Free Madness in Solidar by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

Collegium survived persecution and war. The strong who work together have a better chance of surviving. Maitre Quaeryt was farsighted enough to get them to do that.”
    The server slipped a platter in front of Alastar, who looked at the egg toast—only tan instead of dark brown—and at the sausage patty, perhaps slightly greasy, but definitely cooked. He drizzled some of the honey-berry syrup, far more tart berry than sweet honey, over the egg toast, cut a piece of sausage and ate it with a chunk of the toast, then took a sip of the bitter tea. He ate for a time without speaking.
    â€œIs it true that more young imagers at Westisle…” Claeynd let his words fade off, as if unwilling to finish the question.
    â€œSome student imagers have died at Westisle. Some have died here. There will always be foolish or careless young imagers. The task of the Collegium is to turn foolish or careless young students into careful and thoughtful imagers. Failure to learn care and thought in imaging may have unfortunate consequences. We try to minimize those consequences, but the task is creating responsible imagers, not excessively protecting those who will not learn or understand.”
    â€œIsn’t that expecting a bit much, sir?”
    â€œIt’s expecting a great deal, but the survival of imagers in Solidar is at stake. Do you want to go back to the times before Rex Regis and the establishment of the Collegium, when imagers were hunted down … when most were killed as children? If we do not demonstrate that imagers are responsible and valued, there will be no future for the Collegium and for imagers. Right now, we are seen merely as tools of Rex Ryen.” And not very strong tools at that.
    â€œYes, sir,” replied Claeynd.
    Alastar could tell that the younger maitre had his doubts, and rather than press, he merely said, “Just think about what I’ve said as matters unfold over the next few weeks.”
    â€œWhat’s going to happen then, sir?” Claeynd’s voice took on a worried tone.
    â€œWe’ll have to see. In the meantime, just keep your eyes and ears open.” Alastar took a last swallow of tea and rose. “Have a good Samedi and end-day tomorrow with your family.”
    Alastar kept a pleasant smile on his face as he left the dining hall, nodding to the primes and seconds who were dragging into the building and who immediately inclined their heads and stepped out of his way. He worried that Claeynd’s attitude was all too prevalent among the junior masters. He had barely stepped out of the dining hall when the odor of sewage and worse filled his nostrils, so strong that he almost retched. And the rex and the factors are still squabbling over who is to pay for the repairs? He kept walking,
    Dareyn was tidying up the anteroom when Alastar arrived.
    â€œYou’re here early,” Alastar offered.
    â€œI woke up early, and Elmya is visiting our daughter in Caanara. There was no reason to lie around, and there have been some things I’ve wanted to organize better.”
    â€œFar be it for me to get in the way of that.” Alastar smiled cheerfully. “I will need you to dispatch some messages in a while.”
    While Alastar could theoretically have sent one of the imager messengers, what he was ordering would be unpopular, and verbal messages of an unpopular nature had a tendency not to be received, or the recipients somehow “misinterpreted” them. When he seated himself behind his desk, he immediately began to write, first a short note to Obsolym, then an identical one to Akoryt, followed by ones to the other three senior maitres, followed by the same note to several of the Maitres D’Aspect—Alyna, Khaelis, Mhorys, Narryn, Shaelyt, and Tiranya. He decided against including Warryk, because he was recovering from a nasty flux, and Claeynd, because he was the duty maitre for Samedi, although Claeynd could have used the