State House, Corez
Lissa
Of course we want to go, I responded to Bree's mindspeech. Rigo really wants to know who's behind this. It's his reputation, after all.
Are you available to go now?
We have a few minutes. I can bend time to get us back. Get another cell ready, in case we need it.
I have one waiting. She rattled off the name of the tavern where Naril arranged to meet his contact.
Rigo needs to be wearing really dark goggles, she sent an image of what Naril had looked like in his. I imagine the device on his neck and those dark goggles had ensured he'd be awake and unfried during daylight.
I'll make sure he's presentable, and I'll be right beside him as mist.
Good. Let me know if you need anything.
Oh, rest assured, I said. We'll be there on time, as requested.
"Rigo," I turned to him. "I have to make you look like Naril, dark-colored goggles and all." I set about transforming the former King of Hraede before folding us to a tavern on that planet.
We had a meeting scheduled.
"It will be all right," Rigo mumbled, squaring his shoulders and preparing to walk into a foul-smelling tavern in a suburb of the capital city. As mist, I floated next to him, waiting for him to cross the street and enter the low, squat building.
Near the door and leaning against the side of the building, Tamp stood as if waiting for a friend. Just as Rigo took his first step forward, Nissa came walking toward Tamp. He offered her his arm and they went in ahead of us.
Keep your eyes open, hon, I told her.
We're on it, Mom, she replied.
The scent of soured beer and vomit hit us as we reached the door; it was apparent that cleanliness wasn't a priority in this fine establishment.
I moved to hover over Rigo's head, waiting to see whether the one we were supposed to meet was already here.
"Take the empty booth at the back," a server hissed as she handed a beer to Rigo and brushed past him.
As instructed, Rigo headed for the booth in question. A hooded figure sat there, wearing a cloak so dark it blended with the stained wainscoting of the wall. I got a sniff, which sent alarms ringing through my brain.
Sirenali, I hissed at Rigo. Female, I added, before slapping the toughest shield I could around her and shouting for Nissa and Tamp to follow us back to my dungeon.
"Well, she's not gonna talk to us like that." Bree's arms were tightly crossed as she studied the Sirenali, who'd gone scaly-fangy on us, while hissing and clawing at the bars of her cell.
She'd discovered quickly that she couldn't fold herself away; my shield wouldn't allow it. Therefore, she was refusing to cooperate.
"Can you see anything in her?"
"I can't see past the obsession another Sirenali placed on her," Bree grumped. "I think she's some sort of hybrid—susceptible only to certain Sirenalis' obsessions, while still being able to place her own."
"You think the Prophet's behind this—or D'slay, or both?"
"No idea, but it has to be at least one of them, right? What I'm surprised about is that she didn't obsess Naril."
"You think that's by design? Were they waiting for Naril to be followed, so they could see who came in after him?" I'm sure they told her to place obsession on whomever it was and bring them into the fold as a double agent. Somebody may be waiting outside the tavern, watching."
"Tamp and I can go back," Nissa offered quietly.
"No," I said immediately. "We need a mister. Rigo, who's available in the Rith Naeri right now?"
"Yan can go." Rigo didn't like sending another in when he wanted to go himself.
"I can get him there," Bree offered, "if you two need to go back. If I learn anything from scaly britches, here, I'll let you know."
"Thanks, Bree." I gave her a quick hug and folded back to Corez with Rigo.
Tamp
"Yan can take me inside his mist. I can be quite useful—and discreet when needed," I told Breanne.
"Fine. Nissa, go on back to Hraede. I'll send Tamp with Yan."
"You called for me?" Yan appeared in the dungeon with us—he'd misted in. His full name was Yandiveri, but he only went by Yan.
"We have a tavern to visit on Hraede," I told him. "I wish to be included in your mist when we investigate."
"Are you ready?" Bree asked.
"Yes," Yan replied. With barely any effort, Breanne sent us back to Hraede, and straight to the tavern in question. We searched the areas surrounding the bar and found nothing. Had our spy gone inside?
The barmaid sent Lissa and Rigo to the proper table; shall we start with her? I sent to Yan. He and I hovered as mist near the tavern's ceiling, studying the patrons and employees of The Black Boot, which was as close to appropriate as I could imagine. The place smelled of sweat and stale beer to me.
I'll have to wait until she goes to the back to place compulsion, Yan replied.
Just get me close; I'll see if there's anything she knows, Zaria's voice sounded in our heads.
As instructed, Yan moved lower until we faced the barmaid, who was pouring beer into tall mugs behind the bar.
She was obsessed, Zaria observed. Show me the others there.
We went to three tables with nothing noteworthy from those patrons. The fourth table, however, Yan and I felt Zaria's mental shiver. Wait until that one leaves, follow him out and grab him, Zaria instructed. We'll come get him from you.
We? I asked.
Well, at least three Larentii and I will. Show me the others while you're waiting. We'll see if they need to be picked up, too.
Royal Palace, Kwark
Zaria
Connegar, Daragar and Valegar were coming to Hraede with me, while leaving two other Larentii behind, in case my doppelganger was required. They could recreate anyone they chose if it became necessary.
"I shall take us," Connegar smiled as I looked up at him. He was quite tall—taller than Val or Daragar.
"Come," Valegar lifted me in his arms. "I will ensure that none think to attack you."
"Fine," I grumbled against his shoulder. He chuckled, which caused his chest to rumble beneath my ear.
Connegar folded space; soon, we stood outside a smelly tavern on Hraede, waiting for a certain criminal to depart. Tamp and Yan, as mist, would be right behind him.
We're outside, I sent to Tamp. You'll be able to see us, but nobody else will.
Good. He just finished his last beer and is waiting for his credit chip to be scanned. How are you feeling? he added.
Fine for the most part. I've been feeling queasy today, but that could be anything. At least we're in sunlight right now, so that's a plus.
Still an hour or two of sunlight left, he replied. He's getting up. We'll be out in a few.
Tamp was right—the man walked out of the tavern, probably slower and more wobbly than he went in.
I have a shield around him, Daragar reported.
I've created his duplicate, which will continue walking down the street for a little way, Val said.
I've gathered the misting ones, Connegar added.
In moments, we landed in Lissa's library, where the man vomited inside the shield Daragar constructed.
If he hadn't been inside a shield, one of Lissa's priceless, Serendaan rugs would have been ruined.
Temporarily.
"He hasn't been obsessed, but he's seen D'slay," I paced in front of Ethan Looms. "You sure get around, don't you?" I stopped in front of him. "What with working with D'slay and all."
"D'slay?" Ethan frowned at me.
"Oh, that's right. He didn't tell you his real name, did he? As long as the money's good, you really don't care."
"What was he doing in that tavern?" Tamp asked.
"He was there to witness the obsession of Naril and whoever followed him in, by scaly-pants in the dungeon downstairs," I said.
"Who do we have here?" Bree appeared, looking like herself rather than Lissa.
"Ethan Looms.
Ilya and Halimel have been looking all over Kwark for him."
"The one who tried to poison you?" Bree was now glaring at Ethan.
"That's the one. Doesn't look like much, does he? Almost barfed on Lissa's rug, too."
"Had too much beer, after the ones he was watching disappeared right in front of him. He wasn't sure what to tell his boss," Bree nodded. She'd seen the same thing I had—that Ethan was getting drunk after a mysteriously failed mission.
"You can stop wondering where they went; they're both in the dungeon several floors beneath your feet," Bree told Ethan. "It's where you'll be after we finish picking you apart."
Ethan shifted uncomfortably in his chair; he wasn't sure what Bree meant about picking him apart. He was imagining physical torture. Frankly, my queasiness had ramped up and I wasn't in the mood for anything of the sort.
"Where was D'slay when Ethan saw him?" Ilya had folded in, bringing Halimel with him.
"On Kwark." I shook my head and immediately regretted it; the movement made me dizzy.
Val, I don't feel so good, I sent.
"We'll be back," Val announced, and, with Connegar and Daragar, we folded away.
"Honey, where are we?" I blinked my eyes open to see Val's worried face above mine.
"A beach on the Larentii homeworld," he said. "You needed sunlight, and, as this was a sunny, cooler place at the moment, it also serves to cool your body temperature, which was rising above normal."
"Here," Connegar, who was somehow sitting behind me, placed sunglasses on my face so I wouldn't be blinded by the sun overhead.
"At least my stomach feels better," I sighed.
"The child was pulling too much energy," Val murmured. "Connegar has spoken to him about this. It may be that you'll need much more sunlight than you've been getting."
"Huh? Is that normal?" I tilted my head back so I could see Connegar's face again.
"I believe it is normal for this one," Connegar smiled at me. "Stop worrying; all will go as it will."
"Do we need to get back?" I asked.
"Why do you ask?"
"Because I'm comfortable," I replied. "I think I'd like another nap."
"Dearest, we will bend time. Sleep as long as you like," Val leaned down to kiss me, then began trilling to help me sleep again.
Larentii Archives
Nefrigar
"Valegar and Daragar are with her. You should begin your preparation to record the child's journey now," Connegar reported.
"You've spoken to the child?"
"Yes. Let me say this, and this only; Zarigar will come early, and his talents may be such that we haven't seen them before."
"Some Larentii children do come early—it is out of concern for their mothers, who may not be prepared to deliver a fully-developed Larentii. We tend to be large when we're born," I stated the obvious.
"Zarigar is certainly concerned for his mother, but that is not the whole reason. As his paternal grandfather, you will see this for yourself soon enough."
Connegar's words concerned me. "Do you believe Wisdom had something planned when he ah, arranged DNA to produce Zaria?"
"I hesitate to assign specific reasons to anything the Mighty may do, but I am cautiously optimistic about this. This isn't only Valegar's child, and since Zarigar has a Larentii mother, he will certainly draw much from her."
"As it should have always been," I agreed. "Ferrigar is no longer with us, but he still has much to answer for since he affected the entire race with his selfish decisions."
"Kalenegar and all the Wise Ones disagreed with him at the time, and yet he made his choices anyway," Connegar conceded. "I was not alive, then, although I have gone back to observe."
"As have many others. It is not an easy thing to witness, as you know. I, too, attempted to reason with Ferrigar, but he would not listen."
"He was only thinking of the pain he felt—at what he saw as his daughter's defection from the race."
"Now, her Larentii blood is diluted and scattered throughout the Grey House wizards, who are more talented than any others," I pointed out. "Even Ferrigar eventually saw them as kin, although he only knew a few of them well."
"At least the talent has to be deliberately awakened in any child born," Connegar stated. "It keeps the talent pure and belonging only to Grey House."
"For which the Larentii race as a whole should be grateful. Have you told Zaria yet that the child will come early?"
"Not yet. I believe she will determine that soon enough on her own."
"Tell my son to take care of her and the child—they are both precious to me and to the entire race."
"That goes without saying, but I'll tell him anyway," Connegar smiled before disappearing.
Royal Palace, Galk
Reah
"What do you mean, Rezo Nilus has disappeared?" I sounded frantic, because I was.
"It had to be sometime between when I had tea with him and the dinner hour. I've already contacted security, and they're checking every recording device in and out of the Palace, in addition to contacting anyone who is remotely connected to him. He doesn't have any family here; his wife died two years ago, and his son is off-world in the military," Bel Erland reported.
"Put Lissa and the others on alert," I snapped.
"On it," Wyatt told me.
"Has Denevik reported back, yet?" I asked Tory.
"Not yet. Want me to find him?"
"Please. Maybe he saw or heard something while on his quest."
I watched as Tory sent mindspeech, then skipped away without telling me where he was going. So far, he hadn't taken advantage of the news that I still loved him—beyond a hug or two. I could tell he was processing everything, however.
This Tory—I wish he'd been the one with me all along, rather than the broken High Demon who couldn't be fixed—until Zaria remade him by Changing What Was. I saw no prejudice in him—no petty jealousy. What I did see was loyalty—and love. The final choice would be his—to remain my mate or dissolve that part of our lives completely.
I'm bringing Denevik back with me, Tory reported. He has a few things to tell you.
"I had to ask the Larentii filling in for Zaria for help; she was sleeping when I contacted her," Denevik said. "But we got all the statuary evacuated and exact replicas set up without even the slightest hint of what was happening."
"How in the name of Jufaleh did they sneak in bodies infected with Prophet's disease?" I demanded. "Where is the night crew now? We have to question every one of them."
"Cudworth and Ocenosek are determined to round them up when they come on duty, and they'll investigate whether any are now missing."
"Did they even know what they were handling?" Tory asked. "Do they know they could be infected, too?"
"This is worse than I could ever imagine," I breathed a troubled sigh.
"It may be worse than that," Tory pulled me against him and whispered into my hair. "Prophet's disease can spread faster than wildfire and can be transmitted through sex. We don't think the Prophet knows that last part, yet, and we sure don't want him to find out. Don't worry, High Demons are immune, as are pod'l-morphs and a few others."
"Explain that to me—what, exactly, is Prophet's disease?"
"It's a way of spreading obsession through an infection," Tory pulled away to face Denevik. Frankly, I wasn't ready for him to stop hugging me. "Whenever one person gets infected, it can spread through sex, or through autopsy if the one infected dies and the medical examiner doesn't take every precaution. It can be carried from the deceased's organs into the air and breathed in. Or, if the body explodes, which is a favorite method for the Prophet to infect others, it'll infect anyone the infected bits get near."
"Why would he want so many infected?" Denevik asked.
"For control. Most people don't know they're infected, until the Prophet crooks his finger and they can't help but do his bidding."
"That's," Denevik searched for an appropriate term.
"It's fucking s
cary, that's what it is," Tory said. "Now you know what Randl and the rest of us who work with him are fighting against. If we fail, the entire universes will fall under the Prophet's rule."
"And you think D'slay is a minion in the Prophet's army, don't you?" Denevik asked.
"Yes. They're connected in some way. We're still trying to work that out."
"Where were the bodies and sculptures sent?" I thought to ask.
"To Tiralia. Right now, it's the dumping ground for this stuff."
"I want to be in on the questioning of the night crew," I stated flatly, expecting Tory and Denevik to argue with me.
"I was hoping you'd say that," Tory nodded. "We need another guli."
Kabbuc Mountain, Mardir
D'slay
"It isn't lost if we know where it is." I almost lost patience with the one who identified himself as Alken Wilker. If only he knew I had a wizard under my thumb, one far stronger than he had ever been as a warlock.
"They weren't supposed to find the bodies. It is our choice when to detonate those artifacts and release the disease. We took your word when you said the barrel on Murazal was a mistake, but this—it is too much. So far, the only thing you've done right is to kill the chef on Kwark—the royals are still alive."
"Yes, but I have information you don't have," I snapped at Alken. "The real Queen was obsessed by me, as were many on the other hub worlds. The only reason those royals are still alive is that they aren't the actual royals. We have powerful operators standing in for two Queens, the First Advisor, the President and a King. I have no idea where the real leaders are, but those in place now are certainly not the real thing."
"Powerful operators? Who are they? Do you even know, or are you trying to buy time? My superior will not be pleased by your failures."
Blood Alliance Page 14
