by Raine Thomas
Ty reached up and felt the fuzz where his hair used to be. He’d forgotten about that. All criminals were shorn of their hair as one final consequence for their crimes before they were shipped off to the opposite side of the planet.
“Ya already have the hardened look of a long-timer,” Barto said around a bite of jerky. “Somethin’ happened, I can tell.”
“I want to know about the influencing,” Ty said, ignoring Barto’s statement. “Hope said everyone but the Marauders was influenced to commit the crimes that got them sent here.”
Barto slammed his hand down on the table, making Orran and Reider jump and Hope whimper. “Bloody hell, female! Ya know better than ta run yer damn mouth with a freshy stranger!”
“But, Barto…he’s…”
“Are ya bloody sure? Did ya ask him ta give ya his identity, for the love of Yen-Ki?” Barto turned his blazing eyes to Ty. “Well? Are ya the Dem-Shyr?”
Ty’s jaw flexed and released. “No.”
Barto’s hand clenched into a fist. He started to rise from his chair, his eyes on Hope.
“That title was stripped from me when I was convicted,” Ty clarified.
Hope let out a quiet sob. She turned and busied herself in the food prep area. Barto studied Ty and sat back down, his temper gone as swiftly as it had come.
“I’m sorry for that, lad,” he said in a sympathetic tone.
Reider gave Ty a nod. “We’ve all been there.”
“Because you were influenced, too?” Ty pressed.
Barto waved at Ty’s untouched plate. “Eat, lad. I’ll tell ya what ya want ta know, since the big-mouthed female felt compelled ta share with ya anyhow.”
Ty really disliked Barto. His treatment of Hope was appalling. His arrogance was grating. But at the moment, he had knowledge that Ty wanted. So he picked up a piece of unwanted jerky and took a bite. It tasted like scorched tree bark.
“Hope has the right way of it,” Barto said. “A good number of us Outcasts are innocent of the crimes for which we were banished. Although ya mentioned influencin’, that ain’t always what happened. Some didn’t commit any crime at all.”
“You’re saying they were falsely accused?” Ty asked.
“Not only falsely accused. Falsely convicted,” Orran piped in.
Reider nodded again. “The only ones out here who most Outcasts believe actually killed someone of their own free will are the Marauders.”
Ty could hardly wrap his head around that. How had this been happening all this time? Did the Guardians know about it? Did any of the high-ranking Vawn know?
Could Kyr’s death have been prevented?
“How many of you…non-Marauders are out here?” he asked.
“‘Tis hard ta say,” Barto said with a shrug. “I’d wager at least a thousand or more over the past few years.”
“But why are so many people being sent out here?”
“That’s the thing, lad. No one knows. Or if they do, they ain’t sayin’.”
Chapter 23
Sem is the head of security over my burial? Kyr asked Gren as she finished her tea.
Yes.
But why weren’t you assigned for that duty? Other than Ty, you’re the highest ranking Mynder in the palace. Hell, on the planet.
Gren snorted. Vycor was too smart for that. I would have destroyed any plans he was making in an instant if he let something slip with me around.
So how did Sem get the job?
He was personally assigned by Vycor.
She frowned. Why would Vycor do that? I think half of the people here at the palace know that he’s up to something, and whatever it is won’t bode well for everyone. Sem is a smart, dedicated Mynder and Ty’s cousin. He has no loyalty to Vycor.
Gren shifted on the mattress, looking uncomfortable. She had a feeling she wouldn’t like what he was about to tell her.
She was right.
Kyr, I know you were close to Sem during your time together on Earth. But you need to know that he wasn’t as loyal to Ty as you believe.
She started to shake her head, but Gren reached over and touched her hand, forcing her to look him in the eye.
Sem has been jealous of Ty for years. From the moment Ty was born and fated to be your Mynder, in fact. Sem felt he was cheated of that honor by birth…and then later, by an opponent that he believes had better luck than he did.
You?
Yes.
Sem entered the competition to be my Mynder? Wasn’t he too young?
He was young, but all Mynders were allowed to enter. Despite his age, Sem actually did very well in the competition.
Did you defeat him?
No. Vycor did.
Kyr’s eyes felt like they were going to spring out of her head. She hadn’t considered the fact that Vycor was a Mynder. He wasn’t all that much older than Gren, either. It had never entered her thoughts that he might have competed to be her Mynder.
But he’s the Advisor. It’s a position of great power…more powerful than yours as my second Mynder. Why would he compete?
He wasn’t the Advisor at the time. A Mynder by the name of SteffynDane was. Vycor assumed the Advisor role shortly before Ty returned from his lessons to claim his abilities as the Dem-Shyr. And we’ll just say that Vycor has infused his role with more importance and pull than it once had.
She thought about that. So…you defeated Vycor?
He gave her a look that said the answer should be obvious, and he was right. It had her nibbling on her bottom lip in worry. Vycor probably held no more love for Gren than he had for Ty. Indeed, since Ty inherited his role by birth and Gren won it outright by defeating every Mynder who competed, it was possible Vycor resented Gren even more.
Vycor doesn’t see me as a threat, Gren told her. Once Ty came back from his lessons and assumed his role, Vycor essentially forgot about me. Now with Ty out of the palace, I’ve been assigned menial tasks as far removed from Vycor’s activities as possible. In his mind, I might as well be in the Dark Lands with Ty.
Gren’s casually spoken words had Kyr’s chest and throat clenching. Her eyes stung as she thought of Ty alone somewhere out there. Gren reached over and took her hand.
I’m sorry, Kyr. That was careless of me.
She shook her head. It’s not your fault. I’m trying to stop from dwelling on it, but it’s hard.
Of course it is. I miss Ty, too, and I’m not the one in love with him.
Help me take my mind off it before I break down again. Explain why Sem was assigned as the head of security today. Surely there are other Mynders as talented as him who aren’t so emotionally connected to what happened.
Gren rose and headed to the water closet, bringing his Mynder uniform with him since he didn’t have a changing room. I don’t know the full reason Vycor chose Sem. I only know that Sem thought himself in love with you, and when Ty…well, when Sem found out what his cousin had been convicted of, he was so distraught that he didn’t stop to think that Ty might have been influenced.
But Sem must have seen the same thing you did at the trial, right? she reasoned. Why didn’t he reason it out like you did?
Sem wasn’t there. He was held in the palace prison during Ty’s trial because he conveyed thoughts that led the Inquisitors to believe that he intended to help Ty escape.
Their connection closed as Gren got changed. Kyr rose and reached for her swords, which she had removed to be more comfortable in the bed. Gren had helped her cut slits in the sides of the dress so she could access the swords easier. The scarf tied around her waist hid the slits well enough.
While she armed herself, she thought of Sem. His reaction to her death filled her with sadness. She hadn’t really thought about how her friends and family—well, her Kyndred—must be feeling right now.
It also broke her heart that even one member of Ty’s family had turned so thoroughly against him at such a devastating time. Ty had to be feeling defeated and alone. She knew she would be if it was her.
Why couldn’t it have been her?
She would have done anything to spare Ty what he had been forced to endure. The sharp blade of guilt twisted in her heart as she thought again of how she had seduced him even though he warned her it was too risky. Because of her, he had suffered a fate worse than death.
Enough of that now, Gren censured gently, emerging from the water closet in his Mynder uniform. He stopped in front of her and brushed away a tear that had escaped. Ty wouldn’t have taken that risk if he didn’t want to.
His compassion made her control slip. What started as a single tear soon escalated into an all-out sobfest again his chest. He didn’t say anything. He just held her until she had wrung herself dry.
Feel better? he thought as she mopped at her eyes.
Not really. I won’t feel better until I find Ty and kick Vycor’s ass.
Hold onto that thought. It’s time to get up-close and personal with the Advisor.
A tremor of anxiety had Kyr’s heart thudding heavily, but she silently agreed with him. She was more than ready to take the next step to get to Ty.
We need to do something about those eyes of yours, Gren thought. We’d better make a stop on the way to find Sem.
She nodded. He scouted the hallway to make sure no one was around. Once he gave her the go-ahead, she slipped out of his chambers behind him. As she had done on the way to his chambers, she remained several feet behind him, as though they just happened to be traveling in the same direction.
You were worried about monitoring. How do you know they aren’t able to see us? she wondered.
Technology is sparse around here. After the AI revolution, most tech was destroyed. There aren’t any resources to create visual scanners outside of those used on spacecraft.
But they can create audio ones?
Sure. All you really need is a funnel and a ventilation system. Sound carries really well.
Her questions ceased as Gren silently told her to wait. He entered a room, was gone for a minute or two, and returned with a pair of tinted eyeshades. She automatically put them on when he handed them to her.
Won’t I look odd wearing these indoors? she asked.
No. The fallout after the AI revolution caused a genetic mutation in many Alametrians. These eyeshades allow those with the defect to see without being in pain. Hopefully the Herte I just stole these from doesn’t notice they’re missing right away.
She continued walking behind him, still keeping her head bowed to maintain her Wrym disguise. It was sad that she didn’t know about something as significant as the genetic mutation Gren mentioned. She had noticed the eyewear on some of the Alametrians walking in and out of the palace from her view from the garden, but she had thought they were worn for reasons similar to those on Earth.
Maybe she should try focusing more on the world around her instead of just her own little circle, she mused as they reached a more populated part of the palace. With that in mind, she began scanning some of the thoughts and feelings around her.
Emotions were all over the place. In general, she was overcome by deep mourning, so much so that she had to rein in her abilities so the feeling didn’t overwhelm her. She couldn’t help but be touched, even though she understood that the people weren’t necessarily mourning the loss of her, but the loss of the future they had believed she would bring them.
Others were frightened. They knew big changes were ahead, and they were worried about the unknown. She could hardly blame them. The future scared her, too. She wished she could alleviate their fears by announcing her survival, but she knew she had to bide her time until she learned what Vycor had planned.
This would be so much simpler if they could just eliminate Vycor and be done with it. The urge to obliterate him nearly overwhelmed her. Until they knew what he had done with Ty and what wheels he had already set in motion, though, she knew they would just be shooting themselves in the feet if they did.
Stay over there in that corner, Gren thought, distracting her.
She moved to obey. Her gaze followed him as he approached a group of Mynders standing by an unmarked door. Sem stood in front of the Mynders, issuing orders. She noticed that unlike the other Mynders, Sem wore the same black armor that Gren and Ty wore. She’d never seen him wear it before. It must be an indicator of his current position, she guessed.
Gren spoke with Sem, but she didn’t listen in on what he said. After a moment, Sem gave Gren a brisk nod and turned to follow him in her direction. Since she couldn’t read Sem’s expression, she tapped into his thoughts. He was puzzled that Gren had addressed him, and irritated that Gren had interrupted him as he spoke to the Mynders under his supervision.
She also felt another’s influence on his mind.
It was so noticeable that it made her gasp. There were dark places in his mind…areas of confusion and definite influence. She had a sudden image of Sem strapped to a chair in the palace prison, fighting to escape as Vycor and the Inquisitors descended.
Furious for her friend, she pulled forth her abilities and blocked anyone from his thoughts. She waited until he had stopped in front of her and then removed the eyeshades. Her power surged as she sent him calming thoughts so that he didn’t alert anyone who might be watching.
What the hell? he thought when he met her gaze.
It’s me, Sem.
She took his hand and conveyed the memory of waking up in the death box. Despite her attempts to calm him, his eyes grew gradually wider. After a moment, she released him.
He grabbed her arm without speaking and led her around the bend of a nearby hallway. His urgency made her think that he wanted to have a private conversation. When they reached what appeared to be a small meeting room, he tugged her inside.
Then he whirled her around, yanked her up against him, and pressed his lips against hers.
Chapter 24
“If so many of you were wrongly convicted, why haven’t you addressed this with the Vawn as a group?” Ty asked.
Orran snorted as he swallowed his last bite of jerky. “Ya really are a freshy if yer askin’ that question.”
“I think we’ve all established that I’m a ‘freshy,’” Ty said tersely. “I wouldn’t be asking otherwise.”
“Get yer head outta yer arse, Orran,” Barto declared when Orran glared and leaned in Ty’s direction. “He could kill ya where ya sit, ya daft idiot. It’s what he’s trained for.”
“Then maybe he wasn’t influenced,” Orran asserted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe he killed her because—”
Ty got to his feet. Orran stopped talking. His throat worked as he swallowed whatever else he’d been about to say.
“Sit back down, lad,” Barto said, waving Ty back to his seat. “As ya can tell, Orran here ain’t all that bright. Surprised that mouth of his ain’t gotten him killed yet, truth be told.”
Ty sat back down. He looked pointedly at Barto.
“The reason no one has gone ta the Vawn is that we can’t,” Barto explained. “There are protections in place against it. Once a convict is dropped off in the Dark Lands, they can’t ever find their way out again.”
Barto’s explanation tugged at Ty’s memory. He had learned about banishment early in his Mynder studies. The safeguards Barto mentioned were meant to protect the megais from possible invasion by Outcasts. A number of the inhabitants of the Dane megai were responsible for supporting those defenses. He wasn’t entirely sure what the protections entailed, but he recalled there being a mix of mental and physical deterrents.
When he’d had all of his abilities intact, he might have been able to find a way through those protections. But now, without even the ability to read minds, he knew he’d have no more success than any other Outcast.
In the back of his mind, he’d harbored the hope of at least making his way back to his family in the Dane megai. No matter what had happened, he knew his mother would at least listen to him. She might have been able to help him come up with a plan to prove his innocence and avenge
Kyr.
Now, he knew he was truly on his own.
Shaking off the thought, he asked, “If the protections are so effective, how are people still communicating with the palace?”
Barto turned his dark gaze to Hope. “I think we need ta have a conversation, female. Ya seem ta have lost all yer damn sense.”
“She didn’t tell me anything,” Ty lied. He was tired of Barto’s threats, which he suspected the guy would follow through on based on Hope’s terrified expression. “I lived in the palace. We heard things.”
Hope sent him a grateful look before she turned her focus to the piece of jerky she held.
“Ah,” Barto said, nodding as though he’d already come to that conclusion. “Well, then, ya’ve confirmed what many in the Dark Lands believe. There’s a direct connection ‘tween this shitehole and the Vawn palace.”
“It’s a rumor on the palace side, too. Why does everyone here believe it?”
“Easy,” Barto answered. “We know too damn much out here. News of the Ascendant’s murder—er, beggin’ yer pardon.”
Ty knew he had flinched. He also knew Barto had been looking for it. Meeting the other man’s gaze, Ty silently let him know that he was walking on dangerous ground.
Out loud, he said, “It’s fine.”
They both knew it wasn’t.
Barto cleared his throat before continuing. “As I was sayin’, news from the palace reaches even the outskirts of the Dark Lands much too quickly for there not ta be a connection. The news comes on the regular, too. Seems likely that someone here is communicatin’ with someone there.”
“But you don’t know where the information originates?” Ty asked.
“No. We usually get our info from the Growers, who get it from the Tinkers, who get it from the Peace Keepers, who get it from Yen-Ki knows where.”
Ty considered this. Was it a single individual here in the Dark Lands communicating with the palace? Or was it a group, such as the Marauders? Did the information flow two ways? If so…
“Why would anyone in the palace need or want to communicate with us out here?” he asked, mostly to himself.
