He hadn’t scanned Allie to verify his suspicions, but if he had to guess, he would say Allie was afraid of Ditrini… and truthfully, before now, Balidor would have said Allie wasn’t afraid of anyone.
And yet, Allie was the one who gave the order to bring him in, rather than kill him on the spot, as Balidor suspected Dehgoies would have done. Strategically, her decision was likely the smarter one, but given the number of high-ranking Lao Hu infiltrators they already had in custody, keeping Ditrini as a bargaining chip wasn’t strictly necessary, either.
Moreover, his death would have sent an equally powerful message to Voi Pai.
No one wanted to argue the point with her, though, not even Dehgoies.
Because of that, for the first time in a fair number of years, Balidor had an honest-to-gods psychopath under his care––a psychopath with a sight rank that rivaled his own.
The Lao Hu were cagey to the point of outright dishonesty about the rankings of their infiltrators, even deliberately adopting a system unlike any used by the rest of the seer world, just to obscure those abilities from view. Balidor had gotten pretty good at guessing over the years, though. Ditrini’s rank was high. Eleven at least. Perhaps even twelve.
Higher than Varlan. Perhaps even higher than Dehgoies, and not only in actual.
Balidor pinged Tenzi in the Barrier.
Is Anale there yet? Yumi?
Yes, the seer answered at once. Loki, too.
Balidor nodded. Good. Tell them I appreciate them delaying their much-deserved time off for this. Feed me anything that looks promising. Anything I miss.
Very good, Adhipan Balidor. Tenzi’s thoughts turned wry. Although it’s hard to imagine one of us catching something you miss, sir.
Balidor inclined his head politely in the space, but the gesture didn’t touch his light.
He needed them sharp for this, not assuming he didn’t need the backup.
He felt Tenzi notice, right before his thoughts turned deferential.
Of course we’ll be watching, sir. As carefully as we can.
I appreciate it. Balidor let his guard down a split second––long enough for the other seer to feel his light. I am as tired as the rest of you. And I confess, this dugra-te di aros pushes my buttons more than any seer in the last one hundred years. A part of me would as soon as shoot him as continue this little exercise.
Balidor felt a hard flush of Tenzi’s vehement agreement.
Let me know if you want my gun, Tenzi sent. I think the boss would only buy you a drink, if you did. Unless he’s got his heart set on doing it himself.
Balidor smiled. He couldn’t help but find it amusing that the Adhipan and Seven infiltrators had taken to calling Revik “the boss” in Mandarin, like the ex-Rebels. Allie, who was ultimately in charge, remained “The Bridge” to both groups, but it wasn’t from a lack of respect; it just seemed to fall that way naturally.
She’d delegated most of the dissemination of commands to Revik, Wreg and Balidor, anyway, providing direction at the top levels almost solely now. Most things got to Allie through Balidor, Wreg, Dehgoies or Jon going the other direction.
More and more, access to her had to be limited.
That would only get worse, now that––
Ditrini broke out in a harsh, grating laugh.
The sound made Balidor flinch, just as it had the first time he’d heard it. There was something deeply unsettling behind that laugh, and not only the flavor of triumph he could see in the Lao Hu infiltrator’s eyes.
“D’lanlente a guete…” Ditrini said in accented Prexci, his deep voice harsh. “Thank you for showing her to me, brother. It is a sight for sore eyes.”
His lips lifted in a thin smile that Balidor recognized by now. It appeared on the infiltrator’s face whenever the Bridge’s name came up.
“And her husband? When is he coming to me?” He chuckled again, deeper that time. “He would not have left my precious girl alone, not after what I did to train her. If she is back, then the Illustrious Sword must be, as well.”
Balidor folded his arms, frowning.
“Well, brother?” Ditrini prodded. “When will he come? While I enjoy these talks of ours, Adhipan Balidor, I confess, I had thought to get a visit from the Sword before now. There is so much I would like to discuss with him… so many things I wish to tell him about his young bride.”
He studied Balidor’s eyes, the mercury irises sharp.
“He is young, yes?” he purred, soft. “They say he is young. They say he is barely more than a pup himself. Tell him to come. Tell him I could help him.”
Balidor bit his tongue, fighting again not to react in his facial expression.
Even so, he couldn’t quite make himself stay silent.
“I strongly suspect you would not enjoy that visit, brother,” he said, cold.
Ditrini smiled, and Balidor kicked himself a little, realizing that was exactly the response the Lao Hu seer wanted to hear.
“I see.” Still smiling, Ditrini leaned back in the chair, adjusting his back around the chains. “Will he come with toys, do you think, brother? A blowtorch? Crowbars? More interesting drugs? Is he a subtle man, your Illustrious Sword, or does he prefer to come in heavy-handed and dramatic?” The shark-like grin widened. “I had expected I might do a few rounds with him, before he let me see my precious girl again.”
“If you think that the Esteemed Bridge will ever step foot anywhere near that door,” Balidor said. “You are deeply, deeply deluded, my brother.”
“Yes,” Ditrini said. “I know you believe that. But you are wrong. It will happen… and far sooner than you think. She will come to me, my brother. She will not be able to help herself. She will come to me, because she is mine.”
Balidor grunted, clicking softly. “She is doing a very good job of pretending disinterest then, brother.”
“Yes. She is quite good at this. My girl is smart. She is crafty, and very good at pretending these things. It is quite sweet, do you not think?” Pausing to gauge Balidor’s reaction, he tilted his head in a shrug. “Interesting theory of yours, by the way. Trauma. Fear. I admit, it is puzzling to me, though. Why do you believe she would fear me so? My precious girl is everything to me. She knows I would do anything she asked… that I am her servant, in all things. Do you not believe me when I say these words, brother?”
Suppressing the desire to tell the Lao Hu seer exactly what he thought of his words, Balidor only frowned. This was starting to feel like a complete waste of time.
Glancing at the mirrored window, he wondered if one of them should try.
It may seem this is going nowhere, but he is more emotional today, sir, Declan volunteered through the Barrier thread. He might be picking up on more than we’d like through the collar, but the drugs are definitely having an effect. It looks like most of his resistance is on the surface, so nothing close to the training the boss received from Menlim. Loki says he’s likely to react more than his surface appearance would suggest, so to stick with it, no matter what kind of reaction you get in his words or face. We’ve already gotten some information from him on his infiltration configurations under the Lao Hu.
Focusing back on the task at hand, Balidor sent a silent affirmative.
Still thinking, he added, I want the others to look this over when I’m done. Including the Sword. And Tarsi, when she gets back. I confess, I need more eyes on this one.
Tenzi sent a reassuring pulse.
Everything is being recorded, including Barrier fluctuations. Don’t let him rattle you, sir. We’ve already seen that he’s spooky good at guessing and letting us fill in the gaps. He might have felt the barest flavor of the Bridge through that Lao Hu connection, then just extrapolated to get a reaction. He’s done it before.
Thinking, unspooling some of their exchanged words so far, Balidor exhaled.
Of course, he murmured.
Didn’t mean to presume, sir–– Tenzi began, more hesitant.
No, no, Balidor cut in.
I very much appreciate the reminder, brother. Thank you. Thank you very much. This is most helpful.
Balidor refocused on Ditrini.
The Lao Hu infiltrator was staring at his body with those dead, silver eyes.
Before Balidor could speak, he felt a hard coil of pain leave the other’s light, invasive yet somehow cold. Ditrini shifted in his seat, spreading his legs enough that he clearly wanted Balidor to look down.
Balidor didn’t.
“You fucked her,” Ditrini observed. “She told me.”
Balidor folded his arms, his expression unmoving. “She told me you were a narcissist,” he said, although it was Wreg who told him that, too. “She said you would likely bore me to death, brother, talking about yourself. She said you rarely spoke of anything else.”
Ditrini smirked. “Love and hate. It is such a thin line, my brother.”
“So you’ve said.”
Balidor’s eyes drifted to the chains holding Ditrini to his bolted chair.
Unlike Surli, they hadn’t left any part of Ditrini’s body free to move more than a few centimeters in any direction, not even his hips. His ankles, knees, elbows, upper arms, shoulders, chest, abdomen, hips and throat were all secured with different types of locks and cuffs, each dead-metal, each with connected but separate links housing organics tied to the room’s defense mechanisms, including and especially the gas.
It didn’t much matter if the collar didn’t hold, when it came down to it.
Ditrini wasn’t going anywhere.
Still, the thought didn’t reassure Balidor as it should have.
As if hearing him, the Lao Hu seer smiled. Unlike Wreg, or even Balidor himself, who were on different ends of middle age, Ditrini was edging into old age, even for a seer. Balidor didn’t know his precise number of years, of course, any more than he knew his exact sight rank, but he guessed Ditrini had more than a hundred years on him, at least.
Ditrini hadn’t been there the day the Sword took Allie out of the Forbidden City, a fact for which Balidor himself had been immensely grateful, even at the time.
“I suppose it’s a nice change for her,” Ditrini said, smiling that faint smile. “Me being the one tied up for a change.”
Balidor brushed aside the images Ditrini thrust into the foreground of his thoughts.
He let out an impatient sigh.
“I want to ask you a question, Ditrini of the Lao Hu,” he said. “It would save us both a lot of time and trouble if you gave me the courtesy of a straight answer.”
“Anything, my dear brother… anything at all.” Ditrini smiled, leaning back into the chains. His eyes flickered over Balidor, his lip curling in a predatory smile. “But if you truly wish a real answer from me, something meaningful, as you proclaim, you already know the price.”
He inclined his head towards his own crotch, not taking his eyes off Balidor’s.
Despite the smile, his voice grew cold as ice.
“I talk only to her… and only after you unburden her of her clothes. Bring my precious girl to me, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know, my brothers.”
Balidor felt his jaw harden enough to hurt.
“Ditrini of the Lao Hu,” he said, hearing the edge creep back into his voice. “What will happen is this. You will tell us the truth, or I and my infiltrators will know if you do not. If that happens, I will increase the dosage of drugs exponentially. We will spend approximately twenty-four hours more on that approach. If it fails, we will put you on wires, until you are ready to try having this conversation again.”
Ditrini’s smile widened. Leaning back in the chair, he went back to reminiscing in his mind, loudly enough that it took Balidor a few seconds to extricate himself.
“Did she tell him?” Ditrini said, still smiling as he stared at Balidor’s eyes. “Did she tell him of the house rules? Our little parties?”
Balidor mouth twisted in another grimace.
“Here is the question, Ditrini,” he said. “Are you listening?”
“Did he like my mark on her?” Ditrini said. “I have wondered.”
“He liked the one the Bridge chose better,” Balidor retorted, unable to help himself. “I will only ask it once, so I suggest you listen. Does the Lao Hu have any way to create an antidote for the human disease? Do they have a sample of it in its pure form?”
“I’ve explained the house rules here, too, brother.” Ditrini voice deepened, growing colder, once more belonging to the man Wreg described to him. “I don’t give a gao d’ jurekil’a how many drugs you give me… or how many chains you use to tie me down. If you want anything from me, my precious girl is going to have to ask for it from her knees.”
Balidor rose before a single thought entered his mind.
Swinging without thought, he hit the old seer, close-fisted, twice, in the face––hard enough to hurt his own hand. Despite the sharp pain when bone hit bone, Balidor barely hesitated for the second hit, and had to restrain himself from adding a third.
Standing over him, he saw he’d broken his nose, and cut Ditrini’s lip on his own teeth. A thin trickle of blood ran down those pale lips to a narrow chin, until the seer licked it off, causing Balidor to recoil in disgust, stepping back.
“You really are a psychopath,” he muttered.
Ditrini laughed.
Glancing behind him, Balidor felt a twinge of embarrassment for having lost control.
As soon as he aimed his aleimi in that direction, however, he felt a hot cloud of fury from the seers watching. All of them emitted it, even Loki, who was normally difficult to read.
The sheer intensity of their emotions diffused Balidor’s own anger in a strange way, calming him at once. Sending them a pulse of warmth, Balidor turned back to Ditrini, his expression and voice full of contempt.
“There,” he said. “You got the reaction you wanted. Happy now?”
The seer smiled, licking the blood on his chin again. Grimacing for real, Balidor took a measured step back, regaining his seat.
Still, the calm didn’t dissipate from his mind.
“Brother Ditrini,” he said, exhaling in a sigh. “You seem to be harboring some delusion that you can simply ‘hold out’ until your time with us here is concluded. Perhaps you imagine a rescue party is headed your way. Perhaps you simply think you are smarter than all of us. Whatever the case, you don’t yet seem to have realized one essential fact: there is no longer anyone left to rescue you, brother. Even if they knew exactly where you were, you’re about as far from a priority for the Lao Hu as you could possibly be right now.”
The humor in Ditrini’s silver eyes grew more prominent.
Balidor continued, “Surely you remember the human-killing virus? You were present in San Francisco. You saw the results of this wonderful creation first hand.” Balidor lifted an eyebrow. “That same disease is chewing its way through major cities all over the world, my brother… including, quite dramatically, your home city of Beijing. They were hit quite hard, we are told. There is a desperate attempt now, to make a limited sanctuary out of the Forbidden City, but those walls are already being overrun. It’s amazing how different security becomes, when you have tens of millions of terrified humans suddenly storming your gates.”
Pausing, he gauged the other’s expression before adding,
“In any case, this turn of events makes us very curious, brother Lao Hu. We were under the impression your Venerable Voi Pai was a great friend of the disease’s creator, the one who calls himself Shadow. What happened to that friendship, I wonder, that he would not have prepared her for this? Why would he risk his dear friend in such a way?”
The glint in Ditrini’s eyes sharpened.
Waiting another beat, Balidor clicked softly.
“Brother, you are housed inside a high-security building residing within a locked-down, military-protected quarantine city––one of the few such cities left in the world. When I say our location is difficult to access, believe me when I tell you, my words are an und
erstatement. Your friends could not come here, even if they wanted.”
Balidor slowed his speech, hitting each word.
“You are going nowhere, Commander Ditrini. None will risk what lives outside these walls. Your people have too many problems of their own to even contemplate such a thing… assuming they were even so inclined.”
Pausing, he added, in more of his normal voice,
“Truthfully, I have half a mind to offer your mistress assistance, since we are in a far better position to aid her than the reverse. She will not be inclined to bargain for your life, in any case. In fact, I’d be surprised if she remembers you at all by now.”
Folding his arms, Balidor exhaled.
“So when I tell you we will put you on wires, son of the Lao Hu, I do not mean for a few hours. I do not mean days… or weeks. I mean we will do as we please with your body and mind until you have lost all memory of who you once were. We will do it until you’ve lost the ability to use a toilet without our assistance… or feed yourself, or form an opinion we have not helped you to create. I mean we will not stop until you cannot help but do whatever we ask, whenever we ask it, and with nothing but a grateful smile on your face.”
A kind of gleeful silence echoed from the security booth.
Ditrini’s eyes had grown colder as Balidor spoke, until they looked like mirrors, reflecting a dead, flat plain. They reminded Balidor of a reptile’s eyes, yet something in their expression struck Balidor more as a removal of the mask than a new mask altogether.
“Tell my precious girl that I plan to tell him everything,” Ditrini said. “Every single detail. Including the parts she liked more than she pretended.”
Balidor rolled his eyes, exuding contempt. “He is not out there, you know. The Sword. If you are hoping to needle him with these little displays, you are wasting your time in that, too. He has delegated this matter, in favor of more pressing concerns.”
Grunting, Balidor added,
“Moreover, your delusions that the Sword is some fool you can easily manipulate are so pathetic as to be boring. He knows exactly what you are, brother. There have been and always will be been such sad lights in the world… those who pathetically hope those of true magnitude will amplify and reflect their own meager flames.”
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