“I will go back to work.” Renato saluted and left. I vaguely caught his exchanged greetings with Lorne as he exited. My attention was already on the packet before me. I unfolded the waxed covering and removed the contents. “I will be right with you, Lorne,” I said without looking up. “I have news that I want to check.”
The only answer was a sharp sting in my forearm. Reflexively my fingers found the cold metal tail of a stracken dart buried in my left arm.
Help me. Lorne’s desperate sending flooded my thoughts; fear, grief, and helplessness crashed over me in a wave. Please help me. I looked up to find his stricken, black eyes regarding me over the barrel of a stracken gisto, a tool we used to subdue rebellious talents who no longer abided by the rule of the code. Rare stracken berry extract when ingested or injected into a talent’s system affected the mind’s ability to connect to the amoveo and hindered sending ability. I had moments to react before I was helpless with only my physical skills before him, a paltry defense against a trained talent no matter how weak.
Summoning every fiber of my thought strength, I sent out a mental shout like I hadn’t sent since childhood.
“I can’t control my hands.” He flung the gitso aside and with my weakening senses I felt him gathering his energy around him.
Yanking the dart from its resting place in my skin, I glanced to find the tell-tale traces of green among the red of my blood on its tip. Only half of the serum was in my system. It might not be enough, but then it might. Lorne lifted the heavy oak table that stood in the center of the room. He lifted it over his head and prepared to throw it at me. Gathering my own fading energy, I forced my mind to touch my amoveo through the cottony fog. The brown glow responded sluggishly. I flung the dart back at him with as much force as I could summon. It didn’t strike where I aimed, his neck, but much lower and to the left in his chest. I was simply content that it hit him.
Lorne hurled the table. I dove under the cover of my desk, cracking my shoulder on its edge on my way down and landing heavily on my left knee.
Blackness cloaked my energy-sight, rendering me blind to the world around me in a way that I hadn’t experienced in years. I was suddenly aware of how dependent I was on that extra clarity to interpret my surroundings beyond my limited vision capabilities. Without it, I had no idea what Lorne was doing as the massive table collided with the desk and drove it and me across the tile floor. The heavy wood sides of the desk connected with the plaster wall with a heavy thump. Dust clogged the small dark place where I had sought refuge. I struggled to breath. I thanked the Almighty that I had chosen such a sturdy piece of furniture for my office.
Help me. All-consuming pain came with Lorne’s sending.
I couldn’t see him and I could barely hear his sending through the darkness shrouding me. Then everything blanked completely and I was alone with the throbbing in my shoulder. A weak beam of light filtered in from a gap between the desk edge and the wall, but it did little to clarify what was happening beyond my cramped hiding place. Then the door to my office opened with a crash.
“Hadrian?” Renato’s terror-stricken voice cut through barrier of wood pressing down on my head. If he sent a mental query as well, I had no way of knowing.
“Here.”
“Where is he?” a new voice demanded. It took me a moment to recognize the voice of Plantonio, the defender that guarded my door.
“It sounds like he is under the desk,” Renato replied. “Who could have done this? I passed Lorne on my way out...” The table shifted on the desk.
“Yes, I saw him enter, but he wouldn’t do this. Where did he go? Oh, here he is...” The defender’s voice dropped away. I caught the sound of something being pushed aside and a gasp of horror. “Master Renato, you need to see this.”
“I will be right with you,” Renato called to me and then a moment later he was back. “Can you hear me Hadrian?”
“Yes,” I replied. “Beware of Lorne. He attacked me.”
Renato was silent for a moment before he replied. “He won’t be attacking anyone else. He is dead.”
Dead? The word resonated through my mind. He couldn’t be. There was no reason. The dart wouldn’t have killed him unless... “Is there a sign of cause of death?”
“No, nothing that I can see,” the defender’s voice replied. “I only see the gisto dart, but that shouldn’t have killed him unless it was filled with something other than stracken. Let me just pull it out and we will know.”
“Don’t touch the dart,” I cried. “I believe you are right. Leave it there. It will not do him any more harm than it already has.”
The table lifted from the desk and dropped to the floor with a crash. “What happened?” Tristan’s voice demanded as the desk was finally moved back and the afternoon light broke into my cave beneath it. He must have just arrived.
Renato’s face appeared before me, worry pulling at the features. “Are you injured?” he asked.
“A few bruises from dodging under the desk and a wrenched knee, but nothing critical.” I took his offered hand. He pulled me to my feet just as three more men arrived demanding to know who had caused their headaches. Shooting me a glance that told me that he would get his answer later, Tristan turned away to explain that a small accident had occurred and everything was under control. “I hope he remembers to apologize for me,” I commented to my assistant as he shoved a shoulder under my arm.
“You will be apologizing for days; everyone on the compound is going to be hurting for a day or two from that mental shout. Can you rest weight on it?”
I gingerly shifted pressure onto my throbbing limb and received the expected feedback. “I can move it.” I demonstrated the fact by rotating my knee. “It is just a bruising and possibly a small strain. It will heal.”
“Sept Son?” Both us looked up to find the defender standing over Lorne’s prone body. At his feet a healer was leaning over the corpse without touching it. “He wants to move the body, Master.”
“We need to begin cleaning up the mess,” the healer pointed out.
“Just be cautious when removing that dart. It should have my blood, stricken extract, and, I suspect, a poison.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Poison, Master?” His expert eyes scanned me as his energy probed my vital signs.
“I am feeling no effects, healer. Just be careful when you remove the dart.”
“You will need examining as well.” He rose and nodded to the orderlies standing a short ways off before turning to Renato. “Bring him this way.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he didn’t give me a chance. Pinning me with a sharp glare, he frowned. “And that is an order. I have watched too many men die from delayed reactions. You are not going to walk away and collapse later. Now, where is the closest place of privacy so I can examine you?”
“My office is just next door,” Renato offered.
Nodding firmly, the healer headed in that direction. Renato helped me hobble in his wake.
“IT WASN’T POISON,” Renato announced two days later. He entered my study in the early morning and planted himself before my replacement desk. “From all we can see, there was no reason for his death and we can’t check his mind.”
I looked up from the fist-thick stack of notes I had made on the changes to law that the High King was proposing to find him frowning at me.
“What do you mean?”
“Lorne attacks you, shoots you with a gisto dart, you pluck it out of your own arm and plant it into his chest. Meanwhile, he lifts a table over his head, hurls it at you, and we have no explanation when he suddenly dies.”
“A planted suicide trigger.” It was the next logical step, but it scared me to my core. The poisoned food wasn’t working so it made sense for them to try another method. Incapacitating me talent-wise and then crushing me with a piece of furniture was a crude but almost effective plan. What frightened me was the person they had used. Lorne had not been a soft man in terms of skill or strength talent-wise. Th
ere was no reason for Lorne to lose control like that. His sent plea haunted my thoughts. “I am more worried about how they got into Lorne’s head.”
“You did say that he claimed to not be in control.”
“Yes, and he pleaded for help. I want to know what they did to him and who did it, but he died with that secret locked within his head.”
Renato swallowed carefully. “What you are suggesting is...”
“Terrible, I know.” I closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair, leaving the High King’s document on the desk. “But it is possible and probable given what we do know, and so we must consider it, Renato. More importantly, we need to find a way to guard against it.”
“Satoconatus is against everything in the code. To invade the mind and plant a directive that goes against the will of the individual is unethical. Planting a suicide trigger is unheard of.”
“But we are dealing with unethical men, Renato. They have kidnapped, raped, and stripped women of their identities. They are greedy for power and control and will stop at nothing to obtain it. I cannot put it beyond them to take a man’s will and bend it to their purposes. After doing that, what is there to stop them from taking his life as well? It is not suicide. It is murder.”
Renato’s head was bowed, hands pressed to his face. Slowly he lifted his head and met my gaze with stricken eyes filling with tears. “What have they done to Blan?”
At his words my thoughts flooded with the information that Neleck had passed to me that final year of training. I, alone, among the talented knew the extent that the Elitists could go to compromise the talented and abuse the non-talented. Sharing that information wouldn’t help Renato in his grief.
“The best way you can help him is to make sure his sacrifice is meaningful.” It sounded so trite and forced. I opened my mouth to offer what comfort I could when I was interrupted by a solid knock on the outer door.
Renato rose and crossed to stand to one side of the door. As soon as he was in position, he nodded to me.
“Come,” I called as I slid my hand inside the desk drawer and curled my fingers around the hilt of a compact gisto.
The door opened to reveal a young messenger. His uniform identified him as one of the defenders-in-training. “Sept Son, sir.” He bowed his way into the room. “I was sent to fetch you. There are some beggars at the gatehouse, a young woman who is most insistent she speak to you. She refuses to speak to anyone else and she is asking for you by your full name.”
I frowned.
“What do the defenders think of her?” Renato asked.
The boy jumped and spun to face my assistant. “Master Renato, I am sorry I didn’t see you there.”
“It is fine. Just answer my question.”
“They say she has no ill intent that they can detect, but in light of the recent events they cannot be sure. Neither one of them is armed.”
“And she will only speak to the Sept Son?”
“She is most insistent. Matter of life or death.”
“I will come,” I inserted before Renato could continue his cross-examination. “Run and let them know that I am on my way.”
Bowing with an air of desperation, the lad didn’t wait for further instructions. I was willing to bet that he was going to sprint the whole way to the gatehouse. “I wonder what has gotten him so agitated.”
“Do you think this is wise?” my assistant asked as I rose.
“Renato, I am not going to hide in my study for the rest of my life, jumping at the sound of the building settling around me. I will arm myself and be prepared.” I lifted the gisto from the drawer and slipped it into the holster beneath my robes. The folds hid it effectively from sight. I reached for my cloak.
“I am going with you,” he declared. “Wait here while I go fetch my gisto.”
I closed up my office. As I turned the key in the lock, Renato returned, armed and ready to brave the winter chill to accompany me. We walked across the compound to the gatehouse in silence; each preparing our mind’s defenses for a confrontation of the worst kind. Halfway there a formation of defenders met us and fell into step on all sides. I knew that they were just trying to protect me, but I felt very conspicuous approaching the gatehouse with an escort of twelve armed defenders. Besides, my knee was throbbing and I couldn’t favor it with a hobble.
Hume greeted us at the door. The aged gatekeeper took the defenders as a matter of course and addressed me directly.
“Master, they appeared outside the front gates three hours ago. The woman asked for you by name and when I told her that you didn’t usually talk to everyone who came asking, she informed me that you would want to see her. She is a spunky little thing, reminds me of my granddaughter, Else.” We followed Hume down the narrow hall as he continued to talk. “I argued with her for a good half hour before finally sending for a defender. The whole time, the young man said not a word. He just watched her face as she talked and did what she told him.”
Renato opened his mouth to ask something, but Hume suddenly turned and gestured to an open door. “They are in here,” he said.
A defender entered first. In response to his appearance, a young woman of medium height with light brown hair rose to her feet and addressed Hume, who was just in sight through the doorway. “I already told you. I will only speak to the Ilias Durand Fidel Hadrian Krispin Valens Savill Aleron.”
“I am the one you wish to speak to.” Her troubled dark blue eyes fastened on my face and she stared at me for a moment. “What did you want to say to me?” I asked.
A fiery blush flooded her face. “But you are the Sept Son.”
I lifted an eyebrow.
“You didn’t know that?” Renato asked from his place behind my left shoulder.
“No, I just...Nemo told me that if anything went wrong...” Her voice faded into nothingness as she studied my face for a reaction. “You don’t know him as Nemo do you?”
“I don’t know anyone named Nemo,” I admitted reluctantly. There was something about the eager hope that had flared in her face only moments before that made me want to see it again. It was as though that look had not touched those eyes for a long time.
“I will ask him. I cannot be certain that he will answer, but there is a chance.”
“Him?” Renato asked, but she didn’t hear him.
Turning to the hunched figure of a man on the chair in the corner, she knelt at his feet. As she took his hands in hers, she looked up pleadingly into the shadowed face beneath a heavy hood. “Nemo, this is important, love.” She massaged his hands. “I did as you told me and asked for the right man. I know I got the names right. Now that he is here, I need you to tell me what to say.”
“Say...” The strange man’s slurred reply echoed the woman’s last word. One of his hands rose and touched her cheek.
“No, it can’t be.” Renato suddenly pushed passed me and stumbled to the stranger’s side. Pulling back the hood, he uncovered a slightly familiar bearded face. “Blan. Oh goddess, what have they done to you.”
The woman looked up at Renato in shock. Blan lifted a blank face to regard his brother without recognition in his blurry eyes.
“You know him? You know my husband, Nemo?” the woman asked.
“Husband?” My assistant’s ashen face grew even whiter.
“Sit down, before you pass out,” I ordered. The young woman sank into a nearby chair and brought her hands to her face. Renato fell into the seat next to Blan and did likewise. Stepping into the room, I signaled to the defenders that it was safe. The leader frowned at me, but when I insisted. He retreated but only a short distance.
“What is happening?” the woman asked. “I don’t understand what is going on. Please tell me.” She rose and caught my arm. “Please.”
“Sit down,” I instructed, “and I will tell you all you need to know. I assume your name is Donata.”
She frowned up at me. “That is what Nemo calls me when we are alone. He made me promise to never tell anyone else though.
How do you know it?”
“I will explain everything, but I am going to begin with Nemo. His real name is Blandone Ilar and this man,” I gestured to Renato, who was just beginning to regain his color, “is his younger brother, Renato.” And so began a three hour explanation. The healers arrived sooner than that, but Donata would let no one near her husband until she was completely satisfied that they weren’t going to hurt him.
“He protected me from them,” she said as she stroked a loving hand over Blan’s head, pushing back the shaggy hair that fell in his eyes as they stared into nothingness. “For weeks before we left he grew increasingly agitated, uncomfortable. He stopped sleeping well at night and he would wake me with his tossing and turning. Then I discovered that I was pregnant.”
Renato, who was sitting in the corner watching her every move, opened his mouth to speak, but I stalled him. “How did Nemo...”
She turned to look at me. “If his name is Blan, then call him that. I like it better anyway.”
I nodded. “How did Blan take the news?” I pushed away the memory that Blan had said that he had no intention of getting his wife pregnant. Right now I needed to get the facts, anything that would help with his recovery.
“He grew angry. I had never seen him angry before. He didn’t yell or throw things, but I saw it in his eyes. I hid in our bedroom, but he followed me, suddenly calm. That frightened me even more. He told me to pack our things. We were leaving. He had something he had to do before we left, but he would be right back.” Tears filled her eyes. “He didn’t come home that night. I went to the elders and asked after him. They told me that he was working with them on a special project. Then a week later, they brought him back. He was as he is now. He didn’t recognize me, but he would follow my commands if I kept telling him what to do.
“Can you help him?” she asked suddenly. “Please. If anyone can help, I know you can. Please tell me that I am going to get my husband back.”
My heart ached as I looked down into her dark pleading eyes. I could not promise what she wanted. As much as I wished that I could, I knew that there was no guarantee. From my observations of the past three hours, Blandone’s previous memories and personality might be permanently gone, ripped from his mind by the Elitist Elders. I did detect a flicker of life within his thoughts. It gave me hope, but it was so weak that I was afraid to pass that hope on to his wife and Renato.
Seventh Born Page 20
