"Kaldill asked me that yesterday. It grieves me to give you the same answer," Willem mumbled, lowering his head.
"What answer is that?" Ildevar was even more worried if Kaldill Schaff was consulting Willem. The Elf King had his own ways of seeing things.
"The Winds are unstable, Founder. Images become clear, only to become blurry, like a static-riddled vid image. Then, when the images become clear again, they are different."
"That is more than frightening," Ildevar sighed.
"As frightened as you are, there is reason to be frightened beyond that," Willem whispered.
* * *
Lissa's Journal
"All dead. Even the ones Reah saved are gone," Kiarra shook her head over the skeleton of a gryphon, its bones picked clean by a murder of crows we'd frightened away. "There's no illness to detect, no signs of trauma, nothing. They're just dead."
I watched Adam as Kiarra examined the skeleton, Looking with the enhanced ability she had to detect any reason for the gryphon's death. None were left alive on the planet, when Reah had placed nearly two thousand after the battle she, Edward and the Saa Thalarr had waged against rogue Ra'Ak and a multitude of dark creatures they'd gathered throughout time.
"You may be the last," I shrugged at Adam. He was the Black Gryphon, and had fought rogue Ra'Ak in that form for centuries.
"You're forgetting your father," he said gently. "He was the first to take that shape."
"My father." I said it flatly. Yes, he'd saved us, but at the direction of another. I'd learned that from him, so there was no doubt that he might have left me, Rigo, Ry, Nissa, Tory, Trik and Toff to die. I'd been pregnant with Gavril at the time, so that death might be counted as well, had someone not intervened on my behalf.
Griffin had shown up off and on through the years, most notably at the birth of Drake and Drew's sons, Travis and Trent. He'd left gifts for them—two blades each, forged by Grey House. Drake and Drew hadn't allowed their use until the boys were sixteen and knew how to properly treat and handle two blades each. I'd attempted to get Nissa to tell me how much Griffin had paid for those blades, but she'd been curiously silent on the matter.
"Lissa, I understand your feelings in this matter," Merrill sighed. He hadn't spoken since we'd come across the skeleton. Until now, anyway. "I have reasons to be angry, too. Someday, perhaps we'll call a truce with your father."
"Someday," I nodded. I just had no idea how far off that someday might be. "Have you seen Amara?" Amara was still avoiding Griffin, and he continued to search for her. At least she'd given up the idea of having Belen separate her particles. She'd found several children's causes to contribute her time and efforts to, and she stayed in touch with Merrill, Adam and Kiarra. I had the feeling that Merrill and Kiarra had a great deal to do with her decision to keep her life.
"A month ago," Merrill nodded. "She asked if I had any information on child disappearances on Ooblerik. I got the idea that she was working with a charity group there."
"Reah's father, Edan, works with a charity group there," I pointed out.
"It's the same one," Kiarra sighed. "Amara and Edan work together, now."
"Does Reah know?"
"She probably does," Kiarra nodded. "We've got nothing, here. Let's look for another, fresher body if we can find it."
* * *
"Rabis says she'll need love and care, so if we find her, we'll have to provide as much peace and quiet as we can," Ashe sighed as he sat down for dinner at the kitchen island.
"What's wrong with her?" Trajan asked.
"He doesn't know—he just says she'll be damaged and need help."
"Boss, that doesn't sound good."
"I know, and it's got me spooked."
* * *
Breanne's Journal
Three nights I shorted myself on sleep and combed through Casino City, without a single trace of Erithia Cordan. Casino City was enormous, with more than five million in residence and more than that in other cities scattered nearby. Gamblers and tourists on any given day easily swelled that initial number to ten million.
Casinos, condos and other housing also crowded the city, which meant Erithia Cordan could be anywhere. I attempted the trick of Looking—I'd learned it from Graegar, and while I could locate other things (I always knew where Trevor was) I couldn't get a lock on Erithia. Something about her or her race prevented it. Not only that, but her obsessed follower was somehow included inside her shield.
All this went through my mind as I lay on the Queen's bed on off-day—I allowed myself the luxury of not going to my office to work for an extra hour before rising.
"Get up, you have a visitor," Gavin almost blew the door down as he rushed inside the suite.
"What?" I stared—who would come for a visit in the first place, and why would Gavin allow it in the second place? I didn't ask questions—impatience marred Gavin's features so I rose, cleaned up and dressed in a matter of minutes. Following my angry sire down the hallway leading from the family wing of the palace, we made our way into a sitting room.
I stared—I know I did. One of the tallest men I'd ever met stood as I walked in the room. He wasn't Larentii-tall, but that didn't matter. Dark hair. Darker eyes. A handsome face. Jeans, boots and a polo met my gaze. My hand covered my mouth. I felt as if I'd waited a long time to see this man, and had only realized it.
"I have no idea why he wishes to see you, but one does not refuse a request from a right hand of the Mighty." Gavin's mumbled words confused me, but I didn't turn in his direction. No, my eyes stayed on the visitor. Had my mind worked a little better in my confusion, I might have wondered how it was he'd known to visit me. The term the Mighty might have piqued my interest, too, but all that took a back seat to what was in front of me.
"Trajan Gibson," the tall man held out a hand. I didn't know whether to close my mouth or take the offered hand, first. It didn't matter—Trajan closed the distance and took my fingers in his. My mouth snapped shut shortly after.
* * *
"I had a better vision," Rabis said. Ashe turned sharply. He'd gotten mindspeech from his grandfather shortly after he'd returned to SouthStar with Trajan. They'd gone out briefly for supplies but hadn't stayed long—Ashe felt it was too dangerous.
"Better how?" Ashe asked.
"I saw her for more than a few Earth seconds, this time. She seems frightened. In danger, too, but very, very close. If I were to estimate, I'd say within a day or two."
"Really?" Ashe felt real hope for the first time in decades. "Will she—still need help?"
"Yes," Rabis' eyes had gone dark with prophecy. "More so now than ever. You must take a great deal of care and make sure she is not upset."
* * *
"I had to drop the Mighty's name. Gavin didn't want me to see you," Trajan led me through the Queen's arboretum later, my hand tucked firmly on his arm. I'd barely spoken—all I could do was stare. This time, I found my voice.
"He doesn't want anybody to see me," I sighed.
"Look, I sort of figured this out, Ashe gave me the talent," Trajan grinned. His grin was worth a lot to me—nobody had smiled at me in a while. "What I can't figure out," he added, "is why Gavin's being such an ass."
"Being an ass is his raison d'etre," I pointed out.
"You know, I've heard that before. From other people. Ashe seems to like him, though."
"I have no idea why."
"Look, I hear this is your day off. Why don't you come home with me? Bill can feed us lunch."
"Lunch?" My responses could certainly use help, I decided.
"Yeah. You know—food?"
"I'm vegetarian," I said.
"I think we can still find something for you. Bill's pretty good at that."
"I want to come," I said. I did. If Trajan asked, I think I'd be willing to go anywhere.
"Good enough. Gavin said to send mindspeech when I was done talking to you. He didn't say where we had to talk, did he?" Trajan was grinning again. Yeah, I was smiling right
back at him.
Did I say I couldn't read Trajan? I couldn't. That didn't matter in the least to me. I'd taken one look at his face and that was it. He could fold space, too. Easily. And where he took me, I can't begin to describe properly.
"Gishi fruit trees. Miles of 'em," Trajan said, as I stared at an enormous grove of trees.
"This is where the ice cream comes from," I whispered in awe. I couldn't see the end of the trees—they disappeared beyond my gaze in a greenish-gray mist.
"The ice cream comes from EastStar. They have the patent, but I know the owners," Trajan said, running a gentle hand over my shoulders. His hands were large with a few calluses from hard work, the nails trimmed neatly.
"You get ice cream whenever you want?"
"Yeah. They always send enough to keep us until the next harvest," he said.
"I only got to eat it once, and it was heaven in a cup," I said.
"It is," Trajan agreed. "Come on, I'll take you to the house and introduce you to Bill. Ashe may come in, too. I want to show him what I found." Did I know he was going to lean down and kiss my forehead? No. Did I mind? Hell, no.
The house turned out to be a palace. Nearly as big as the palace on Le-Ath Veronis, I found I liked it better. Shining white walls, blue domes trimmed in gold, it was something from a fairy tale. One I wouldn't mind living in.
"Bill Jennings," Bill introduced himself. Yes, I stared. I knew him. Or at least knew of him.
"Bill Jennings, Director of the Joint NSA and Homeland Security Department? That Bill Jennings?" I squeaked.
"How did you know?" Bill was curious and surprisingly not upset that I knew his face.
"I'm from Texas," I gave him my best Texas accent and held out my hand.
"Really?" Trajan settled onto a barstool standing next to the largest kitchen island I'd ever seen in my life. "I'm from Texas, too. If my brother hadn't told me to come take a look at you," he shook his head in confusion.
"Trace is your brother." Yes, I'd seen Trace. Had only done a quick read on him—there hadn't been much time to devote to him and the others at NorthStar.
"I almost blew him off," Trajan grinned. "Man, look what I would have missed." He pulled me onto the barstool next to his, while Bill served potato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Bill then sat down with us to eat as we talked.
I'll admit I was comfortable with Trajan and Bill, as we ate and talked about nothing in particular. Yes, I knew Trajan had to be werewolf—Trace was. I'd seen that when I'd read him. William Winkler, whom I'd only seen once in passing, was also a werewolf.
"I know werewolves don't know every other werewolf," I said, touching Trajan's hand lightly. "But do you know Winkler?"
"I was his Second," Trajan grinned. "We talk now and then. He still gets a little pissy because I ended up here and left him behind."
"You didn't have anything to do with that, and you know it," Bill pointed his spoon at Trajan.
"Guess not." Trajan grinned again.
"Trajan?" I heard the voice. No scent came with it, though, telling me that the voice's owner was shielded.
"In here, boss," Trajan called out. The man who walked into the kitchen had me gaping again. If I'd thought I was attracted to Trajan, this one nearly blew me away. Sure, Trajan might be considered slightly more handsome, but this one—this one had a gravitational pull greater than Avendor's sun. What came out of his mouth next made sure I'd never feel the same about him (or Trajan) again.
"Trajan!" he shouted. "What the hell? Get her the fuck out of here. Of all the times to bring a woman into this house! Get out! Get her the hell out!"
Trajan folded me away from SouthStar so fast it left me dizzy and feeling ill. Did he stay on Le-Ath Veronis and attempt to explain? Not on your life.
* * *
"According to her records, Kalia Sollo is barely thirty-eight turns and looks younger," Lendill observed. "She prefers to be called Kay. Her marriage certificate shows she was nineteen when she married Cull Sollo. Only we all know that wasn't his name. I wonder if she knows that. I wonder, too, who he really was."
"I'm certain she knew it was an alias. I believe she could tell us all about him and who he was before, along with why the most sought after assassin in both Alliances is hunting her," Norian growled.
Norian was obsessed with Kalia Sollo ever since she'd mentioned Iversti Foculis' name. So many names might be connected to that one, and all of them were wanted criminals who operated inside both Alliances.
Norian had also seen images of the scars on Kalia's torso—the symbols carved into her flesh were well-known to him. Countless victims had borne those marks when Norian viewed their remains. He was puzzled that Kalia bore Iversti's marks and still lived; all the others were dead.
The news of the assassin's death was almost a cause for joy in his opinion; she'd admitted to Lendill that Iversti was dead. Rezil, Iversti's brother, however, was very much alive—he'd heard rumblings that Rezil had been seen twice, but managed to avoid capture both times. Norian's fingers twitched at the idea that Rezil's appearance and Kalia Sollo's move from Campiaa to Avendor were connected.
"We need to question her again—longer this time," Norian muttered. "I want Jayd to come with us, too. He owes me a favor for tracking that rogue High Demon three years ago, and I need his Guli's skills for this. When I show images of criminals to this one," he tapped Kalia's image on his comp-vid, "Jayd can tell me when she's lying. We'll ask if she was ever involved with crime, too, and that'll give us an excuse to arrest her."
"You may have a fight on your hands, Keef," Lendill pointed out. "Franklin has taken to her; calls her his sister. You may have a war when Merrill and Kiarra get back. You don't need a war with the Saa Thalarr, boss."
"Then we'll take her before they get back. I'm not afraid of one of their healers."
"I'm not worried about a healer, unless it's Karzac," Lendill muttered. "But I do worry about the healer's parents."
"Look, she may be able to lead us to some of the worst we've dealt with recently," Norian snapped. "Admit it; we've heard rumors that Rezil has worked for Cayetes upon occasion. You want Hordace Cayetes, don't you?"
"You know I do. I just don't want to hear from Reah if we do this the wrong way."
"Let me worry about that," Norian said and pulled a Ranos pistol and holster from a desk drawer. "Let me worry about that."
* * *
Kay's Journal
I wanted to weep and snap at Lendill Schaff as I walked past him and into the cell reserved for questioning prisoners. He'd been standing there, his arms crossed smugly over his chest while I was ushered unwillingly into the Campiaa City CSD Headquarters. Trace and Franklin insisted on coming along, but they'd been ordered to stay in an uncomfortable waiting room near the entrance while I was taken into the bowels of the building.
Frank and Trace had argued with Lendill when he showed up at NorthStar, demanding to ask more questions. He'd brought a pistol and two agents with him, Frank and Trace lost the argument and here I was, back on Campiaa as they shoved me inside an interrogation room and shut the door. Norian Keef, Director of the ASD, had come to stand beside Vice-Director Schaff while I'd been led inside the room and told to sit.
They'd leave me alone for a while, watch me on hidden vid-cameras and give me enough time to crumble, I'm sure. I almost did; I was as shaky as I could possibly be while the younger, more frightened part of myself wanted to scream and cry. Those thoughts were shoved down—there was no dignity and certainly no purpose in either of those things—Norian Keef and Lendill Schaff would never be moved by anything as mundane as sympathy for a frightened woman.
The scenario that was sure to follow went this way; I'd refuse to tell them anything and they'd lock me up. Simple. Direct. There might never be freedom for me again. I had to come to terms with that. Taking a moment to silently curse whomever or whatever had placed me in this situation, I jerked upright in the less than comfortable chair I sat on when Norian Keef and a man I didn'
t recognize walked into the room and shut the door.
"You likely know who I am," Norian grinned nastily at me. "But you won't know this one, I think," he nodded toward his companion who was taller, better looking and held a power in his aura lines I hadn't seen before. The man had dark hair, darker eyes and reeked of something frightening. "This is King Jaydevik Rath, of Kifirin," Norian announced. "Do you know what a Guli is?"
"No." My voice was shakier than I wanted it to be.
"A Guli is a truthspeaker," Norian said. "He will know if what you say is the truth or a lie. So please, be honest," he almost laughed. "We will show you a series of vid-images, and you will tell us if you recognize each of them with a yes or no answer," Norian got down to business, clicking a remote to bring a screen on the wall to life. The first image I didn't recognize and I almost breathed a sigh of relief.
"No," I said.
"Truth," Jayd said flatly.
We went through six images that I didn't know before Kabe Nind's image appeared. Clasping my hands tightly in my lap, I whispered my answer, "Yes."
"How do you know him?" Norian hissed.
"I only saw him a few times," I muttered.
"What was he doing? Did you see him committing any crimes or talking about crimes he'd done?"
"He never said anything like that to me," I said.
"Truth," Jayd said.
The next image was Raphel Stoweff. "You know him, too. I saw you wince," Norian accused.
"Yes."
"Did he ever talk of his crimes?"
"Not to me."
"Truth."
Six more images came, all of whom I'd seen before. Whenever Norian asked whether I'd ever talked with them concerning their crimes, the answer was always no, and each time Jayd pronounced my words as truth. The final one made me cringe. Hordace Cayetes' face appeared.
"You know him as well, I can see it," Norian pointed a finger at me. I wanted to shudder and weep. Hordace's image was impotent, and still it managed to frighten me nearly senseless. He couldn't reach through the screen and snatch me back—I knew that. It didn't keep a part of me from wanting to scream in fear and anger anyway.
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