MindRogue

by Connie Suttle

  This is a mess. I rubbed my forehead. A headache was coming; I could feel it already.

  I suggest you place sensory devices, or a spell, perhaps, in case the Prophet sends someone to investigate recent events in Lee'Qee.

  That’s—a great idea, I confirmed. I'll have Erland lay a warlock's web. If anyone breaks the invisible strands, we'll know.

  Be prepared to go quickly if that happens, Nefrigar warned.

  Right. "Randl?" I spoke aloud. He turned quickly, with Vik close behind.

  "We think you should continue to examine the coins, as Director Griff instructed. We hope you will find clues as to the Prophet's involvement in this, and perhaps find information on how to locate him, too," Nefrigar said.

  "All right. At least we didn't come back exhausted, like in the past."

  "Something else that's different," I looked up at Nefrigar.

  "Very true. I will consider this, among all the other facts uncovered so far."

  "Lissa?" Winkler and Gavin folded into to the library, although Winkler was the one to speak.

  "What's wrong?" I knew immediately that something was.

  "Another family has turned on itself. Six are dead."

  "Who and where?" My heartbeat was rapid and irregular at this information.

  "It's not good news," Gavin growled. "Six members of the royal family on Ru'beq are dead, including the Crown Princess."

  T'beq, Capital City of Ru'beq

  Randl

  Vik had brought Perri, at my request. The Prophet's stink was all over the royal dining room, but that's not all we found.

  "Jiles Tamber's spell scent is here," Perri confirmed. "I feel it most strongly here." She pointed to a dish of spiced apples.

  "So the Prophet really is contaminating food and getting it onto tables," Kooper said. "Only this time, he chose his target, instead of letting the contaminated food go to a random family."

  "How do you know he chose this one?" Lissa asked. At least the bodies had been removed shortly after our arrival, but the blood and carnage remained.

  "Because we have a message," Kooper turned his comp-vid toward Lissa.

  I froze. Here it was—the one I was expecting—and dreading. The Prophet had reached out to Kooper, just as I thought he would. I waited to hear how he'd done it, and whether there was an intermediary involved.

  "Greetings," Lissa read aloud. "In exchange for information currently held by your agency on one of your most-wanted, Randl Gage, we are willing to exchange information on those responsible for recent, royal deaths. There's no name, only an electronic contact," Lissa added.

  "Which will be shut down automatically if we attempt to trace it," Kooper hissed.

  He was right—criminals had become quite adept at covering their communicative tracks. By the same token, undercover agents could conceal communications with official departments, too, so the criminal factions where they were embedded couldn't get information on the agent involved, or who they worked with, if they were discovered.

  "I suppose we have to consider what information to give him," I said. "I'll let someone else handle that."

  "I'll talk it over with Jett, Ildevar and Teeg," Kooper said. "I'll keep you informed. Go back to your ship, Commander. You have work to do."

  "Not today, you won't." Dori, hands on hips, blonde curls crackling and blue eyes blazing, glared at me when I told her what Kooper said. He wanted coins examined quickly; there were more than thirty left in the pile I was responsible for.

  "I agree," I held up a hand to circumvent the argument she'd prepared. "Not today. Vik and I've had enough for one day."

  "Good. When did you eat last?"

  "I don't remember."

  "Come with me. Gerrett will find something for you."

  Gerrett already had food waiting; Vik was eating when we arrived in the galley. David and Zanfield kept him company; both were having a beer and discussing the day's events.

  "Want to join us?" Vik invited, nodding toward empty chairs.

  "Sure."

  Gerrett arrived with a plate of food, giving me a slight frown as he put it in front of me. "I'll bring more beer," he said to the others. "Want one?" he asked Dori.

  "Yes, please. This has been a trying day."

  "Agreed." Gerrett strode away to pull beer from the cold keeper. He returned with a tray full of opened bottles, set it on one end of the table, took one for himself and sat down in the last empty chair to drink it.

  "Where do you think you went?" David asked.

  "I don't really know," I said. "The language wasn't anything we recognized, and a rogue god was there. There shouldn't be any rogue gods left anywhere during this timeline, so I think we may have gone to a now-defunct one."

  "Defunct?" Zanfield grimaced at the term I'd used.

  "As in destroyed. That's the idea I got from Mom and Nefrigar," Vik lifted his beer and emptied half the bottle in two swallows. "No longer existing," he went on, setting his empty bottle down and silently asking for another.

  Gerrett passed a bottle down the table without a word.

  "That almost happened with us," Dori said softly. "Ashe doesn't like to talk about it, but the God Wars came and went, here. I think it's happened before, and every time, the entire set of universes is destroyed and has to be constructed from scratch again. This may be the only one that survived."

  Ashe. The Mighty Hand. One of the original Three. He'd know about that, I suppose.

  "But not this time, you say?" David asked.

  "No. This time, they either destroyed the rogue gods or locked them away elsewhere, where they can't escape. Anyway, that's how I understand things. As I said, Ashe doesn't like to talk about it."

  "Does anyone else ever feel like you're still a child and the grownups are talking about things they don't want you to know about?" Zanfield asked.

  "Every fucking day," David lifted his beer. Vik clinked his bottle against David's and laughed.

  P'loxett

  V'dar

  "This is the warlock responsible for laying those spells in the scrapyards?" I studied the image of Stone Wicke on the comp-vid handed to me by my chief subordinate, Varok.

  "He works for Mebbers," Varok said. "We've learned that Mebbers is attempting to take his previous boss' place."

  "Well, as I commanded his previous boss at the end, don't you think Mebbers works for me?"

  "It may be difficult to get past the spells and shields he's placed around himself," Varok informed me. "We managed to get this information from an ah, dying associate."

  "Did we have anything to do with his death?"

  "Most certainly, my Lord."

  "All the better. No trail of information to lead back to us, then. Study this further, Varok. I wish to have a meeting with Mebbers and his ah, warlock. Soon."

  "I'll see to it, my Lord."

  "Good. It's my hope that when we receive information from the Reth Alliance concerning our enemy, Randl Gage, that we'll have a more powerful warlock at our disposal to assist us in destroying him—and taking his entire fleet of BlackWing ships."

  "Anything else, my Lord?"

  "Yes. It has come to my attention that the ground inside Lee'Qee's quarantined perimeter may have been disturbed, recently. Will you send someone to investigate and report to me?"

  "I'll go myself—with your permission. May I borrow Jiles to transport?"

  "Of course," I waved a hand magnanimously. "Soon enough, that's all he'll be good for—once we have more warlocks at our disposal."

  "In all things, you are wisest," Varok dipped his head respectfully and backed away.

  "It goes without saying," I sniffed. "Leave now. I want reports by tomorrow. Send Yurik to me before you go. I wish to speak with him."

  Founder's Palace, Campiaa

  Kooper

  "The royal family on Ru'beq is asking more questions than I can comfortably answer," I explained to Jett, Teeg and Wyatt. "The Prophet chose his target carefully, this time. I told them what I
could concerning this menace, but like everybody else, they want to know why they were singled out. They have no dealings with him or any other criminal. How do you explain that they were chosen because the Prophet wants Randl Gage, who, in all the official records, is also a wanted criminal?"

  "They'd demand that you hand over everything you have," Teeg leaned back in his chair, making it creak softly with the movement. He sat behind his desk; Jett and I sat on guest chairs, and Wyatt stood by the closed door.

  "If they ever found out that Randl works for us, they'd want your head and his, too," Wyatt said.

  "And mine," Jett snorted.

  He was right. Perhaps this was a side game the Prophet played—if he couldn't destroy Jett and me in one way, there were other ways to eliminate our threat. If certain information reached the media in both Alliances, Ildevar and Teeg would have no choice but to release us from our positions, because the populations of both Alliances would demand it.

  We played a dangerous game, holding sensitive information back from the people, but that was far better than facing mass panic everywhere.

  It's the way things have always been done, Jett sent to me. He understood my expression; he felt the same pressure. Most of the time, he handled it better, too.

  "We can't give them this information," Teeg said. "I've spoken with Ildevar, and he agrees. I understand that your positions are on the line if the people feel they've been in danger all along and have purposely been kept in the dark. This happens now and then; you both know that."

  "My problem is with being held accountable if that happens, when I've done nothing wrong," I snapped.

  "I know. Kooper, your predecessors knew the risks, too, when they accepted the job. Some handled it well; others didn't. Please don't make yourself one of the latter."

  I knew he spoke of Norian Keef, my immediate predecessor. Norian had let power go to his head, over-compensating, perhaps, for the constant pressure he felt in his work.

  "It's bad enough," Teeg went on, "that every royal family, planetary leader and so on, has now beefed up their already tight security. If the Prophet strikes any of them, how will we explain that no matter what they do, neither we nor their security forces can protect them from this menace?"

  "The only way we could do that would be to have Randl in every household, waiting for the Prophet's stench to enter it," Jett grumbled. "Which is impossible."

  BlackWing XIII

  Randl

  "I'm not sure my pay grade covers this," Vik said as he stared at the pile of coins on my desk.

  "I hear that," I agreed. "Just pick one and hold onto it while I touch it, too."

  "What if we can't get back?"

  "I've considered that," I said with a sigh. "I hope Zaria is keeping tabs," I tapped my chest where my medallion lay. "Dori has already threatened me twice, today."

  "That's never a good sign," Vik quipped. "I'm glad we're taking our blades with us, this time."

  "I thought about ranos pistols, but last time, the technology wasn't even close to their environment."

  "Blades work everywhere," Vik grinned.

  "Then pick a coin and let's get this over with."

  Avii Castle

  Quin

  "I think they might fit into New Fyris easier than most places," Lissa said. The two women Randl rescued from a long-dead world stood nearby, gaping at the view from the King's balcony. Where they'd come from, an ocean was a myth at best. They'd never seen one and had barely heard of it, too.

  Lissa had brought them to me, so I could read as much about them as possible before making a final decision on where to place them.

  "New Fyris is a mix of old and new—I agree with you," I told Lissa. "They'll do all right there, I think. Do we have anyone lined up to act as a liaison?"

  "Winkler has petitioned Amlis, so I think they'll be fostered in some way. I've asked for regular reports, too, while they're educated on Alliance laws and customs. How is Pauley doing?"

  "Eager to make up for lost time. He doesn't talk about his uncle much, though, and when he does, it upsets him."

  "No surprise. How about Charla?"

  "I think she may be on the road to conquering her fear of birds," I smiled. "She has lunch or dinner with the guards now and then."

  "That's a lot of wings to deal with," Lissa laughed.

  "It is, and they're all laughing and talking. I think she needed that—to be a part of a happier group."

  "Her mother is a piece of work," Lissa rolled her eyes. "We've placed compulsion twice for her to stop complaining about inconsequential shit."

  I wanted to laugh at her terminology. I stifled it, settling for a grin, instead. "I have to go," Lissa rose from her seat. "Drake and Drew are coming with me to deliver the women to New Fyris."

  "Good luck," I said, rising with her. "I feel sorry for them—that they have to make a new life for themselves in a strange land."

  "I'd feel sorrier for them if they'd been a Ra'Ak's dinner," Lissa snorted. "I can't say this was the best solution, but Randl did what he thought was right at the time."

  "He always does that," I agreed. "Even when I first met him on Vogeffa II, as a nine-year-old blind clairvoyant. He knew Lafe, Terrett and I were coming, somehow, and prepared his village for our arrival."

  "Why didn't we know how important he was, back then?" Lissa asked the question I'd already considered—why hadn't we seen that in him early on?

  "No matter, he's working with us, now," she smiled suddenly. "I'll let you know how things go in New Fyris."

  "Thank you." I nodded as she folded away with both women.

  Le'Vestar Limn

  "The ship is almost ready," I replied to Yurik's question. "Only two parts more to complete the engines."

  "How long?" Yurik demanded. "The Prophet wishes to—visit someone."

  "Perhaps another eight-day," I said. "The parts have to be calibrated after we manufacture them."

  "Then make it soon. Mebbers awaits a visit from his overlord."

  Mebbers.

  I recognized that name. Mebbers was a known criminal who'd disappeared in the last century. Many speculated that he'd been killed by one of the Big Three. How had he stayed hidden? Better yet, how had the Prophet found him now?

  "We will make it soon, supervisor Yurik," I dipped my head to him.

  Mae exchanged a glance with me as we watched Yurik stalk out of our workroom. We had more of our minds to work with, now, but were still no closer to making the change, which could lead to our freedom. Still, it was vital that we be allowed aboard the ship when it launched.

  Vital—for both of us.

  Alken Wilker

  Mebbers. It didn't take long for me to put it together. Since I'd come here, I'd caught whispered conversations, here and there. Conversations on how the boss liked things done.

  Less than a century ago, there were plenty of tales about him—how he liked to share a meal with those who'd crossed him, and if the tales were true, proved quite entertaining as a host before he killed them after dessert was served.

  One such dinner occurred not long after my arrival. Word of it eventually reached me, as I have sharp ears. I hadn't informed Gillen that I knew; he was still embroiled in searching for Zanfield Staggs' agents.

  Qatti was becoming impatient; Teren and Franc, Staggs' agents, had dropped out of sight and no amount of scrying would reveal them.

  So far, I'd only been asked to provide low-level spells. Gillen said it was customary, until I could prove myself trustworthy. Only once, too, had I seen Mebbers' most trusted warlock, Stone Wicke, from a distance.

  Stone did the heavy lifting, as far as spells were concerned, with help from Gillen and Qatti. They never spoke about what they'd done or where they'd gone when they went with Stone. Boss' orders, Gillen always said.

  Even my family didn't trust me. Here, too, none of the few women who worked for Mebbers were interested in me. Most walked away the moment I came close to them. Gillen warned me, too, that Mebb
ers was prone to hosting a special dinner with anyone he employed who attacked another employee—for any reason.

  The last thing anyone here wanted was to have dinner with Mebbers, and that included me. Yes, I was a warlock, but Stone was a stronger warlock. My own brother would look the other way, I'm sure, if I were targeted by the boss.

  Queen's Palace, Le-Ath Veronis

  Lissa

  I'd just returned to the palace when Erland appeared.

  "You must come," he said, urgency in his voice.

  "What is it?" I asked.

  "The warlock's web I laid over Lee'Qee has been disturbed. Someone is there, now."

  "Lead the way," I said, ignoring the fact that I was still dressed for a royal visit with the Prince of New Fyris.

  Erland folded us to Pyrik, and to the area in question. He wasn't wrong; there were three who'd come, and one of those three was Jiles Tamber.

  Kooper, I snapped, sending him images of what I was seeing.

  He didn't bother to reply; he, Kell and Opal arrived together. Erland tossed a shield around Jiles, or the Second-level warlock would have let loose with every spell he knew to keep himself from being captured.

  The other two attempted to fight Kell. That was a mistake—you don't take on an ancient vampire and expect to come out the winner. Both were unconscious in seconds—a single blow delivered to each accomplished that.

  Kell knew exactly how to throw a punch to keep his quarry alive and render them unconscious at the same time.

  "May we borrow your dungeon?" Kooper walked up to Erland and me.

  "Of course. Erland will place a power-light cage around our young warlock; wouldn't want him getting away, now would we?"

  Randl

  Do you suppose civilization is here, somewhere? Vik asked.

  We'd been walking at the edge of a forest for what felt like forever.

  I think I hear something, I said, coming to a stop and holding out a hand to keep him from walking past me.

  Above the sound of our breathing, we heard it—the low drone of chanting, coming from somewhere ahead. Again, it wasn't a language we understood, but chanting is the same, no matter where or when you are.