Zealot (24 page)

“Why don’t you find the battle born cause compelling?” A hint of challenge crept into Chandar’s tone. “I remember enough to know their complaints are justified. The standard of living differs significantly between the elite and the battle born. And they’re frequently born into the same family.”

“How is that possible?”

“The Nox family is the perfect example. Garin is full-blooded Rodyte so he received the best education money could buy. Once he’d finished training, he moved into a command position and has risen through the ranks ever since. Bandar and Zilor, on the other hand, are battle born so they were basically sold to the military and subjected to a life of brutality and servitude.”

Before Indigo could respond, Chandar gave her another example. “Do you understand why the runner didn’t know his exact age?”

Indigo shook her head as the image of Eton’s lavender-ringed eyes flared to life within her mind.

“He was likely deserted by his family. It’s common with battle born boys.”

As Indigo had learned from Zilor. “What happens to them?”

“They’re fed and clothed at foundling centers until they turn five. Then they’re turned over to the RPDF for training and genetic modification. This process takes between six and eleven years. Once they complete the transformation, they’re assigned to noncombat positions until after they’ve gone through puberty.”

Shocked not only by the information, but by the detail in Chandar’s memories, Indigo could only nod. Then she cleared her throat and asked, “Are all battle born males modified or just the foundlings?”

“They all are. Those without the killer instinct are modified for a variety of menial tasks, all of which are physically taxing. They’re a convenient underclass, little more than slaves.”

“I understand why they want change, but I’m not sure I understand what they’re ultimately trying to accomplish. Even if every battle born warrior who bonds with a hybrid female succeeds in releasing his magic, how will that change centuries of prejudice and inequality?”

“It will give them the power to prove the bigots wrong,” Chandar suggested though she didn’t sound quite convinced herself.

Indigo shook her head. “You can’t prove a bigot wrong. They’re not rational. They thrive on hatred and discontent. All the evidence in the world won’t make them change the way they think.”

Scooting closer to the table, Chandar’s gaze locked on Indigo. “You don’t believe people can change?”

“People
can
change, but most choose not to.”

“That’s very cynical.”

Indigo shrugged, yet she felt anything but indifferent. Probing conversations were definitely more fun when the magnifying glass was pointed in the other direction. “You’re not the first to call me that. Jaded is another word I hear too often.”

“Who refused to change when you asked it of them?”

Indigo started to answer then realized what she was doing. Instead, she eased her chair back from the table and crossed her arms. “Either you’ve been trained as an interrogator or you should have been. You’ve instinctively used several of my best techniques.”

“I’m not trying to interrogate you.” Chandar’s eyes widened and a flush spread across the crest of her cheeks. “Please don’t be offended.”

“I’m not offended. I’m impressed.”

After a cautious pause, Chandar said, “Then answer the question.” Challenge rang through her words even though she’d spoken softly.

What the hell
. Bill was ancient history. She would not allow his memory to upset her now. “When I first discovered men, I fell fast and hard anytime a bad boy looked my way. Each time I developed a crush, I was convinced he was the one.” She accented the phrase with finger quotes. “Needless to say, when they flaked out, which they inevitably did, I was devastated.”

“I don’t understand.” Chandar propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin on the heel of her hand. “If the mating pull engaged, why did your relationship end?”

“Humans don’t feel a mating pull. Well, not like Rodytes do. Human attraction isn’t nearly as dependable.”

That really seemed to confuse her. “Then how do humans find their mates?”

“Most don’t,” Indigo admitted. “The average human stays with one partner for around eight years, many significantly less. Lifetime commitments are becoming rarer and rarer. My mother always said monogamy was an outdated concept.”

“I’m glad I’m not human.” She shook her head as if to dispel the disquieting thought and then refocused the conversation. “Which one of your ‘flakes’ convinced you that people never change?”

“His name was Bill. We met in college and lived together for almost four years. The first two were amazing. The second two were hell. He’d screw up and I’d forgive him because he promised he would change. But it didn’t take long for his true nature to take over again. After the third time I caught him lying to my face about things that really mattered, I sent him on his way.” She took a deep breath and pushed the memories back into the past where they belonged. “That’s when I decided that Mom was right. Men would never be faithful to just one woman, so I adjusted my expectations. In fact, I decided that a serious relationship wasn’t for me. Men were fun to play with from time to time, but I had no interest in trying to find Mr. Right.”

“Until Zilor strolled into your life?”

There was no way Indigo could argue with that so she just smiled. “Yeah, Zilor seems to be the exception to my rule.”

“Thank you for sharing that with me. Your trust means a lot.”

Indigo studied Chandar for a moment. She still appeared relaxed and engaged, but a bit of her usual caution crept back into her gaze. “You’re easy to talk to, but I really do think it’s more than that. I think you’ve been trained for this sort of thing.”

Chandar nodded. “The situation feels familiar. I can’t explain why, but I know I’ve done this before.”

“Clairvoyance covers a lot of ground. Do you remember what you could do before your captivity?”

“I don’t, but I know who does.” Her lips pressed into a determined line and she took a deep breath. “I’ve avoided him long enough.” Chandar stilled, her gaze lowered to the tabletop and she barely seemed to breathe. Indigo instinctually reached for the harbinger’s arm, afraid she’d slipped into a trance. But half a second before her fingers made contact with Chandar’s arm, a movement drew Indigo’s attention toward the doorway. The doors parted and Danvier strode into the room a beaming smile on his face.

“Welcome back, songbird.” His pace slowed as he neared his sister. “It’s so good to hear your voice again.”

With a shake of her head and several quick blinks, Chandar returned to the present. “I was pretty sure I’d sorted through the com-strands, but I didn’t feel brave enough to try. Until now.”

He pulled out the chair on Chandar’s other side and sat. “No need for concern. You’re thoughts came through loud and clear.” His smile was warm and encouraging, but he was careful not to touch her. “Did you need something specific or did you just want to chat?”

Chandar motioned toward Indigo. “We’ve been trying to rediscover my past, but we’re not sure what we’re looking for. What was I like before I was given to Akim? What were my abilities?”

Danvier looked at Indigo as if asking permission before he began. She nodded in silent encouragement. “I’m not sure how much I can tell you. Until quite recently, I believed you’d passed beyond many years ago.”

“Tell us what you can,” Indigo suggested. “What was she like as a child?”

“Watchful, incredibly inquisitive.” He shifted his gaze back to his sister and sadness restrained his smile. “You had your first prophetic vision at three, so everyone knew your power would be considerable.” He quickly lapsed into silence, obviously reluctant to provide details.

“Go on,” Chandar prompted. “Hold nothing back.”

“You were taken out of regular classes and given private mentors, and not just Rodyte tutors, you studied with masters from many different planets.”

Indigo suddenly saw a vivid image of a tiny, silver-haired prodigy, doted on by the guild elders, yet ostracized by her peers. “Did this upset the other classmates?”

“Of course. The other trainees resented her—and me. They claimed that Chandar was only favored because her mother was the guild mistress.”

“Are prophetic dreams my only ability?”

He shook his head, his regal features serene as usual. “Your abilities were just beginning to develop when we were forced to part, but everyone believed you were a true clairvoyant.”

“What does that mean? I’m unfamiliar with these terms.” Indigo wasn’t sure how much Chandar remembered, but it was easier to ask him for clarifications.

“If her gift developed as the elders believed it would, she should be able to
see
into the past, present and future. Many clairvoyants can determine a person’s motivation and spot deceptions with just a glance into a person’s eyes.”

His description made Chandar sound like a vampire, so Indigo had to ask, “Is she able to influence others? Implant suggestions, that sort of thing?”

He shook his head. “Harbinger abilities don’t work that way. In fact, the vast majority of our abilities are passive. We have access to information that others don’t, but we can’t manipulate that information.”

“What’s the most aggressive use you’ve ever found for your abilities?”

It was a fascinating question, but Indigo couldn’t help wondering what had made Chandar ask.

He shrugged, but tension crept into his voice as he admitted, “I’m sometimes able to see how a person dies. One particularly nasty officer wouldn’t back down, so I pushed the image into his mind.”

“But that might have allowed him to escape the scene,” Chandar objected.

Again, he shook his head. “He might have been able to change the specifics, but there’s no cheating death. That’s one of the first lessons harbingers learn. Some events are fluid and others are not. We don’t waste energy trying to manipulate the inevitable.”

“Is death always inevitable?” Indigo asked.

“The easy answer is yes, but the honest answer is no, with a massive caveat. Whenever events are changed to prevent someone’s death, the universe finds a way to balance the scales. And the adjustment is never pleasant.”

“Meaning someone else dies in their place?”

“Not always, but there is always a price and it is always as devastating as the death would have been. It’s best just to leave death alone.”

They fell silent for a moment as the females absorbed Danvier’s information and dissimilated the various implications of what they’d been told. Chandar was the first to speak again. “I keep seeing a woman with strange multi-colored hair.” Danvier motioned toward Indigo and Chandar smiled. “This woman is older and her hair shifts from one color to another. She’s our mother, isn’t she?”

“Yes. Her name is Pyre Sterling,” Danvier told her. “She might have given us birth, but I don’t consider her my mother.”

“Why are you reluctant to claim our mother?” Her tone remained conversational, but suspicion and annoyance brightened her expressive eyes.

“Pyre’s aspirations have always outweighed the needs of her family. She’s ruthless.” He shifted in his chair, looking at his sister and then away. Finally, he dragged his gaze back to Chandar’s face and said, “She killed our father.”

Chandar pressed against the back of her chair as if he’d struck her. “She was involved in the situation that resulted in his death or… Are you accusing her of coldblooded murder?”

“I was there, Chandar. I saw her shove the blade into Father’s chest with my own eyes. And then she ripped you from his arms and swore that neither of us would ever see you again.”

Her chair scraped as she pushed back from the table, then she stood so fast it nearly toppled. “Why would she murder her mate? It makes no sense.”

He shifted so he could see her, but didn’t leave his chair. “Father was determined to escape the academy. He could tolerate imprisonment and abuse, but he refused to allow his children to be political pawns. You especially needed to be protected.”

“Why would he need to protect me from my own mother?” Her fingers crumpled the front of her tunic as she paced the limited floor space.

The wildness in Chandar’s eyes urged Indigo to her feet. “I think we should talk about something else.”

“No.” Chandar nearly shouted the word. “I want to know. I need to understand.”

Danvier stood as well. After pushing in his chair, he slowly approached his sister. “I’m not trying to upset you, but Pyre Sterling is dangerous. She can seem sweet and loving one minute and then blast you with a pulse pistol the next. You cannot trust her. Ever.”

After a tense pause, Chandar urged, “Finish the explanation. Why did she kill our father?”

“Father was summoned to her bed. It was never about love or even affection.”

“Mating bonds can’t be forced. There had to have been some sort of attraction.”

She’d said it with such authority that Indigo believed her, but how had Chandar known? Memories and context seemed to come more naturally when Chandar wasn’t focusing on the past.

“Pyre is very beautiful and Father was very young.” Rather than elaborate, he moved on. “For the most part he was able to protect me, but he was barely allowed to see you. He knew he’d have no control over what they did with you.”