by Jenn Lyons
clothing was the mix of tanned leathers and camouflage that marked so much of Wilder dress. “There is an old fairy tale humans have,” Maia-Leia explained. “The hero must kill an immortal sorcerer, who cannot be killed until the hero discovers where the villain has hidden the sorcerer’s soul. The evil man has hidden his soul in a needle, which he pierced into an egg, which then went into a duck, which he then placed in a hare, which he then locked into an iron box, which was buried under a green oak tree, planted on an island far out at sea. Our hero has found the island, dug under the tree, opened the box and killed the hare. And now, he must catch the duck. I do not think I will fly very far though, with these wings long since clipped.”
“Well! I certainly am impressed with your knowledge of old folk tales, but you can’t stay here.” I gestured to the larger room. “You’ve managed to create the least secure room I’ve ever seen in a Sarcodinay megacity. Do you realize there is not a single place in this entire area where you aren’t in a firing lane from somewhere outside? You stay here, and he’s not just going to try to kill you—he’s going to succeed.”
She nodded in serene agreement. “I know. And yet I am not entirely unsympathetic to his situation. Perhaps it is my time to die.”
I felt anger flush over me. “That’s garbage. It’s never anyone’s time to die. That’s the just the stupidity people tell themselves so they don’t have to take responsibility for all the opportunities they’ve missed.”
“But it is the opportunities I have not missed that have put me here, child.” Her voice held a nostalgic, reflective tone. “Do you know that I was the one who recommended that Zaladin be spared when he was born? It was many years ago, long before we discovered Terra. His psychic scores were perfectly respectable. It seemed like an enormous waste to cull him because of a physical defect. And of course I only came to Terra because of my friendship with Tirris. Then there were the hybrids, and you.”
“Hybrids.”
She nodded. “Oh yes.”
“I so hoping I was wrong about that. How did you do it? I thought such a thing was impossible.”
“It certainly wasn’t easy.” He voice was wry and proud. “Alexander and I believed if we could discover a way to engineer humans with just enough Sarcodinay genetic material in them, we could create a vulnerability to Sarcodinay telepaths, and then breed that trait into the general human population. Of course the joke was on me—we managed to create the vulnerability without any problem, but the result was completely sterile. I can’t even breed them with each other without very troublesome laboratory manipulations.”
I felt cold. “You’re saying Alexander Rhodes helped designed the hybrids used for Kaimer?” I felt a slithering suspicion steal over me as to what skeletons worthy of blackmail might lurk in Alexander’s closet.
Her laugh had very little sweet grandmother in it, and a whole lot of wicked witch. “Helped? Oh dear child, he was the inspiration! The mastermind behind the entire project. I am embarrassed to admit I took credit for his work for many years, but now that I see death so close there really is no reason to steal the glory of his accomplishments.”
I looked to the side, where that High Guard was still standing there with pretend indifference. He could have put a stop to this any insanity any time he wanted, but perhaps she was right and his attention was focused on Zaladin’s capture. If that was the case though, why was he in the open? Did the he honestly think Zaladin would be as stupid as to publicly walk up to Maia-Leia Shana and present himself like an offering?
I turned back to the aging priestess. “How convenient for you, to suddenly not be the scientist behind the Kaimer hybrids just on the eve of their discovery, particularly since their creation breaks the Tridates. You’d be put the death, but Rhodes isn’t under Imperial jurisdiction anymore. He’s the League’s problem.”
Maia-Leia Shana’s expression turned grim then, and she regarded me thoughtfully for several moments. “Yes, child,” she finally whispered. “I believe I can understand your point. But I have no such intention. If the penance for my crimes is to die here and have my name smeared across the stars as a murderer and vile perverter of the natural order, than I accept my fate. If I am meant to die here, I even welcome it, for like an old Roman soldier overzealous with his spear, death would be a release for me.”
I knew that reference better than the fairy tales. “My, my, you have been studying some interesting heresies, haven’t you?”
“I share much in common with Saint Longinus.” She leaned forward in her chair, her vision distant. “I wanted to understand what was happening to me. I needed to understand. Finally, I came to simply accept.”
“Accept what?”
“That in penance for my crimes, I have become the prophet of my goddess. That she has chosen me, and I must do her will.”
I blinked. The old crone’s answer was so straightforward, so matter-of-fact. There was no pride in that boast, no glory, no suggestion that she was superior. It was the same sort of tone that a labor-caste might use when explaining that he was worked at a local grocery store. I spoke without thinking: “Prophet? So what’s going to happen?”
Her watery eyes turned kind, and they shone a solid pure gold. She smiled up at the giant statue that hovered over both of us, then back at me. “Oh, my precious child. Zaladin’s going to kill you, of course. And then he’s going to kill me.”
FOURTEEN.Eve
“When you said ‘eccentric,’ Alexander,” I began as I walked back into his office, “you forgot to mention that your definition also includes crazy as a Kantari on fire dust.” I was pissed off and nauseated and ready to start ripping the nails off of someone else’s fingers just to hear a scream that matched the way I felt.
The beautiful man laughed, grim and sardonic, looking at me with the same wry expression I might have expected him to give a surprising lab result. “I suppose after as many years as I’ve had to put up with her, my definitions might be off.” His smile soured then, as he saw the dark look on my face, which probably seemed angrier and more threatening than appropriate.
I walked over to his liquor cabinet and looked around, snagging a bottle of non-alcoholic kalmara juice from an upper shelf, pouring myself a shot of it as if it were whisky. I didn’t dare drink any real alcohol, not with Zaladin who-knows-where setting up his rifles, but the fruit juice fitted my sour need. I tossed it back and then smacked the bottom of the glass down on the top of Rhodes’ desk, letting the sharp retort speak for my emotions.
Ignoring Vanessa’s brief glance, I stared him down. “I’m going to ask you one question, Alexander, and I will only ask once. Who created the Kaimer hybrids?”
“Mallory, what are you doing?” Vanessa asked, finally giving me her full attention. I don’t know what she had managed to pull up from the Keepers’ Hospital computer files, but she evidently found it a spellbinding read, barely looking up from the screen when I initially entered the room. The sharp edge in my voice had drawn her attention.
“Getting some answers,” I snapped at her over my shoulder. I turned back to Alexander and we locked stares.
I was surprised when the faint smile quirked the corner of that perfect mouth. His tawny eyes were wary, amused, and surprised. “My god,” he said softly. “She told you. She actually told you. I would have sworn to you with my dying breath that she never would.”
I put both hands on the table, leaned over it towards him. My whole body felt taught as piano wire, vibrating. I looked into his eyes, resisting the lure to lose myself in them; his eyes were warm amber pools, endless and inviting and giving no hint at the evil that lurked underneath. So much worse than his brother. So much worse that I would start shuddering if I thought about it too much.
“So it’s true?” My voice was a harsh whisper, barely constraining the anger that surged underneath.
“Mallory?” Vanessa asked. “What are you talking about? What’s happened?”
Alexander and I continued staring at each other, caught in a cat�
��s game where neither dared look away. “Shana didn’t create the hybrids. She just stole the credit,” I said without looking at Vanessa.
Even though Vanessa was as smart as me, smarter even, she didn’t quite understand what I was saying at first. “Then who did?” She followed my stare to Alexander, and her eyes widened.
Vanessa looked at Alexander in shock. “But you... Paul...” Then she laughed, a normally delightful sound tinged with dread. “Surely she was lying, wasn’t she? The cat’s out of the bag. She’s looking to have someone else take the blame, right? She must be!”
I half expected Alexander to try to agree with her, to use her naive belief that the Sarcodinay must have been responsible to claim his own innocence. Alexander though—Alexander knew just exactly what I was, even if he was probably not aware of the full extent of my current abilities. As he stared at me, I could feel his curiosity: would I know if he lied? Would I be able to tell?
“No, Vanessa,” he corrected with careful, perfect enunciation. “Mallory is correct. I came up with the idea of the hybrids. I’m the one who found the solution to the cross-breeding problem. Maia-Leia Shana’s contribution came mostly in the form of paying the bills, and not even that after she had her mental break.”
“But why?” She exclaimed, her voice thick
