'Come in, Jenny Psycho. We've been expecting you.'
'I should hope so,' said Jenny. 'Now, are you going to let me in, or am I supposed to teleport past you?'
The doorman, or whatever the hell he was, stepped back gracefully, and Jenny strode past him with her nose firmly in the air. Start as you mean to go on. The hall was open and airy, the air sweetened by vases of blossoming flowers in every nook and cranny. Jenny would have liked to ask where the hell they found flowers like that on a freezing, inhospitable rock like Mistworld, but she kept the thought to herself. Asking questions could be taken as a sign of weakness, and it was vital she appear strong. The butler took her furs and hung them up. He looked pointedly at her boots, dripping melting snow onto the thick carpet, but she ignored him. Bare feet might be taken as a sign of informality.
'I take it your precogs told you I was coming,' said Jenny, casually. 'They are supposed to be the best in the Empire, after all. But did they tell you why I was coming?'
'Not yet.' He closed the door firmly and turned to smile at Jenny. She didn't like the smile. It was too confident by far. The flunky strode off down the hall without waiting to see if she was following, allowing his words to trail back over his shoulder. 'We know who you are. We could find out why you're here if we wanted to, but we'd rather hear it from you directly. This way. Someone will see you shortly.'
'I didn't know you could do that.'
'There's lots about me you people don't know. Now find me someone in charge to speak to, or I'll turn this entire house into a shrubbery.'
'They said you'd be trouble,' said the butler, or whatever the hell he was. 'If you'd care to wait in the study, someone will be with you soon.'
'Very soon,' said Jenny.
'I wouldn't be at all surprised. And for your information, I am not the bloody butler, I am the Chancellor of this lodge. This is the study. Try not to break the furniture or set fire to things. Some of these books are very old and a great deal more valuable to us than you are.'
'That's what you think,' said Jenny. 'Now beat it, Chancellor. And don't keep me waiting too long or I'll act up cranky.'
'I wouldn't doubt it for a moment,' said the Chancellor, and ushered Jenny into the study. The room was large and brightly lit, with large comfortable furniture, gleaming wood-paneled walls, and an inviting, well-banked fire. The whole study had a calm, relaxed atmosphere that Jenny didn't trust for a moment. They probably just wanted to put her off her guard. Jenny quietly probed the surrounding rooms and had to hide her surprise when her mind bounced harmlessly away from powerful psionic shields.
'Please don't do that,' said the Chancellor. 'We have many private places here, mentally shielded to protect our more sensitive people from the clamor of the world. And occasionally to protect the world from some of us. I advise you to respect their privacy. For your own sake, if not for theirs.'
Knowing a good exit line when he delivered one, the Chancellor bowed briefly and left Jenny alone in the study, shutting the door firmly behind him. Jenny waited to hear the sound of a key turning in the lock, but it didn't come. Presumably the espers' union thought it had other ways of stopping her if she decided to leave. More fool they. She sniffed angrily and threw herself into the most comfortable-looking chair. She'd been held in Wormboy Hell and survived, and there wasn't much left that could intimidate her now. She glowered around her. Looked at closely, the study was a bland place, with no style or personality of its own. More like a stage set than a place where people lived and worked. Probably set up as neutral ground, a midway place where espers could meet with emissaries from the outside word.
Jenny sank grudgingly back into the comfort of her chair and tried to relax. Nerve and passion and a sense of destiny had brought her this far, but for the first time she wasn't entirely sure what she was going to do next. It all depended on how seriously the espers' union took her. She was no longer used to dealing with people who weren't awed or at least impressed by her presence, or what she'd become. But this house held the greatest minds on a planet of espers. They weren't going to impress easily. And she couldn't just threaten them. The underground needed their wholehearted support and approval. Besides, it might not work. Jenny scowled sulkily. When in doubt, stick to the script. The underground had spent some time drilling her in all the proper words and phrases, till she could have recited them in her sleep. It helped, too, that she believed passionately in the arguments. Still, these people had better learn to treat her with respect. She had been touched by the Mater Mundi, and she was so much more than she used to be.
She concentrated, diffusing her thoughts, letting her esp creep slowly outward, easing unnoticed through the mental shields to every side of her. Immediately a babble of voices filled her head, harsh and deafening, and visions flashed past her eyes almost too fast to follow. Jenny reeled, and had to grab at the arms of her chair to center herself. So many minds, all working at the peak of their abilities. Past records and future possibilities jumbled together till she could hardly tell them apart. They surged around Jenny, like waves crashing against a rock on the seashore, but she held firm and would not be swayed or moved. She concentrated, filtering through the deafening noise for the information she needed, and slowly things came to her, like ships glimpsed briefly through an ocean fog.
Someone was praying, and sobbing so hard she could hardly get the words out. There were visions of buildings burning, and people running screaming in the streets. Something dark and awful was hanging over Mistworld, like a huge spider contemplating its prey. There were guns firing, and a child's blood splashed across a wall. The streets were full of people rushing this way and that as the city burned and death closed in around them. In a padded room not too far away, someone was beating at the walls with raw and bloodied hands, and though he was silent as the grave, his mind was full of an endless horrible scream. And through it all, a name, repeating over and over in a chorus of voices, surfacing through the babble like a heartbeat, like a prophecy of doom that could not be denied.
Jenny broke free of the contact, shaking and trembling. She breathed deeply, fighting to control her scattered senses. She had no doubt she had seen the future. She had seen the streets of Mistport thrown down into Hell, and watched as Imperial troops butchered the people as they ran. She'd seen the city walls thrown down, and buildings blown apart, and above it all, a scream that never ended. It wasn't a human scream. It might happen a week from now, or a year, or it might already have begun. She had no way of knowing. Precog visions were like that. She cut herself off from all mental contact, slamming down her shields, until she was the only one left in her head, and she was safe and secure again. She groaned quietly, and rubbed at her aching brow.
'Serves you right for peeking,' said a harsh voice from the doorway. Jenny's head snapped round, and she scrambled to her feet. She hadn't heard the door open. Standing in the doorway, looking as hard and uncompromising as before, was Investigator Topaz. Beside her stood a tall, painfully thin woman dressed in pale pastel colors. She looked almost as washed-out as her clothes, and stringy blond hair hung uncared for about a sharp, gaunt face with striking ice-blue eyes. There were patches of scar tissue around her cheekbones, and part of her nose had been eaten away. It gave her a stark, almost supernatural glamor. She might have looked dangerous, if she hadn't also looked like a strong breeze would blow her away.
'It's rude to stare,' said Topaz. 'Frostbite, in case you were wondering. It gets cold around here sometimes. If you ask her nicely, she'll show you the stumps where some of her fingers used to be. Her name's Mary.'
Jenny made the connection immediately, and stared at the blond wraith with new respect. 'Typhoid Mary? The plague carrier?'
'I don't use that name anymore,' said Mary. Her voice was quiet, little more than a murmur, but Jenny had no problem understanding her. There was an almost compelling power in Mary's speech and gaze. 'Typhoid Mary was another person; someone the Empire created to do its dirty work. I'm just Mary.'
Jenny nodded. 'I know about mind techs. They stirred their sticky fingers in my brain, too. Still, considering the damage you caused here in Mistport, I'm surprised they're letting you run loose. Hell, I'm surprised you're still alive.'
