Susan Krinard - Shadowmaster

He’d never been one of the Enclave’s elite. What he’d learned of “culture” had come from his Opir Sire, who had seen something in him worth cultivating and had boosted Drakon up the Opir ladder from serf to vassal to Freeblood in a remarkably short period of time. He had stopped aging at twenty-nine, five years ago. It seemed an eternity.

“I was one of those dissidents the government is so fond of denouncing,” he said, skirting very close to the truth. “I spoke out against certain unjust laws and restrictions, the forced separation of families under the Deportation Act.”

“Then you agree with the mayor,” she said with what seemed to be real interest. “You’d like to see an end to deportation.”

“I would like to see some other means of dealing with the problem of satisfying the Opiri,” he said. “But I spoke out on these matters before Shepherd came to office, and I was warned in advance that I was to be taken in for questioning. So I escaped.”

“Shepherd held the same views then, and he was a senator....”

“I had no reason to trust any political authority, whatever his or her promises.”

A spark of anger flashed in Lark’s eyes, but she covered it quickly. “You’re right,” she said. “They can’t be trusted.”

And you didn’t like hearing me criticize the government, he thought.

“Patterson and Shepherd are very much the same, in spite of their supposedly opposing views on peace and deportation,” he said. “And whatever their earlier ideas might have been, power has a strange effect on people. It changes their commitments and alters their promises.”

“How has power affected you?” she asked sharply. “Everyone knows it’s dog-eat-dog in the Fringe. How many people have you killed, just to keep your power?”

“I do whatever is necessary to protect those under my care.”

“Your care? Stealing food from people who need it, dealing in contraband, trading on citizens’ fear of deportation by demanding everything of value they have just so they can—”

“And yet you came here knowing all this,” he interrupted. “You worked for those who abused the people from whom I steal ‘everything of value.’ What benefits did you receive from your employment, Lark?”

Flushing, Lark looked away. “I’m sorry,” she said, as if she meant it. “We’ve all become harder since the War.”

“No,” Drakon said. “People haven’t changed. Only the circumstances.”

“The entire human race never had to fight for its very survival before.”

“And now the Opir race does the same.”

“You’re defending them?”

Drakon knew he’d almost revealed too much. There was something about this woman that threw him so far off balance that he thought he could actually confide in her. Let her see something of himself that he’d shown no one else since he’d been with Lord Julius. Explain why he had to...

“I’ll have a tray brought to you,” he said, turning to leave.

“Wait,” she said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

He turned halfway, his hand on the doorknob.

“Don’t you want the test information?”

“Tell me,” he said.

She did, in brisk detail, as if he were a military commander and she a soldier making a formal report. Drakon could find nothing suspicious in what she said, but that meant nothing at all.

“You’ll remain here for the day,” he said. “You may not see me again for some time, but my lieutenant, Brita, will see to your needs.”

“And will you keep me chained while you’re away?”

“Should I?”

Her direct gaze met his. “I promise to be good,” she said with a wry half smile.

Instinct—blind, animal instinct—almost drove Drakon to join Lark on the bed and take her up on her earlier offer. But once again he controlled himself, remembering that they had nothing in common except that she was human, and he had once been.

“Keep your promise, Lark,” he said, striding to the door. “Be very, very good.”

Chapter 5

“He’s crazy.”

The woman with the short black hair and nose ring took the chair, folded her arms and stared at Phoenix balefully. Phoenix had seen Sammael’s lieutenant when she’d run into his meeting with The Preacher, but hadn’t really met Brita until she had brought a breakfast tray bearing an odd combination of nutrient bars and surprisingly fresh vegetables, along with a change of clothing. She came again at lunchtime, when she’d escorted Phoenix to one of the shared bathrooms to clean up.

Phoenix had seen and heard enough to know that Sammael and Brita didn’t always see eye to eye. But Phoenix had no idea where Sammael had gone, and Brita hadn’t enlightened her. In fact, the woman had barely spoken, and on the third visit, when she’d brought a sparse dinner, she’d left Phoenix alone for well over eight hours.

By Phoenix’s estimation, it was probably about four in the morning...an odd time for Sammael’s second-in-command to come calling.

“Why?” Phoenix asked. “Because he believes me? Or has he done something else you don’t approve of?”

Brita scowled. “I got a message from one of the crew,” she said. “I guess your information must have panned out.”

That didn’t sound right to Phoenix. Sammael hadn’t said he planned to check on it when he’d left. And even if he had, it wouldn’t have been possible for him to act on what he’d learned either last night or this morning.

Studying the woman’s grim face, Phoenix pretended to be relieved...which wasn’t so far from the truth.

“Then I guess he’s not so crazy after all,” she said. “Maybe it’s time you started to trust me, as he does.”

“Not likely. I’m just following orders.”

“It sounds as if you don’t trust Sammael’s judgment.”

“I was against keeping you here,” Brita said, the words sounding almost bitter. “If I were him, I’d have killed you on sight.”

Phoenix sat very lightly on the edge of the bed, her feet planted firmly on the floor. “Really?” she said. “It seems to me that your obvious dislike of me isn’t just concern over who I am and what I may be doing here. You’re personally worried about Sammael, aren’t you?” She smiled. “Afraid that I might have some...undue influence over him?”

“You?” Brita snorted. “I know you’ve been offering him every asset you have, but he hasn’t taken you up on your offer, has he?”

Phoenix clenched her jaw, wondering exactly how much Sammael had told Brita. “All I want to do is get out of San Francisco,” she said.

“And you think he sees you as anything but a tool? He’s had better than you a hundred times.”

That was just the kind of reaction that told Phoenix she had to keep pushing. She knew next to nothing about this woman, who clearly had almost as much authority over the crew as Sammael did.

She had to uncover Brita’s motives, decipher her relationship with Sammael, and learn just how much of an obstruction she might be to Phoenix’s mission.

There was no sign that Brita had any idea what Sammael really was. But what if she did? If she was as close to him as she seemed...

Surely not. No free human would aid an Opir spy, even assuming she also knew nothing of what Erebus intended for the mayor.

Still, this was the Fringe, where anything was possible and hostility against the government was rampant. Phoenix had to be certain. She had to risk asking questions of a woman who obviously despised her.

Even if she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answers.

“Are you his lover?” she asked bluntly.

Brita’s muscles tensed as if she were about to fling herself on Phoenix. Phoenix braced herself for attack.