Deathstalker Return (35 page)

“Plug me in,” said Emma. “I need to know what’s happening in there. And be sure to record everything on a remote link. This could be evidence.”

Nina hesitated. “I’m going to have to get in really close for that, darling. You will pay for a new camera, if anything goes wrong, won’t you? I’m not made of money, you know, and I can’t get insurance since I started hanging around with you . . .”

“Yes, yes, get on with it.”

“And I should point out that stealth fields are technically quite illegal, for news cameras. You do promise this won’t come back to haunt me later.”

“If you don’t get a move on, you’ll be the one who’s doing the haunting.”

“Bully.”

Emma and Nina plugged in to what the camera was seeing through their comm links, and a window opened up before their eyes, showing the interior of the bar. The camera had to stick to the shadows up by the ceiling, but its picture came through clear enough. Miracle Grant was drinking brandy straight from the bottle at the bar. Three other Paragons were keeping him company. Emma knew them all. Good men, by reputation. But in this backstreet bar they laughed and drank and behaved like animals. They didn’t seem to have anything important to say to each other. They were waiting. And then Finn Durandal walked through the door, and Emma and Nina both jumped. They’d been so taken up with what they were seeing that they hadn’t even seen Finn approaching. The four Paragons fell silent as Finn entered the bar. He smiled on them all, and they looked flatly back at him. There was a sense of Finn’s being surrounded by a wolf pack that would turn on him the moment he showed any sign of weakness. Finn knew this, and wasn’t in any way disturbed. If anything, he seemed amused.

“Well, my fine friends,” he said calmly. “How are we today? Been having a good time?”

“Why couldn’t we meet in the Sangreal, as usual?” said Grant.

“Because you’ve all been very naughty,” said Finn. “Reduced poor little Stuart to tears. Can’t I leave you people alone for a minute?”

“You promised us action,” snapped Miracle Grant. “You promised us revenge. You promised us blood and slaughter and the evening of scores. We’re tired of sitting around, only let out to play bodyguard and run errands for you, like so many puppy dogs.”

“Are you saying you haven’t been enjoying yourselves?” said Finn. “Because of me, the ELFs finally got to possess their greatest enemies, the Paragons, and destroy their reputations while indulging yourselves in every vice and whim that comes to you. The Paragons are your slaves, aware of the evil you do with their bodies, but unable to stop you. They suffer the Hell you’ve made for them, and all because of me. There’s just no gratitude anymore.”

“We’re still waiting for the bill,” growled one of the other Paragons. “The ELFs know better than to trust Finn Durandal.”

“You’re not still mad at me for betraying you at the Parade of the Paragons, are you? It was all part of the plan. To get you where you are now.”

“We could have done this without you,” growled Grant.

“Could you? Could you really? I don’t think so. I gave you the location for each individual Paragon on his quest, so you could get there first and ambush and possess them. No one else could have done that. Only I had the information, because I helped plan the quest. You really must be patient. Stick with me, and you’ll get everything you ever wanted. Soon enough my position will be unchallengeable, and then I will unleash you on our mutual enemies, and we’ll all get to have a little fun, I promise.”

He turned his back on them and headed unhurriedly for the door. He’d almost got there when a voice behind him said, “That esp-blocker won’t protect you forever, Durandal.”

Finn left the bar without replying. Out in the street, Emma and Nina watched Finn walk away. Nina shut down her camera, and called it back, and then she and Emma looked at each other.

“I should have known,” said Emma. “I should have
known
. . .”

“ELFs!” Nina said breathlessly. “ELFs possessing Paragons! Story of the century! We’ve got to get this on the air, Emma.”

“If we’d gone in there ourselves, we’d be dead now,” said Emma. “Up close, those telepaths would have identified us immediately.”

Nina looked quickly at the bar, as her camera returned to nestle under her cloak again. She patted it absently, like a good dog. “Can they sense us from in there?”

“No. Possessing a thrall limits their range considerably.”

“Emma, we have to tell someone!”

“Hush, girl, and let me think!” Emma scowled fiercely. “We can’t just go public with what your camera recorded. Even if we could find someone brave enough to run it, Finn would just say it was faked, a smear job by his enemies. Most people haven’t heard what the Paragons are doing. Finn’s seen to that. And then he’d have ELFs possess us, and we’d stand up and say yes, it was all faked. We’d be very convincing. And then we’d kill ourselves, for shame. And the ELFs would laugh themselves sick. I’d better get esp-blockers for both of us, just in case. We can’t afford to have anyone peeking into our thoughts.”

“Isn’t private ownership of esp-blockers illegal these days?” said Nina.

“I have contacts.”

“The great Emma Steel, breaking the law. Now that really would be an exclusive. Pity I’ll probably never be able to run it.”

They shared a small smile.

“There must be someone we can show this to,” said Nina. “The people have to know what’s going on.”

“The ELFs’ involvement changes everything,” said Emma. “I don’t know who I can trust anymore . . . anyone could be possessed. Anyone. We’re going to need allies. Powerful allies. Normally I’d go to the oversoul for help, but Finn’s driven them away . . .” She stopped, and looked at Nina. “Is that why he did that? Is he really thinking that far ahead?”

“Darling, I’m starting to get a little scared,” said Nina.

“Good. It’ll keep you sharp, keep you safe. Look, we’re better off now than we were. At least now we know what’s going on. The world is starting to make sense again. Finn got rid of the oversoul because they could have exposed what’s happening. It was probably also part of the deal he made with the ELFs, to make up for the massacre of their people at the Parade of the Paragons. And, he’s got rid of the only people who could have exposed him for what he is.”

“Isn’t there any way we can get at him?” said Nina.

“He must know this alliance can’t last,” said Emma. “The ELFs hate his guts. They’ll turn on him first chance they get. Finn’s playing a very dangerous game . . .”

“I say we just lob a grenade into the Sangreal, and kill the lot of them,” Nina said briskly.

“Tempting,” said Emma, “but no. We can’t attack the Paragons directly. We’d only kill the possessed bodies; the ELF minds would escape. We have to find a way to drive the ELFs out of their thralls, and rescue the Paragons.”

Nina snorted. “You don’t want much, do you?”

“
You! Who are you? What are you doing here?
”

Emma and Nina looked round sharply, to see Miracle Grant glaring at them from the door of the bar. Emma grabbed Nina by the wrist and ran like hell. They couldn’t let the ELF get too close, and learn who they were from their thoughts. Grant pounded after them, and the other Paragons came boiling out of the bar to join the pursuit. Emma reached into a concealed pocket and pulled out a mindbomb. Utterly illegal on Logres, but still in common use on Mistworld. Emma believed in being properly prepared, and not letting trifling little technicalities get in the way of doing her job. She charged down the street, Nina plunging gamely along beside her. From the sound of the ugly voices behind them, the Paragons were gaining. Emma primed the mindbomb, let it fall to the ground, and kept running. The bomb detonated just as the Paragons reached it. Its vicious energies sleeted through their minds, disrupting all mental activity in its limited range, and the Paragons staggered to a halt as ELF and host mind were both thrown into confusion. By the time the ELF minds were back in control, their prey was long gone.

Backstage at the House of Parliament, in one of the many small rooms where all the real work of government was done, Anne Barclay and the clone James were working on the text for his next big speech. The esper condemnation speech had gone down really well, and Finn wanted to be sure he had a good follow-up ready to go. James had no strong feelings about espers one way or another; he just said what he was told to say, but still he felt a certain relief that they wouldn’t be around to threaten him anymore. Any esper who got close enough might have unmasked him and revealed who and what he really was. He didn’t hate them or even necessarily want them dead; he just wanted them out of his life. James wasn’t actually shallow, just inexperienced, but the result was the same. He could see things as important only when they affected him personally.

His next big speech would be a clarion call for the House to remove the aliens’ votes, and restrict all alien movement within the Empire “for the duration of the emergency.” Most of the aliens had already withdrawn their representatives from the House anyway, but the measure would make Pure Humanity happy, and Finn needed another scapegoat to focus popular resentment on, now the espers were gone. Besides, with the Terror coming, Humanity couldn’t afford to have potential enemies at its back. Better that all the alien species be subdued and controlled, and this speech would be an important step in that direction. Again, James didn’t care. He was just following orders.

Anne soon had the speech whipped into shape, and sat back from the table. She stretched her new body luxuriously, and smiled just a little exasperatedly at James. “You know, this would go a lot faster if you could contribute something, now and again. Help me tailor the words more to your particular speech rhythms, for example. Even change the words to fit your own style. You are allowed to have opinions. You don’t have to be just a mouthpiece for Finn’s words.”

“Really?” said James. “I thought that was exactly what I was created for. Finn’s already made it very clear, on several painful occasions, that he doesn’t want me to think for myself. I’m just a puppet, something for Finn to speak through in public. So on the whole, I feel most secure when I don’t have to think about what I’m saying—when I can just play the part, and not have to worry about who I really am. Or what I might think, given the chance. I am not James. The more I read up on my progenitor, the more clear it becomes that he wouldn’t have put up with this shit for a moment. He was always his own man, and proud of it. But if I’m not James, who am I? Who am I when the lights go out and there’s no one there but me?”

His voice was rising now, growing more agitated. “Give me a speech to deliver, and I’m fine. Ask me to strike a pose, flash the smile, act the King-in-waiting, and I can do that. Easy. No problem. But even now, when it’s just me speaking to you, the words sound more like James Campbell than the few poor personal thoughts that drift through my mind. It’s easier to act James than be myself—whoever that might be. Is there any
me,
anymore?”

By now he’d almost reduced himself to hysterical tears. Anne comforted him as she always did, by taking him in her arms and rocking him gently back and forth, and he clung to her like a child. But this time, when she was ready to let go, he held on. They looked at each other, their faces very close, and then James kissed her impulsively on the mouth. Anne was honestly surprised. She still had trouble remembering that she was beautiful now, and that a man could be attracted to her. And anyway, James was off-limits. Finn had made that very clear. Anne kissed James back, and put her arms around him again, and let the passion rise within her.
Why not?
she thought fiercely.
James never knew the old me. As far as he knows, I’ve always been beautiful. And it’s time I had something for myself. Something that doesn’t come from Finn.

James was actually shy with her, and Anne had to lead him on. Encourage him, coax him, teach him. It was a new role for her, and one she enjoyed. She locked the door, and had him lie down on his back on the floor, and then she straddled him, and they made fierce, almost brutal love. And James’s open adoration allowed Anne to be the kind of woman she’d always wanted to be, aggressive and wanton. It was good, so very good. And it wasn’t as if she was doing anything wrong. No one was getting hurt. She was building his confidence, as he built hers. Two orphaned souls who had no one but each other.

But Anne was still very inexperienced in some ways. Afterwards, as they lay in each other’s arms, thinking their private thoughts, if Anne had taken the trouble to look directly into James’s eyes, she might have seen something. Something to make her wonder how genuine James’s motives really were. Whether perhaps he was clever enough, and cold enough, to use her to break him away from Finn’s control . . .

But she didn’t look. And neither did he.

Elsewhere, in a room of no importance, the Shadow Court was in session. No comforting holo of the Empress Lionstone this time, no clever recreation of her savage court. Most of their old meeting places had been discovered and overrun, and many of their supporters had been lured away by the more promising causes of Pure Humanity and the Church Militant. Only a few still kept to the old faith, and the return of the Families. The Shadow Court still had money and influence, and a handful of dedicated souls still ready to kill or die for the cause, but the movement had become just a shadow of its previous self.

Nine men and women—carefully anonymous in enveloping black cloaks, faces hidden behind artfully embellished black masks of silk and metal and leather—were all that remained of the ruling elite. And they came together around a bare table, in a bare room, to argue about money. The Shadow Court’s most successful attempt to reestablish interest in the old Families had been the creation of that most popular vid soap,
The Quality.
It had become amazingly successful, bringing in profits so great that not even vid company accountants had been able to hide them all. The elite of the Shadow Court were now all incredibly, embarrassingly rich. And some of them were determined to stay that way.