MindMage: BlackWing Pirates, Book 2

by Connie Suttle

  "You think we can work with where he's sending information? Tap into the comp system and see where it goes?" Travis asked.

  "We can try that, but we risk losing the connection," Wyatt advised.

  "Is that a bad thing?" Dori asked. "If we treat this as system maintenance, it's easily explainable."

  "We have nothing now—what do we have to lose? Plus, if Cleaster gets found out by routine maintenance, then we have an excuse for sticking him in the pokey," Trent said.

  "I'll hand this to Dad and Jett—they'll make the final decision," Wyatt said. "Here we are; the others are already here."

  Dori

  When Wyatt said the others were already here, I knew Cori and Marco were in the meeting room, waiting for our arrival.

  Cori would get to see Randl before she thought she would. Perhaps we could still have dinner after the meeting—provided it didn't last forever and we were still awake.

  Four chairs waited for us at the huge table, near where Teeg sat. He wanted Randl close, that was evident.

  I saw Marco and Cori farther down. Both saw Randl at the same time.

  This is him? Marco spoke first, and his mental voice wasn't complimentary. Dorilou, he's fucking blind.

  Chapter Nine

  Security Meeting, Founder's Palace, Campiaa

  Randl

  "We'll run a maintenance check on the comp system," Jett agreed with our assessment. "And we'll fabricate a reason to arrest Leech if we can't pinpoint this problem."

  I was only half-listening to his words; I'd found Dori's sister Cori, and Cori's husband, Marco, sitting at the table. They were co-Captains of BlackWing VIII and Marco's opinion of a blind man as Dori's love interest was less than complimentary.

  Sal, I expected more from your brother, I sent mindspeech.

  Marco? What's he got to do with anything?

  So far, he's called me fucking blind in mindspeech and scolded Dori for being interested, I replied.

  Fucking hell, Sal swore. Do you want me to set him straight?

  No, I'll handle it.

  So—you and Dori. I'll be honest, I did not see that coming, he said. She's, well, she's shied away from serious relationships for a really long time. I may be partly to blame.

  Sal sounded sheepish, and he never sounded like that.

  It hasn't reached the serious stage, I said. I'm letting her set the pace—because she's still unsure of her footing in this.

  Plus, there's the whole Captain-lesser being thing, Sal added.

  That, too. Look, I have to go, they're about to ask questions.

  See ya.

  "In addition to other measures we're putting in place," Teeg said, "we need a way to infiltrate the logging industry conference, and someone who can fit in who won't be suspected."

  "Can we send in an outside gambler—somebody who can keep an eye on those people?" Amos Thompson, Captain of BlackWing I, asked.

  "Who will we send?" Teeg asked. "It'll have to be one of ours to do any good at all, and I worry they'll be refused a room because the conference has pretty much filled up the Eclipse Casino's entire hotel."

  "Then send in a big spender, with a retinue who can do spy work," someone else suggested.

  "We don't have any recognizable names, in case you haven't noticed, and it would have to be a recognizable name to get into one of the tower penthouses, because those rooms are pretty much all that's left."

  "Zanfield Staggs," Wyatt said.

  "Seriously?" Teeg blinked at his son. "Zanfield is as eccentric as they come. Even if we could dress somebody up like that kooky bastard, we'd have make sure the real Zanfield didn't show up and blow everything straight to hell."

  "I think I can convince the real Zanfield that we need his help," Wyatt said. "You know how he loves to play dress-up. How many times have you seen him in a fake ASD uniform?"

  "He can only get away with that here, because CSD uniforms are different," Jett pointed out. "If he impersonated one of my agents, I'd have him arrested."

  "Funny, that's what I say every time he comes to Casino City on Le-Ath Veronis, dressed as a CSD agent," Kooper said.

  "You think you can convince him to cooperate?" Teeg asked Wyatt.

  "If I can't, I can take Terrett with me."

  "Now there's a thought," Kooper pointed a finger at Wyatt. "Take Terrett anyway. This is too important to let go of the idea, and Eclipse will fall over itself if Zanfield makes a reservation."

  "They'll give him the room for free, just for showing up," Wyatt said. "We only need to copy his tendency to win occasional big jackpots."

  "And find a costume and a retinue and an interesting way to arrive," Teeg nodded. "Wyatt, see if you can make an appointment with Zanfield between now and when Conclave starts."

  "I'll get it done," Wyatt agreed. "What's next?"

  "How about a late dinner at the Sandswept Casino?" Wyatt asked me later, as the meeting was breaking up. Dori stood next to me, waiting for me to say yes.

  She wanted to introduce me to her sister. It wasn't difficult to tell she was angry with Marco, who'd made disparaging remarks about my blindness in mindspeech.

  Except for the few times Teeg had deferred to me on matters concerning the Prophet, Marco had no clue that only my eyes were sightless.

  "Anything will be fine," I agreed. "Dori's hungry."

  "Are we going out?" Cori arrived with Marco, her arm linked with his.

  "Sandswept Casino," Wyatt said. "I can get us there, and into their best restaurant."

  "Then let's go," Cori smiled. "Marco is about to cave in."

  "Hello, Cori," I held out my hand to her. "Marco," I nodded to him.

  "Has Dori been talking about us?" Cori asked, taking my hand for a shake before letting it go.

  "No," I said. "Nothing other than she wanted us to meet."

  "Be careful, Randl probably knows the color of your underwear by now," Wyatt teased.

  "What?" Cori took a step back.

  "What I'm saying is that he's a clairvoyant, and can pretty much see whatever he wants, including your images. He sees with his mind," Wyatt tapped his temple. "If you think he's really blind, then you are very wrong."

  "See—I'm not so fucking blind after all," I turned to Marco.

  "Holy shit," Marco sighed.

  "You're the one who killed the mutated Ra'Ak on Bornelus with a ranos rifle," Cori breathed. We sat at a corner table in Sandswept's best restaurant with Wyatt, who'd used his influence as the Founder's son to get us in.

  "I wasn't there, but I wish I'd seen it," Dori said. "I heard the story, but nobody ever said who'd done it."

  "Well-kept secret," Wyatt said and sipped his wine. "Kooper keeps most of that information quiet. The Prophet, you know."

  "We can keep secrets," Marco growled.

  "Look, we got off on a bad note," I said. "Can we call a truce?"

  "Marco, you owe me," Dori huffed. "Be a decent person, all right?"

  "Fine. I'm just trying to look after Cori's baby sister," he held up both hands.

  "Cori's baby sister is a ship Captain, and gets to make up her own mind," Dori said.

  "Look, if it makes you feel any better, Dori's in charge, here," I said. "Nothing happens without her say-so."

  "I just want to know she's safe," Marco said.

  "Marco," Cori scolded him.

  "She'll be fine," I said.

  "I'll be fine," Dori echoed my words and glared at Marco.

  "Well, as potential family gatherings go, this one is a near-disaster," Wyatt said. "Look, I'd trust Randl with my life. Dori probably does, too, although after I saw the bar fight on Pyrik, I'd say Dori seldom needs saving. Shall we? It's time I took you to the mountain retreat so you can find a place to sleep."

  King Rylend's Mountain Retreat, Campiaa

  Travis

  Sabrina sat between Trent and me. We'd chosen a wide chaise on the front porch of the cabin, although the porch would hold two normal cabins on its own. The cabin steps were cleared
of snow, but deep, white powder lay across the yard—deep enough to reach the tops of my boots. Snow had begun to fall again in quiet, large flakes, dusting cleared spaces like powdered sugar on sweetcakes.

  We were content to watch the flakes fall from our covered space on the porch, although it was very cold where we were. An occasional, icy breeze lifted a dusting of snow and spread it across the eastern end of the cabin, where a drift almost chin-high had already formed.

  Below us, the lights of the ski slopes twinkled. Far below those lights lay the crescent-shaped capital city of Campiaa, which looked like stars floating on a calm lake from our vantage point.

  "Cold?" Trent wrapped the padded jacket Sabrina wore closer about her. Where we were, it was freezing. In Campiaa City far below, the weather would be fine and warm enough for lying on the beach when the sun was out.

  So far, Randl, Wyatt, Dori and Dori's sister and brother-in-law hadn't arrived. They'd gone to dinner, but I hadn't missed seeing the tension that developed quickly between Marco and Randl.

  We didn't need dissension in the ranks, as Kooper would put it. Perhaps Marco saw himself in a protective role for Dori, when nothing of the kind was needed—especially where Randl was concerned.

  "We're here," Wyatt announced as he and the others appeared on the porch not far away.

  "About time," I drawled.

  "Has Jayna gone to bed?" Wyatt asked. I wasn't surprised that he'd ask about her—he'd been on and off the ship several times and hadn't gotten to see her.

  "I think she said she was going to bed to read," Sabrina said.

  "Good." I caught the flash of Wyatt's smile before his boots scuffed across the polished wood porch, heading for the door.

  "Do we have assigned rooms?" Marco asked.

  "There's a comp-vid with a layout on the kitchen table," I said.

  "Thanks." I turned to watch Marco and Cori follow Wyatt into the house.

  "It's so peaceful here." Randl wasn't looking at the door; he studied the falling snowflakes and the view below with an audible sigh.

  Dori, standing beside him, slipped her arm through his and wrapped fingers around his forearm.

  "You cold?" He smiled down at her.

  "A little."

  "I can fix that."

  The porch was suddenly flooded with warmth. It wasn't too hot; it was just enough to convince us to take off our jackets after a few moments. The snowflakes that were blown onto the porch by an errant wind were unaffected, however, and continued to pile up on the porch, as if the warm air were held back specifically from each one.

  "I'm not even going to ask," Trent grinned and tossed his jacket onto a nearby chair.

  "Probably just as well," Randl replied before leaning down to kiss the top of Dori's head.

  Randl

  I was awake early the next morning, and found Travis sitting at the kitchen table nursing a mug of Falchani black. He wore his frustration well; most people would never see it.

  I saw it.

  He and Trent were having difficulty with the mute on their affections for Sabrina. It was also impossible for Sabrina to hide her naked desire and love for both of them.

  This was a collision course, with fireworks at the end of it.

  "Tell me," Travis said as I pulled a mug from the cabinet and went about making tea for myself.

  "Tell you what?" I asked. I could almost predict his question, even with my back turned toward him.

  "Who awakened your wizard abilities? Who trained you to use them."

  "Strange that you'd ask that question now," I said, setting my cup beneath the tea maker and tapping the button. He'd held it back from me, after Kooper ordered him to find an answer. I imagined—perhaps wrongly—that he considered it an imposition on our friendship and refused the order.

  "It's not strange at all," he insisted. "Every wizard, witch or warlock has to have someone awaken their power, or it lies dormant."

  "I have a question for you," I said. I set my mug of tea on the table and pulled the chair out across from his.

  "Mine first," he said.

  I settled onto my chair, pulling it forward and scraping legs across the stone floor. "My question is connected to yours—in a way," I said.

  "All right, I'll bite. What's your question?"

  "Who did that for the Prophet?"

  Travis leaned back in his chair, but his dark eyes never left mine. "I have no idea," he finally admitted. "Who did yours?"

  "I did. Oh, Zaria pointed me in the right direction, but I did it myself," I held up a hand to fend off more questions.

  "But no wizard or warlock can do that," he blew out a breath.

  "Who said I'm a wizard or warlock?"

  "What about the Prophet, then?"

  "I've already called him a sorcerer with a penchant for necromancy. I stand by that."

  "Are you a sorcerer?"

  "I think I prefer the term mage."

  "Why?"

  "Because I believe a mage would think before he acted, while a sorcerer may not. A mage may have the common good as his goal. A sorcerer may not."

  "I think I'd like to discuss this with Ry or Bel—with your permission and when you're present," Travis said. "I'm not sure what they'll say about this, or what their definition of what you are will be."

  "Am I something that has to be categorized to keep everyone happy?" I asked. "Are you questioning my motives, if I don't fit neatly into an accepted definition?"

  "No," he held up a hand. "Not at all, and I sure didn't mean to upset you. It's just that after last night—damn, man, that would take anybody ten years to learn how to do properly—to get the proper temperature and hold it within a set of specifications, to allow the snowflakes to fall through it unharmed. Did somebody teach you that?"

  "No. I did it myself."

  "I don't understand this," Travis massaged his forehead.

  "Look, if it will make you happy, and by extension, make Kooper happy, because I see him behind this, I'll talk with King Rylend and Prince Bel."

  "Kooper was here earlier; that's why I'm up before you."

  "I will say this," I said, ignoring his last remark because I knew it already, "I dislike people discussing me behind my back. You should know better, because I'll see it every time." I folded space to get away from the tension that had developed between Travis and me.

  Founder's Palace

  Wyatt

  "We have an appointment with Zanfield Staggs," I informed Dad.

  "We arrested Cleaster Leech last night," Dad countered. "We found irregularities in his reporting, but before we could follow the information trail back to the Prophet, it disappeared without a trace."

  "Charged with dereliction of duty?" I asked.

  "And conspiring to release classified information, plus half a dozen other things," Dad confirmed. "When are you and Terrett meeting with Staggs?"

  "He invited us to lunch."

  "I hope you don't end up eating toasted insects or something," Dad teased.

  "I've never heard of him ordering food that strange and exotic," I pointed out.

  "There's a first time for everything."

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

  "I didn't intend to."

  "How about I stay here and run the planet, while you go talk to Staggs and eat bugs?"

  "No way."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I'm your dad," he grinned.

  "Right. Play the Dad card."

  "Have fun with Staggs, Son."

  "Right."

  Mountain Retreat

  Travis

  He disappeared and hasn't come back, I informed Kooper.

  What the hell happened?

  I probably messed this up, somehow, and made it sound like you and I don't trust him or what he can do.

  Kooper swore. I just wanted to know where he learned all that. He slid right past my shield when he showed up at New Fangled. Somebody had to teach him how to do that—or that's what I thought.
/>
  I already talked to Bel Erland. He consulted with his grandfather, and neither of them have ever heard of somebody learning this on their own.

  "What if it's in his DNA?"

  Zaria's sudden appearance made me jump. Somehow, she'd gotten the message to Kooper, too, because he folded onto the cabin porch to join us.

  "What the fuck are you talking about?" Kooper half-shouted at Zaria, before reeling his anger in. Zaria wasn't someone you could fly off the handle with, as Mom would say.

  "Tell me, Master Lion Snake, how the Larentii come to their power? They're born with enough to destroy an entire galaxy, you know." Zaria's eyes narrowed at Kooper, who ducked his head. He didn't have an answer and she knew it.

  "Well, my work here is done," she turned a frown in my direction, next.

  "Sorry," I apologized to empty air; Zaria was already gone.

  Randl

  I'd never walked a beach before. This one served double duty, as I had some anger to wash away. With shoes and socks in both hands and my pants rolled up, I stepped through the surf and considered my place in the universes and the ASD.

  Where are you?

  Dori's mental voice was terrified.

  Walking the beach, I replied and sent an image with my words.

  Thank goodness. When I heard you'd disappeared, it scared me.

  I'm fine, I told her. I'm sorry I worried you. I'll be back shortly, after I work through a few issues.

  Marco didn't get to you, did he?

  No, Marco had nothing to do with this. Neither did you.

  Will you tell me?

  Maybe sometime. Not now.

  Because you're upset about whatever it is.

  Yes.

  Why won't you tell me now?

  Because I've seen you shred somebody, remember?

  So, you're protecting them, not me.

  Possibly.

  It's probably a good thing we're not together right now, she informed me.

  Why?

  Because I'd be kissing you again.

  The woes of being an underling, I lamented.

  You make me laugh, Randl Gage, she said.

  Glad to be of service, I replied.