MindRogue

by Connie Suttle

  "My son will be educated with them?" Cheel's hopes had risen. On Gis, only the more fortunate were educated. Cheel's mother had taught him, because she'd once been of that class. After she died, Cheel worked long hours and had barely taught his son to read.

  "I think your son will receive a fine education," I assured him.

  "Then I'm willing."

  "Good. Come now, we will collect your son," Opal coaxed. She, Kell and Cheel disappeared. I blew out a long breath.

  "What do you think will happen to the obsessed ones?" Travis asked.

  "I don't know, yet. I have no idea how much Jett will have to tell the Governor to convince him to let him take them off the planet—for its own safety. Cheel consented—and that was the only obstacle we had to overcome. At least they have permission by law to leave Gis if they wish to. With an obsession, we can't rely on their permission being their own."

  "And if they're ordered to kill their neighbors, no choice there, either," Mak snorted.

  "Ready to go to the shipyard, or what's left of it?" Travis asked.

  "Yeah. Let's go. Perri?" I turned to her. "We'll set down at the perimeter. You tell us if you sense warlock interference, or a spell left behind to harm anyone who comes looking. I'm not sure there's a spell still in place, since that would be a waste of a warlock's talents after they already destroyed it, but it never hurts to check. Vik, if you'll transport her," I nodded to him.

  If a spell had been left behind to destroy a witch or warlock, then he'd keep her safe while she did her scenting routine.

  "On it," Vik said.

  "Ready?" I asked the others. After Travis' nod, I folded space while Vik skipped to the crime scene.

  "Nothing so far," Perri reported as we took careful steps toward the ruin that once was an enormous scrapyard. Once I knew more about hidden spells, I'd place my hands on a broken wall to see whether I could tell what was taken by Mebbers.

  My mind was on that when Perri drew an audible breath and froze.

  "What?" I asked quickly. Everyone else had stopped in their tracks the moment Perri did. Vik, standing beside her, cast a questioning look in my direction, silently asking me if I knew what the trouble was.

  I could see why he wanted that information; Perri was now visibly shaking.

  "Perri," I said. "Tell us." My mindsight was already seeing her fears, however. She'd come across the remnants of a spell.

  Placed by her father.

  We know who her parents work for—and her uncle, I sent to Vik and Travis. She sensed a spent spell of her father's, I added.

  Fucking hells, Vik swore.

  Take her back to the ship, I said. I think I can handle this from here.

  Vik disappeared with Perri, while Mak, Jak and Travis drew closer to me.

  BlackWing XIII

  Perri

  "What happened?" Dori asked when we arrived in the galley. Vik had contacted people on the ship and several were waiting for us. I didn't appreciate that. I didn't want Dori to see me so weak. Or David or Miz or—Zanfield.

  "We found out that her father is one of Mebbers' warlocks," Vik's voice sounded rough and angry as he set me down. I was shaking so hard, I could no longer control myself. Deep down, embarrassment warred with my shock and fear.

  "We need to get her to the infirmary," Dori snapped.

  "No," Zanfield said. "I don't think she wants that."

  "I don't," I stuttered through chattering teeth.

  "Then what do you suggest?" Dori almost shouted at Zanfield.

  "I need a blanket," Zanfield sounded calm as he approached me. "Now, while they're searching for that, it's time for you to sit," he said firmly, pulling me toward a chair. Sitting down sounded like a good idea, until he sat down first, pulled me onto his lap and wrapped his arms tightly about me.

  "They're not worth it," he whispered against my hair. "Never have been, never will be. Gerrett is bringing something warm to drink, and Dori's gone for a blanket," he soothed. "You just got rattled by the surprise," he went on. "This happens, sometimes. Nothing to worry about."

  He understood as well as I did that wherever my father was, my mother and uncle were, too. I think that troubled me more than anything—that Uncle Alken was with my parents, and they'd done nothing about him harming me—or Pauley.

  "Shhhh, don't think about it," Zanfield murmured. "They can't hurt you here."

  Had I already embarrassed myself? I made it worse by wrapping my arms around Zanfield's neck and sobbing.

  Randl

  "I'll touch this wall," I said, reaching out to the broken concrete.

  "Randl," Travis warned. Yes, I was aware that the Prophet could have his disease in any concrete anywhere.

  We were about to find out if that were true here. "I don't feel his taint," I said. "But we can't discount any possibility. Trav, put a shield around my bodyguards."

  I felt it when Travis' shield replaced mine around Mak and Jak; I was now on my own if anything went wrong. There was a possibility of an unexpected trip into split-time, too, but I didn't want to add that to the equation.

  Stretching out a hand, I let it rest on the smoothest part of the broken wall. The visions came immediately.

  Kooper paced inside my office, while Travis stood nearby. I'd sent Mak and Jak to the galley for a meal—they were starving after my prolonged bout of visions at the ruined shipyard.

  "Six hulls?" Kooper stopped to stare at me for the third time.

  "And at least four engines which could be repaired to drive them," I said. "Plenty of other things were taken, too, including used solar drive crystals, although they're the old ones and prone to draining faster than the newer kind."

  "They're in Mebbers' hands for the time being," Travis offered. "The Prophet doesn't have them yet, I don't think."

  "Then we need to find Mebbers," Kooper growled. "Before the Prophet does."

  "Too bad Mebbers didn't leave anything behind for us to examine, or anyone that we could question," I said.

  "What?" Kooper had taken three steps into another bout of pacing, only to stop short at my words.

  I saw it, then.

  We had the shipyard's owner—his body, anyway. I had no idea whether that would give us the information we wanted, but it was a start. "What about the dinner—was it held at the shipyard?"

  "No—at the owner's home," Kooper said. "Come on, we have things to do," he snapped. Before Travis and I could argue, he'd folded us back to Gis.

  "At least there's no taint from the Prophet," I said as we studied the owner's body on a metal table. The head had been removed, courtesy of Stone Wicke, and lay at one end, near the neck. Blood had been washed away from the severed parts; seeing that on an empty stomach could have precipitated dry heaves. Stone wasn't neat about his work, and he'd made this death as painful as he could.

  "It's a good way to get the employees to hand over whatever Mebbers wanted, I suppose." Travis shook his head at the grisly remains.

  "Nothing on where Mebbers is located?" Kooper frowned at me.

  "Nothing, Director."

  "Then we'll go to the scene of the crime." Once again, he folded us away.

  "Nice place," Travis looked about him. "Looks like junk pays well."

  It did—the home was large and lavish—three stories of it, with a grand entrance and wide, curved steps leading upward.

  "He wasn't held to the Alliance standards of pricing," Kooper grunted. "Let's go to the dining hall. I want information," he said, his eyes narrowing at me.

  "If there's anything to find," I held up a hand. "I'll let you tap into what I see," I added. That way, he couldn't accuse me of holding anything back.

  I turned to follow Kooper as he strode to the left, toward a wide doorway that led into another room, and then another after that, before we reached the formal dining hall. Chaos had happened here—that was evident. Several chairs were overturned as some guests attempted to flee.

  "At least most of it's intact," I said, surveying the dining
table. Blood stained the floor at one end of it—no guesswork involved as to whom it belonged to. Plates of smelly, congealing food lined both sides, still, and markers set out by the local police remained in place.

  I studied the scene for a few moments, deciding what I wanted to put my hand on and where. Eventually, I chose the end where the blood left a dark stain on the Serendaan carpet, and laid a hand on the edge of the table.

  I heard Kooper's intake of breath as he saw what I did—the last dinner held at this table.

  Travis

  I was included in Randl's visions. There we were, silent, invisible witnesses to Mebbers' latest murder at a dinner party.

  I watched as the shipyard owner lifted a glass of wine to Mebbers, who sat at the opposite end of the table. Nearby, Stone Wicke sat, watching both men surreptitiously. He waited for a signal from Mebbers—I understood that much. We were about to watch the owner be relieved of his head in a torturous way.

  "Give me the ships you have. I'll ensure you are rewarded later," Mebbers nodded to the owner. I knew—as did the owner, that Mebbers' words were insincere.

  "Nothing leaves my business without payment first," the owner countered. "I'll give you a very good deal, sir, I assure you."

  "But that's not what I want," Mebbers said. "Try harder to see my way in this."

  "I cannot. I have employees and taxes to pay," the owner snapped.

  "Well, then, I suppose I'll have to consider things while I taste the wine."

  That was Stone's signal, apparently, because what followed had people running and screaming as the owner's head was sawed off by a warlock's power, and the victim screamed as long as he could before his throat was severed and gurgling was the only sound made past that.

  It was ugly, unnecessary, and bloody. Another warlock, followed by a witch, went after fleeing guests. Those guests died or were coerced elsewhere; their blood wasn't on the floor like their employer's was.

  Cheel ran the moment the carnage began; he'd been standing by the servant's entrance, waiting to refill wine glasses. He'd been lucky, too—he'd escaped, running in the opposite direction from the others. That had saved his life and kept him from being obsessed.

  Randl, though, wasn't watching or listening to the owner after a while. Instead, he watched Stone Wicke carefully.

  Abruptly, the vision stopped, and we found ourselves back in the dining room as it was, now, where the stench of rotting food was suddenly more apparent.

  Without hesitation, Randl walked straight to the plate that Stone Wicke had eaten from, and slapped his hand on the remaining food. Kooper almost jumped as the delicate plate rang in protest at the assault.

  Randl, when he turned toward Kooper and me, had stars in his eyes. "Mebbers is on A'pelur," he stated, his voice low and deep, like that of a bourdon bell.

  "Where on A'pelur?" Kooper demanded.

  "I don't know," Randl was back to himself. "I'm not sure it has a name."

  Queen's Palace, Le-Ath Veronis

  Lissa

  "I saw it, Mom. I don't know whether Kooper registered it or not, but it was there." Travis had gotten away for a short visit, telling me he had news.

  "This is interesting," I agreed. For now, the only ones I'd seen whose eyes had filled with stars were the Mighty and a few others in the Hierarchy—it was an indication of power.

  "Should I put it in a report?" he asked.

  "No. Honey, I think this is important, that we keep this to ourselves for now. You can tell your brother, but nobody else, understand? That means not discussing it with Randl, too."

  "I can do that."

  "Good. Are you hungry?" I knew he was, he just hadn't said anything.

  "I could eat."

  I wanted to laugh. Instead, I folded him to the kitchen to get him a plate of food.

  BlackWing XIII

  Randl

  "Jett barely managed to convince the Governor to release those obsessed employees to him," I told Dori as I wolfed down food in the galley.

  "We've set a course for A'pelur," she told me. "It'll take four days. I hope we get there before the Prophet does."

  "I may go hunting before the ships arrive," I said, before biting into a roll dripping with butter. Gerrett had a magic touch when it came to baking bread, in my opinion.

  "You better take somebody with you," she warned.

  "I'll take Vik," I said.

  "What about the coins?"

  "I'll do one more tomorrow, and then turn my sights on A'pelur."

  "Has Kooper agreed to this?"

  "Haven't asked him. How's Perri doing?"

  "I think she's fine. Of all the people to be able to calm her down, I'd have said Zanfield was last in that category."

  "Hmmph."

  "You know, you should keep me better informed," she pointed a finger at me. I ignored it and went after the squash casserole on my plate. I didn't explain that Zanfield had scars of his own where parents were concerned, so who better to understand the hurt and fear? No, they hadn't molested him, but he'd been neglected or punished, depending upon their mood or whim.

  When faced with those events during childhood, one either became his tormentors, or transformed himself into their opposite. Zanfield was in the latter category. He was determined never to make another suffer as he'd suffered.

  He felt strongly about Perri's treatment—by both her parents and her uncle. Thankfully, Perri had responded well to Zanfield's efforts, rather than rejecting them. I hoped it boded well for her future, convincing her to accept help when it was offered.

  "Where is she now?" I thought to ask.

  "Asleep, I think. She's in her cabin."

  "Good. Going after her parents and uncle on A'pelur won't be easy on her. I may have to talk with Kooper about keeping her out of this."

  "That—may be a good idea," Dori said after a moment's consideration. "It could end badly for any of them, and that could be a problem."

  "I believe the ASD regulations support it," I said. "If you're related to a target or a victim, you're kept out of the investigation."

  "Or in this case, the fight," Dori huffed, turning her head away.

  "You're right. Whether it's just Mebbers and his power wielders, or Mebbers and the Prophet, it'll be a fight for sure."

  "You're not making me feel better about it."

  I'm sorry, baby, I sent to her. Somebody has to do this, and that somebody is us.

  "I know." Her admission came with a weary sigh. "It would be nice to have a break from it, though."

  "I understand that." She wanted some time alone together, when neither of us had to worry about the job or someone else's health or happiness. "I'll try to make it happen, I promise."

  "Try to make it soon."

  "I'll see what I can do."

  "Want dessert?" she asked, as I scraped up the last of my food and stuffed it in my mouth.

  I nodded while chewing, so she rose from the table and headed for the cold keeper. Shortly after, I had a dish of ice cream sitting in front of me. "Want some of this?" I offered.

  "I had two bowls earlier," she waved away my offer. "Eat it—it's gishi fruit ice cream from Niff's."

  "Even better," I grinned at her and dipped my spoon into cold heaven.

  Vik

  "We don't know where Mebbers' compound is on A'pelur," Miz said. "Sabrina, Nari and Tiri will do what they can when we get close enough to orbit the planet, but there's nearly two billion in population, and it's roughly the size of Avendor, with two moons."

  Once we'd learned which planet housed Mebbers' hideout, we'd set our course for it at best possible speed. Miz, I knew, was hoping to find his sister at the end of this journey, or the Prophet, in order to locate his sister.

  He, David, Markus and I had settled inside Zanfield's cabin to discuss strategy while Randl had a private dinner with Dori. Zan's quarters were crowded with that many people, but a case of beer made everything better.

  "That's a lot of ground to cover," David said. "An
y idea where to start?"

  "I'd say start with the less populated areas," Zanfield said. "If I were a criminal, I wouldn't want the common crowd knowing anything about me. Reports get filed that way."

  "Unless he's paid off the A'pelur government," Markus suggested. "That's happened in the past. A'pelur is a Campiaan Alliance world, and they weren't always on the straight and narrow."

  "Excellent descriptive phrase," David lifted his bottle of Refizani Blue.

  "Stole it from you," Markus grinned and clinked his bottle against David's.

  "He has to be hiding behind Sirenali—or Sirenali bones," I said. "Ry and Bel Erland have already done a scrying spell, and found nothing."

  "How did they know to do that?" Miz asked.

  "I asked them to," I shrugged. "While we were waiting for Randl to get back."

  "Must be nice to just contact the Karathian King and Crown Prince and say, 'how about a scrying spell?'" Zanfield said.

  Ry is my brother, I sent to Zanfield. That's not common knowledge. I also trust that you can keep that secret?

  Does this mean Queen Lissa is also your mother?

  It does.

  That means you're also a brother to Travis and Trent. Damn, you have more connections than I do.

  I'll try not to get all puffed up about it.

  Zanfield stifled a snicker at my choice of words.

  "Do you think Sabrina can get us close to Mebbers with her new contraption?" David asked Miz.

  "It could," I broke in. "It isn't held back by Sirenali cloaking; that only works against the powerful. In this case, mundane could become quite handy."

  I didn't say what else I was thinking. After Randl slapped his hand on congealed, rotting food to divine information about Stone Wicke, perhaps he could forge a connection with Sabrina's newest technology and force it to give him answers.

  Travis had taken information to Mom about the change in Randl as he'd divined information on the warlock; she said to keep it quiet. I agreed with her. Something was happening, but I trusted Randl with my life—and the lives of everyone else aboard the BlackWing ships.