Mind of My Mind (17 page)

"When did you decide that it was okay for you to use that power to make people . . .

make them . . ."

"Breed them, you mean."

"Yeah," I muttered. Breed didn't sound like the kind of word that should be applied to

people. The minute he said it, though, I realized it was the right word for what he was

doing.

"It took time for me to get around to that," he said. "A century or two. I was busy first

getting involved in Egyptian religion and politics, then traveling, trading with other

peoples. I started to notice the way people bred animals. It stopped being just part of the

background for me. I saw different breeds of dogs, of cattle, different ethnic groups of

people—how they looked when they kept to themselves and were relatively pure, when

there was crossbreeding."

"And you decided to experiment."

"In a way. I was able by then to recognize the people . . . the kinds of people that I

would get the most pleasure from if I took them. I guess you could say, the kinds of

people who tasted best."

I suddenly lost my appetite. "God! That's disgusting."

"It's also very basic. One kind of people gave me more pleasure than other kinds, so I

tried to collect several of the kind I liked and keep them together. That way, they would

breed and I would always have them available when I needed them."

"And that's how we began? As food?"

"That's right."

I was surprised, but I wasn't afraid. I didn't think for one minute that he was going to

use me or anybody I knew for food. "What kind of people taste best?" I asked.

"People with a certain mental sensitivity. People who have the beginnings, at least, of

some unusual abilities. I found them in every race I encountered, but I never found them

in very large numbers."

I nodded. "Psis," I said. "There's the word you need. A word that sort of groups

everybody's abilities together. I read it in a science-fiction magazine."

"I know about it."

"You know everything. So people with some psionic ability 'taste' better than others.

But we're not still just food, are we?"

"Some of my latents are. But my actives and potential actives are part of another

project. They have been for some time."

"What project?"

"To build a people, a race."

So that was it. I thought about it for a moment. "A race for you to be part of?" I

asked. "Or a race for you to own?"

He smiled. "That's a good question."

"What's the answer?"

"Well . . . to get an active, I have to bring together people of two different latent

families—people who repel each other so strongly that I have to take one of them to bring

them together. That means all the actives of each generation are my children. So maybe

the answer is . . . a little of both."

Maybe it was a lot of both. Maybe he hadn't told me just how experimental I was—

just what different things I was supposed to do. And maybe he hadn't told Karl, either.

I got out of bed trying to ignore the parts of me that hurt. I took a long, hot bath,

hoping to soak away some of the pain. It helped a little. By the time I finally dressed and

went downstairs, nobody but Doro was still around.

"Tell me about it while you're having breakfast," he said.

"Hasn't Karl already told you?"

"Yes. Now I want to hear it from you."

I told him. I didn't add in any of my suspicions. I just told him and watched him. He

didn't look happy.

"What can you tell me about the other actives you're holding?" he asked.

I almost said "nothing" before I realized it wasn't true. "I can tell where they are," I

said. "And I can tell them apart. I know their names and I know" I stopped, looked at

him. "The more I concentrate on them, the more I find out about them. How much do you

want to know?"

"Just tell me their names."

"A test? All right. Rachel Davidson, a healer. She's some relation to Emma. She

works churches pretending to be a faith healer, but faith doesn't have anything to do with

it. She—"

"Just their names, Mary."

"Okay. Jesse Bernarr, Jan Sholto, Ada Dragan, and Seth Dana. There's something

strange about Seth."

"What?"

"Something wrong, painful. But no, wait a minute, it's not Seth who has something

wrong with him. It's Seth's brother, Clay. I see. Clay's a latent and Seth is protecting

him."

"Doesn't it bother you that most of these people are shielded?"

"I didn't realize they were." I checked quickly. "You're right. Everyone but Seth is

shielded. Hell, I'm still shielded. I forgot the shield was there, but it is. Not even thinned a

little."

"But you don't have any trouble reading them through it?"

"No. It's one-way communication, though. I can read them, but none of them have

managed to find out who I am. And none of them realize when I'm reading them. A while

ago, when Karl was reading me, I could feel it. I knew when he started, when he stopped,

and what he got."

"Can you tell whether any of the others are closer to you, closer to Forsyth now than

they were when you first became aware of them?"

I checked. It was like turning my head to read a wall chart. That easy. And I noticed

what I hadn't noticed before. "Two of them are a lot closer. Rachel and Seth. They're

approaching from slightly different directions, and Rachel's coming much faster, but,

Doro, they're both on their way here."

"And the others?"

I checked again. "They'll be coming too. They can't help it. I see that now. My pattern

is pulling them here."

Doro said something that I knew had to be a curse even though it was in a foreign

language. He came over to me and put his hand on my shoulder. He looked worried. That

was unusual for him. I sat there knowing damned well that he was thinking he was going

to have to kill me. This pattern thing wasn't part of his plan, then. I was an experiment

going bad before his eyes.

I looked up at him. I wasn't afraid. I realized that I should have been, but I wasn't.

"Give it a chance," I said quietly. "Let the five of them get here, and let's see how they

react."

"You don't know how badly my actives usually react to each other."

"Karl's reaction to me was bad enough. Why did you put us together if you didn't

think we could get along?"

"You and Karl are more stable than the others; you come from four of my best lines.

You were supposed to get along fairly well together."

"Another experiment. All right, it can still work. Just give it a chance. After all, what

have you got to lose?"

"Some very valuable people."

I stood up and faced him. "You want to throw me away before you see how valuable I

might be?"

"Girl, I don't want to throw you away at all."

"Give me a chance, then."

"A chance to do what?"

"To find out whether this group of actives is different—or whether I can make them

different. To find out whether I or my pattern can keep them from killing each other, or

me. That's what we're talking about, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Well?"

He looked at me. After a moment, he nodded. I didn't even feel relieved. But, then, I

had never really felt threatened. I smiled at him. "You're curious, aren't you?"

He looked surprised.

"I know you. You really want to see what will happen—if it will be different from

what's happened before. Because this has happened before, hasn't it?"

"Not quite."

"What was different before? I might be able to learn from my predecessors'

mistakes."

"Do you think anything you could have learned before your transition could have

helped you avoid trapping my actives in your pattern?"

I took a deep breath. "No. But tell me anyway. I want to know."

"No you don't. But I'll tell you. Your predecessors were parasites, Mary. Not quite the

way I am, but parasites nevertheless. And so are you."

I thought about that, then shook my head slowly. "But I haven't hurt anybody. Karl

was right next to me and I didn't—"

"I said you weren't like me. I'm fairly sure you could have killed Karl, though. I

suspect Karl realizes that."

I sat down. He had finally said something that really hit me. I had kind of built Karl

up as a superman in my mind. I could see how he owned Vivian and the servants. His

house and his life style were clear evidence of his power. He wasn't Doro, but he was a

good second. "I could have killed him? How?"

"Why? Want to try it?"

"Oh, shit, Doro, come on. I want to know how to avoid trying it. Or is that going to be

impossible too?"

"That's the question I want an answer to. That's what I'm curious about. More than

curious. Your predecessors never trapped more than one active at a time. Their first was

always the one who had helped them through transition. They always needed help to get

through transition. If I didn't provide it, they died. On the other hand, if I did provide it,

sooner or later they killed the person who had helped them. They never wanted to kill,

and especially they didn't want to kill that person. But they couldn't help themselves.

They got . . . hungry, and they killed. Then they latched onto another active, drew him to

them, and went through the feeding process again. Unfortunately, they always killed

other actives. I can't afford that."

"Did they . . . trade bodies the way you do?"

"No. They took what they needed and left the husk."

I winced.

"And their patterns gave them an access to their victims that their victims couldn't

close off—as you already know."

"Oh." I felt almost guilty—as though he were telling me about things that I had

already done. As though I had already killed the people in my pattern. People who hadn't

done anything to me.

"So you can see why I'm worried," he said.

"Yes. But I can't see why you'd want somebody like me around at all—why you'd

breed somebody like me if all my kind can do is feed on other actives."

"Not your kind, Mary. Your predecessors."

"Right. They killed one at a time. I kill several at once. Progress."

"But do you kill several at once?"

"I hope I don't kill any at all—at least not unintentionally. But you don't give me

much to base that hope on. What am I for, Doro? What are you progressing toward?"

"You know the answer to that."

"Your race, your empire, yes, but what place is there in it for me?"

"I'll be able to tell you that after I've watched you for a while."

"But—"

"The thing for you to do now is rest so that you'll have a better chance of handling

your people when they get here. Your transition was several hours longer than normal, so

you're probably still tired."

I was tired. I had gotten only a couple of hours' sleep. I wanted answers, though, more

than I wanted rest. But he'd made it pretty clear that I wasn't going to get them. Then I

realized what he had just said. "My people?"

"Both you and Karl say you feel as though they're yours."

"And both Karl and I know that, if they really belong to anybody other than

themselves, it's you."

"You belong to me," he said. "So I'm not giving up anything when I give you charge

of them. They're yours as long as you can handle them without killing them."

I stared at him in surprise. "One of the owners," I muttered, remembering the bitter

thoughts I'd had two weeks before. "How did I suddenly become one of the owners?"

"By surviving your transition. What you have to do now is to survive your new

authority."

I leaned back in my chair. "Thanks. Any pointers?"