Refizan had a close working relationship with the ASD Director, and was quite discreet in all matters.
What's wrong? I sent to Randl.
His steps faltered, then stopped. When he turned to face me, I saw he'd gone pale.
"Those two—they'll die. Many will die. The prisoner, too," he whispered.
Kooper, we need to evacuate the holding facility now, I mentally shouted.
Queen's Palace, Le-Ath Veronis
Randl
"How often do you watch news-vids?" Travis flopped onto a chair nearby and flipped his long, black braid over a shoulder.
I sat on a comfortable chair in Queen Lissa's library, watching the news reports generated by a local news facility.
I watched as security feeds from cameras close to the Refizani Holding Facility showed the explosions. Deaths were reported, although there hadn't been any, thanks to Travis and Trent's swift actions.
The prisoners from the cells were now housed in Queen Lissa's dungeon, and Trent told me they were shielded in some way, so nobody would know they were there. I still hadn't visited the prisoner in question, although I felt it likely that he'd drawn the would-be killers to him, somehow.
"I watch them sometimes," I answered Travis' question. "I've never been directly involved in what is reported, or in this case, not reported."
"Welcome to the ASD," Travis snorted. "Mom says she'll go to the dungeon with us, when you're ready to take a look at our prisoner."
"Queen Lissa is your mother." My words were flat, as I'd already known this about him. He and Trent were Princes of Le-Ath Veronis. At least they weren't like the Prince I'd been employed by before.
I found myself grateful I no longer worked for Amlis, even with the terror generated by probable deaths and the subsequent destruction I'd witnessed as a new employee of the ASD.
"Come on, you already knew that," Travis teased.
"Yes," I admitted. I almost smiled, too. It was nice to have colleagues who appeared to be of a similar age and had a sense of humor.
"Come on. Let's raid the kitchen, then go to the dungeon. Kooper wants us back on Pyrik tonight. This whole thing is deeper than we thought, and he wants all hands on deck."
All hands on deck. That was a new phrase for me, but I understood its meaning. I tucked it into my memory, in case there was an opportunity to use it sometime.
"I am hungry," I admitted. Travis laughed and folded me to the palace kitchen.
"I had no idea that a Queen would cook," I admitted after cutting into what Travis said was chicken-fried steak, which Queen Lissa made for us. She'd joined us for lunch, which happened outside normal kitchen hours since Travis and I were still on Pyrik time.
"This is delicious," I added, after consuming my first bite.
"You haven't lived until you've had Mom's cookies and her chicken-fried steak," Trent declared.
"Hmmph," Lissa said, a smile in her voice. "You should visit Kifirin. You'll get a meal fit for any king—or a god or two—if Queen Reah or Princess Lexsi cook."
"I love Reah's fish," Travis nodded while cutting another piece of steak.
"Everybody does."
"Have you seen the prisoner?" I asked Queen Lissa.
"Not yet. We'll size him up at the same time."
"I admit, you have many phrases I've never heard before," I said. "Size him up. All hands on deck. I like them."
"Stick around, you haven't heard anything, yet. Mom can teach you how to curse, too, if you don't know how already," Trent snickered.
"Trent Tetsuya," Lissa warned. I imagined she'd frowned—insincerely—at her son. The expression was gone before my vision adjusted.
"These potatoes melt in my mouth," I said. "They're wonderful."
"I don't think they've been feeding you properly," Lissa said. "If you haven't had good potatoes."
"I never ate at the palace in New Fyris," I confessed. "Too much drama in the kitchens, so I walked home for meals instead. Home was a few minutes away from the palace, but Pap and I aren't the best cooks."
"Your father has two job offers," Lissa said. "I had them delivered earlier today."
"Amlis has already dismissed him, hasn't he?"
"Well, I don't consider a tantrum thrown by an affected Prince to be anything official, but your father was happy to receive the offers. He's considering both."
"Can you tell me what the offers are?"
"I could use someone to manage my palace on the light half of Le-Ath Veronis, and Justis and Quin would like someone to coordinate their palace schedule for equipment, rooms, meals, meetings, banquets and so forth."
"Pap does have a good mind for schedules," I nodded. "And for details."
"He'd be welcome either place." Lissa's smile stayed in place long enough for me to see it.
"He could probably do both, with a good comp-vid and transport when it's necessary," Trent suggested.
"What a great idea," Lissa said. "I'll make that suggestion, and he can stay at whichever location he wants. They're really not that far apart, and a short boat ride will get him back and forth. I'll have Renée send him a message, and let him know we can pick him up any time he's ready to come to Le-Ath Veronis."
"I'll send a message and tell him to come tomorrow," I said. "It'll be good to get him away from that mess."
"Sounds great. Finish your meal; we have a mess in the dungeon to visit," Travis said.
Lissa
Randl stood outside the prisoner's cage, silent and still for so long I wondered if he were awake.
I had no idea how his talents worked, but after ten minutes of silence, he turned toward me.
"We must go," he said.
His words sent a shiver through me. I folded the four of us out of the dungeon immediately.
Once we were inside my study, I thought I'd have to call Karzac; Randl looked as if he were about to lose everything he'd eaten. Terrified, I watched him struggle with nausea as minutes ticked by. Travis and Trent were worried about their new friend—that was obvious, but they also had no idea what to do for him.
"He—has been changed," Randl finally sat down on the sofa across from my desk. "It isn't only the obsession," he added, holding up a hand while he fought another wave of nausea.
"Bro, what are you saying?" Trent asked, his voice calm.
"I've never seen anything like this before," Randl whispered. "Every cell in his body—feels like a recording device to me. Someone very powerful did this to him, and I can't figure out how, or why he was chosen."
"You mean somebody is on the receiving end of this?" I asked.
"I think so, although he's never been informed of who that is. Someone was supposed to find him on Pyrik—as you've already surmised. All of us have been recorded and noted in every particle of his being. If he meets with his designated contact, that information will be transmitted."
I understood now why Randl hadn't said anything in front of the prisoner. Images were one thing. Words were another. Randl hadn't wanted to reveal to the prisoner that he understood any part of how he'd been altered.
"You say this is at the cellular level?" I couldn't imagine anyone other than a god or a Larentii who could do that.
"Yes." Randl looked queasy again.
"How do we get rid of it?" Travis asked. He was having mindspeech with Kooper; I understood that.
"You have to burn him to destroy it."
"Oh, my gosh." I rubbed my forehead with trembling fingers. "Renée," I called out. She was vampire; she'd hear me through the closed door.
"Yes?" Renée opened the door and peeked inside.
"Tell Gavin and Tony to have the prisoner transferred to a privacy cell. Right away."
I had three privacy cells—concrete and titanium all around, and only a small door at the center of a larger, solid door, to pass meals in and out.
The prisoners there were in isolation from all, so those cells were seldom used.
This prisoner—after Randl's explanation, I was terrified.<
br />
I needed Bree or Zaria to talk to, and had no idea where either were.
"What does Kooper say?" I turned to Travis.
"He's on his way," Travis replied. "He's not happy, either."
Randl
It was embarrassing to appear so weak in front of Queen Lissa and her sons, but I'd never been affected by anything like this.
Why had this been done? Who would receive the information?
I still felt nauseated, but refused to let it show. Kooper Griff arrived and began pacing between the sofa and Lissa's desk, after she'd told him the prisoner was now in isolation.
"Where did this man work—before he was reported dead?" I asked suddenly, interrupting Kooper's limited journey across an expensive carpet.
Kooper went still. "Travis?" he turned to Travis.
"I have it here, on my comp-vid," Travis pulled the device from a pocket.
"May I see?" I asked.
"You're first in line." Kooper took the comp-vid from Travis and handed it to me.
"He worked for a company that manufactured optical lenses, for powerful telescopes and such?" I struggled to read as fast as my vision would allow. "Until he disappeared twenty years ago."
"That tells us nothing," Lissa grumbled.
"Vrak Falken ran one of the robotic machines that measured and polished lenses," I shook my head and handed the comp-vid back to Kooper. "He was an amateur astronomer in his free time. Had two wives. No children. Official records say he was found dead after a fall from his rooftop observatory. Nothing noteworthy there, and the body was cremated, so we have no idea who was actually reported dead at the time."
"That's just what I thought," Travis agreed. "Nothing to warrant selecting him from a room full of strangers, except that somebody else died in his place and nobody knows where he's been for the past twenty years."
"My worry is this," Lissa said. "How many more like him are out there? How many are reported dead or missing, who've been selected because they don't stand out? What is their purpose? This is terrifying—that we know next to nothing about them."
"Perhaps when I return to Pyrik, I can look for others like this?" I suggested.
"I think you may be the only one who can see this," Lissa confirmed. "Quin couldn't, and she's the best I know, next to Bree and Zaria."
"Randl Gage, you just became one of the most important hires the ASD ever made," Kooper sighed. "Come on, let's get you decent clothes and take you back to Pyrik. You and the crew of BlackWing X are going undercover."
Chapter 4
Mer'bali, Pyrik
Quin
Kooper Griff joined Justis, Bel, Wellend, Warlend and me for breakfast. He looked as if he hadn't slept. Actually, I could see in him that he hadn't slept. The prisoner, whose image I'd studied, greatly worried the Director.
Randl had seen something I hadn't. I went still. My talent ensured that I could see someone's mind, history and intentions, provided they weren't obsessed.
Randl had read the man's entire body, right down to its cells.
Yes, I could sense illness, but what I saw in Kooper—the information he'd gotten on the prisoner—I'd never have seen that. Randl's talent was formidable.
"Quin, I was hoping you'd be available for a special assignment," Kooper said after breakfast was served by hotel employees.
Kooper's words drew a frown from Justis, but he didn't object.
"What does it involve?" Bel asked.
"Mostly looking at images and vids—of the Conclave attendees. Just to see if anyone carries obsession. Once that's been determined, I'll ask Randl to take a look."
"I can do that easily," I said.
"It'll pay well," Kooper offered a wry smile. "I know you haven't gotten paid in the past. That will change."
"That sounds reasonable enough," Bel reached for the small plate of butter pats. He was warming his waffle with a spell so the butter would melt quickly before he poured syrup.
I patted his leg under the table. He grinned and dumped three butter squares on his waffle. Just as I'd thought, the butter melted immediately.
"Warm syrup?" Bel held up the small pitcher and offered it to me after pouring a generous amount on his waffle. I squelched a laugh.
"I'll send vids and images this afternoon," Kooper promised. "Will you pack this to go?" he asked a waiter after pointing to his plate.
"Of course."
Kooper left a few minutes later, his breakfast packed in a warming box.
Randl
We looked much like any other swarm of assistants and clerks who'd come to the Conclave, ready to work for their attending royal, ruler, president or prime minister. Only a handful would be allowed inside the meetings, but those would be armed with multiple comp-vids, ready to share pertinent information with their co-workers, who'd then disseminate it to a waiting planet or kingdom.
Official badges were woven into our Conclave-approved uniforms, proclaiming us assistants to Queen Lissa's entourage. Every badge was coded with a specific sequence, which meant our individual DNA would be matched with that sequence in the badge whenever we passed a security station. We were dressed in Queen Lissa's traditional black-and-silver, although we wore short sleeves as opposed to the long-sleeved uniforms worn by her guards.
It wasn't our job to disseminate information; it was our job to look for anyone who could be connected to Vrak Falken.
With all the clerks and squads of assistants roaming the host hotel complex, we'd disappear into the crowds easily enough.
We'd also been disguised by Erland Morphis, King Rylend's father, who, like his son and grandson, was a strong Fifth-level warlock.
A massive courtyard and park lay at the center of the hotel complex, which contained trees, a small lake, flower beds and trimmed lawns. Walkways looped across the area, along with regularly-spaced benches.
That's where we were now, having tea at an outdoor table and watching everyone who wandered in and out of the hotel facility that housed the meetings.
You'll find it completely boring most of the time, until something happens and sends you into high-gear-panic mode, Trent informed me. It's one or the other—no in-between.
I saw right past his disguise—he and Travis no longer looked like twins to everyone else. I dipped my head to acknowledge his sending, then sipped tea that had gone cold.
Winkler says Amlis is having another meltdown, and doesn't want to go to the meet-and-greet dinner tonight.
My shoulders sagged. I had no healing ability; if I did, I'd be tempted to heal Amlis just for the benefit to those around him. I couldn't imagine that Rodrik was enjoying this, and if he couldn't control Amlis, then nobody could.
"I'd like to research the information on unseating a royal, according to Alliance guidelines," I said softly. "Something has to be done."
"We know that. The Director's already looking into it," Travis replied. "Lukas is the Primary ruler for Harifa Edus, and his position and testimony will carry a lot of weight. I think Ildevar and the Council of Twenty will have the final say, though."
We stopped talking as a group walked past our table; it included one harried Princess and six gabbling assistants.
Nobody in the group was affected like Vrak, and there were no obsessions. I discreetly shook my head once they were away from us.
This is getting us nowhere, Travis sent.
Agreed. Let's check in with the logistics team, to see whether they've pinpointed the source of the laser rocket. Trent was just as bored as I was. We can check with Quin after that, to see if she's found anything in the images Kooper sent her, he added.
Travis stood first, and stretched. Three women ogled him as they passed; the twins were well-muscled and worked out regularly to stay that way. It didn't matter that Travis' face was different; the three who watched were looking at everything except his face.
Trent and I rose from our seats to follow Travis, as he walked toward our hotel across the quad.
Quin
Den
a set a plate of food at my elbow as I thumbed through the comp-vid sent by Kooper. All the Conclave attendees, including assistants and guards, were listed, with an image and a brief biography.
So far, I'd seen many things, but obsession wasn't one of them.
A hard knock on the suite door startled Dena and me—Justis and the others had gone out and had a key to get in.
"Who in the name of," Dena muttered as she stalked toward the door. "Fuck," she breathed after checking the vid-cam image.
"Who is it?"
"Rodrik."
I wanted to say fuck. I didn't.
"I need Quin," Rodrik's voice came through the comm. "Now."
The word fuck may have left my mouth as I rose and hurried toward the door. "Why do you need me?" I demanded after Dena pressed the comm button.
"It's Amlis. Something's wrong with him."
I wanted to ask what was wrong with him, other than the family penchant for paranoia and mental illness. I also wanted to tell Rodrik to leave and not come back.
"Let's go," I turned to Dena, who frowned. She didn't want me to leave the suite, and especially not with Rodrik.
"Fine," she grumbled and opened the door.
We're going to Amlis' suite, I informed Justis as we followed Rodrik down a long hallway. Rodrik says something's wrong with him.
Quin, I forbid it, Justis' sending was terse.
We're already there, I replied.
We're on our way, he snapped. Winkler and Lukas are with me.
Then ask Winkler to fold space, I said and walked through the door of Amlis' suite.
"Oh, no," Dena breathed. At least she could speak; words—and my breath—caught in my throat.
Amlis sat on the floor of the suite, his wrists bearing jagged cuts from a steak knife he still gripped in one hand. Blood covered most of his body, as well as the carpet beneath him.
Only the dullness of the knife and Amlis' poor knowledge of how to effectively commit suicide had saved him. With light forming about me, I almost fell on him to perform a healing, while Dena, behaving in a more practical fashion, removed the knife from Amlis' hand.
MindSighted: BlackWing Pirates, Book 1 Page 5