Blood of Jackals Read online

  Curin remained standing over Derrick, even as the man turned away after sedating him. Suddenly the man heard a loud smack and spun around. By Curin’s pose and the new angle of Derrick’s head, it was clear that Curin had dashed his helpless cousiné across the jaw.

  “That’s for spoiling my birthday!” Curin spat before taking a nearby seat. The other man gasped and immediately took out his instrument again, holding it over Derrick’s head and neck.

  “My Lord!” the man cried. “You nearly broke his jaw!”

  “He made me mad,” Curin replied, pulling aside a window blind to look outside as the shuttle navigated through the maze of streets.

  - - -

  As Ashincor stepped from his shuttle, local police and House Security forces were still arriving, though many were already questioning the tavern’s employees and patrons. Making his way to the nightclub’s front doors, one officer moved to stop him. Ansel immediately came forward and spoke briefly. The man backed away so fast that Ashincor did not even lose a step.

  Inside, the bright lighting was odd for a drinking establishment, but then, there would be no more business that night. Possibly for several. Ashincor saw Vialette being questioned in a corner booth. She was crying, and seemed to ask more questions than she answered. Not that he heard her specifically. Ashincor did not hear anything really. Or rather, any one thing. Through his heightened awareness, he heard and saw everything and nothing. Somewhere in his thoughts, he was aware of a man pocketing money from the cash register. He could hear a drunken young woman complain about wanting to go home. He even sensed a young man worrying about getting into trouble for not checking the restrooms for cleaning.

  Ashincor focused on the adolescent youth, who had no training in the Disciplines, and thus no mental barriers to the reading of his thoughts. So as not to alarm the boy, Ashincor remained where he stood, turning slightly to keep him within his field of vision.

  Tonight, the manager had assigned the boy restroom duty, a job that no one wanted, and which always seemed to fall on him. It was so unfair. It was some man named Berty’s turn to watch the restrooms tonight. Berty should be here, instead of leaving early with that woman.

  Ashincor worked the boy’s thoughts.

  The woman was... She was...

  Pretty. Yes, very pretty. Had long hair—no, short. Eyes that were... they... sparkled. Hair color? It’s dark inside when we’re open. It’s hard to tell color. And the lights, especially around the dance floor... can’t remember... her face?

  Ashincor sighed. He was no expert in memory manipulation, but he knew that the woman left nothing in this boy to trace back to her. It would be the same with this “Berty” person, assuming he was still alive.

  The restroom, Ashincor prompted. The boy’s shoulders sagged.

  It was not his fault. He was going to check the bathroom.

  Which one? Downstairs. As part of his answer, Ashincor received a mental image of the restroom and its location.

  Ansel followed as Ashincor moved forward. This time no one tried to stop him as he approached. Two agents even gave him a short bow. Glancing at the body lying in one of the restroom stalls, Ashincor looked to the open air-duct above the center stall. He only half-listened as one of the agents gave his report. They were wasting their time on the air-duct.

  Back upstairs, Ashincor saw Cary Morays leaning against the back of his chair, drink in hand, as if he were lounging in the sun. His feet apart, legs extended, and his arms draped over the chair’s armrests, Lord Cary shrugged as another question was asked of him. Ashincor sent a mental scan over the room.

  To those with the Training, it was like a flash of light in a dimmed room. Cary did not even flinch. More, his psychic cloak that was preventing Ashincor from sensing his presence with the Disciplines remained in place without a ripple. His brother was missing, but Cary was collected and completely at ease.

  Cary glanced briefly at Ashincor before looking over to Vialette. Laughing, he told the agent asking him questions how his brother Curin liked to play jokes.

  Ashincor once more opened himself to his vision. Nothing came. Leaving, Ashincor opened the bar’s front doors, only to be assailed by the noise outside.

  “Master?” Ansel asked as Ashincor shook off the momentary disorientation common when returning from a state of heightened awareness. “Are you well?”

  “I was too late, Ansel,” Ashincor said, heading to his shuttle. “Too late.”

  - - -

  “Lancet Gardet for you, Patér Rector,” the voice said over the comm.

  Patér Rector Warek set his approval to another document on his portascreen. Over the mountains from the view through his window, the sun peaked to begin its morning display. The Patér Rector did not turn to see it. “Very well,” he said wearily, “put it on my viewscreen.”

  The Patér Rector looked up from his desk as paneling on the far wall slid away to reveal a large screen. There the face of Lancet Gardet appeared.

  “Greetings, Chancellor Warek,” said Gardet, omitting his religious title.

  “And to you too, Mr. Gardet. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “No doubt you have heard about the current crises?”

  “If you mean the one concerning Lord Legan, yes.”

  Gardet paused, as if expecting Warek to say more. Warek remained still. “You must also be aware that First Advisor Sukain is currently off-planet?” The Patér Rector nodded. “As a courtesy, I wanted to inform you that HOPIS has requested our help with the investigation.”

  “A capital idea,” the Patér Rector replied. “No doubt with your fully supportive efforts, Lord Legan will be returned to us before we know it.”

  “I just hope this does not cause undo friction, Chancellor Warek.”

  “Friction, Mr. Gardet?”

  “I know that your Order has, historically, assisted in such matters.”

  “Surely you have no worries there, Mr. Gardet.” The Patér Rector smiled.

  “No,” said Gardet, lifting an eyebrow, “of course. But given the delicate nature of the investigation,” he resumed, “I hope we can avoid our agents fumbling over one another.”

  “You know your agents better than I,” the Patér Rector replied dryly, “but why would you expect a problem? Did not Lord Jordan ask for your help in the investigation?”

  “He did,” Gardet confirmed. “I just hope we understand one another. After all, there is no sense in duplicating efforts.”

  “Ah. I think I understand your meaning, Mr. Gardet.”

  “So, you won’t be investigating Lord Derrick’s disappearance yourselves?”

  “Mr. Gardet, undoubtedly you would welcome the efforts of anyone, if by those efforts, Lord Legan is found.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then please be assured that if the occasion arises where we can be of service, we will serve.”

  Gardet drew a breath. “Very well, Chancellor Warek. I suppose that is as good an answer as I will get.”

  Again, the Patér Rector smiled. “The good day to you, Mr. Gardet. I am sure you will not disappoint Lord Jordan.”

  Now Gardet smiled. “Thank you, Chancellor Warek. The same to you.”

  The wall paneling hiding the darkened screen did not fully close before the Patér Rector called out to his aide. “Inform the Archbishop and the Patér Provincial that it is as we expected. The NDB have pre-empted us.”

  “Shall I report that Lord Jordan has made a deal with them as well, Patér?”

  “No. It is too early for Lord Jordan to commit himself yet. The NDB have a foothold they share with the DuCideons. Lord Jordan will not be ready to fully turn his back on the Consortium until he has the throne. We still have time to find a new lever. Even if, regrettably, Lord Derrick is never found alive.”

  - - -

  V

  “Any word?” Ashincor asked Guard Commander Lerrero as he entered the conference room. Seated across from him, General Muerran gave orders to a HOPIS subordinat
e standing next to her. To Ashincor’s right was a retired HOPIS agent, one who had specialized in high-profile abductions.

  “First Advisor Sukain has informed House Tehasing of the situation, and is returning to Legan,” Lerrero replied. “Discussion on the proposed royal marriage will be postponed for now, with the Tehasings remaining silent until we alert the public. And on that, for reasons of state, I suggest keeping this abduction a secret, at least until the First Advisor arrives.”

  Ashincor nodded. From what he had learned about Palace politics, Sukain had a great deal of influence at Court. He also knew that she might be a powerful ally against Jordan Possór, who was already attempting to assume control over the government. Hurry home, Sukain, Ashincor thought privately.

  “Here is what we know,” General Muerran began, cutting through the lull. “Lord Legan and Lord Curin were heading to a downstairs restroom. No one saw them enter, but inside we found the body of a male patron in one of the stalls. His windpipe was crushed, and his neck broken. Above an adjacent stall was an air duct, which was opened.”

  “They got Curin Morays through an air duct?” Lerrero asked. The others turned to him expectantly. “Well,” Lerrero added petulantly, “he is rather big.”

  “If they went through the air-duct,” Muerran continued, “one possible trail appears to end at an NDB temple.”

  “And I assume the New Dawn Believers have denied any involvement in the abduction,” the retired HOPIS agent remarked.

  “Yes,” Muerran answered. “And, I believe them. Especially since receiving Lord Jordan’s special request that we accept the help of some of their initiates in our investigation.” Muerran looked apologetically at Ashincor.

  “Even in crisis there is politics,” Ashincor said, giving her a reassuring smile.

  “Are there any other leads?” the HOPIS agent asked.

  “Not from the employees,” Lerrero replied. “We found the one you wanted checked, Patér Linse. As you suspected, he is dead. We are tracking down known rogue initiates to see what turns up. In this, the NDB have even been helpful.”

  Ashincor grunted but reserved comment.

  “Lady Vialette and Lord Cary, of course, have been questioned extensively,” Lerrero went on, “nothing there either. General Muerran?”

  “Despite the limited internal surveillance data,” Muerran resumed, “most everyone from that night has been questioned. The notable exception are two excessively drunk patrons, and the friends who escorted them out.”

  “That’s not a surprising sight so close to a local watering-hole,” Lerrero remarked. “Do we have anything that might identify them?”

  “One ‘friend’ reportedly told his drunk companion that they were almost home,” Muerran continued, “but they were not dressed like people having a ‘home’ in the heart of the financial district.”

  “Homeless?” asked the HOPIS agent.

  Muerran shook her head. “Its name aside, The Slighole is a private club for local business people. It is not a place a homeless person would go for a drink.”

  “They still could have had a car nearby,” Lerrero said. Muerran nodded.

  “There was lots of parking available last night. One man and his ‘drunk’ friend also suddenly dropped from view. Surprising, on a long city-block. And someone else reported seeing a shuttle down that way as he pulled onto the road. I think Lord Legan and Lord Curin may have been split up.”

  “But if two sets of abductors took Lord Legan and Lord Curin separately,” Lerrero began, “what was their original plan? No one could have known about Lord Legan’s presence. The trip was made at the last minute. And why bother with Lord Curin at all? Lord Cary is heir to House Morays.”

  “Lord Curin is still worth a ransom,” Muerran offered. “Maybe Lord Cary was never in position to grab—at least not within their time frame.”

  “Or maybe Lord Curin was with Lord Derrick, whose unexpected presence altered their plans. The Morays twins were known patrons there, and it was their birthday. Lord Derrick was a windfall.”

  “And if Lords Curin and Cary were not the original targets?” Ashincor asked.

  “Then Lord Legan was set up by at least one of his own cousinés,” said Muerran, her voice neutral. “And Lord Curin’s disappearance a distraction.”

  “Did Lord Cary or Lady Vialette tell anyone they were going there?” the HOPIS agent asked. “Beyond their own security people.”

  “No,” Muerran replied. “Though Lady Vialette did choose the location.”

  “And we have no idea who Lord Curin might have told,” breathed the HOPIS agent. “How soon after their arrival did the abduction occur?”

  “Over an hour.” Lerrero looked sheepishly at Ashincor. “Unfortunately, when Patér Linse alerted us, he was not yet listed within the command protocols. This caused some delay.” Lerrero drew long a breath, the failure being his.

  “Bad timing,” Ashincor said.

  “Has there been a ransom demand?” the HOPIS agent pressed.

  “No,” Muerran sighed, shaking her head. “But we have not made the incident public yet. They may be waiting for us to do so.”

  “Even if Lord Legan provided his abductors with a golden opportunity for a bigger score, being able to kidnap a planetary ruler says a lot for them.”

  “Derrick trusted in his cousinés,” replied Ashincor. “Thinking himself safe, he likely let down his guard. There may be little more to read into it than that.”

  “And what about the witnesses?” the HOPIS agent asked.

  “They are being detained until NDB initiates can process them.”

  “You mean clear their memories,” said Ashincor, displeased.

  “It was either that or keep them in detention indefinitely,” Lerrero answered. “As it is, the official word is that the building was the site of a biological attack.”

  “The rebels?” the HOPIS agent asked.

  “Why not?” Lerrero replied. “We need time to find Lord Derrick. Besides, who knows? Maybe they were behind this.”

  - - -

  Lilth Morays sat back in her lounge chair, nibbling at a chocolate confection from a nearby tray. Given the permanent muting required after the last unofficial audience over her royal cousiné, this time she had sent her personal servants away.

  “You know what they are going to demand,” Jordan Possór began, moving toward his sister. “They will want custody of him.”

  “Like the NDB,” replied Lilth, “they will have only access.” She popped a new candy in her mouth. “And that only if they support you for the throne.”

  Three knocks at the door announced their guest. Turning, Jordan leaned against Lilth’s chair. Vaid Ketrick, the DuCideon Brotherhood’s grandmaster for Legan, was then let into the room. His stride was purposeful, his manner, direct.

  “Lady Lilth and Lord Jordan,” Ketrick began. “I come to inform you that your recent abduction of your royal cousiné risks the Brotherhood’s displeasure. For you, Lord Jordan, the offense weighs heavier, for you are under discipline, and know the Articles. You should have asked for our sanction first.”

  Jordan’s face twisted, but it was Lilth who answered. “The plan was my idea, Lord Ketrick,” she replied easily, “as I am sure your spies within the NDB Church told you. And, unlike my brother, I am not a member of your organization.”

  “The NDB also told us that you were to wait a week,” Ketrick charged.

  “I only said that I would meet with them in a week,” corrected Lilth.

  Ketrick looked at her coldly, unmoved by her explanation.

  “As Derrick’s disappearance is not yet public though, I must commend you for having at least one Palace spy still in place. Derrick’s governmental purge undoubtedly rooted out many.”

  “Thankfully,” Ketrick replied, “most within our ranks, both high and low, know their duty to report things.” Ketrick gave Jordan a look of disgust.

  “Yes, how unbearable it would be to rely on the NDB for your intelli
gence,” Lilth taunted, “though most of your Brothers also belong to the ‘True Church.’”

  Ketrick said nothing, refusing to be baited.

  “I am surprised Biam is not here with you,” Jordan added, enjoying the man’s irritation. “He seems to have taken to NDB theology with great enthusiasm.”

  “Tell me, Brother Jordan,” the DuCideon grandmaster said, “are you still hurt that we sought to set Duke Burin—a non-initiate—on the throne over you?”

  “That you would so mock me only weakens your position to decry my alleged lapse in loyalty,” Jordan retorted, his voice even. Lilth smiled.

  But so did Ketrick. “Back to my message then,” he began anew. “‘Advisor’ Biam was correct: The Brotherhood also wants Derrick Possór to be kept alive.”

  “And if we told you that he was already dead?” Lilth asked casually, daintily placing another chocolate in her mouth.

  “You are not stupid,” Ketrick replied. “You will keep your options open until Derrick is of no further use. That would include trying for a double dowry from House Tehasing, before selling them your brother as the next count-grandee.”

  “Accidents happen,” Lilth said, licking her fingers with feline arrogance.

  “Then I will put it this way,” Ketrick stepped forward and leaned closer. “The moment we think that Derrick is no longer alive and well, the Brotherhood will command a Blood Atonement.” Jordan stiffened. “And we will not rest until it is satisfied.” Ketrick turned to Lilth. “Even if you take this planet, remember: you will still only be a regional power. We, however, encompass the entire—”

  “A bluff,” Lilth charged. “If other Great Houses hear of you—”

  “The Blood Atonement would be against Lord Jordan,” Ketrick interjected. “No one will question our disciplining the betrayal of an Oathbound Brother, especially if he is a suspect in Lord Derrick’s death. Anyone else eliminated along the way, of course, would only be incidental to our vengeance upon him.”