The itch at the base of his skull became a spike, and he grimaced.
'While that was interesting, Agent Rallant, it was not quite up to your standard.'
He measured his response as he returned to his bunk. It wasn't a familiar voice—not dear dead Colonel Wreth nor any of his personal mentalists—but by the man's earlier prompt to press Erolan about the Archmagus, he knew it was a White Flame mage. He'd warned the Blazes that it could happen, and had even let Scryer Mako try to block access to his mind, to no avail.
Once, he might have considered the hook a just punishment. A penance for bad behavior and repeated failure, a chance to make good on his oaths to the White Flame.
But times had changed. The Emperor was gone, the Palace fallen. The Imperial Light had fled, pulling out a piece of him that he'd once thought essential. If it had left him behind because he was unworthy to join it, what loyalty did he owe the rest of the forsaken faithful?
I have been reduced by my captivity, he thought at the unknown mentalist, allowing his bitterness to flavor that with truth. And I fear this was my last chance. As he said, they do not trust me. Now they will execute me.
And I will deserve it, he did not add. Would not. He only half-believed it anyway. Guilt had never been part of his makeup, even that sense of 'penance' just a way to remind himself of his mistakes—to highlight the lack of control that had allowed him to make them. Too much fear, too much frustration and anger. He knew better than to succumb to those feelings now.
Too bad it hadn't protected him from making new mistakes.
'You should not have moved on him so blatantly. He was on the cusp of confessing more, and the Field Marshal would very much like to hear about the Archmagus' doings.'
He is beyond my reach now.
'Not for long.'
Rallant blinked. With those three words, what had been a foolish act of self-sacrifice now felt like the prelude to something worse. He opened his mouth, not sure whether to pry further or to call for the Shadow agent down the hall—then closed it and nodded slowly, looking down at his chains.
He owed the Field Marshal nothing, but only one side would free him, and it was not Erolan's.
I will do as I must, he thought.
'For the glory of the Light,' the mentalist replied, then went on.
Chapter 25 – Heart and Souls
Scryer Mako caught up with Linciard on his way back to his quarters. She was in the same teal robe but worn properly now, the earhook-network necklace back in place, her brown hair disarrayed and her eyes flaming with anger. His first instinct when he spotted her was to turn and run the other way.
“Erolan Linciard!” she shouted, hands in fists. “Don't you dare move a muscle!”
He obeyed from an awareness that she could make him, if she wanted to, and held up his hands defensively as she came near. “Look, I tried to alert you, but you were—“
Her fist smacked into his forearm, sending a tingling shock through his scars. Planting herself before him, she glared up across their eight-inch gap in height and snapped, “You burst in on private business, then ran off to talk to your evil boyfriend alone.”
“He's not my—“
“I know Zeli pranked you, but flaming pikes, you could have waited! She's a thirteen-year-old girl and you're a full-grown man, supposedly. You should have enough self-confidence and good sense to sit and wait!”
“In my defense—“
“No. I don't care what you saw, and I'm certainly a bit at fault here, but you know better! Hasn't Rallant caused you enough grief already? And now look at you. Wipe your face, man.”
Reflexively he raised his arm to do so with his sleeve, but she caught at him instead, rolling her eyes. “What are you, a child? Hold on.” A quick gesture, then she stuck her hand through a slit in the hip of her robe, rummaged around, and withdrew a folded handkerchief. Linciard took it with mumbled thanks.
By the time he'd scrubbed his cheeks and gotten rid of the lingering sweat at the back of his neck, Scryer Mako's expression had loosened. It wasn't soft by any measure, but there was a trace of sympathy in the tweaked corner of her mouth. “Keep it,” she said when he tried to give it back—then suddenly narrowed her eyes and grabbed for it.
He let it go, surprised. Holding it with the very tips of her fingers, she sniffed it from a distance and curled her lip.
“Bad honey,” she said, and glared at him. “He tried to influence you!”
Fear clenched his heart. He couldn't deny it; she would feel the prevarication just wafting from him. Instead, he said, “How did you even know I went there? I didn't feel you.”
She planted one hand on her hip, the handkerchief still pinched in the other. “The Shadows told me, and anyway, I'm not stupid. It's not like we talk about anything but company issues and him. If it was something official, you wouldn't have run off like a guilty child. So what did he do?”
“Nothing. I was just checking on him. He got upset.”
“Why?”
“Because...” Linciard gestured upward vaguely. “Who knows what will happen when we do this? To him, or to me. We're up against Seething Brigade with the whole of the Crimson Army backing it. It's not that I don't trust our allies, but this is happening too fast, and I...”
Mako sighed and held out the handkerchief, shaking her head. “And you're a worrier. I know. But that's not why you went there.”
“I—“
“You were gonna let him out, weren't you.”
Linciard stared at her, aghast. “No. No. Absolutely not. Whatever you think of me, I'm not a piking traitor. Not even for— Look, we've gone over this. I understand the situation, and I support it. Sure, I hate it, but I'd never act against the safety of Blaze Company or any of our allies. If you think I would, then why am I still a lieutenant?”
She narrowed her eyes, and he felt that familiar itch at the back of his skull—the sign that she was prying. If he hadn't seriously considered what she was accusing him of, he would have been offended; instead he just pushed that moment of conviction at her like a badge of honor. He was used to being distrusted, used to the expectation that he was being manipulated.
He couldn't disagree with it.
Her lips pursed in thought, then the itch left him. “Fine,” she said, not quite mollified, “but you still knew better. I'll have to tell the captain.”
He didn't answer, just took the handkerchief with great dignity and nodded for her to precede.
Despite his longer legs, he had to put effort into keeping up with her as she stalked through the concrete corridors. Shadow Folk eased out of her way, their questioning looks directed to Linciard as if they dared not raise their brows at her. Linciard grimaced in answer, feeling the weight of the executioner's sword across his shoulders. He'd made a lot of mistakes in his brief time as an officer. Maybe this was the end.
And he'd brought Rallant in on this one. Possibly doomed them both.
The transition from featureless Shadow territory to Blaze Company lodgings was obvious. Card tables, chairs and lounging-cushions sprouted in every cul-de-sac, populated by off-duty soldiers and sometimes visitors—civilians from other areas, Shadow agents, Trifolders. The latter had become much in evidence recently, in their brown dresses or red or grey tunics and occasional weird masks, their goddesses' insignias displayed openly. Linciard suspected that, like Medic Shuralla, they'd always been around, but had been concealing those signs of their faith until it was safe.
Now was apparently that moment, and their passing did nothing to still the buzz of conversation. Most of integrated Blaze Company had been moved to these quarters from the old complex, with each half-platoon housed down a single path that branched like a stunted tree. The remaining unassigned Seethers were housed in their own isolation-area; meanwhile, only a few specialists remained in Blaze's original complex, still recuperating under the eye of Medic Shuralla and her assistants.
Not that she could mend them. They remained allergic to the Trifolde
rs' salves and any application of their healing powers. It was just quieter there, and more spacious, and they were cared for competently and with sympathy.
Part of Linciard wanted to reprimand all the men and women they passed. Tell them to get in their rooms and snatch what peace they could. But he knew the restless energy that suffused them; it was part of what had pushed him toward Rallant's cell in the first place. They still had several marks to burn it off, and most of them had been sleeping too much anyway.
From the occupation level, he followed Mako up a spiral stair to the area with the officers' quarters and meeting rooms. He expected to be led all the way to the edge, where Captain Sarovy's office sat at the fringe of the Shadow Folk's business operations, but instead Mako pushed through into the main meeting room. Behind the map-covered table, Captain Sarovy and Enforcer Ardent raised their heads.
Linciard groaned internally. Being dressed-down by his captain was one thing, but in front of the Shadow commander?
“Well, here we are again,” Mako stated flatly, and cocked a thumb at him. “This one's been visiting the enemy without an escort.”
“He's not an enemy,” Linciard said through his teeth. “He's in a bad situation and he can't—we can't get him out of it.”
She gave him a cold look, dark eyes slitted. “Are you saying this is my fault?”
“No, I'm saying it's not his.”
“We're not blaming him! Not for anything new. He confessed to all the rest, so—“
“You are, though. You think he's influencing me. That's why we're here.”
Mako opened her mouth, but Captain Sarovy cleared his throat before she could speak. “Lieutenant, scryer: peace,” he ordered calmly. “Start from the beginning.”
“He went to visit Rallant without an escort,” Mako snapped. “He knows the rules and he did it anyway, and now he stinks of influence.”
“Mentally?”
“No, you can literally smell it on him.”
“But is his mind influenced, scryer?”
Mako crossed her arms and stuck out her chin pugnaciously. “I haven't given him a complete scan, but I'm confident that in my absence, Rallant has tried to control him. That man is a hazard and a menace.”
The captain turned his cool gaze on Linciard, who struggled to hold it. He'd seen too much disappointment in there, and far too little approval. “Is this true, lieutenant?”
Linciard shook his head sharply. “Like I told her, we had an argument. He was upset and he...exuded the venom somehow, but he didn't touch me. I'm not being controlled.”
“This was a...personal dispute?” the captain tested carefully. Beside him, Enforcer Ardent stood with one hand on the map, the other on her hip; the scar across her lips made it seem like she was sneering even though Linciard knew she rarely did. The blackness of her eyes and the thickness of the sclera-threads made it difficult to tell where she was actually looking.
“I told him there might be another Light,” said Linciard, and grimaced as the captain's face tightened. “I just had the thought, you know—that the specialists needed it. That maybe they could...connect to it somehow, and not suffer like they have since ours vanished. Maybe we should all do that. I know some will take it as an affront, but if our Light was pretending to be that Light all along...”
“You've given it much thought, lieutenant?”
“No, sir. It just popped into my head while I was there. I thought maybe it'd be a comfort to him.”
“And?”
He shook his head. “I guess it wasn't. He denied that there could be another Light. I dunno if that's something he's conditioned to think, or if he doesn't want to change or doesn't want to hope, but… Look, I know it was stupid,” he continued quickly as the captain's frown deepened. “I know I'm supposed to resist these impulses when they come up. But that isn't even why I went down there. I was worried this might be the last time I saw him, because of...everything, and I just couldn't get that out of my head.”
The captain and scryer exchanged a long look that he knew had to be backed by some mental conversation. Then the captain exhaled and said, “Lieutenant Linciard, you are relieved of command. I am remanding you to Scryer Yrsian's supervision until this operation has ended.”
Linciard opened his mouth to protest, then wisely shut it.
“Sergeant Kenner will take up your duties. You will not have contact with the prisoner, nor will you be privy to any further battle-plans. Your role in this operation will be to guard Scryer Yrsian and assist her in whatever manner she deems fit. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir.”
“Enforcer, I would like to know why I was not informed of this as it happened.”
The Shadow woman made a face, and Linciard noticed she had one of the little shadow creatures on her shoulder. It hadn't been there when they'd come in. “We had eiyets watching him, but since Linciard's often there without visible escort, they didn't give an alert until the Shadow agent on duty saw him in distress. Then they contacted Mako first, as per her request. My apologies, captain.”
Sarovy nodded, then fixed his steely gaze on Linciard. “I need to know if you told him anything else. Any detail, great or small, that might impact our upcoming operation. You have already done enough to compromise it by forcing me to relieve you of duty again.”
Linciard winced and ducked his head, trying to remember. Already it felt shrouded in fog, much like his actions while being controlled during the coup. The similarities made his stomach turn. I went there, mentioned the mission, mentioned the Light, then— Oh shit, right.
“I told him about the Archmagus,” he blurted.
Captain Sarovy went very still. Then he exhaled deliberately and said, “Explain.”
“I only just mentioned him, but then Rallant completely changed. He came to the bars and wanted to know more, tried to...” He felt the flush creeping up his cheeks. “To lure me into touching him. I ran away then. I'm sorry. It was stupid to go there.”
“Nothing else?”
“No, sir. I don't think so.”
“If I may,” said Scryer Mako, “since all the assault teams will be assigned topside, not down here, I think it would be best if Linciard kept his rank and role and redeemed himself out there. Unless we can do away with Rallant immediately—“
“Which we can,” Ardent interjected. “Say the word and the eiyets will shred him.”
“—I think it would be best to keep him out of Rallant's area. Or else lock him up too.”
"I'm not influenced," said Linciard through his teeth.
"Not at the moment."
“So you don't trust me to stay away from him? To have your back?”
Mako gave him a long stare that he struggled to not squirm under. “Right now? No, I don't.”
“That's not fair, Mako. This isn't like last time. Even if you'd been there, it wouldn't've changed anything.”
“By 'last time', you mean those several weeks you slept with him and let him thrall you?”
“I wasn't thralled, I was just strongly influenced! And—“ He stopped short, wondering at the odd expression on Mako's face, but when she didn't comment, he went on. “He can't tell when you're in my head and when you're not, so he would've pushed me either way. Since nothing happened—“
“If something did, I could have blocked it,” Mako snapped, combative again. “We don't know for sure that you're not acting under his control, or that you haven't had some sort of trigger placed in your mind.”
“So then scan me! That's your job!”
“It's not that easy. His powers aren't mental.”
“Then just check my memory—but I'll tell you now, there's nothing to see. He tried to lure me in; I resisted; I left.”
Mako made a noise of disgust. “There's no 'just' about a memory dive, and even if there was, the venom plays havoc with my scans. Thrall or not, you're still full of it. I couldn't even connect with you earlier.”
Her words sent a chill up his spine. “Wha
t do you mean, 'thrall or not'? I'm not. You said I'm not.”
Perturbation crossed her face, and she flicked a look at the captain. “Ah… Well, no, you're not—as far as I can tell. But there's still a residual...”
“Vulnerability,” Sarovy finished for her. “A change to your mind that neither she nor Rallant can undo. We had hoped that it would mend, given time and mental tweaks, but it seems not.”
“This is just a setback,” said Mako. “A big one, yes, since he dosed you again somehow, but—“
Linciard held up a hand. “When were you gonna tell me about this?”
“Well, we weren't sure how you'd take it, and then there was the head injury—“
“So you thought you'd hide it?” He didn't want to get angry, but the realization that they'd kept such an important piece of information from him—that they'd allowed him to think it was just venom withdrawals or his own conflicted feelings keeping him knotted up inside—made it difficult to keep his cool. “I may be kind of a mess right now, but that doesn't mean I'm fragile.”
“You didn't need to know!” snapped Mako. “I was keeping an eye on you, monitoring your reactions—“
“You can't do that all the time! Like you've said, there's only one of you and a hundred plus of us.”
“Well if you hadn't picked one of my vanishingly few moments of downtime to have your crisis of concern and run off to your master—“
“Stop,” said Sarovy, the anger in his voice chilling the room to silence. For a long moment, no one dared to breathe, just stayed locked in place as the frost settled. Finally, he went on: “We will not fight over this. It is done. Linciard, you are certain you told him nothing else about the operation? No timing or tactics?”
“No, sir. Just that something was gonna happen.”
The captain looked down at the map, then nodded slowly. “Rallant is already aware of our Seether retrievals, so will perhaps construe this as more of the same. Enkhaelen...we have been in contact with him before, through the Crown Prince and Voorkei—that is no secret. As for the business with the other Light, I think we want that to be known. Perhaps it will shock Field Marshal Rackmar into making a mistake.”
The Drowning Dark (The War of Memory Cycle Book 4) Page 74