioned Maitre Dhelyn…or much of anything concerning the Collegium, although there was much speculation about how long our northern fleet could maintain the blockage of the Ferran ports. I refused to comment, just saying that I did not know enough to make an accurate judgment.
When I returned to my study, I found a bud get report on my desk, from Reynol, detailing security expenditures for the previous year and requesting an estimate for projected expenses for the coming year. I didn’t have time to read it in any detail before I had to leave for my meeting with Valeun. Budgets, yet. At least, I’d had some considerable experience as a district captain.
After more than a half glass in the duty coach, I arrived at the Naval Command and was escorted up to Sea-Marshal Valeun.
He rose but slightly from behind the wide desk as I entered and the door closed behind me. “Greetings, Maitre.”
“Greetings, Marshal.” I took the middle chair across from him.
“I thought you might be interested to know that I received word the first thing yesterday morning that the Lyiena left Westisle ahead of schedule, due in part to the organization and the leadership of Maitre Dartazn.”
“He is most capable.”
“He’s older than you, is he not?”
“By two years or so,” I replied.
“I wouldn’t be surprised to see more of him. The communique mentioned his ability to communicate effectively and smoothly.”
“He’s very good in that respect, and in others.” I understood exactly what Valeun implied, but what the Sea-Marshal didn’t understand was that dealing with me was far easier than dealing with Dartazn would have been, because Dartazn was far more adept in the skills of intrigue and diplomacy. Ten years in the Council Chateau had honed those abilities. “How long before the Lyiena reaches Ferrum?”
“If she doesn’t encounter heavy weather or a Ferran flotilla, sometime late tomorrow or early on Jeudi.”
“And several days to get the imagers to the gunboats after that?”
“And as much as a week to get all of them into position.”
“As we discussed, they don’t all have to attack at the same time.”
“No. I’ve made it quite clear that the timing is between the senior imager on each gunboat and the ship Commander.”
I nodded to that.
“You realize that this operation will reduce our effectiveness in Otelyrn?”
“You were transferring ships from there before we developed this plan,” I pointed out. “That was bound to happen, especially with the destruction of the engine works.”
“Why is it, Maitre Rhennthyl, that no one has been able to capture Ferran agents alive? That they either escape or end up dead?”
I laughed. “Every operation has been developed so that, if they succeed, they escape, and if they don’t, they set themselves up to be killed or destroyed. It’s fairly clear that they’ve been working on these plans for years, since the truce ending the war that never was.”
Valeun tapped his fingers on the desk. “And the Collegium never discovered anything about any of this?”
“Maitre Poincaryt or Maitre Dichartyn might have known, but…”
“Most convenient.”
“But far more effective,” I replied. “There’s always a trade-off between open communications and effectiveness, as you certainly have shown.”
After that, we discussed ship deployments, bemoaned the Council’s past lack of understanding about the need to modernize the fleet, and were courteous to each other.
I’d thought about mentioning Geuffryt, but decided against it. If Valeun didn’t deal with that matter, I might have to…but I didn’t want to do anything until the Ferran operation was concluded, one way or the other.
When I left the Naval Command, I had Davoryn take me out to Frydryk’s town estate, since I was more than halfway there, and since his chef d’chateau had indicated he’d be back.
Once the coach came to a halt, I hurried out and walked up to the front doors. Before I reached them, one door opened.
Alynkya stood there. “Rhenn…I thought it might be you.”
“I’ve been trying to get in touch with Frydryk. What are you doing here?”
“We wanted to do some redecorating before the wedding, so that everything’s different when I come here. I was looking at the drawing room and the master bedchambers.”
“When will he be back?”
“He sent a note. He went from Laaryn straight to Solis.”
“Because of the fires?”
Alynkya nodded. “He hopes to be back on Vendrei.”
“I’d like to see him on Vendrei…”
“I’ll leave a note in his book that you’ll be here at the first glass of the afternoon. That way, if he can’t see you, we can send a message before you leave.”
“Thank you…” I paused. “Have you talked to your father about all this? The fires and the destruction of the engine works?”
“He doesn’t like to say much. He’s not pleased with the Ferrans, or with Councilor Glendyl’s failure to take better precautions. He thinks you’re a strong imager, and one that the Council and Collegium need now…”
“But he worries about my lack of experience?”
“He didn’t say that.”
I laughed softly. “I worry about my lack of experience, especially in dealing with all the intriguing.”
“Frydryk doesn’t. Neither do I.” After a moment, she went on. “I’d like to redo the master suite. Do you think…Seliora? I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“I think Seliora’s family would be pleased, but the way to do it is to first talk to Betara-Seliora’s mother. Tell her what you told me, that you don’t want to impose on friendship and that’s why you’re contacting her. She’ll understand.”