Hidden Faults (28 page)

Hermi was as friendly and kindly as he had the day before. Jeyle was pleasant, but she gave me a few looks that made me wonder if she was angry with me. I supposed I could hardly blame her, especially if Hermi had suffered because of my tantrum.

Dede told me a while back that it was a miracle that Hermi and Jeyle could make it work.

I turned to Kir.
I wish you’d stop doing that.

Um. Sorry. I kept forgetting. When you’re this close, I can’t tell a lot of the time if you’re talking or thinking.

Oh. I didn’t realise. Is it because of Hermi’s empathy, that Dede said that?

Yeah. She said a lot of major empaths find it hard to get close to people because of what they find in their hearts. I know what it’s like. Fortunately, most people here are shielded. I’d go crazy if I had to listen to what they think of me all the time.

I leaned in and kissed his cheek, my arm around his waist.

“No necking at the breakfast table!” someone called out.

Kir gave her the finger.
Don’t listen to them, they’re jealous.

They should be. You’re cuter than any of them.

He smiled, flushing a little.
I ain’t.

Yes, you are. Especially when you blush like that. Jeyle’s giving me the evil eye.

The ‘no necking at the table’ rule is cos of her and Hermi. They carry on something terrible if you let them.

I kissed him again and sat up. “Sorry. Kir’s so irresistible.”

That won a smile from Jeyle, and a couple of giggles from further up the table. Kir looked down at his plate and pretended it had nothing to do with him.

I felt ravenous, but we’d been provided with plenty of food and plenty of time to eat it. Nearly an hour later, as I eyed the khevai pot and wondered if I really wanted another mug, Jeyle put her hand to her ear.

“Oh, they’re here.” I wondered if she’d received a telepathic message, but now I looked more closely I saw she wore a tiny communicator earpiece—and so did Hermi. Actually, quite a lot of people did. I supposed I might be given one later on. “Kir? Jodi? Are you done? They want to see you.”

I wiped my lips and fingers. “All yours.”

“We’re over on the other side this morning. We take turns,” she explained as the four of us headed down one of the apparently endless tunnels in this place. “This evening we’ll have the greeting circle here. Everyone’s excited about meeting you, Jodi.”

“I have no idea why,” I said, meaning it.

Jeyle
shrugged. I wondered how long it would be before I stopped feeling like an outsider.

The ‘other side’ involved a short hop into the freezing air of the outside world. Mist and clouds still obscured the sun, but I was glad to see open sky, however briefly, and the snow-draped mountains still had plenty of power to awe, before another mountain about a pardec away, swallowed us up. Jeyle explained underground tunnels connected the two centres, but it was simply faster and more pleasant to fly everyone across. Since they had plenty of telekinetics, there was no reason not to use their ability—not when airships never approached these mountains, and no Pindoni satellites could track something as small and fleeting as humans flying between the peaks.

She introduced me to three people—two of them, to my surprise, Febkeinzes, both only a little older than me. Uliem was a TK, as was his wife, Wizinaera. Febkeinzian was constantly enmeshed in civil war, and refugees from our poor and unstable neighbouring country periodically flooded into our larger cities, but I’d hardly expected any to have found a haven here. I looked to Jeyle for an explanation.

“The Febkeinze paranormals have suffered nearly as much—partly as a result of the war, partly as a result of suspicion the Pindonis have whipped up among the security forces there. We’ve managed to rescue nearly twenty major talents over the last two decades.”

Uliem pressed his slim, brown-skinned hands together and bowed. “Sadly, Arwe Jodi, many of our colleagues have been caught up in the wars there. We have no way of knowing where most of them are. We work with our Pindoni friends to do what we can to locate them.”

“We’ve had more luck with Febkeinzes than our own people,” Jeyle added, grimacing. “At least they don’t use naksen, at least not as far as we know. Come on, the others are waiting.”

I also met another empath, Noora, a tall woman who had to be in her sixties, a serene smile on her ascetic features. She and Hermi embraced like friends who’d not seen each other for years, but that couldn’t be right.

Noora and Hermi kinda feed each other,
Kir explained as we trailed after Jeyle and the others.
We spread the empaths out because they keep the groups healthy, but if they had their preference, they’d be together. If a week goes by and they don’t see each other, Hermi gets a bit crabby. Prison did bad things to both of them, and being around all us damaged ones, hurts them a lot.

Keep the groups healthy?

They’re like our hearts. The heart of the group.
Ask him about it later.

Okay.

I didn’t know our side of the refuge well enough to make a comparison—the differences I noted didn’t seem important. Kir had explained they divided food production, and those who made clothes and shoes worked on this side simply because they had the space. Otherwise, people lived where they felt most comfortable. After being freed from prison, the ability to make such choices was central to the rebuilding of their lives and health. I hadn’t been offered many choices yet, but I was happy with those that had been made for me. I wasn’t in any hurry to change things.

I did notice that while Noora was as friendly to Kir as Hermi, the two Febkeinzes quite obviously kept their distance.

They don’t like you?
I asked as we walked along another narrow hall.

They don’t approve of me. They’re Feb-gailis,
he said as if that explained everything.

And?

And...they don’t approve of me. What I done. Later, Jodi.

I swore I’d get to the end of this mystery before the day ended because it was driving me nuts—the idea that people disapproved of Kir, and Kir being so irritatingly close-mouthed about it.

And I know you’re listening.

I can’t help that, Jodi.

As we came to a door and entered a small meeting room, his sour expression suddenly brightened as he saw the two people waiting for him. He rushed over and the tall, good-looking male stranger took him into a warm—and rather intimate—embrace. Tongues were involved. I tried not to let it bother me. This, I guessed, was at least one of the reasons for Kir’s skill in the bedroom.

Kir turned, still grinning like a fool. “Wesejne, Kateju, this is Jodi.”

The slight, severe-faced woman bowed. I didn’t know the proper form to use in reply, so I simply nodded. The man came over and also bowed.

“Brother Jodimai. Long have we prayed for your release, and your freedom has been greeted with joy by the Elected.” He held out his hand. “I am Wesejne. This is Sister Kateju.”

“Uh, hi. Um, nice to meet you,” I said, shaking his hand and wondering if they were always this formal. Kir gave me no clues.

“Everyone, come and sit,” Hermi said.

The room held no meeting table or chairs, only armchairs and a sofa, again arranged in an obvious circle, around a long, low wooden table. A tray of cups and a large pot of jilaj—the favourite Weadenisi beverage—sat ready for us to use, rich, sweet steam rising from the dark liquid. The warm, golden lighting created a soothing ambience, but despite that, I found it hard to relax around all these strangers with their unknown agendas.

Kir sat beside me on the sofa, Hermi and Jeyle beside him. It quickly became obvious everyone here deferred to Wesejne and that he would run this meeting.

“Brother Jodimai, apart from our great relief at your escape, your particular case has been the subject of much interest since Brother Kirvo alerted us to the mental block on your powers. I understand you’re still finding your feet, but I believe it’s essential that we get to the bottom of how this was done to you.”

“I’m more than happy to help, but I honestly know nothing at all.”

“That’s because your memory has been tampered with, and over a very long period of time. Brother Kirvo, please summarise for Brother Jodimai, the sequence of events once you became aware of the block.”

“Wait.” I frowned at Kir. “I thought you’d met me for the first time in that bar?”

“No,” he said, shifting a little. “It’s a bit more complicated than that. Jodi, don’t give me that look.”

I clenched my jaw, hearing the echo of Ganwe saying that to me on more than one occasion.

I ain’t him. Stop glaring at me!

“
Go on,” I said through gritted teeth. “This should be fascinating.” Jeyle frowned at me. I ignored her.

With a less than patient air, Wesejne continued. “Brother Jodimai, Brother Kirvo did nothing that he was not ordered to do. His actions were all sanctioned by your people here, and by the Elected in the Weadenal. He doesn’t deserve censure.” The man had a nice long nose to look down at people with, and he used it now.

“I said, go on.” I’d decide later if any censure was needed. I didn’t like this guy, and I didn’t much care if he knew it. Who the ‘Elected’ were, I had no idea. Something else I hadn’t been told.

Kir didn’t look at me as he spoke. “I was on a recon in Vizinken, checking out some of the researchers working for the Nats. Jodi, you weren’t anything special—just one of the people we planned to check out. But while I was scanning you, I realised there was something weird going on with your memories. You had....” He glanced at Wesejne who nodded. “There’s a mental trick telepaths—some telepaths—can do, which doesn’t just erase memories, it replaces them. Unless you’re trained like me, a telepath wouldn’t pick it up, and I only picked it up cos I was paying you some attention.”

“Replacing memories? Of what?”

“I didn’t know. I spent a bit of time picking at the block, but no go. I reported back to people here, and they told me to keep working on you. So I, uh...kept arranging to run across you, working on the block a bit more each time.”

I held up my hand to interrupt him. “Wait… How many times, exactly?”

“Uh. Seven?”

I glared. “And you screwed with my memory each time?”

“I had to! You worked for the Nats! If they picked me out of your head, everyone here would have been at risk.”

“
And tell me, Brother Kirvo,” I asked, grinding my teeth, “did we have sex on any of those seven occasions?” He nodded, looking down at his hands. “I see.”

Kateju attempted to explain. “Sex is a way of—”

I didn’t want to hear any more. I stood and walked out, slamming my hand against the rock wall outside and not caring that I’d bruised my hand. I wanted to throw up. I had no idea where I could do that. I needed to get out of here....

“Jodi—”

I whirled. “You raped me. Raped my mind and my body.”

Kir stepped back, waving his hands frantically in denial of my words. “No!”

“
Yes! You used me.
You manipulated me, stole my memories, had sex with me. What else did you do for your friends here? Did you call the defs that night? Are you the reason I ended up in prison? Was I just some bloody tool to use and throw away? How much have you done to me, Kir? How many tricks did you pull to get me into bed with you?”

“
I didn’t! I just...lowered your distrust a little. Not much—you wanted it.”

“But you can say anything, and I’ve got nothing to argue against it, because you took away my memories! Damn it, I thought there was something wrong about all this and now I know. Is this what you do, Kir? Play with people’s minds? Play with their memories so they don’t remember what you’re doing? Use them?”

He clenched his fists and turned away from me. I didn’t care what he did, so long as he did it away from me. I walked off down the rocky corridor and quickly got lost, ending up on a set of narrow wooden stairs that led who knew where.

I shook so hard I could hardly breathe. I put my head between my knees and tried not to throw up. What had he done? Being with him had been so easy—too easy—and every time I’d been suspicious, my doubts had mysteriously disappeared. I was such a bloody idiot. I should have known it was too good to be true.

I sat undisturbed
for a long time. I didn’t know what to do now. I felt so unsafe, so frightened of being around these people when they could harbour such a monster. Encourage such a monster, in fact. He’d used me, with their blessing. I wanted to go...home, I guessed. I had no home. But this place was worse than prison because I had no idea what the hell was going on.