House of Jackals

by Todd M. Moreno

  “Who said he had a percentage?” Even as he asked the question, Ketrick’s thoughts raced. Was Jordan their mysterious third party who had matched their market moves, stealing some of their profit? Who could have tipped him off? And how did Tenatte get his information?

  “You didn’t cut him in?” Tenatte laughed. “Lord Jordan must have himself an insider.”

  “Then we have another funeral to attend,” Ketrick snapped. “Are you free next week?”

  “Find your betrayer by next week, and I’ll pay for a singer and a band.”

  “Betrayer? You sound like you know who it is.”

  “The NDB surely do. They want to know your plans for the money you made from us.”

  “Bishop Wyren can go to Hell.”

  “Maybe that’s why he wants the money. He’s a man who always travels first class.”

  “As to Lord Jordan,” Ketrick said testily. “Do we need an agreement on him as well?”

  “You mean, you keep the side of his mouth that promises you things, and I keep the side that promises me things?”

  “We could just wait to see how close to the throne he gets.”

  “Standing pat sounds good for now,” Tenatte replied. “Jordan has a few more family members to survive before he can really guarantee either of us anything. And we both know that whatever he says today, tomorrow may find him of a different mind.”

  “Very well.” Ketrick stood from his seat. He would search for the DuCideon traitor on his own. The NDB could shove their secrets, and their questions about his financial plans. “By the way,” Ketrick added, “the girl sitting fourth on the left was a particular favorite among the man’s mistresses. Do not let her innocent manner fool you.”

  “Why thank you, my Lord,” Tenatte replied, waiting for Ketrick to leave first. “But don’t you mean the fourth one on the right, seeing as the one on the left is the guy’s daughter?”

  “Oh, yes,” Ketrick said as he departed. “Silly me.”

  ---

  Sitting in the main conference room of the small House Possór Internal Security field office, Derrick waited for Agent Meres to arrive as the agent-in-charge drawled on in an apparent attempt to entertain his important guest.

  "Anyway, that's our take on this truthseer girl, my Lord."

  Derrick nodded, glancing at a timepiece on the far wall. He had only been half-listening, thinking how close his shuttle had come to Guerren Andior’s ship as it broke into orbit to shorten its travel time to Landsig. And the Andior bastard had not even said a word.

  "Well," Derrick replied, in time with the chief-agent's last comment, "I would like to meet the man who can get any such leverage over her." As he spoke, Derrick began to rap his fingers on the table, trying to convey a message that his patience was wearing thin.

  "Ha!" The large, balding man slapped his knee. "My Lord, that's exactly what some of us thought you were doing at that one reception!"

  The Possór heir looked the man in the eyes. "Do you question my behavior, Chief Agent Betais?" While Derrick saw no need to defend himself, his voice rasped like wind over ice.

  "No, my Lord!" the man exclaimed, his spine becoming rigid. "It's just, well—the stories." The man shrugged helplessly.

  "As a section chief in Internal Security, I would expect you to be above the sway of idle rumor and tabloid innuendo."

  "Pardon, my Lord," the man replied, his head in a slight bow.

  Derrick saw then that the man had meant no offense with his small talk. His running chatter may have just been nervousness. Derrick was the heir to the throne of Legan, after all.

  Mindful of this, Derrick considered apologizing. Fearing though that the well-meaning local might take it as a signal to resume talking at will, he decided against it. He knew it was ungracious, but his time was limited, and he was in no mood to engage in dawdling blather.

  Suddenly another man rushed into the office. Derrick spotted him through the room's glass wall and sighed with relief.

  "Sir?" Agent Meres began, addressing his senior upon entering the doorway. Although the man surely knew who Derrick was, the HOPIS agent followed protocol and waited to be introduced.

  "My Lord,” the agent-in-charge began, “may I present Special Agent Jair Meres. Meres, this is the Lord Derrick."

  "Good afternoon, Agent Meres," Derrick hailed.

  "Good afternoon, my Lord." The man bowed slightly.

  Meres’ accent told Derrick that he was not local. "Chief Agent Betais," said Derrick, "I would like a few words with Agent Meres in private. Can this room be secured?"

  "Yes, my Lord. I'll see to it." The agent chief stood, bowed his head and left the room. If the man held any resentment at being abruptly dismissed, he gave no hint of it.

  Within moments Derrick heard the low hum of a dampening field as a tint came over the glass wall that separated the room from the main office. While still being able to see out, he knew that others were now blocked from seeing in.

  "Please feel free to get yourself something," Derrick said, gesturing toward the refreshments on the counter top behind him.

  "Thank you, my Lord, but I am fine."

  Derrick smiled faintly, inviting the man to be seated. He did so as Derrick continued. "First let me express my regret for taking you away from your field assignment like this. My security team thought, correctly I admit, that this building was more secure than any in the area you were at. I had preferred to go to you, but even I must sometimes compromise when negotiating with my tyrannical guard captain."

  Meres looked up at the lighthearted remark but did not smile. "I am at your command, my Lord. You’ve no need to explain or apologize."

  "Nevertheless, I do. Now tell me, Meres, you were there when this incident with the four Imperial agents occurred, correct?"

  Derrick watched as the agent's eyes widened and jaw dropped by a fraction, also noting how quickly he recovered. This was the topic dreaded, but knew I would bring up, thought Derrick. That meant the man would probably be ready with prepared responses.

  "I was present just after the bodies were discovered, my Lord."

  Derrick's face did not change, although his voice took on a small edge. "And before?"

  "My Lord?" The man hesitated upon hearing the difference in Derrick’s inflection.

  "Do not feign ignorance with me," Derrick warned, suddenly agitated. "Tell me the full extent of your involvement."

  "My Lord, I’m not certain what you mean." Meres shifted in his chair. "My involvement is detailed in the reports."

  "Now you are being evasive. What is missing?"

  "Nothing! Nothing is missing!"

  Derrick closed his eyes and concentrated. Using a projection technique from his study of the Mental Disciplines, he caused a feeling to come over the man, timing it to add a hook to his words. "Not by the reports I have," Derrick slowly replied.

  A chill shook the man as the blood fled from his face.

  "Tell me the truth," Derrick intoned, shifting the projected emotion so the man would go from abject fear to one tinged with a faint, but dimming, hope. Slowly however the shock on Meres' face turned to mere confusion. Damn, Derrick thought. He could sense the man's mental defenses at last begin to rise. I lost him.

  "M-my Lord," Agent Meres managed finally, "there must be some mistake."

  Though weak, he has some control. Derrick sighed, having used as strong a psychic force as he dared. Anything more would be fairly classified as an attack. Emotional projection was another skill in which he lacked practice, though his near exhaustion did not help.

  "Are you saying my reports are in error?" Derrick had made his tone sound hollow, but removed the psychic projection, hoping that the unexpected absence of a threat was more ominous than the threat itself. He was disappointed.

  "I—c-can have no real opinion, my Lord. Not without knowing what your reports say."

  Derrick smiled, as if satisfied with the answer he had received. From the corner of his eye he saw Meres cautio
usly begin to relax. "Once again, I apologize, Agent Meres. I assure you that I took no delight in putting you through that. You know that the trial is tomorrow?"

  "Yes, my Lord." The security agent allowed himself a short laugh as he wiped away the moisture along his brow and upper lip. "I wondered if this might be a test."

  Derrick nodded, seeing through the glass behind Meres a man entering the office. He was immediately stopped by Derrick's security team and made to show his identification. No one within the office stepped forward to vouch for him. For some reason, he looked familiar.

  "I assume Henely has briefed you for the trial?" Derrick asked as he watched the older man outside talking with his security officer. A HOPIS agent joined him. Meres said nothing. "The prosecution may call you as a witness," Derrick pressed, returning his gaze.

  "He did not tell me anything about that, my Lord."

  "No? I thought Henely had handled everything. He was the one who gave the order for the four Imperials to be killed."

  The man involuntarily shook his head the instant before realization came over him.

  Derrick seized his chance. "Who gave the order?" The agent said nothing. "Answer me!" Derrick's voice took on a menacing calm. "I will know one way or another, Jair Meres." Derrick leaned in and added with a hiss: "And I will not bother with any petty mind tricks."

  The man stiffened once more, but this time his apprehension was tempered by his wonderment. Seeing the change, Derrick again shifted tactics. "Consider this a command from the Lord-Regent and your future sovereign."

  Meres took several seconds to consider his situation. When he finally answered, it seemed more out of dutiful obedience than fear. "The order came from Lord Jordan, my Lord."

  Derrick fell back in his chair, his own eyes now widened in amazement.

  "I thought you knew, my Lord," Meres said, his brow furrowing.

  In his mind, Derrick saw the snapping jaws of a jackal. "Did my cousiné claim to be acting under my father's orders?" Even as he wearily asked, Derrick knew the answer.

  "Yes, my Lord. There was never any question." The agent tilted his head to catch Derrick’s eye. "They were spies after all, Sir."

  "Yes," the Possór heir replied softly, nodding to himself. "Of course." He turned to the man, ashamed at what he had done to him.

  What was I thinking? Derrick asked. There he was, using a psychic discipline he had no business even attempting on a man who was obviously loyal. Derrick looked up and saw the man across the table regarding him thoughtfully, his face without any bitterness. Loyal to a fault, Derrick thought, his shame magnified despite knowing that, as a HOPIS agent, Meres had likely interrogated his own share of suspects a bit roughly.

  Outside, beyond the glass, Derrick saw the older man who had entered look his way. Although his expression was neutral, Derrick sensed that he was waiting for something.

  "Well, Meres," Derrick inhaled deeply, "you should do fine if made to testify, although I have no idea how the prosecution might find out about you now, even with the truthseer." The agent again fidgeted in his chair, piquing his curiosity. "What is the matter?"

  Meres' mask of impassivity broke as lines of concern began to surface. "The trial, my Lord...I never expected I’d have to testify."

  From the man's voice, Derrick could tell that Meres held no resentment toward him, and it made Derrick feel even worse. I was not looking for an answer, he admitted. I wanted only a confirmation it was Henely. Derrick cleared his thoughts. "What are you saying?"

  "When I began here, I had only minimal psychic training. Even now, I'm not sure whether a truthseer can read me or not."

  Derrick felt suddenly cold, wondering how many of the other agents were also inadequately trained. "And who knew about this—limited training?"

  "My old senior, the former chief agent," the man offered weakly.

  Who now happens to be dead, Derrick added silently. "Who else?"

  "I don't know, my Lord. He instructed me to tell no one."

  "I’m releasing you from further duty until either you testify in court or the trial is over. I will inform your AIC, Betais. Until then, you are to devote yourself to developing your mental shielding. You may yet have enough time, for this trial could take months. We cannot fix the past, but so long as a truthseer can read through you in the present, you remain an even greater threat to my father's case."

  The man swallowed hard and drew back in his chair. From Meres' reaction, Derrick was sure the agent knew that at least one of his former associates was already dead.

  Yes, Agent Meres, he thought, reflecting on how Meres was missed by those responsible for the cover-up, your life hangs in the balance here. Realizing that the other agents were likely killed because of the risk that was posed by their insufficient psychic training, the Possór heir wondered who gave them such a delicate assignment in the first place.

  "Thank you, my Lord," Meres said finally. Receiving no reply, the HOPIS agent readied himself to stand.

  Derrick was about to dismiss the man when another thought came to him. "I will also order you to be put under constant guard. You understand that it is for your own safety?"

  The man nodded silently, confirming Derrick's suspicion that the agent appreciated the peril he was in.

  "Do not leave this building until all arrangements have been made. Some of my security people will remain here with you. Take this time to make plans, and contact those who will notice your absence. Tell them that you are just going on extended assignment." Derrick stopped as he noticed the man's hands were shaking. "Meres?" he said gently.

  The man's head swiveled stiffly. "My Lord?"

  "Is there anything else that you think I should know?"

  The man’s eyes withdrew a moment as his blank gaze fell to the floor. "Do you know who those specials agents were, my Lord?"

  "I know their names," Derrick replied cautiously.

  "Imperials always change their names, my Lord. Do you know their real identities?"

  "No. I doubt the Imperials released that information."

  "They usually don’t, my Lord," Meres affirmed, "but we ran a check on the bodies before handing them over."

  "Did you positively identify them then?"

  "We identified one, my Lord," Meres corrected. "She was local, from Legan. We were ordered never to—"

  "Who was she?"

  Derrick recognized the name. The woman was his mother’s first cousin. Her chief lady-in-waiting. An initial suspect in her murder before another suspect was found. Staring unblinkingly as several moments passed, the Possór heir finally accepted the news with a nod.

  "I will do everything I can to protect you, Meres." Despite his distracted expression, Derrick put a sense of calm in his voice. “While I know it will be difficult, you must improve your shielding abilities." He lifted his gaze. "It could be your only hope."

  "Yes, my Lord," the man replied, nervously looking away.

  "You may go."

  Meres stood, bowed and, after pressing a button near the door to open it, left. Derrick's hopes went with him, but he knew that his chances of survival were limited. By just talking with him, Derrick might have ended his usefulness to those who had let him live this long. Worse, Meres might now be a liability to them. For that, Derrick needed to find out who those people were. All other questions had to wait.

  The Possór heir allowed himself a calming breath.

  Certain that his father had not ordered these murders, and that Jordan did not possess the resources to have them done on his own, Derrick did not fully accept the agent's story. Not that he thought the man had lied. But if someone with command authority had taken matters into his or her own hands, his principal suspect was still Henely.

  Derrick shivered as a wave of doubt passed through him.

  But if it was not Henely...

  Jordan would not do something so dangerous as killing Imperial agents without Father's leave, Derrick told himself. So, if Jordan was involved, Father surely knew
about it. If Father sanctioned it though, why would he deceive me?

  You did not ask, a voice inside of him answered, arguing against any deception.

  And how could anyone really know the true identities of those Imperial agents?

  Derrick turned his head away, leaning back against his chair in a near hunch. Again he felt the jackals behind him, the heat of encircling flames, and the cold beckoning of the dark chasm before him.

  Turning away from any deeper connection, Derrick felt the air desert his lungs as he acknowledged the truth about the order to murder the Imperial agents. Once more, the emptiness inside of him was filled with shame.

  Father must have had his reasons, the young Possór thought as he took a long breath and slowly let it go. I have to trust in that. I must trust in that.

  ---

  XVIII

  Derrick stood from his chair after meeting with HOPIS Agent Meres and saw the man he had watched earlier, again feeling that he should recognize him.

  Henrald Steuben, Derrick thought, the name finally coming to him. Tillic had worked with Steuben before, and had spoken favorably about him. That was good enough for Derrick.

  Derrick gave his guard captain some instructions regarding Agent Meres before turning toward the HOPIS colonel. Seeing Derrick approach, Steuben glanced about at the other people surrounding him, but made no move to meet or escape the Possór heir. He was trapped.

  "Colonel Steuben," Derrick hailed, smiling.

  Steuben smiled in return, cursing himself for not waiting for Meres outside the office and then tailing him. "My Lord," he replied, clicking his heels in an informal salute.

  "Would you see me in the conference room for a moment?"

  Steuben followed the Possór heir, silently hurling obscenities as Agent Meres slipped from sight. He only hoped that whatever the count-chickadee wanted from him would be quick.

  "I understand you are with military intelligence," Derrick began, once they were seated. “I remember Commander Tillic mentioning you.”