Guardians Inc.:Thundersword (Guardians Incorporated #2) (35 page)

“Shahrukh and Thawaret had actually been moved in a containment lab inside the Mansion, and they’ve been very helpful in counteracting their free brethren. The Doctor even contacted the Dealmaker on their behalf to see if he would free Qianna,” Bolswaithe told him as the wristpadd displayed the two “converted” Namtarii.

Thomas couldn’t imagine the Guardians dealing with the Dealmaker ever again after what he had done in the Keep. “Why would we want to contact him again?”

“He’s a very powerful creature,” Bolswaithe said. “We can’t just ignore him.”

“We could just imprison him,” Thomas said and actually meant it. That was a creature that the world would definitely be better off without.

“I don’t think we can,” Bolswaithe said. “There are many reports through the ages about whole armies going after him and ending up dead, or worse, disappearing without a trace.”

Bolswaithe displayed the story of the lost Ninth Roman Legion. Its final orders were to “Find, apprehend, and bring to justice, dead or alive, the betrayer of its greater Commander, Julius Caesar.” Apparently the Dealmaker had played Caesar, Mark Anthony, Cleopatra, and later Octavian against each other until Octavian decided that it had been enough and taken power as Augustus, Rome’s First Emperor.

More than a hundred years and thirteen emperors later, the Dealmaker had been spotted again in Scotland, and the Ninth Legion sent after him as a matter of Roman pride.

No one had heard of them ever again.

“The Doctor forbids all actions of Guardian Watchmen and Fire Teams against him, and he specifically told Tony to keep far away from the Dealmaker or be expelled from the company. He asked Mrs. Pianova to deal with the Dealmaker for Qianna’s return in Shahrukh's stead.”

“So she’s back?”

“Her body is,” Bolswaithe said. “We don’t think her mind will ever be.”

It was actually sad. If Qianna, like Shahrukh and Thawaret, had decided to reform she had found a fate worse than death instead of redemption.

“Shahrukh and Thawaret are hopeful though,” Bolswaithe continued. “The Doctor isn’t as optimistic.”

“I see he’s been getting worse since I disappeared,” Thomas said. Because of the aggravated arthritis caused by Isaurus, the Doctor had had to step back from the public eye and the day-to-day running of the company.

“Isaurus’s attack took the Doctor near the advanced stages of his sickness, and it has kept progressing. We’ve tried everything—medicine, Elven Magic, but even his own power as wielder of the Aesculapious Cane has proved ineffective, but as soon as we knew you were coming back he accepted an extensive and radical surgery. He just came out of it.”

“How is he?” Thomas asked. He didn’t like to hear “extensive” and “radical” in the same phrase.

“He’s in intensive care,” Bolswaithe said. “Just as visiting the Namtarii was the last resort for trying to stop Morgan; this procedure is the Doctor’s last resort. Should it fail, the Doctor might have to step from Guardians Inc. and the Council.”

“I thought those positions were for life.”

“Exactly,” Bolswaithe said. “He would decline any treatment and let himself die in order to have a successor.”

“Can’t he just resign? Find someone to take his place?” Thomas couldn’t believe that the Doctor needed to die in order to have a successor. It was too drastic.

“I guess that the transfer of the Aesculapious Cane works that way. Many already believe that Elise could be the next CEO of Guardians Inc., as she has had to fill many of the Doctor’s responsibilities inside the Mansion.”

“Elise…” Thomas remembered her been carried away by the medical teams with her skin covered in scabs. “How is she?”

Thomas felt that Bolswaithe was taking his time to respond, as if deciding how to tell him about Elise. “She’s been taking her new role well,” he said.

Bolswaithe was definitely trying to hide something from him. “What else, Bolswaithe?” he asked. “Tell me everything.”

“Elise was as affected by the Namtarii, just like the Doctor, maybe even more,” Bolswaithe said.

“Shahrukh said that the sickness was cured!” Thomas said. He remembered how Shahrukh had saved her life from Smallpox.

“There is nothing wrong with her physiologically,” Bolswaithe said, “but her emotional state has been greatly affected.”

“How?”

“She has become withdrawn, emotionally unstable,” Bolswaithe said. “She even tried to commit suicide.”

“What? Suicide! Why?”

“The scars, Thomas,” Bolswaithe said. “The Smallpox left her terribly scarred and she’s become chronically depressed. She has cut her ties to her family and friends, even Tony and I, and concentrated only on her work.”

“Where is she now?” Thomas needed to see her. Suicide? The Elise he had left behind had been full of life, fun, beautiful, and also one of the strongest people he knew. He couldn't believe that scars would drive her to suicide. Maybe the others had just not been there for her as she had needed it, but he wouldn't let her down.

“She’s in the Doctor’s office, but I don’t know if it is a good idea for you to see her until you have returned to our timeframe.”

Thomas stood up from the fountain. “I’m going right now.”

“I advise against it,” Bolswaithe said.

“Try to stop me.” As Thomas entered the Mansion, everyone he saw was static and frozen in place. A tech had been running through the corridor and she seemed suspended in air, her ponytail frozen in a mockery of speed behind her.

“Thomas, please…” Bolswaithe said as he ran up the stairs and approached the Doctor’s office.

“I’ll leave you here, Bolswaithe!” Thomas said as he unlocked one of the wristpadd’s straps. “I swear.”

“Very well,” Bolswaithe said, and a little green button on the wristpadd turned on.

Thomas entered the Doctor’s office. Through the windows he could see a marsh, maybe Florida, trees crooked and moss hanging from the branches, fog covering the surface of the murky water. He knew that the office windows could show any place on Earth, but Elise had chosen this area and it was a dark sign. It was gloomy and depressive, and Thomas realized that she had chosen this setting as a reflection of her mood.

The lights were dimmed, and he had to scan the room twice to find her. She was standing near the Doctor’s desk wearing a long, dark cloak, her head covered, and her back toward him as she looked at a screen.

He slowly approached her. He noticed that she was wearing long, black gloves. As he reached her, he was shocked to see a gray mask, no more than a featureless oval, with a fine mesh over the eyes and mouth slits.

Taking a deep breath he reached for the hood and carefully pulled it back, hoping that Elise would only feel the slightest of readjustments to her clothing.

She had shaved her head. Her long, wavy hair had disappeared. Her mask was held by a strap from the top that joined another that ran above her ears. Pockmarks covered every inch of her neck and ears. He paused for a second, afraid of his own reaction when he took off the mask.

Very carefully, he pulled the mask away from Elise's face.

He had promised not to look away, but he turned his eyes as his blood ran cold.

This wasn't Elise. The only feature he recognized of the beautiful, half-elf was her right eye. Still luminous and betraying her keen intelligence among the ravaged skin.

Tears swelled in his eyes of pity, of anger. Now he understood the hatred Tony felt toward the Namtarii and how powerful, dangerous, and terrible their powers were.

“You should put the mask back on, Thomas,” Bolswaithe said softly. “Any longer and she might sense the movement and realize it was you.”

Thomas took in a long breath and very carefully replaced the mask and the hood.

“We tried skin grafts,” Bolswaithe said. “New therapies and even experimental nanotechnology, but the damage is too extensive. Her left eye—”

“I saw,” Thomas stopped him and caressed the mask slowly. “Is there nothing to do?”

“She tried to kill herself during the first three weeks. Then her parents took her to Eidameran. Living in the Elven Kingdom helped her for a while, but then the Doctor's health faltered and she insisted on coming back. She donned this attire and became a recluse in the Mansion. She won't even see me or Tony…only Mrs. Pianova and Doyenne Kiran can talk with her.”

Thomas wiped the tears from his eyes. “It is my fault, Bolswaithe,” he said. “I took her to the Keep. I exposed her to the Namtarii.”

“Nonsense,” Bolswaithe said. “It could have been anyone; it could have been you who was infected.”

“It should have been me!” Thomas slammed his fist on the desk. “She pulled me back, Bolswaithe! She stepped between the Namtarii and me. It should have been me wearing this mask!” Thomas felt like his world was spinning out of control, even though time was stopped where he stood. Since he’d joined the Guardians, it had been nothing but heartbreak and death. And now, one of his best friends was scarred for life all because of him. Now, more than ever, he felt the weight of guilt pressing down on his shoulders.

Bolswaithe remained quiet for a long time. “We all knew the risks,” he finally said. “And she did her duty.”

“And paid the price for protecting me,” Thomas said. “Elise, the Doctor, Charles, and Vincent…” he said, referring to the two Grotesques who had been killed in the battle. “They all paid the price...even you.”

“What do you mean?” Bolswaithe asked.

“Why did you kill the Namtarii you had already subdued?” Thomas asked. “I won't accept an excuse; I want to know right now.” The battle of the Keep was fresh in Thomas's memory, and Bolswaithe had killed the female Namtarii in cold blood.

That act had been against everything Bolswaithe had stood for in Thomas's mind; the robot even shunned using swords and guns, instead relying on non-lethal methods of subdual and weapons.

Something had changed in Bolswaithe, and Thomas needed to know what.

Bolswaithe remained silent.

“You have to tell me, Bolswaithe,” Thomas said, pleading. “I won’t stop asking until you do.”

“I...” Bolswaithe said. “I think you might know better than I do, Thomas. Please, help me understand.”

“What do you mean?”

“The capabilities of my body are thousands of times greater than the ones in this wristpadd. I was able to perform billions of calculations, take into account millions of variables, and foresee possible outcomes based on statistics. In this wristpadd I don't have those capabilities; I can synthesize the facts and make an assessment without looking at all variables. Do you understand what I mean?”

“You can focus. Be more direct?” Thomas thought he understood what the robot meant.

“Something like that,” Bolswaithe said. “Let me begin with the most important variables for my decision. The first was the Namtarii's identity. She was Lejka of Assur, wife of Jushur, King of Sumeria. A powerful Magic user, she was never a Guardian, but she joined forces with the others in order to destroy Namtar. It takes a special kind of woman to forge one of the first empires in the world; she was shrewd, manipulative, and dangerous, even before becoming a Namtarii. The second variable came during the battle when I recognized Smallpox as the sickness Elise had been infected with. The third and final was Elise herself.”

“Three variables?” Thomas asked. “You just said you took into account millions of variables.”

“I did,” Bolswaithe said. “I took into account Lejka's historical record, the good things she did as a queen, her fight with Namtar, her relationship with the Guardians, and what was known about her relationship with the other Namtarii, from the economics of keeping her prisoner, to the chances of her being freed in the future, and the damage we had known she had caused in the past. Millions of statistics and prognostics went through my head every second, but in this diminished state I can pinpoint those three as the main reason as to why I’d killed her.”

“Tell me.” Thomas didn't like where this was going.

“Lejka was utterly evil. She relished the power, and if she was ever freed she would have killed as many as she could.”

“I know that wasn't the reason, Bolswaithe,” Thomas said. “I know you, and I know you wouldn't have killed her based on that.”

“The second and third variables go hand in hand, Thomas,” Bolswaithe continued. “Through my body I had access to all the archives documenting the outcome of a case of Smallpox as severe as the one inflicted on Elise. Lejka was also capable or causing such a sickness. Hundreds of thousands of possibilities, which I cross-related with all I knew about her. I had statistically foreseen that Elise would be affected greatly if she survived. When that happened, an anomalous function entered my system, and I crushed Lejka's neck before I even had a chance to analyze it.”

“What function?”

“I believe it was a feeling.”

“A feeling?” Thomas asked. “Are you in love with Elise?” It was the only feeling Thomas imagined would push anyone to murder.

The wristpadd screen went dark as Bolswaithe took time to respond “I know the definition of love, Thomas. Even if I had never had feelings before I would have known it was love. I guess I do love Elise, but not romantically. This was something else, but just as powerful.”

“What was it?” Thomas asked.

“Can't you guess?” Bolswaithe asked. “In this diminished state I can't elude the conclusion I came to, but now you know all those variables that made me act and I want you to help me confirm my conclusion.”

Thomas thought for a second. In his mind, only another feeling would be strong enough to kill somebody. But it was a feeling that could transform Bolswaithe's core.

“Hatred?”

Bolswaithe paused, even longer this time. “Yes,” he said finally. “I believe it was hatred toward Lejka for what had been done to Elise, and although I can't feel it know, that sparked other powerful feelings that have been consuming me these past months. I...” Bolswaithe paused. Even with this toneless voice he almost seemed nervous. “I’m angry at what I did and afraid that I will do it again,” Bolswaithe said, “but beyond that there was another thing—it lasted only a millisecond, but it was my strongest sensation yet, one I'm afraid to experience again.”