“How long were you in his office?”
“Five minutes. Don’t worry, I was careful. I did test runs up to the top floor of the admin block after midnight, and hours can pass with no one going by. I used my helmet on infrared so I didn’t have to put the office’s bulb on. And I wore gloves and locked the door.”
“Do you have any idea how risky that was?”
“Not very, really, when you think about it. No guards or alarm mechanisms? Simple. I used to pick my father’s study lock all the time.”
“When did you stop?”
“Never. I sneaked in a few nights before we all left home. I was wondering about rumors about the underground chamber. There was nothing useful, by the way.
“But I couldn’t read all those books right there in Lijjen’s office, so I jotted the titles down. The next day I went to the library and skimmed each book. I couldn’t figure what Lijjen was interested in. Then, I looked at who had rented the books on the back of their covers. Half the Missionaries and Heads in Jools’s new complement have read those books in the past two years.”
“Still proves nothing.”
“Then I noticed that each book had the same pencil underlines at the same topics. Each title, at least fifteen books, had dozens and dozens of notations on golem. Notes in the columns, underlining, and dog-eared pages, all where golem were concerned. Imagine a class being told the exam questions a few days beforehand, and all of them have gone through and crammed as much as they can about a specific topic. That’s what these books looked like.” She met his eyes. “This chapterhouse has an unhealthy interest in golem, Toornan. Especially their creation myths.”
“Why? It isn’t like we can make a golem. Not even close. And how would we control them? Their programming is totally inaccessible.”
“There’s a word for that: Hacking,” Terese said. “It’s an old word meaning ‘to get inside a golem’s head’, and it’s almost impossible. And there were some other books in Lijjen’s office. One was a study on counter-insurgencies the Royals have used, and there were a few more about the few attempted revolutions and assassinations against Royals over the last five thousand years.”
“A revolution?” Toornan’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.
“It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried. Just not in a while.”
Another Sumadan woman in a scaled, green bathing suit passed them by, her gaze lingering on Toornan. He didn’t seem to notice. Light skin was uncommon in Sumad Reach, and people would remember two foreigners speaking. Not that fraternizing with her own complement was forbidden, but the less anyone saw Terese doing anything, the better. She pushed herself up.
“I’d like to speak longer, but…”
Toornan nodded. “I’ll talk to Jools. See what I can do,” he said.
“Be careful,” she replied. She met his eyes. “It’s been nice talking, Toornan.”
He smiled back.
Back in Armer she would never have made friends with Toornan, due to their difference in rank and personality types. How much of her own life had she missed since joining the Seekers?
She stepped into the cooler corridor. For once, she’d have to wait for someone to come her, instead of initiating herself.
Patience, Terese, patience!
13
As arranged, the dull brass handle turned and Toornan entered. Terese set down her book and raised the wave device’s volume. It was playing a strings-only piece. A considerate neighbor, she’d have to turn it back down before tenth bell.
If Toornan had been spotted sneaking in, people might reach the wrong conclusions about his evening visit. More embarrassment for her if she was suspected of seducing a younger man she nominally commanded. She looked down at herself. As if that were likely! Gods, she’d begun dressing like her mother, in her linen bedclothes, fluffy nightgown and slippers.
Toornan settled at the other end of her perfectly made bed, crossing his legs and producing a folded letter. His damp hair suggested he’d recently bathed, though his eyes were red with dark bags underneath. What had he been doing?
She took the letter as he delivered a baleful glare.
Well, I hope you’re happy. First, I had to figure out a night that Jools was not on duty, that her lover was on duty, that I had spare with at least one other Missionary. Last night, I found Daraam attempting to impress some Sumadan Apprentice girls in the gym, and told him they were laughing at him. Daraam was embarrassed enough that I convinced him to get drunk with me. You owe me a few days’ wages for the wine, by the way.
Easily done. But that was either a lot of wine, or of good quality.
We got drunk, and I got him to tell me the story about when he and Jools were Assistants, and her squad got lost looking for a chaos surge in the hinterlands and old Missionary Gembal ate a hallucinogenic apple from a rogue tree. I told him I didn’t believe him, and we went to her to clear the story up. She got drunk with us. She said the trees began swaying in time with Gembal, and some trees began crawling toward them if the squad stayed in one place too long.
Anyhow, I got them to talk about our new complements. We made a point of not mentioning you, by the way. Daraam has been seconded to working alchemical formulas for mechanism cleansing and diagnoses. I’ve been put into a direct mentorship with Head Pazga—which you would know if you’d asked me—and Jools says she’s getting field duties in preparation for commanding a Missionary squad of her own one day.
There’s nothing like you said, Terese. The only thing that stood out is all three of us agreed we’re being worked hard. Almost too hard to fit anything else in. I didn’t dare suggest
