by T. C. Edge
“My boy, I need you to head back to the church,” she says. “You have good relations with Rhoth, and I’m keen to discover what he knows.”
“I could get him on the communicator now, if you wish?” suggests Adryan.
“No, this requires a face to face meeting. Zander may be required to look into his thoughts and memories if needs be, assuming he allows such a thing. I understand he has some natural blocks to your mental incursions?”
“Yeah, some of the wildmen are like that. The fog can play havoc with our abilities,” says Zander. “I thought you wanted me to look into Commander Burns’ mind, though?”
“I do. It’s getting late, so stay here tonight, and conduct your checks on Leyton. Tomorrow morning, head out. There will be no need to sneak any longer with the ceasefire in effect, so you won’t be hindered.”
Zander nods, taking aboard the order. Then he gestures towards me.
“I’d like Brie to come too,” he says. “She has an affinity with Rhoth, and a way of getting the truth out of people. She also looked into a young tribesman’s mind before, a man called West.”
“West?” says Lady Orlando.
Eyes turn to me, seeking an explanation.
“Um, yeah, he’s not from these parts. Was found by Rhoth as a kid. I was curious, so looked into his head, and saw his village being attacked when he was a young boy, somewhere hot and arid. Nothing like around here. Anyway, there were soldiers in old armour, and they had some Enhanced with them…”
“Enhanced?” says Beckett. “What kind?”
“I only saw a couple. There was a Dasher, I think. And, one of these Elementals that Rhoth mentioned the other day. He manipulated the fire, drew it to his hands from a burning shack and threw it into another. It was the first time I’d seen someone like that. Before the people came and took Kira.”
“Hmmmm,” murmurs Beckett. “You didn’t mention this before. They could be related.”
I see the cogs turning behind his eyes. He’s probably thinking Cromwell’s not being quite as deceitful as he assumed.
“Could be. But the soldiers who took Kira didn’t seem the same. Their armour was plush and shiny, not old. And they had mostly dark hair, olive skin. The ones who attacked West’s village were more like barbarians.”
“Well, related or not, this requires further investigation,” says Lady Orlando. “You say West was with Rhoth’s party that escorted the people to the mines?”
“Yeah, he was.”
“Then he should still be with him at the church. Good. See what else you can find out. Leave tomorrow morning, and report back as soon as you can. But for now, both of you go and see Leyton. See what you can find out from him.”
We both begin to move towards the door. I spare a look at Adryan, and lift a small smile. His face lights in a similar fashion, and a blast of warmth spreads through me as I mouth: “I’ll see you later.”
As we leave the room, however, our grandmother turns us around.
“Oh, and to be safe,” she says, “make sure Leyton has guards on him. As Beckett rightly says, nothing Artemis does can be trusted. And whatever happens, we have to all keep a very close eye on what he’s up to.”
212
The City Guard HQ has its own infirmary, covering half a floor down on one of the few subterranean levels of the building.
One level down from the main atrium, and one level up from the garage where the force’s vehicles are situated, a small hospital operates for the purpose of tending to any City Guard hurt in the field. Or, should they develop any minor ailment, it’s here that they’ll come.
As we reach the level, and wander down the windowless, slate grey corridor with its sickly, bright yellow lighting, I wonder why I wasn’t brought here a few days ago after being battered by that brick. That fight with those weird Elementals was fairly brutal, and I’d taken a solid hit to the base of my skull that still gives me some discomfort.
Zander, too, is still showing signs of the fight. The left side of his face remains bruised, his eye blackened around its base, and his cheek is still a little swollen. It might have been a lot worse had they wished it. I’m still baffled by just why they didn’t, and why they took Kira and no one else.
The question of why I didn’t awake here, however, is answered as we go. It’s clear that the place is already oversubscribed, each room we pass occupied by at least a soldier or two suffering from far more serious ailments than us.
Yet, despite that, Commander Burns has been afforded his own space. We find him lying unconscious in a blank white room on a featureless medical bed, being watched over by a single nurse who has the look of a Savant.
“How’s he doing?” asks Zander as we step in.
The woman works up what she probably thinks is a comforting smile. Given her assigned profession, perhaps that’s something she’s been required to develop.
“He’s just fine,” she says. “He should come around soon. Or, I could give him a shot to wake him up, if you wish?”
“No, no, that’s alright. There’s no rush at all,” says Zander. “Where’s Freya?”
“Freya?”
“Tall lady, white hair, big scar on her face…”
“Oh. She left Commander Burns in my care. He’s well supervised, don’t worry.”
Not as well as we’d like. Leaving me in the room, Zander quickly heads back up to the atrium to fetch a couple of guards to stand on duty outside the door. Their remit is simple: no one is to go in or out unless by strict approval from the top.
It’s probably an overreaction, but we can’t be too careful. Commander Burns, as we well know, is a very gifted Mind-Manipulator himself, and should someone like him be under secret, hidden orders, then it could be rather dangerous.
There’s a single chair in the room, set up against a small table to one side. Zander lets me take it, while he remains standing, leaning against the wall to take some of the load off.
“You think Cromwell’s done something to him?” I ask, looking at the sleeping form of Burns.
Zander shrugs.
“Hard to say with a man like him. I dunno, I guess when you actually meet with someone you’ve hated for so long, it’s never how you expect.”
“How do you mean?” I ask, frowning.
“Ah, just, you know, you have a picture in your mind. This horrible, evil person. This man who’d kill his own mother to get what he wants…”
I huff internally at the comparison. He’s not too far off the mark.
He draws in a breath.
“But, I guess it’s hard to see it all, right? It’s not like he’s a regular man, killing for fun. He genuinely lacks empathy. It’s built in biologically. He just sees killing a load of people as a necessary evil, I suppose. A bit like with us and the High Tower.”
I balk a little at his words. Partly because I hate the thought. And partly because I do, at least in part, know what he’s talking about.
And I hate that too.
Still, I choose to play devil’s advocate.
“So, you agree with him then?” I ask flatly.
“No, of course I don’t,” he says, perhaps too defensively. “I mean, I’d have killed him right there if I could. I’m just saying that you have this picture of this crazy, evil guy, and then he’s just an old man in a stupid white suit, speaking some sense.”
“Sense,” I puff. “Like what?”
“Well, that we’re vulnerable right now. We can’t deny that. If a proper army with people like those soldiers who took Kira came along right now, what the hell would we do? We’ve got some good fighters, yeah, but most of us aren’t that special. Put us all out in the open against Cromwell’s men, and they’d probably win, even with fewer numbers. We have these walls now. We have this city. That’s what’s protecting us. But our men? Our numbers? If a proper army came along, I don’t know if we’d stand against it.”
“And us and Cromwell?” I query.
“Well, we’d stand a better chance,
put it that way.”
“Sure, but against what, Zander? We don’t really know what the hell we’re facing here. We don’t know for sure if there’s anything coming our way.”
“No, not yet. But you know what, if the Director’s right, we might be best putting our differences aside for a little while to deal with the problem.”
“Right, and let him back in the door,” I grumble.
“Needs must, Brie. Needs must.”
I hate even thinking about the idea. The concept of working alongside someone I so detest, someone the Nameless have been fighting against for so long, leaves a burning, bitter taste in the back of my mouth and a churning in the pit of my stomach.
“You don’t agree,” says Zander, watching the mechanisms in my mind and the resulting expressions on my face. “What else do you suggest?”
I don’t really have an answer. Truth be told, my twin probably doesn’t mind the idea of prolonging this war, of continuing the fight. It’s how he defines himself after all.
“I don’t know, Zander,” I say. “I agree with what Lady O said. Until we know what we’re dealing with, I guess there’s nothing to say. But maybe Beckett had it right. Who’s to say we team up with Cromwell against this so-called threat? Maybe we let them destroy him out there at the REEF instead, and batten down the hatches in the city?”
He considers the option. He seems to be taking it seriously.
“That’s a possibility,” he admits. “But, if that did happen, and an army turned up that could wipe out all of Cromwell’s soldiers, then I’m fairly sure they could do the same to us. And anyway, almost all his Con-Cops are still in the city, along with his loyal City Guards. So, we’d have to deal with them too.”
“Pffft, Con-Cops are canon-fodder and you know it.”
“For me or you, maybe. But not for most of us. It’s funny how you seem so happy for people to die all of a sudden. Our priority right now is to save lives, Brie. We’ve made some horrible decisions already to ensure that happens. Now, we may have to make some more…”
Damn, that shut me up. I have nothing really to say, no little retort. And, thankfully, just at that moment, I don’t need one.
Because Burns is stirring.
213
The shuffle of movement on the bed is quickly picked up by both of our eyes.
A grunt sounds too as the middle-aged Savant begins to creak open his eyes and slowly survey the room.
I step immediately forward, and rest my hand lightly on his shoulder.
“Commander Burns, how are you feeling?”
He opens and closes his mouth, suggesting it’s dry. The croak of his voice suggests the very same thing.
“I’m erm, OK,” he says. “A little groggy, but fine. Where am I?”
“In the City Guard HQ infirmary,” I say.
“Ah, yes, of course.” He squints through narrow eyes at my brother. “Who is that? Who else is here?”
“It’s Zander, Commander Burns.” My twin steps forward. “I’m just here to ask a few questions and have a check inside your head. Is that OK?”
Zander’s tone is respectful. Burns nods.
“We’d like to know what happened at the High Tower, before it went down,” he says, putting on his ‘interviewer’ hat. “Would you tell us what happened?”
Burns smacks his lips once again. His eyes search around the room and I step towards a side table and fetch him a glass of water. He gulps it down, bringing some colour back to his cheeks, and then begins.
“I was all set to follow the procedure I discussed with Lady Orlando,” he says. “I was, however, a little delayed, and the High Tower was on lockdown with the fighting. Naturally, a member of the Consortium leaving the building without authorisation is likely to raise eyebrows, especially during such a time. So, I made a decision to stay.”
My brows crawl down my face and my eyes pull together.
“You were going to stay? Even though you knew the building was going to blow?”
He nods.
“Yes. I understand that I was to play an important role in bringing the people together. But, my primary responsibility was to ensure Artemis and the rest were killed. So, I stayed…”
I’m amazed at the sacrifice he was willing to make. Even for a Savant, not fearing death, it’s quite the heroic act.
“So what happened?” asks Zander.
“Woolf. It was her who informed Cromwell what was going on,” I grumble.
Burns nods.
“Yes, it was. It was all a bit of a rush really. Some Stalkers came and took us away. There was no time to gather all of the members of the Consortium, so only half of us escaped. I was one of them. Yet, they didn’t really know of my duplicitousness until Agent Woolf once more played her part. She informed on the fate of the High Tower, and on my position as a spy all at once. I didn’t discover that until slightly later, but I heard she managed to escape the church using one of your men? I assumed that was how she got the information.”
The question is aimed at my brother. He turns to me.
“Brie was there,” he says. “Rafe, one of our hybrids, was exposed to Woolf’s tricks. She used him to kill some of our soldiers and got away.”
He draws in a lungful of air at the memory of Burton’s death, who suffered the ignominy of having to use his dying breath to utter the words Woolf put into his head.
I heard those words. I remember those words.
You have your spies…and so do we.
That’s what she’d made Burton say. And from there, she screwed up all of our plans again.
“Yes, that’s what I thought,” says Burns. “Such a shame.”
“I tried to get in touch with you,” I say, “after it all happened. I did it a couple of times. Just yesterday, in fact, I thought you said: don’t trust me. Do you remember that, Commander Burns?”
He seems to search his own memories, his eyes turning to a daydream and going slightly blank. Clearly, he’s having some trouble remembering things, given what he’s been through.
“I do…a little,” he says, rather dreamily. “I heard that Artemis wanted to arrange a meeting. I was afraid that I might be used as a pawn in his game, so wanted to sound a warning just in case. I still think you need to be careful. Anyone so willingly given back by Artemis Cromwell isn’t someone you can trust.”
Once again, his candour surprises me.
“Well, Commander Burns, that’s exactly why I’m here,” says Zander. “I’m just going to have a look around and see if I can find anything, any order that might have been placed in your mind. I should tell you that we have two guards placed outside the door. I hope you understand.”
Burns chuckles.
“I quite understand,” he says. “Do what you need to do, young man. Go right ahead.”
He opens up his blue eyes, nice and wide, and stares straight at my brother. Zander takes a breath and positions himself directly ahead of Burns, and I watch from the vantage of a spectator as the mental examination begins.
As I well know, time operates slightly differently when exploring someone’s mind. Zander will take his time in there, but out here it will last only minutes most likely. I watch for a couple of them, before drifting back towards my chair at the side of the room.
Several more minutes pass, during which we suffer a single interruption: the nurse comes in, but I quickly shoo her out. She seems to know what’s going on, so hurries away and says she’ll return later.
From there, a fresh silence imbues the room and I sit and watch the odd display play out to conclusion. I’ve grown accustomed to playing more of a hands-on roll in such situations, and doing so from Zander’s vantage to boot. Seeing it from an outsider's position is strangely jarring.
Before too long, my brother is withdrawing. I watch him closely for a reaction to what he saw or discovered in the depths of Commander Burns’ subconscious, and see little to suggest there’s anything to worry about.
His next words confirm it.
“All looks pretty clean,” he says. “I couldn’t find any traces of an order.”
Commander Burns’ eyes flutter, as though waking from a trance. He regains his faculties quicker than most, no surprise given his own powers.
“Well, that’s good to hear,” he says. “It’s quite possible we’re being overly paranoid. But, that said, I’d suggest keeping a guard on my door for the time being. And, any contact with Lady Orlando should be supervised, just in case.”
“You really think that’s necessary?” I question, stepping from my seat. “If Zander didn’t find anything, what’s there to worry about?”
“Probably nothing,” says Burns. “But remember that Romelia Woolf is a very gifted Mind-Manipulator, and if she indeed interfered with my mind or placed something deep, it might be hard to locate after a brief examination.” Seeing my concern, he adds: “I’m sure it’s fine, but right now it’s best I stay here under guard.”
“I agree entirely,” says Zander. “No point in taking risks, and we’re all well aware of what Woolf is capable of.”
The decision is taken. With little more to add, we conclude our time with Commander Burns and set about leaving him to get some further rest. As we step towards the door, he draws me back around, calling for a private word.
“I’ll be outside,” says Zander, who exits into the corridor outside to update the guards on their orders.
I step back towards Burns, who seems to have remembered something. With a tired grouping of movements, he gingerly reaches into a pocket in his grey jumpsuit, and draws out a piece of white, folded card that immediately has an affect upon me.
“I picked this up off the floor of your cell in the High Tower,” he says. “When they discovered my deceit, I managed to keep it hidden for you. I hoped I’d get a chance to return it.”
My fingers shake as I’m handed the card and open it up. The faces of my parents now hold a new grief, a new meaning. For the first time, I look upon them knowing of my mother’s name, knowing for sure what their fate was.
My eyes grow wet. A thin voice escapes me.