I return my gaze to Val. “You look amazing.”
She giggles. Her cheeks are a furious red. “So do you, Master Zaytsev.” She teases me with the name, a reminder that we’re both going to the ball for a formal presentation. Our presentation. My heart skips a beat. This will make our leadership official.
Commander Rick joins us inside. A flurry of emerald feathers erupts beside him before he swings the door shut. Cynthia squawks once, then readjusts herself on his shoulder. “Let’s be off,” he says. He raps his knuckles on the wood board behind us, and the coach lurches forward, wheels clacking against a lumpy brick road and mixing with the melody of the horses’ bells.
It’s like we’re outside of time itself.
“Indeed, Master Zaytsev.” The commander slaps my shoulder fondly. “The presentation is something of a formality, but we have always loved a good show.” He clasps his hands on his knees, sitting back while the bird shapeshifts into a ferret and curls around his neck. Given my introduction to Cynthia, and the commander’s idea of a good show then, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
As the drive continues, Val peers at the outside world from behind the heavy brocades and lets out a breath. I follow her gaze. The sun is beginning to set, blanketing everything with a rosy orange hue, clouds like red smudges against the sky. The street is empty, cleared by Special Forces for our entry, but the lights of Havana twinkle in the distance. On the other side is sun-kissed ocean. Even the red brick is imprinted with rising sun cogs here and there, and a fresh, salty breeze skirts through the open window.
I inhale deep. I have no words to explain the astonishing realization that I’ve actually managed to succeed in securing a path greater than myself, and that I’ve found someone to love and to be beside me. The lovely young woman who’s taken a liking to me almost seems foreign now. She’s wearing silvery, arm-length gloves. Just a hint of makeup to add color to her cheeks in the fading light. Her dark brown eyes are open wide with wonder. For the first time since I’ve met her, she’s experiencing that wonder for herself, not just showing the newcomer, me, to sights she’s already seen. Her lips part, softly whispering in Spanish as she stares out at the ocean, her skin tinted in the fiery gold of sunset. It’s like I’ve only just met her today. At the same time, I can’t imagine life before her. She’s always been there, even if she hasn’t. And I didn’t mess it up. Training with Lady Black… I could have messed everything up, but I didn’t.
A smile tugs at my lips. I can’t wait to see Val in the ballroom lights. She’s told me the stories she’s heard about the Camaraderie’s balls and how nothing can compare. How curious onlookers try to find lookout points from kilometers away to see what they might spot through a well-placed pair of binoculars, but how few ever get past the guards.
Val has been waiting her whole life for this. Me? I only discovered that this kind of life even existed a couple months ago.
Too soon we arrive at the mansion, and once the coach stops, Cynthia—again in bird form—swoops out and lands in a crouch on the walkway. She poises as a magnificent leopard, her fur pristine and a jeweled collar around her neck. She lets out a massive roar, drawing a surprised start from numerous diplomats in the crowd, but none of them seem particularly alarmed. Their conversations quiet and they turn. Stuart steps from his seat and announces our arrival, his voice proper in both ear and mind.
Ladies and gentleman, I have the great honor of presenting Lady Emily Black and Lady Valerie Salazar. Master Timothy Zaytsev, and our ruling Commander, Gerald Rick.
My heart drums in my ears as Stuart bows, and then helps Lady Black and Val exit the carriage. Lady Black waves sensually as the crowd claps, lit in the fierce glow of the setting sun. Val adds flare to her dress in a shimmering crackle of electricity. The sequins of her dress send off multicolored fragments of shattered light, each dancing along the red carpet that leads to a massive set of open, carved doors.
Waltzing music filters from the mansion’s latticed windows, each glass pane reflecting gold. Giant columns rise before the door. They’re decorated in red and black ribbons that curl to the carpet. Huge pennants tower from the three-story height of the mansion and flutter against the ocean breeze. Towering, amazing… Stuart gave me a few basic lessons on dancing in what spare time we had, but he didn’t tell me about this.
“After you, m’boy,” the commander whispers, the fondness evident in his voice.
I almost stumble as I take my place beside Val. There’s so many people. They’re looking at us. Evaluating us. Sending notes about us on EYEnet, though none of this will be seen in the Community. Commander Rick assured me that we will have a separate ceremony there, and when we do, I’ll have a chance to see my family.
We follow Lady Black to the courtyard of the mansion, and there are leaders everywhere. They wear tuxedos and military garb. Formal gowns—some more revealing than others. Special Forces wear uniforms more ceremonial than practical. Some guests dance arm-in-arm while attendants pass between them, offering crystal glasses and expensive brands of wine and cordials. The guests laugh amongst themselves at inside jokes or press each other on political matters, while ahead, Lady Black softly points out the preferred fashions of leadership to Val. How the ladies wear their hair or the men fold their handkerchiefs. How the medallions of a leader are dead giveaways to their rank and honors.
How they look at us, too.
The guests from Mexico and Russia give us wide smiles and hearty applause, while others daintily clap and raise their chins, curious as to who have taken the roles of international E-Leadership. Never have I been in a place with so many highly-esteemed people at once.
Commander Rick places a hand on my shoulder. “Welcome to the Camaraderie of Evil, Master Zaytsev. This way.” He ushers me to a couple of men standing on the other side of the fluttering ribbons. One of them is a broad-chested man with a groomed beard and the weary lines of age mapping his face. “Governor Alejandro, good to see you again.”
The governor bows, his eyes never leaving Commander Rick. “Likewise, Commander.” His voice is heavily accented, more so than Val’s. He smiles pleasantly and adjusts his tuxedo as he straightens. “I assume this is the new of Head of Efficiency?”
He takes one look at me and I flinch. Though he seems friendly enough, he has a heavy telepathic hand, and I have just a moment to think of Lady Black’s instructions from earlier today before Commander Rick intervenes and the suffocating feeling evaporates.
Tetris. I think I’ll try picturing dancing tetromino blocks. Maybe that will help.
“Indeed. He’s an excellent programmer, if I do say so myself.” The commander smirks, though I wish I could hide in his shadow rather than stand beside him.
“He could use some work on his defenses.” The governor takes a sip of his wine. “I would be happy to offer my assistance, should he be interested.”
While I don’t think he’s trying to be unfriendly, I get the vibe that he wants something out of the deal. Possibly secrets, learned from training. Secrets like—
Tetris.
I blink. I’m not sure if it was me or the commander who had that thought, but Governor Alejandro nods approvingly. “Very good, Master Zaytsev. You’ll want to keep your mind from wandering around these parts. There are many curious telepaths who enjoy their daily gossip.” He toasts his wine to me. “Congratulations on your recent induction into the Camaraderie. Very few have such an opportunity.”
“Thank you,” I say, though I feel small, withdrawn into a tiny shell. “I appreciate your kind words.”
He nods. “If you ever need me, I am certain we can find contact. I am the governor for the Central American territories. Perhaps Lady Salazar will encourage negotiations between Governess Alvarez and myself.”
“Thank you, but at the moment I’m simply trying to get acclimated.” I force a smile. I don’t like this attention. They know so much more than me and… and I don’t know what in the Community I’m s
upposed to be doing.
Getting acquainted, Master Zaytsev. You’re doing as well as can be expected, Stuart’s thoughts float to me, a gentle poke. I automatically turn to see where he’s standing, but he’s blending with the crowd.
The governor takes my lapse in attention as our conversation’s end, so he bids me and the commander a good evening before disappearing with his friend. Once he’s gone, I turn to Commander Rick. “What did he mean about telepaths and daily gossips?”
The commander motions to the lingering guests. “Do you see how many of them keep a close attendant at their side? Some as ambassadors, others as personal servants?”
Now that he mentions it, very few of them remain alone. Or if they do, I can draw lines to those keeping a close eye on them. I link my mind into the security cameras around the mansion. Everywhere, they’re being watched. Whether by their own attendants, or someone else’s… hard to say.
“Telepaths are highly employable, though the profession can be dangerous if someone is crossed,” the commander explains. “Telepaths can learn secrets from other leaders or protect allies from wandering thoughts.” He pats my shoulder. “Common practice, I assure you. Even the three of you are kept guarded,” he says, gesturing to Val and Lady Black, “by Stuart and members of Special Forces. We don’t want our confidential information falling into the wrong hands, now do we?”
“The wrong hands?” I pause. “But aren’t we allies? Territory and Community… what have we got to gain from working against each other?”
The commander solemnly accepts a glass from a passing waiter. “There are plenty who had hoped for a position such as yours. As you said, Lady Winters was power hungry and manipulative, and there are many others like her. They are exceptional in their work, but they don’t have the good intentions you do. Enjoy the ball, but be on your guard. This is as much an introduction to the Camaraderie as it is a learning experience regarding the politics you will soon frequent.” He straightens his back and looks across the shifting crowd. The sun slowly sinks across the stone wall before the street and into the bay. Giant lights power on behind us, humming with life as they cast brilliant discs over the Camaraderie pennants. The white walls of the mansion gleam, and golden light spills from the huge windows. More people filter inside while others continue to talk amongst themselves in the growing dark.
“I do believe Lady Salazar is waiting for a dance.” Commander Rick winks at me and pushes me her direction, then disappears into the throng of elegant suits and gowns.
I lick my lips, worried I’m going to lose Val in the crowd, but it’s impossible to lose someone with a sparkling, silver dress as the sun is falling. I slip to her side. “There you are,” I whisper.
She smiles. “Lady Black just finished introducing me to the president of the South American Community. Nice lady—she says we make a cute couple.” I blush as Val holds up her arm. I link my elbow with hers. “Shall we dance?” she asks. She gives me a full-faced grin that I’d never be able to deny.
“Yes,” I say, bouncing on my feet. “We shall.”
She giggles, and we head inside.
Inside, music swirls off the walls. There’s no doubt who is hosting the event. Crystal chandeliers larger than any car hang from a ceiling that’s punctuated by red and black pennants. Gold fireworks play across the fresco. I mentally check the roster of one of the workers and find that the fireworks are made by illusionists—radiation elementals.
Cynthia flies above the crowd and over a set of elegant ice sculptures, each designed to represent the primary council members of the Camaraderie. Val. Lady Black. Commander Rick.
Me.
“Ready?” Val whispers. I take her hand, careful not to catch the strap of her dress when I place my other hand along her shoulder blade. “Stuart said to listen to the music. Count the beats. One-two-three. One—” We fall into line, her laughing as I trip over my feet, but we somehow manage not to topple into the other leaders. I didn’t have as much time to practice as she did.
Easy. Count. Step. Follow her lead. She knows what she’s doing.
Heat rushes to my cheeks but I do as Stuart suggests. Though Val misses the occasional step, she manages to keep us moving to the beat of the fast waltz. When it comes time to turn, I break out laughing and shake my head. “I don’t think so.”
“Oh come on!” Val pulls close, her body warm against mine, and she challenges me with a grin. “I bet you can do it.” She wraps herself in my arms and then spins back out—right into the waiting hand of a middle-aged man in a dark blue suit.
Val takes a startled half-step back, but the man doesn’t let go. He tips his head politely. “Might I have this dance?” He’s in his mid-forties, with a deep chest and trimmed brown hair and a mustache. He’s taller than both of us. “You look stunning, my lady. The sequins suit you.”
I scowl, already disliking him.
“At the moment I’m dancing with Tim—Master Zaytsev.” Val attempts to pull her hand from his, but he doesn’t let go. “In case you hadn’t noticed.”
A smile snakes across his lips. “There will be plenty of time for him later.”
I start to protest, but he slips his hand around her waist and pulls her the opposite direction. “Right now, you have opportunities to consider. Leaders to consult.” He pauses as she goes rigid. I push my way after them through the dancers. “Perhaps we should take some time to get know each other. Allow me to properly introduce myself. Secretary of State Erickson, for the United States of America’s Community Division.”
Val snorts. “I am Lady Valerie Amorita Salazar, international leader of the Camaraderie of Evil.” A tiny spark of electricity shoots from her fingers. Erickson yelps and jerks his hand away from her waist. “Keep in mind,” Val snaps, “that I don’t need to be anywhere near my targets, and there is a lot of electricity in this room.”
He twists his lips and bows curtly. “Of course, my lady. I meant no harm—”
She rolls her eyes and returns to me. “Where were we?” She takes my hand and I follow her lead, back into the well-timed dance. The Secretary of State motions to an attendant, and the two talk quietly amongst themselves as he glares my direction.
Keep your thoughts guarded, Stuart notes. He may not be a telepath, but his attendant is. I believe they are debating whether or not to pursue political relations. Not a bad idea, given the potential for unrest in the Americas, but I do not think you are in a good position to try reverse espionage.
Got it, I think mentally, since I know he can read me. Thanks.
You are quite welcome.
There is one thing I can do, though. Both Erickson and his attendant have cell phones, and hacking into their microphones is as easy as reprogramming a light dimmer. In short order, I have the basics of their discussion. Erickson has already determined that Val is unfriendly, but he’s hoping that I might be a bit more reasonable in my “Camaraderie duties.”
As it stands, he’s one of the North American Community’s biggest advocates of using the Health Scan to choose potential targets for beasts that can be sold off in various vocations, which brings the Community a bit of funding in return. Evidently, he’s had more than a few conversations with Lady Winters.
He’s hoping I’ll be similar.
I remove my presence from his cell phone. Val and I continue dancing, though her brooding expression suggests she hasn’t forgotten her encounter with Erickson.
“Do you want to dance somewhere else?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “There’s no room.”
I glance around. The whole, giant space crawls with ambassadors. There’s walking room, but not much. Erickson sends his attendant on her way, and then slips back toward us.
“Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot,” he apologizes. Val raises her chin and continues to dance. Another spin… and Erickson gracefully steps out of our way, for all that he looks a bit like a bull. “I forget that neither of you have much experi
ence in the politics of this arena, and—”
“Mr. Secretary,” Val says, stopping so abruptly that I almost topple into her. “If you know as much about us as I suspect you know, then you know I have insight, and that I practice knowing exactly what a person wants. While I suspect you are interested in political favors, I also suspect that your means of procuring those favors would find its way into a bedroom, and you, quite frankly, are not my type.”
He recoils as if she’s slapped him, and then quickly dismisses the notion with a nervous laugh. “You are mistaken, my lady. I am interested solely in the political affairs of my country.” He motions to me. “Word on the street suggests that you are responsible for the untimely death of Lady Winters.”
I bristle, though I try to keep my thoughts on colorful, falling blocks. I do my best not to picture any of them landing on Erickson’s head, but it serves as a fair distraction. I’m not sure how much the commander has actually told the outside world about Lady Winters’ death.
“Removing Lady Winters was a bold move, to be sure.” Erickson continues. “I have worked with her in the past and found her methods to be quite efficient, and I wish to continue our negotiations in regards to the provision of subjects for transformation. If I could have a word—”
I take a deep breath and look him in the eye. “I plan on improving the Community as a whole… not just the Health Scan. Once I’ve had a chance to access the current state of my position, then I will determine what needs to be taken care of. I’m a computer programmer, not a scientist. I imagine there are others better suited to improving the state of beast production.”
Erickson twists his lips before nodding agreeably. “Of course, Master Zaytsev. However, there is the matter of funding—”
“Funding can wait,” I say shortly. Val pumps my hand encouragingly. “I have more important matters to take care of.”
Matters like—
Tetris, Stuart prompts gently.
I let out my breath. I see why the commander is having him keep an eye on Val and me. Indeed, Stuart thinks simply. Now I suggest ending your conversation with this man. Be cordial, suggest future negotiations are in order, but be strong in your conviction that those negotiations will not be made tonight.
Whispers in the Code Page 13
