Allie's War Season Three (30 page)

Chandre wanted the same thing for different reasons; she wanted the virus neutralized. She also wanted to find Maygar if she could, and rescue him if he needed it. While her feelings about the young infiltrator were mixed at best, she couldn't knowingly leave one of her own...not without at least verifying whether or not he remained alive.

Anyway, he still felt like a brother, to Chandre at least. Whatever else she might think of Maygar, she no longer believed him to be a traitor. While his reasons for being in the White House while Terian held Allie captive hadn't exactly been virtuous, at least not in their entirety, Chandre couldn't help believing him that he only stayed in the hopes he might be able to get her out. He claimed he'd tried to convince his mother to protect her, too...although he admitted his attempts on that front hadn't been particularly successful.

Chandre also understood the strength of familial ties, and how confusing they could be, especially for seers. Elan Raven, Maygar's mother, was a Rook. That fact alone likely confused Maygar's loyalties more than he felt comfortable admitting, particularly to anyone in the Seven, much less anyone in the Adhipan. Yet, while he didn't sell out his mother at any point during those years...neither did he do the reverse, which was not a small thing.

Truthfully, Chandre's biggest issue with Maygar was that he was a bit of an ass.

That stunt he pulled on Allie, trying to claim her in marriage from Dehgoies before the Sword and the Bridge had consummated, was the worst of his transgressions in that area. Really, that had been the final nail in the coffin of his deteriorating relationship with the Sword, although no one had known he
was
the Sword at that time.

At the time, and really, since, Chandre hadn't felt very sympathetic. Given that Maygar nearly raped the Bridge in his attempt to break up her marriage, Chandre was more than happy to see Dehgoies beat him down for that little stunt.

Maybe not kill him...but yes, put him in his place.

Unlike Maygar, who had never truly strayed from his allegiance to the Seven and at least the overarching principles of Code, Varlan worked as a Rook under Galaith for at least seventy-five years. The six-hundred-year-old infiltrator seemed comfortable enough working both sides of the fence, so he clearly wasn't a zealot on the religious end of things...or even a zealot in terms of the interventionist political camp that had once been represented by Galaith.

At least...Chandre assumed not, since he happily took a job ridding the world of a human-killing disease. Still, for all of his courtesies and supposed partnerships with Balidor and the Sword and whoever else, Varlan was still, essentially, a Rook.

Of course, Balidor reminded her that Varlan had also been a member of the Adhipan, once. Given that his association with the holy guardians of the Seven likely ended a few hundred years before she was born, Chandre didn't find that fact overly reassuring, however.

Chandre didn't know Varlan's exact affiliations these days, in terms of how he would identify himself, but he'd been high up in the Pyramid under Galaith. She hadn't seen any indication that he'd experienced any kind of change of heart in the time since, in terms of his philosophical leanings. He'd chosen to go his own way following the Pyramid's demise, true, but Chandre had a feeling that was more of a no-confidence vote in Terian than a deeper change in Varlan's philosophical leanings. Given that he'd lost status, money, power, as well as a boss and friend in Galaith, Varlan had likely felt the destruction of the Pyramid more keenly than most.

As a result, it was unlikely he had fond feelings for Allie, given that she'd been the one to bring that whole thing crashing down.

But Allie hadn't been the one to kill Galaith. Not technically, anyway.

Given Varlan's choice to go freelance rather than follow Terian, it was possible the aged infiltrator knew
exactly
who was to blame for the death of his former boss, as well.

As far as Chandre could tell, Varlan still worked for himself...which could mean anything and nothing. There was no way to gauge the depth or breadth of any of his alliances, including the tentative one he seemed to have forged with Balidor.

Chandre had spoken to Dehgoies during her last check-in call, too, mostly so he could hear her report on the situation firsthand. He'd spent most of that conversation pulling imprints from her light...enough of those pertained to Varlan that she knew he was having trouble trusting the ex-Rook, too. His actual questions remained focused on Varlan's mysterious client, however, and what she could discern about the fortifications of his stronghold.

He did tell her, towards the end, to be careful.

He also reminded her that Varlan wasn't the reason she was here. Varlan was the means for her visit to South America, not the end. All of them, including Dehgoies, wanted to know everything she could find out about this mysterious Shadow person, no matter what compromises were needed to gain that information.

Sadly, so far, that hadn't been much.

The first two meetings Varlan tried to arrange had fallen through, less than four hours before they'd planned on leaving to attend. The three after that had each been postponed...and that was after they had traveled the length of the continent to be nearer to the large land holdings covering most of the southern tip, down to
Tierra del Fuego.

The latest attempt to meet had been postponed again.

It had now been over two months since they'd first landed in Buenos Aires, and Chandre still hadn't managed to get into the same room with anyone
directly
affiliated with Varlan's 'Shadow.' In fact, if she could believe Varlan, they hadn't even spoken to one of his high level employees.

On the other hand, they hadn't been turned away altogether yet, either...which Chandre found odder in some ways.

Now they stood right outside Shadow's high, organic gates, having managed to breach the walls of the fortress-like land-holding for the first time, and Chandre still felt skeptical. Given the locked gates, the empty driveway and otherwise lack of reception for their well-surveilled party, she still didn't exactly feel warmly received.

In Buenos Aires and en route, she'd tried to find out everything she could about who owned the tracts of land covering most of the
Isla Grande de Tierra del Fuego.
In particular, she focused on the land lying between the nearest human cities and that rough and long stretch of ocean where the South Pacific met the South Atlantic, that meeting occurring none too gently. She'd hit mostly dead ends...international holding companies of whatever kind, corporations with the GNP of medium-sized countries and names she'd never heard of before. One or two of these, she recognized from the business world, but they'd all been human.

Whatever seers actually owned or controlled these pieces of land, they were keeping their names and faces very much behind the scenes.

Glancing down the hill to the human village below the hacienda, Chandre couldn't help noticing how primitive everything looked. She didn't see any satellite dishes, unlike even in poor sections of India or Brazil, where they dotted over half the dwellings. She didn't see any residents wearing headsets, either, or carrying portable monitors or even tablets.

The town was oddly quiet as a result.

People spoke to one another from chairs located in the same rooms. She heard laughter a few times, but even that sounded subdued, as if the whole town remained conscious of their ability to disturb the silence of the walled-in valley.

Chandre had seen and smelled a lot of animals, however...probably more per human than she'd seen in any other place she could remember, at least in recent years. Sheep grazed on the steep hillsides, along with taller animals that must be llamas, or alpacas. Dogs ran among them, and in packs on the street. She'd seen cats, goats tied to nearly every house, horses, chickens, pigs, cows, bulls, even parrots on perches in walled gardens. Lizards climbed the stone walls as hawks winged overhead, and Chandre had seen what looked like a fox holding a rabbit in its mouth as they first descended into the valley of the town.

The animals seemed somehow quieter too, although they still made more sound than the humans...especially the dogs.

Otherwise, she heard surf pounding against the cliffs on the other side of the hill, like a background lull in that silence, a reminder of the dangers the elements posed so near. Something about the violence of the surf and wind in juxtaposition with the quietude of the village itself reminded Chandre of horror films she'd watched in the early part of the last century...ones with castles and villagers waving pitchforks at monsters.

Even back then, Chandre remembered feeling more like one of the monsters than one of the humans. The latter always struck her as overly violent and irrational, ready to burn the ugly thing alive, simply for the crime of its existence.

Sighing a little, she glanced at Stanley, one of the infiltrators working for Varlan.

Stanley didn't speak much compared to Rex, Varlan's other employee, but Chandre found him a pleasant-enough companion. Varlan himself generally kept his own counsel, but there was something more open about Stanley's silences, something that made it easier for Chandre to relax into them. Pretty much from the start, she found herself gravitating towards the dark-skinned seer, and telling him more than she told the other two.

At the thought, Dehgoies' caution rang softly in her ears.

Pushing it aside, she shook her long braids, shivering in the cold air.

"What do you think?" she asked him, after another moment of both of them staring through the organic gates. She watched the male seer as he scanned the perimeter, just as she had done, seconds before. After another pause, he clicked out, glancing at her.

"I don't know," he said simply.

Glancing back towards the town, he squinted against the polarized sun before doing another sweep of the cliffs with his eyes. His words seemed to mirror her thoughts.

"It's primitive, isn't it?"

"Human," Chandre agreed, nodding. "Mostly."

"Seems our friends like to be in control," Stanley added, giving her a wry smile.

Chandre smiled back. She'd been thinking along the same lines.

"They don't like visitors much, either," she commented, scanning the edge of the fence a second time. "...Boats, cars..."

"Or planes," Stanley confirmed. "Not even helicopters. Makes you wonder if they ever plan to have to leave in a hurry themselves...?"

Chandre nodded. Again, she'd been wondering along similar lines.

Generally speaking, seers didn't like to be cornered.

When they holed up somewhere, no matter how far out in the boondocks, they liked to have a way out...preferably one that could be accessed quickly. Airstrips were common. So were helipads. So far, Chandre hadn't seen evidence of, or even good locations for, either of those two things. The top of the roof appeared to be tile and hung at a slant...definitely not conducive to landing helicopters. Nor were the cliffs above the hacienda roof, or any of those rimming the edge of the seaside village. The few flat areas she'd seen on the way down weren't easily reached for the purposes of a quick escape. She'd been watching from the road and saw no evidence of an airstrip, either...or even any docks, as they rounded the cliffs in rented jeeps.

"Interesting," Stanley said again.

Chandre nodded. "Boat, maybe," she said finally.

"Must be," Stanley agreed. "I'm thinking there's a lot more under these cliffs than is readily apparent...possibly they keep them in there."

Chandre's eyes widened as she followed the prod of Stanley's light.

It hadn't occurred to her to look there, but now that she had, she understood exactly what Stanley meant. Not because she could see anything really, even with a heavy scan...more because the shielding below ground was even more intense than what wrapped around the parts of the structure visible to the naked eye. Further, it made logistical sense too. The seas were too rough down here for a proper harbor, not if one wanted to be discreet. The few inlets and small bays that offered enough shelter were also inaccessible from the hacienda itself.

"Underground channel to the sea," Chandre muttered. "No one would even know that they were gone. Not if they stayed below the surface..."

"And it makes them look confident," Stanley added, smiling faintly.

"Really confident," Chandre agreed. "That can't be an accident, either..."

Stanley gave her a questioning glance. Before he could ask the question aloud, a deeper, more melodious voice answered her from behind.

"Yes, sister," Varlan said, stepping up to join them. "I think you might be onto something there. An underground passage...I think perhaps a submarine, as you imply. Perhaps something quite exciting, yes? In terms of organics, I mean..."