Chan Tergis' blood seemed to freeze in his veins, but his brain raced with feverish speed. Obviously, these people knew a lot more about Sharonian Talents than anyone had thought they might. Which made the reason for the silence from the down-chain Voices suddenly and terrifyingly easy to understand.
In that moment, Folsar chan Tergis could see what was going to happen as clearly as any Calirath, and a fresh thought hammered through him. He hadn't made any secret of Syrail Targal's awakening Talent.
Indeed, he'd been proud of the boy, bragged about the strength of his Voice. If this Neshok was as … thorough as chan Tergis was afraid he might prove, someone who knew about Syrail was going to break and tell him. And when that happened … .
'Syrail!' he Shouted. 'Syrail, Listen to me!'
For an instant, there was no response. Then he Saw a flash of vision, someone else's hands scooping sweet feed from a burlap bag for eager, velvet-nosed horses.
'Folsar?' Syrail's Voice came back as the vision disappeared. The boy sounded startled, and more than a little apprehensive. Obviously, more of chan Tergis' side trace emotions were coming through than he'd intended, but maybe that was a good thing. 'What is it? What's wrong?'
'It's the Arcanans,' chan Tergis Said urgently. 'They've taken the fort.'
He sent flashing mental images-horrific images, of the striking gryphons, the horned, lynx-eared unicorns, and the terrifyingly enormous dragons-with the speed and completeness possible only for a highly trained Voice. The thirteen-year-old at the other end of the Voice link gasped at the raw brutality of everything he was Seeing and Hearing, and chan Tergis allowed himself a moment of bitter regret for having inflicted that upon him. But someone had to know.
He felt a brief instant of stunned silence, of shock so profound he was afraid the boy was going to withdraw entirely. He wouldn't have blamed Syrail a bit if he had, but the boy was made of sterner stuff than many an adult chan Tergis had known.
'What's happening now?' he Asked after a moment, his Voice amazingly steady. 'What do you want me to do?'
'For right now, just hold the link open,' chan Tergis Said. 'Listen and Watch.'
'Do you want me to try and get through the portal? Contact the Failcham relay station?'
'No!' chan Tergis practically Shouted the single word. Then he shook himself mentally, managing somehow to keep his expression from revealing what was going on inside his-and Syrail's-heads. 'If they've gotten this far up- chain without anyone getting a warning out, then they've been taking out the Voices as they come,' he went on in a calmer, more normal Voice. 'That means they know what to look out for, and it probably means they're going to take pains to locate that relay station. If you try to get across the portal and contact anyone, it's just going to draw their attention, and that's the last thing you need to do. Believe me, Syrail.'
'All right. ' Syrail sounded much more subdued, even frightened, and chan Tergis' jaw tightened as he realized the boy's fear wasn't for himself. He wanted to tell Syrail how proud he was of him, how much the boy had come to mean to him, but there wasn't time. Nor was there really any need-not for two Voices as deeply linked as they were in this moment.
'It's going to be-' chan Tergis began, then broke off as the man who'd introduced himself as Alivar Neshok walked over to stand four feet in front of the line of prisoners.
'It may be,' Neshok said reasonably, 'that some of you-maybe even all of you, at this point-don't believe me. Perhaps you believe that by keeping your mouths shut you'll manage to deprive us of some critical piece of information. But, you see, there's a problem with that particular line of logic. We've captured quite a few of you this time. Believe me, even if you manage not to tell me something when I ask, someone else will answer the same question before it's over. Someone else always will. It's just a matter of how many people get hurt first.'
None of the Sharonians replied, and something inside Neshok purred like a huge, hunting cat.
He clasped his hands behind himself again, letting himself bob gently up and down on the balls of his feet as he studied their expressions. They seemed less shaken than most of his earlier interrogation subjects had been, he decided. That was interesting, something to bear in mind. Apparently seeing their fellows ripped apart by gryphons was a less shattering experience than being strafed with fireballs or strangled in a cloud of gas. Our perhaps it was simply that the casualty count had been so much lower this time?
'Come now,' he told them almost caressingly. 'Don't pretend you don't understand what I'm telling you.
And think about this. You six have the unfortunate privilege of being the first people I'm going to be asking these questions. There are a lot more where you came from, and, the truth is that you'll be almost as useful as … examples, shall we say, as you'll be as information sources. To be perfectly frank, I don't really care whether you answer my questions or not.'
Still no one spoke, and Neshok unclasped his hands to reach out and take the Sharonian revolver from Porath.
'Now to return to my first question,' he said with a bright, friendly smile. 'Who's your assigned Voice?'
Chan Tergis' spine stiffened. He didn't even have to turn his head to know that none of his fellow prisoners as much as glanced in his direction. All of them stared straight ahead, jaws clenched.
'Perhaps you think I'm joking about the consequences of refusing to answer my questions,' the Arcanan said. He raised the H amp;W with the air of a man who knew how to use it and aimed it at the forehead of Petty- Armsman Erkam Varla, the prisoner at the far end of the line. 'Trust me,' he cocked the hammer,
'I'm not.'
Sweat beaded Varla's forehead, but he only pressed his lips more tightly together, and Neshok began to squeeze the trigger. There was no hesitation in him. The emotional aura blasting across the tack room battered chan Tergis like waves driven by a winter gale, and the Voice knew beyond a doubt that the Arcanan was going to fire.
'Stop!'
Neshok paused, one eyebrow arching, and glanced sideways at chan Tergis.
'You had something you wished to say?' he said politely.
'I'm the Voice,' chan Tergis said hoarsely.
'No, Folsar!' Syrail Cried in the back of his brain, but chan Tergis' eyes never even flickered from Neshok's face.
'Are you, now?' The Arcanan glanced at the crystal which had been translating. It glowed with a steady blue, and he nodded. 'Yes, you are,' he said. 'How convenient. I expected it was going to take longer to find you.'
Chan Tergis said nothing, only looked at him, and Neshok smiled.
'Now, the next question, I suppose, is whether or not you're the only Voice here or in the local settlements. Are you?'
Chan Tergis' mind seemed to be speeding faster than ever. The way the Arcanan had checked his crystal suggested it was somehow capable of telling him whether or not chan Tergis was lying. It must be one of these people's preposterous 'spells' which somehow duplicated a Sifter's Talent. But how literalminded was it?
'I'm the only Voice Regiment-Captain Velvelig has,' he said in flat, hard tones, and the crystal glowed blue again.
'So you are,' Neshok said, and chan Tergis Felt Syrail's whirling emotions from the other end of their link as the boy tasted his own fierce determination to protect him.
'I'm afraid,' Neshok continued, 'that we've only been able to come up with one way to make certain you Voices don't go chattering away to one another.'
Chan Tergis felt his facial muscles tighten, but it was scarcely a surprise. Not given the emotions he'd already sensed from this smiling, purring butcher.
'I'm sure you'll understand,' the Arcanan continued, moving the revolver from Varla's forehead to chan Tergis'.
'Folsar!' Syrail Cried. 'You can't-'
'There's no more time, Syrail,' chan Tergis Said, and his Voice was almost calm. 'I'm sorry. Tell your parents. Tell them someone else here at the fort may remember how I've bragged about you, may tell them about you. You've got to run. Hide. Don't let them-'
The blinding brilliance of the muzzle flash silenced his Voice forever.
'I've got the intelligence summaries for your next couple of objectives Klayrman,' Two Thousand Harshu told
