Renato’s head was bowed, hands pressed to his face. Slowly he lifted his head and met my gaze with stricken eyes filling with tears. “What have they done to Blan?”
At his words my thoughts flooded with the information that Neleck had passed to me that final year of training. I, alone, among the talented knew the extent that the Elitists could go to compromise the talented and abuse the non-talented. Sharing that information wouldn’t help Renato in his grief.
“The best way you can help him is to make sure his sacrifice is meaningful.” It sounded so trite and forced. I opened my mouth to offer what comfort I could when I was interrupted by a solid knock on the outer door.
Renato rose and crossed to stand to one side of the door. As soon as he was in position, he nodded to me.
“Come,” I called as I slid my hand inside the desk drawer and curled my fingers around the hilt of a compact gisto.
The door opened to reveal a young messenger. His uniform identified him as one of the defenders-in-training. “Sept Son, sir.” He bowed his way into the room. “I was sent to fetch you. There are some beggars at the gatehouse, a young woman who is most insistent she speak to you. She refuses to speak to anyone else and she is asking for you by your full name.”
I frowned.
“What do the defenders think of her?” Renato asked.
The boy jumped and spun to face my assistant. “Master Renato, I am sorry I didn’t see you there.”
“It is fine. Just answer my question.”
“They say she has no ill intent that they can detect, but in light of the recent events they cannot be sure. Neither one of them is armed.”
“And she will only speak to the Sept Son?”
“She is most insistent. Matter of life or death.”
“I will come,” I inserted before Renato could continue his cross-examination. “Run and let them know that I am on my way.”
Bowing with an air of desperation, the lad didn’t wait for further instructions. I was willing to bet that he was going to sprint the whole way to the gatehouse. “I wonder what has gotten him so agitated.”
“Do you think this is wise?” my assistant asked as I rose.
“Renato, I am not going to hide in my study for the rest of my life, jumping at the sound of the building settling around me. I will arm myself and be prepared.” I lifted the gisto from the drawer and slipped it into the holster beneath my robes. The folds hid it effectively from sight. I reached for my cloak.
“I am going with you,” he declared. “Wait here while I go fetch my gisto.”
I closed up my office. As I turned the key in the lock, Renato returned, armed and ready to brave the winter chill to accompany me. We walked across the compound to the gatehouse in silence; each preparing our mind’s defenses for a confrontation of the worst kind. Halfway there a formation of defenders met us and fell into step on all sides. I knew that they were just trying to protect me, but I felt very conspicuous approaching the gatehouse with an escort of twelve armed defenders. Besides, my knee was throbbing and I couldn’t favor it with a hobble.
Hume greeted us at the door. The aged gatekeeper took the defenders as a matter of course and addressed me directly.
“Master, they appeared outside the front gates three hours ago. The woman asked for you by name and when I told her that you didn’t usually talk to everyone who came asking, she informed me that you would want to see her. She is a spunky little thing, reminds me of my granddaughter, Else.” We followed Hume down the narrow hall as he continued to talk. “I argued with her for a good half hour before finally sending for a defender. The whole time, the young man said not a word. He just watched her face as she talked and did what she told him.”
Renato opened his mouth to ask something, but Hume suddenly turned and gestured to an open door. “They are in here,” he said.
A defender entered first. In response to his appearance, a young woman of medium height with light brown hair rose to her feet and addressed Hume, who was just in sight through the doorway. “I already told you. I will only speak to the Ilias Durand Fidel Hadrian Krispin Valens Savill Aleron.”
“I am the one you wish to speak to.” Her troubled dark blue eyes fastened on my face and she stared at me for a moment. “What did you want to say to me?” I asked.
A fiery blush flooded her face. “But you are the Sept Son.”
I lifted an eyebrow.
“You didn’t know that?” Renato asked from his place behind my left shoulder.
“No, I just...Nemo told me that if anything went wrong...” Her voice faded into nothingness as she studied my face for a reaction. “You don’t know him as Nemo do you?”
“I don’t know anyone named Nemo,” I admitted reluctantly. There was something about the eager hope that had flared in her face only moments before that made me want to see it again. It was as though that look had not touched those eyes for a long time.
“I will ask him. I cannot be certain that he will answer, but there is a chance.”
“Him?” Renato asked, but she didn’t hear him.
Turning to the hunched figure of a man on the chair in the corner, she knelt at his feet. As she took his hands in hers, she looked up pleadingly into the shadowed face beneath a heavy hood. “Nemo, this is important, love.” She massaged his hands. “I did as you told me and asked for the right man. I know I got the
