Chapter One - Plots and Plans
The barroom was crowded with people and noise. The dim light served to give privacy to the patrons, as well as provide an air of mystical unknown. Focused lights over the long wooden bar illuminated the people there, those engaged in conversation, the act of drinking, or trying to find that special someone.
A server approached a small table shrouded in shadow, balancing a circular tray on one hand. Wordlessly, he set down the two drinks he carried, tucked the tray under one arm, and caught the coin that was flipped his way. He left as two gloved hands reached out from the shadows to claim the beverages.
"One's glowing," a male voice said, gray eyes studying the leftmost glass warily.
"It's not contaminated or anything," his companion - a female - answered. "Anyway, it's not like you're the one who ordered it." Her black-gloved hand reached out and took the glowing cup from him.
His eyes darted from her to the drink and back again. "You're not actually going to . . . ."
Cloth rustled as she shook her head. "You know I'm not." Silence settled over the table, the bar music continuing on. As the song - if it could be called that - came to an end, applause skittered sparsely through the crowd, and the cloaked female tensed. "Got one. Behind you, wearing the dark red shirt," she muttered, blue eyes steady on her suspect. "The card is clipped right to it, bold as brass."
The fabric covering the lower half of her friend's face twitched as he grimaced behind it. "Perfect . . . . Can you see the sigils?"
Her eyes narrowed, pupils, irises, and whites alike shifting to a soft shade of blue as mysteriously enhanced vision came into play. "Mm . . . Looks like a Yan-Ogama henge. That would put him, what, in the third-highest caste?"
He nodded. "Yan-Ogama is the Observers, all right. Get your eyes back to normal before he observes them, will you? We don't need to get caught like we did at Yi-Maki last week."
She sighed as she allowed her eyes to resume their normal appearance. "So much for hoping that the True movement hadn't spread this far North." Behind her, the door opened, and it was her partner's turn to tense.
"Uh oh . . . . Two of them just came in - Speaker and Protector, by the looks of 'em." He checked the timepiece mounted on the bar's far wall. "Right on time, too."
"Let the patriotic, dogmatic babbling begin."
"Citizens of Ogama-Gor!" a thin, reedy voice piped up. "I address you on behalf of the Octivirate Governing Council - the most honourable government of all RaDos!" He paused to pull a rolled-up length of parchment from his belt, shaking it out. "Your representative to the Council wishes you to know that he has at last succeeded in establishing a secure shipping system from your harbours to those of other coastal provinces! Sleep well tonight, knowing that your lives are guaranteed a prosperity as you are defended from those who would disrupt your commerce!"
The Speaker looked around, as if expecting his audience to burst into cheers, for caps to be thrown, and rounds of drinks to be ordered. No such recognition came. The bar's patrons merely watched impassively. Dropping his gaze back to the pronouncement in his hand, he resumed his speech.
". . . Right . . . . I must remind you, as True RaDosians, we must be ever wary, for there are those among us who are so immersed in their own self-importance, that they would seek to overthrow us. Even their name - Prime RaDosians - implies that they believe themselves to be better we are!"
Disgruntled muttering came from around the room - the audience was starting to warm up. "This is the reason for your Observers and Peacekeepers!" the Speaker called above the noise. "To protect you, those who are native of your world! Because you were born on RaDos, you are the only true RaDosians! Do not allow the Prime to bring you down, to stomp you out, to confuse you with their heretical words!
"Instead, do what you can to assist the Observers and Peacekeepers in their work! If you do this a significant amount of times, your name will be submitted the the Governing Council for recognition! You will be remembered as one of the great founding fathers and mothers of the True cause!"
Inflamed, the crowd cheered, all except the two in the shadowed booth. They merely watched the others, doing their best to remain inconspicuous.
"There is an Observer here!" the Speaker shouted when the noise had died down some. "True Observer, what have you seen tonight?"
There was almost instant silence. The man with the dark red shirt turned away from the bar, the white card with his identification clearly visible at the right side, just below the shoulder. The people who'd been standing nearest him inched away.
"There are Prime among us in this place!" he called to the room. "I have seen them trying to blend in, to appear inconspicuous as they plot our destruction; as they plot to overthrow the True castes and the rightful government of RaDos!"
"Oh, we're sigilsunk . . . ." the blue-eyed female muttered.
The Observer's finger levelled dramatically at her and her companion, every eye in the place following it. "They are the traitors to the cause!" Before either of the cloaked persons could move, the Protector strode forward, and, with two quick movements, removed their hoods. Gasps and murmurs erupted all around the room.
Impassive, Seth looked across at an equally expressionless Melosa. "Doesn't sound as though they're happy to see us."
"Disappointing," she said as she shook her head.
"Step out from the table," the Protector said, moving back a pace with one hand in his stone pouch. As the two Defenders complied, he wrapped one hand around the upper arm of each, marching them forward.
The Speaker smiled nastily. "Well. The Di-Gata Defenders," he mused, loud enough for the crowd to hear. "A surprise, to be sure, although not necessarily a pleasant one."
"We could say the same for you," Seth answered flippantly. "When you didn't stop by for a drink last week, we were rather insulted, you know."
"I'm not sure I want to talk to you now," Mel added, giving the Speaker a disappointed look before turning to her partner. "Didn't you say we didn't want to be noticed tonight?"
"Hmm. I did say that, didn't I."
The Speaker glared at them. "Enough lip. Protector Vental, arrest them both, please." He stuffed the pronouncement back into his belt, and turned toward the door, scowling the entire time.
"Can't do that," the Protector said, letting go of the two 'prisoners' and folding his arms. "And my name's Adam, not Vental."
Seth smirked. "You were going to let us get arrested, weren't you."
"Nah, I was just letting Mister Speaker lull himself into a false sense of security."
"He's been lulled enough," Mel said, sounding both bored and firm. "Let's finish what we've started, please? If you guys don't get to sleep on time, you'll be completely unbearable tomorrow."
"The lady makes a point," Seth grinned. Sobering, he turned to face a now confused looking Speaker. "Before my partner and I came tonight - before we even knew we'd be coming - we received a message from a contact who has access to information on the Governing Council."
The Speaker's face paled to white.
"Our contact told us of another message, one from the Ogama-Gor councilor, addressed to one of the more prominent leaders of organized crime in the area. Apparently, the good Councilor managed to come up with a price that would ensure the leader's continued financial success while encouraging him to leave RaDosian shipping alone." The Defender's grin took on a predatory edge. "And apparently, a Speaker matching your description found out about the deal and managed to get himself a nice little piece of it as well."
Already ghost-white, the Speaker's face now faded to gray. "You have no proof," he said at last, voice hoarse.
Mel's lips twitched in a tiny, challenging smile. "Proof of what, Speaker?" His eyes darted to her. "If you believe you're innocent, why are you so nervous? Surely the three of us can't pose that much of a threat to you."
"Blackmailing government officials is a very self-conscious line of work, isn't it," Adam said, voice quiet to the point of confidentiality.
The Speaker swallowed hard as he finally saw the bar patrons glaring at him. Seth stood casually, regarding the Speaker with a faint smile. "I love it when a plan comes together," he said, satisfied. "Now, speaking of blackmailing government agents, we'd like to have a little chat with you. Outside, if possible."
The man started to protest before Adam stepped forward, took him by the arm, and frog-marched him out the door. Seth and Mel turned to face the onlookers. "Sorry to disturb everyone," the young Wizard said calmly. "Just continue with whatever you were doing." A thin smile touched her lips. "Well send Mr Speaker in when we're done with him."
As they turned to leave, dark, quiet laughter rippled through the gathering. Lifting their cloak hoods, the two Defenders pushed through the doors, out into the night. The weather had turned cold in the past week, and even now, snow skirled down out of the dark sky as they headed for an alley two blocks away. The Speaker sat on the metal fire escape from a nearby residential building, quietly fuming. Adam leaned against the wall nearby. As the two apporached, the Speaker looked up, defiance plain on his face - he'd decided not to co-operate.
"Since you, by your own admission, have no proof of my dealings with Councilor Ondiro, I demand you release me," he snapped. "I am an official agent of the legal RaDosian government! I have the power to have all of you imprisoned! And when I do, you'll never see the light of day again! You'll waste away, and no one will ever know what happened to you! You'll -"
"End up just like Rion?" Seth broke in harshly.
The Speaker glared back at him. "Just like him." A sadistic smile spread across his face. "No sunlight, no moonlight, no artificial light. Just darkness. No contact with anyone, just silence all the time. No wonder the lad went crazy!"
Seth wisely stepped aside as Mel moved forward. Her hand clenched around the Speaker's shirt collar, hauling him up so her angry eyes were less than two inches away. "Listen to me, dirtbag, and listen hard," she said, the words issuing from between clenched teeth. "The next time I hear you say anything like that about any of my teammates, your pals will have to chisel you out of a block of ice so thick, it'll take a year to reach the centre. Am I understood?"
The Speaker swallowed hard. Defiance did little with angry Wizards, except make them angrier. "U-understood." He fell back to the step as Mel released him.
"Your name?" she asked curtly.
"Tarss, Son of Enth."
Mel studied him a moment, until he fidgeted under her stare. "Well, Tarss, since you know so much Rion, where is he?"
The Speaker's eyes darted from her, to Seth, to Adam, and back again. "I don't know. I was just repeating what I'd heard." He stiffened as Mel's left hand rose, blue light glowing around her black glove. Her eyes hardened.
"Don't lie to me, Tarss."
He swallowed hard again, the last vestiges of defiance falling away. "Amos-Yan. He's in the Amos-Yan prison."
"Amos-Yan?" Seth repeated in disbelief. "Amos-Yan is a monastery, not a prison."
"Not anymore," Tarss said, chancing a look up at the young leader. "It's been converted." He drew back in shock as Mel's eyes brightened to glowing blue, a sure sign of her rising temper.
"It's been what?" she hissed.
Seth reached out, caught her by the shoulder, and pulled her back. "Eyes," he muttered. Waiting until the glow disappeared, he leaned over, whispering something into her ear. She listened, hands curled into fists, still watching Tarss intensely. At last, she nodded. Seth passed her a closed-down communicator, and she slipped off further down the alley, out of earshot.
"I wouldn't mention Amos-Yan around her again, if I were you," the young man said, turning back toward his prisoner. "She's going to be touchy on that subject for a while." Tarss nodded his understanding. "What did happen with the monastery?"
"Just what I told you - the Council took it over, moved the monks out, and set the place up as a prison. They figured all those secluded little meditation rooms worked great as cells, once the windows were blocked off."
Adam spoke up. "What kind of prison - criminal or political?"
"Political."
"How many inmates?"
"Three hundred and forty-nine, exactly."
"Including Rion?"
"Including him." Tarss paused. "You know, you're pretty good at this. I could get you in as a Questioner, no problem." He twitched at the glare he received. "Oh. Never mind then."
They waited in silence for only a few minues before Mel returned, the communicator in one hand, her face composed and impassive. "Erik'll be waiting at the extraction point," she reported. "We're to bring the hostage with us."
Seth nodded. "All right. You take Speaker Tarss with you; Adam and I'll follow and cover up."
As the Wizard pulled him to his feet, Tarss began to show signs of panic. "Whoa, whoa, hang on a second! What do you need a hostage for?! I was only doing my job -"
He broke off as an ice-cold hand touched the back of his neck, the chill creeping through his skin, down his spine, and coiling into a ball in his belly.
"Move."
As they followed Mel and her less-than-happy charge through the deserted streets, both males obliterated any tracks left behind. After a few moments, Adam broke the silence. "So how close can this one get us to the Council."
"Not close enough," was the grim reply. "A lowly Speaker isn't in a high enough caste to be rubbing elbows with Council members. For that, we'd need a senior officer with either the Protectors or Peacekeepers."
"The guy who was supposed to be Protecting Tarss tonight was too easy to take out," Adam muttered. "Either really new, or really sloppy." He caught the look Seth was giving him. "What? He doesn't have any permanent damage . . . ."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
There was more silence, punctuated by footsteps crunching the snow, and soft swishing as loose flakes were nudged about to disguise the tracks. "You didn't really answer my question," Adam pointed out. "How close can Tarss get us to the Council?"
Seth was quiet for a moment longer. "At least as far as the Speakers' Consulate. After that, we might be able to snag a higher-placed Speaker, who's bound to have either a more experienced or senior officer as a bodyguard."
"The higher-placed a target, the harder he is to intimidate," Adam warned. "Tarss was easy; he's only a minor official. You get messing around with the upper-class, you're going in over your head."
The other smirked. "And that's where you come in."
A pause. "I'm listening."
Brushing more snow over the tracks with his foot, Seth grinned. "Power corrupts, and more power corrupts more."
" . . . . You lost me."
"The higher-placed a target, the more likely he is to be abusing his power. You find out just what he's done, we'll be able to hold it over him until we're ready to move on."
Adam shook his head. "Not good. You'll either have to silence him or imprison him to keep him from talking. And that's assuming he's even intimidated by blackmail - an official in a dictatorship isn't likely to be haunted by his past."
There was quiet again. "You're enjoying poking holes in this, aren't you."
"Don't get me wrong, your basic plan is great," the former thief assured his friend. "But you haven't dealt a lot with bureaucracy, and it shows."
The extraction point came into view - a town square with a lone transport off to one side. It's lights blinked twice: Erik was waiting for them. "You'll just have to give me a hand with the new plan, then," Seth said as they started across the snow-packed square.
"Deal."
