Cast In Secret (31 page)

“Tiamaris,” Kaylin said quietly, “I
want
to see the records. I need to know what I’m dealing with.”

“Kaylin,” Tiamaris replied, eyes still orange, “some children
want
to jump off the docks in the port.”

Which more or less decided that.

They went from the West Room into a room down the hall. It had a much more prominent mirror, and the records access was clearer. Teela tagged along, still kitted out in full Court gear. Her eyes were a shade of green that was almost blue, but Kaylin couldn’t tell who, of the three of them, was irritating the Barrani Hawk at the moment.

“Records,” Severn said, lifting his palm and touching the mirror. “Corporal Handred, accessing Imperial Research Data entered today.”

The mirror shivered in its frame. It took a few seconds longer than it normally did, and it normally didn’t require a palm print. If this was information delivered to the Halls, it was clearly not meant to be perused by any eager student. Not that Kaylin had ever
been
one, but still.

“Imperial Security Studies, classified. Tha’alani. Group one.”

There appeared, in the mirror, larger than life, a solitary man. His hair was black, with pale streaks, and his face was so severe a smile would have cracked it in so many places it would have left bone exposed. His eyes were dark, but his skin was pale, and his hands were long and fine. He
reeked
of money.

“Donalan Idis,” Severn said, although it wasn’t really necessary. The man in the mirror, frozen in time, was not a young man, but neither was he old. He was not ugly, but there was in his cold hauteur nothing attractive to Kaylin. She disliked him on sight.

The color of his robes, the red of the Arcanum, would have had that effect in any case. He was speaking, though. Grudging every word, Kaylin said, “Volume.”

And the mirror replied, “Classified.”

Severn said, “Volume.” To Kaylin’s chagrin, Donalan Idis now had a voice. It was a dreary voice, better suited to a bureaucrat, in Kaylin’s opinion, than an Arcanist. On the other hand, she lived in dread of bureaucrats, having been trained by Marcus, so maybe this wasn’t too surprising.

Donalan Idis was not, in fact, standing in front of a mirror for the entire time he was visible. “Did he know he was being recorded?”

“I consider it highly likely that he knew,” Tiamaris replied, saving Severn the effort. “But as he wished to conduct the experiments on behalf of the Security Services, he had little say in the matter.”

“Could he have tampered with the mirrors?”

“Of course. He could not, however, have continued his studies. Such tampering would not fail to be noted.”

Group One, as Severn had called them, were three Tha’alani – two males, and one female. All adult. They were not entirely conscious, and they were also not at liberty. At all. They were bound, arms to their sides, legs strapped, to long, curved tables. They were bruised and pale.

But their stalks were weaving in the air, thrashing in a way that the rest of their bodies could not.

“The rooms were magically sealed,” Tiamaris said quietly. “They could not reach the Tha’alaan. This was not, unfortunately, a precaution that was taken immediately, to the bitter regret of the Court, and the Tha’alani themselves.”

“Donalan Idis believed that their gift was magical in nature. As such, he felt that it could be mimicked if it were clearly understood.”

“There’s nothing magical about those stalks,” Kaylin said flatly.

“I did not say that everyone agreed with him. But given the refusal of the Tha’alani to cooperate with the Emperor at the time, and given our lack of understanding of the Tha’alaan, it was considered a possibility worth exploring.”

“He’s not touching them.”

“No. He is, however – ” and Tiamaris raised his voice so it could be heard over Idis’s loud and angry shout ” – instructing those people who were volunteered for this experiment.”

Kaylin watched as Idis did the hand-waving that seemed to please Arcanists everywhere. It was, of course, accompanied by light, by a certain sense of power. Because she was watching it at a remove, she couldn’t feel it, which was about the only thing she was grateful for. The light that emanated from him concentrated in his hands, and these hands he placed above the quivering Tha’alani stalks.

“Why,” she asked, as she flinched and looked away from the expression upon the captive male’s face, “did it take the Dragon Emperor so long to
decide
that the Tha’alani would somehow be useful?”

“A good question,” Tiamaris replied, in his most neutral tone of voice.

“And a good question, as I was often told, deserves an answer.”

“You were often told this by people who were failing you.”

She shrugged. She had hated the Tha’alani. She really had. But watching them thrash, or worse, suddenly freeze in place, made her feel worse. All she really wanted was that they be locked away in their own part of the City where they couldn’t put their hands on all her dirty secrets, all the parts of her past that were hidden
for a reason
. Unfortunately, it had never occurred to her prying little mind that that was all
they
had wanted, too. “What is he trying to do?”

“Study the physical and chemical reactions that occur in their stalks when they are presented with external thoughts or memories. Which,” Tiamaris added, “you would know if you listened more carefully.”

“That’s not what he said.”

“It’s what he hasn’t finished saying. He is in the process of saying it.”

It made her twitchy. The watching. Her hands were clenching and unclenching as she did. And because this had
already happened
and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it – even supposing that she would risk her career and quite probably her life for one of the Tha’alani – she clung to the question she had asked. “Why did it not occur to him before?”

“Perhaps it did. Or perhaps the abilities of the Tha’alani were not as manifestly clear as they became.”

“More of the latter,” Severn said quietly. He was standing quite still, his hands behind his back, his expression now unreadable. “The Tha’alani have some difficulty with either Dragons or Barrani. It’s only the thoughts or memories of other mortals that come clearly and easily to their touch.”

“They can’t read the thoughts of Barrani?”

“They can,” Teela said coolly.

“But not more than once?”

“No.”

“And if they couldn’t penetrate Dragon thoughts or Barrani thoughts, they weren’t considered worth exploiting?”

“Kaylin,” Tiamaris said coolly, “although this may seem odd to you, given what you are observing, the sole purpose of this venture was to save pain – and lives. I guarantee that the previous methods of interrogation – which methods are sometimes still resorted to in rare cases – would never meet with your approval.”

She watched in the mirror, and in the end, she had to have the volume turned down completely. The Tha’alani were not mute; they could scream. And plead. And beg. They could whimper and when they did, half of their sentences were so fractured they reminded Kaylin of the Oracles. Of the Oracles without protectors, such as the two large and forbidding women who watched their doors had been.

The men who were exposing memories along those slender stalks did
not
fare better. But they weren’t bound, and if there was a sword at their back, it wasn’t obvious. Throughout it all, Idis took notes, and watched from an impatient, cold distance. Every so often he would perform some small magic, which he did not trifle to explain, and he would either nod or frown. Of the men who had been forced to endure the terrified touch of the Tha’alani, his only comment was, “Clearly we’ll need more volunteers.”

She really took a distinct disliking to him.

“You let this happen?” she said when the mirror froze at the end of what seemed a day of horror.

Tiamaris gave her a very irritated look. “It’s the Interrogator’s office,” he said coldly. “What do you think happens there?”

She’d never really bothered to think about it. She knew that people who were suspected of grave crimes were often exposed to the Tha’alani, and that the Tha’alani ferreted out the information required. For all of her life on the right side of the river, this had been her common knowledge. Hells, she’d been
subject
to it.

“Who suggested this?” she asked Tiamaris.

“I cannot honestly recall.”

“It wasn’t a Dragon.”

“Probably not.”

“Please tell me it wasn’t Idis or the Arcanum.”

Severn said, “It was Idis.”

Tiamaris raised a brow. “That is information that I did not possess.”

He shrugged. He wasn’t particularly pleased with what he was watching; his face didn’t betray it, but his body did. He was ready to fight. And possibly ready to injure or kill. She could see it in the tension of his neck, the way he held his jaw, the way he was careful and deliberate in all his movements.

“What happened to the Tha’alani in these records?”

“They were returned to the care of the Tha’alani,” Tiamaris replied. “I do not know what happened to them after they left Imperial hands. They were in custody for some length of time, however.”

“And the test subjects?”

“Pardon?”

“The volunteers?”

He frowned. “Reports were taken. They were not free men,” he added quietly. “Some were condemned men.”

“All?”

“What he’s trying to say,” Teela drawled, “is that they were mortal. It wasn’t significant one way or the other.”

As Kaylin had had a lifetime to get used to this arrogance, she bit back further words and turned to the other person in the room who, by race, was also considered insignificant. Severn met her gaze. “Do you know what happened to them?”

“Not yet,” he replied. “The Wolves had some transcripts and other recorded images of Idis, but this is the first time I’ve seen this material.” He paused and added, “It’s therefore the first time that I’ve had any chance to catch their names.”

“He spoke to some of them.”

“Yes.”

“No – I don’t need to hear it.” She turned to Tiamaris again. “How many of the people who allowed the contact with the Tha’alani were left in the care of Idis?”

“They were all, in some measure, in his care.”

“And you kept the interviews on record?”

“The interviews that were pertinent are now in your records and can also be accessed.”

“Severn?”

He nodded grimly. “You won’t like it any better.”

But another thought had occurred to Kaylin – and she was certain it had occurred to Severn, as well. She turned very sharply on her heel and perched her hands lightly on her hips. “You said that the Tha’alani were cut off from the Tha’alaan during the course of the experiments.”

The Dragon lord nodded.

“But you didn’t know about the Tha’alaan until the experiments were underway?”

“We were… eventually informed.”

“When did that occur?”

“During the studies of Group Three.”

Kaylin had seen enough with Group One. A bureaucrat’s name for people who had lived, and possibly died, in great pain.

“And Donalan Idis touched
none
of these?”

“None at all. He understood what they were capable of, and as an Arcanist, it can be expected that he highly prized the contents of his mind.”

“You’ve got names,” she said to Severn.

He nodded. “All of them, or all of the names spoken. For the most part, the men who were test cases did not remember their own names afterward.”

Kaylin said, “Find them.”

Severn said, “The Wolves are already working on it.” He glanced at Teela, and then back to Kaylin. “You have other work,” he told her softly.

She did. And she wasn’t sure which she dreaded more: visiting Lord Nightshade again, or returning to Ybelline. But both had to be done.

It was to Ybelline that she chose to go first.

Ybelline, with her honey hair and her perfect skin and her mother’s worry. For she was very like a mother, Kaylin thought, and the Tha’alaan itself, the memories of all her children, past and present.

Kaylin wore the Hawk, and she wore it, for this one day, with less pride than usual. If she hated the Tha’alani – if she
had
hated them – she was now burdened with guilt for what had been done to them, and it was hard to shoulder guilt with pride.

She had failed to mention to Marcus where she was going. She had failed to mention it, in fact, to anyone; Severn knew, and certainly Teela and Tiamaris were smart enough to guess. But it was all unofficial at the moment, and given how easy it was to offend people
without
an honest day’s effort, that was best for the Hawks.

The guards waiting at the gatehouse were the same polite and distant Tha’alani, in the same armor. But she felt no fear of them now, and when she approached one, and told him her business, she also felt no qualms when his face slid into blank neutrality and his stalks quivered above his hair.
We wanted to steal this from you,
she thought.
And you paid.

But what she said was, “I’m here to speak with Ybelline, if she’s not too busy.”

He was silent for a moment, in that strange blankness of expression she often saw on Tha’alani faces, and then his eyes focused and he looked at her. “She will see you, Kaylin Neya. Do you know the way?”

“I’ve been here before.”

Half an hour later, she was certain she could
feel
Severn’s exasperated laughter. But honestly, the last time she’d been here, she’d spent her time paying attention to other things – the children, the people who had stopped to stare as one large, single-minded crowd, the young man who had been their guide, and, if she were truthful, her own fear. She’d kind of followed Severn, and remembering
the route
was causing some difficulty.

Today, there were other children, so it wasn’t a dead loss; she was stopped – or stopped walking – half a dozen times, just for the pleasure and indulgence of watching them laugh, or gape at her obvious disfigurement.

She was not a person who loved to be touched, but pudgy, harmless fingers were in an entirely different country, and she could return the favor, lifting a total stranger and tucking him, for a moment, into the curve of her arms. This was not the childhood of her youth, but she didn’t
want
children to suffer that childhood, and it was oddly comforting – if she tried very hard not to think about the one missing girl – that this quarter existed.