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Broussard’s cousin certainly wouldn’t have wanted to lose both his coach, his coachman, and his team. “They must have scouted Lyrique and known where the pavement was rough.”
    “Seems right. If they used dry guncotton as a primer, they were also experts.”
    “We don’t use it, do we?”
    Menyard shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. Even imaging it into place could cause an explosion. But guncotton is relatively easy to make, and there’s enough Poudre B in the world that the powder wouldn’t be that hard to get.” He frowned. “The segmenting could have been done in a soft lead cover with the equivalent of a sharp knife.”
    What Menyard’s analysis suggested was foreign assassins or covert agents. But why would they target a mere agricultural factor, albeit a wealthy one? “Is there anything else?”
    Menyard shook his head and handed the report back. “Not from this.” He paused, then added, “Anyone who could do this, Rhenn, could build a similar device that would shred even your shields.”
    “I got that feeling,” I said dryly. “It’s not a pleasant thought.”
    “Be careful. We’ve lost too many imagers over the past few years.”
    “I will.”
    Just as I left the armory, a young prime whom I didn’t know hurried up to me.
    “Master Rhennthyl, sir. Master Jhulian wanted to know if you could spare a moment for him.”
    “I’d be happy to. I’ll be right there.”
    Jhulian was the justice for the Collegium and the maitre who’d pounded Solidaran law into my skull years earlier. What did he want? Sometimes, he also sat as a member of the Solidaran High Justiciary when it reviewed lower justicing procedures. Was there something he wanted to know about the Civic Patrol? What ever it was, as I walked across the quadrangle, I hoped that it wouldn’t take too long. He had a study just down the hallway from Maitre Dichartyn in the administration and receiving building, and his door was open.
    “Do come in, Rhenn.”
    I closed the door behind me and slipped into one of the chairs across the desk from him. “What can I do for you?”
    “Let’s start with young Shault first, Rhenn. He isn’t exactly excelling in willingness to understand the role of law and how it applies to the Collegium.”
    “You’d like me to talk to him.”
    “It couldn’t hurt. At times, he won’t really listen to either me or Dichartyn. You’re the only one he’ll really listen to, polite as he is.”
    That had been a problem from the first, and after Shault had made secondus, Maitre Dichartyn had become his preceptor instead of Master Ghaend. That had helped a great deal, but not totally. “That’s a combination of the Collegium and the taudis.”
    “Combination or not, he’ll end up like Floryn, or in a dead-end armory position.”
    I still remembered Floryn. He’d been executed by Master Jhulian just weeks after I’d come to Imagisle. “I’ll talk to him tonight.”
    “Good.” He paused, then brushed back a lock of his white-and-blond hair, before saying, “I was talking to Rholyn the other day, and he mentioned that, by the end of the year, the Council will have to decide on whether to reappoint Commander Artois. What has been your experience with the Commander?”
    “I’m sure that my opinion would be similar to that of Master Dichartyn.” If the matter were as straightforward as the question appeared to be, Jhulian wouldn’t have even bothered to ask me. He just would have asked Dichartyn.
    He smiled, if coolly. “I thought you might say something like that. Might I ask you why you answered that way?”
    I offered an off-hand shrug. “If it’s as simple as it sounds, you could just have asked Master Dichartyn. This suggests that you or Rholyn want to be able to claim that you didn’t talk to Dichartyn about it. That suggests that someone is unhappy with Artois and knows that Master Dichartyn would support him.” I still didn’t know why what I thought mattered in the slightest,