Richelle Mead - Gameboard of the Gods

She nearly pointed out that she hadn’t started the fight but then thought better of it.

“Kyle heard you were Nordic and got worked up about it. He’s a very excitable man, if you haven’t noticed.” “Excitable” was one way to put it, Mae thought, recalling how the director had salivated over Justin. “He requested you for SCI because he thought your background would help with all the patrician visits. And so, off you went.”

“What would’ve happened to me otherwise, sir?”

“Slap on the wrist. Two weeks’ suspension. And still banned from the uniform—which ended up being your only punishment, really. But we would’ve had you back in the field before long.”

Mae was dumbfounded. Two weeks was nothing. Double that time had passed already. Two weeks, and she could’ve worn the black uniform again and been off fighting as she was intended to do. Instead, a set of bad directions and even worse timing had landed her an assignment that had ripped her world out from underneath her.

“We’re all very pleased with how you handled things with those fanatics,” Gan continued, oblivious to her churning thoughts. “You’ll have a nice commendation to outweigh your reprimand.” He looked at her expectantly, awaiting an appropriate response.

“Thank you, sir.”

“And you’ve been granted your uniform again.”

Mae caught her breath as joy rushed through her. The uniform! Being deprived of it had become a bigger burden than she’d ever expected. Even though few knew about the punishment, she’d felt as though she were walking around in a disgrace that was obvious to everyone.

“However,” continued Gan, “I’m afraid you won’t actually be wearing it for a while.”

She snapped out of her daydreams. “Sir?”

A look of distaste crossed his features. “I was ready to have you back in regular duties once those patrician murders wrapped up, but Internal Security has requested that we allow you to stay with him—with March. Believe me, I argued against it, but…well, I lost.” Mae wondered if Gan had ever admitted to losing anything. “To be fair, after what you faced, I can see why they want enhanced protection for their servitors. I offered to give them someone else, but Director Kyle insisted on you. It’s an honorable mission,” Gan added, watching her closely. “All prætorian missions are.”

She swallowed. “Yes, sir. Of course. I’m just surprised, that’s all. Do you know how long I’ll be doing this?”

“No idea. Maybe if you’re lucky, March’ll do something to get himself exiled again.” Gan laughed at his own joke, and Mae mustered a smile she didn’t feel. “Regardless, I know you’ll excel. You always do.”

“Thank you, sir. May I ask you something? Something unrelated?”

“Of course.” Sometimes it almost seemed as though he was simply curious to hear what came to her mind.

“Have any prætorians ever gone AWOL?”

He certainly hadn’t expected that question. After a moment, his surprise turned to amusement. “Is this assignment going to drive you away?”

“No, sir,” she said, unable to hold back a laugh of her own. “It’d take something a lot worse for that to happen. I just overheard some drunk prætorians talking about it at a bar, and I’d never even thought about it before. It doesn’t seem believable.”

“That’s because you’re too loyal, and, forgive me, that loyalty blinds you to those who are less noble. Yes, prætorians do try to disappear—usually because they don’t want to give up their implant when they retire.” He gazed past her, his thoughts elsewhere as he absentmindedly touched the black trim around his collar. “I remember when it happened to me. There are ways to ease the transition, drugs that can help…but it’s still difficult. Losing it is like losing some intrinsic part of you. But it’s necessary—remember that when you’re forty. It’s a gift from our country that must be returned.”

“Yes, sir.” Forty seemed like a lifetime away. “But they must get caught, right? None of them can get very far.”

“Not if they stay in the country.” He tapped something into a panel on his desk, and a screen on the wall behind him powered up. “Bring up the Donovan file.”

Instantly, five head shots appeared. Text under them listed names and dates. Three names were in black, two were in red. Gan tapped the first picture.

“The file’s named after Virgil Donovan, the first prætorian to ever try to flee with an implant. He was caught, as were these other two. But the last two…” He scowled. “They fled to the provinces. If they’re ever found, they’ll be executed for treason and stealing military technology.”

“Have they been spotted in the provinces, sir?” She was surprised the RUNA wouldn’t have sent anyone to retrieve the traitor prætorians.

“No, but there’s really nowhere else they could be. If they were here, their identity chips would trigger a warrant.”

Mae stared at the ex-prætorians at large. One was a man, one was a woman. She recognized neither. “Counterfeit chips exist, sir.”

He nodded. “Yes, but they would only fool localized sensors. Any chip reader linked to the registry would immediately identify the fraudulent chip. And with the way the technology’s always updated, it would be nearly impossible to keep up maintenance on a counterfeit chip, even for localized readers. You’d need to either have a full-time technical genius on hand or become a recluse who never goes near a reader to avoid detection.”

“So they must be in the provinces,” she murmured in agreement. She glanced back at the pictures, focusing on the man, Alexander Srisai. He still didn’t look familiar.

Gan scrutinized her. “Are you sure you aren’t going to run out on me?”

She realized then what a suspicious question it was. “No, sir. Thank you for humoring me.”

It was noon when she was dismissed, later in the day than she’d intended. A look at train schedules told her she had time to make the trip she wanted, and after a quick call ahead, she soon found herself on a train to Portland. She reached Leo and Dominic’s house in the late afternoon. Leo opened the door, more comfortable around her than he’d initially been but still not looking entirely thrilled to see her.

“Is Dominic out?” she asked, glancing around as she entered.

“He’s at a wine-making seminar in California. It’s examining the way soil components interact with some of the newer Chardonnay hybrids.” There was a precision in the way he spoke that reminded her of the story he’d told her about how he’d met Dominic—the one Justin said was contrived.

“When’s he coming back?”

Leo looked wary. “Why?”

“Just curious. I just wanted to say hello.”

She made no mention of what had happened at the Morrigan’s temple, and after a few moments, Leo seemed to realize he was being hostile. He forcibly relaxed. “About a month. Be sure to tell Justin that. I’m sure he’ll have all sorts of witty commentary about how he hopes Dom’ll learn something.”

Mae smiled. “Maybe I should bring him back a bottle. It looks like we aren’t getting rid of each other any time soon.”

“Oh?” Leo gave her a searching look. “How do you feel about that?”

“That it’s my job.”

“Yeah, but it’s not exactly ideal for someone like you. I know how prætorians work.”

Yes, she thought. I’m sure you do.

“Prætorians do what they’re supposed to,” she said.

“They certainly do,” he said, a bit of bitterness in his voice.

After a little more small talk, Leo moved on to the reason she’d asked to come over today. If she’d learned anything about him, it was that his curiosity could trump a lot of his other more cautious feelings. Justin shared the same trait.