Mirror Sight

Otherwise discarded? It was, for Cade, yet another example of why he’d chosen to oppose the empire, but the reasons kept getting worse and worse.

“I tell you this,” Marcus said, “because besides your lady’s health and ability, there was more I observed. I could sense a seed, a new potential, seeming to quicken within her, and if I am not mistaken, it is of your making.”

Cade stilled, working out the mender’s words until he was sure he understood. He nearly roared out a response, but Marcus was quick and slapped him across his raw cheek. The pain sobered Cade. He saw how unhappy Marcus looked.

“I will tell no one,” the mender said. “This has gone on for too many generations, the stealing and enslavement of our children.”

Cade jammed his eyes shut. Tears stung his scored cheeks, but inside, his agony and joy was over the potential that Karigan could be carrying.

THE SCENT OF HOPELESSNESS

The door opened and closed, and Starling appeared once again in their circle of light. He gazed appraisingly down at Cade.

“Well, well, well. It appears, Mr. Harlowe, a change of tactics is in order.” He came close, leaned over Cade, and whispered in his ear, “Do not forget that I always get what I wish, no matter the method.”

Then he straightened and backed away. “Marcus, heal the damage to Mr. Harlowe’s face.” Then he turned away and called, “Butler! I need my coat.”

When Marcus stood before him, Cade tried to read the mender’s expression to see if he knew what was going on, but all he saw was consternation. Was Starling merely planning to keep him guessing and confused, or had Dr. Silk issued some new directive, and if so, why?

Marcus placed his hands to either side of Cade’s face, not touching his ravaged cheeks but close enough to feel their heat. Marcus closed his eyes and a soothing haze of blue suffused Cade’s mind, and once again he felt as though he were floating. Was this the healing? Had Marcus been right about Karigan? The shiver of joy, counterbalanced by dread, passed through him once more. Could he trust the mender’s word, or was it merely an act, some ploy of Starling’s to manipulate his emotions? In the empire, it was never easy to know who to trust, but the mender had seemed so earnest. As the pain receded from his wounds, he was willing to give Marcus the benefit of the doubt, which brought back the joy and dread.

He dared not dream of what could be, or even try to imagine the worst. Doing so could only induce madness. He must narrow his vision and find a way to free himself and Karigan. So long had he prepared to be a Weapon, he had never paused to consider the idea of fatherhood. Now, everything had changed.

Starling dismissed Marcus and, in turn, ushered in a pair of guards. They unlocked Cade from his chair, made him stand, and manacled his wrists behind his back. Starling had said there was to be a change of tactics. What came next?

Starling did not explain, just hummed a jaunty tune as Cade was pushed through the chamber. Cade caught glimpses of machines and chains and sharp objects waiting in the shadows. What methods could be worse than these devices of torture?

He was taken into a corridor. This was not one of the magnificent colonnaded halls he’d seen before, but a dimly lit narrow corridor of stone blocks. They stopped at an open door that led into a small, closet-sized room. Cade noted the levers inside, and realized that it must be a lift. He’d heard about them certainly. They were of particular use in the empire’s mines, but there were none he knew of in Mill City.

“Step inside,” Starling said.

When Cade proved too hesitant, he was shoved in. Were they going to use the lift to torture him? Apparently not, for the guards stepped right in with him, followed by Starling, who had resumed humming. He closed the lift’s door and manipulated the levers. The car bounced, then descended.

Cade had never before felt anything quite like the downward motion, like a very slow, controlled fall. The whine of cables guided through the pulley system told the story of their descent as much as the motion. When the car came to rest, Starling did not immediately open the door but turned to Cade.

“Mr. Harlowe, I am to understand that you and the lady who arrived with you were far more than just traveling companions. Now don’t glare at me in that fashion, though it does confirm for me your protective feelings for her.”

Had Luke informed his imperial contacts about them? He clenched his hands behind his back, wishing he could beat them into Starling’s fleshy jowls.

“In fact,” Starling continued, “I am to understand the young lady has quite the unusual background. Professor Josston had claimed her as his niece, but it was all to protect her true identity.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Starling laughed. “Of course you do. She has given her real name and story to Dr. Silk.”

Given? Cade wondered with alarm. If they had done anything to her . . . He strained against his manacles.

Starling gloated at Cade’s distress for a moment, then continued on. “But right now, none of that concerns me. What does interest me is this—what shall we call it?—this romance? This love between the two of you, so very like those silly girl novels my fourteen-year-old daughter loves to read. What, you are shocked I have a daughter? A beast like me? Two sons and three daughters, Mr. Harlowe. I cherish my children.

“In any case, this romance, this love between you and Miss G’ladheon, it is so very useful.”

“There is nothing—” Cade began.

“You are quite welcome to waste your breath as much as you wish, but I know the truth. Now, I am going to show you someone we’ve kept down here beneath the palace for a very long time. I am accustomed to her appearance, but you may find it—no. Dear me, but I don’t want to spoil the surprise for you. When you do look upon her, I want you to imagine your Miss G’ladheon in her place. Strange name, G’ladheon. I can’t even begin to imagine its origins.”