Hidden Trump (Bite Back 2) (51 page)

Bian’s head fell. She closed her eyes. “My second in command,” she whispered. “I trusted him completely.”

“Are you sure, House Correia?” Skylur said, his voice silky. “You want to unmask your spy before the Assembly?”

She was sensible enough to worry, but Matlal made a brusque gesture. Get on with it.

“Not our spy,” he was smart enough to add.

They brought Marlon in. His face was completely relaxed, unconcerned.

Bian’s hand gripped my arm. They weren’t accompanying him, they were guiding him, supporting him. His face wasn’t just unconcerned, it was utterly emotionless.

“We pass him to the protection of the Assembly,” Skylur said. Marlon stood in the central area, swaying slightly, eyes wandering uncomprehendingly over the Assembly.

Correia recovered quickly. “What have you done to him?”

“
We
have done nothing, House Correia, except confront him with evidence of his spying. You say he’s not your spy. Well, whoever managed to recruit him and program him, managed not only to control him so finely we could not detect it, but also planted a self-destruct compulsion in his brain.” Skylur sat forward. “This man was second only to my Diakon. He was a good man, an honest man, who put his trust in the wrong place. Who in your Houses, my colleagues, do you trust now?”

A ripple ran through the room. All Correia’s work to unsettle Panethus was swept away.

But Bian’s head stayed down.

Skylur gestured to the ushers and Marlon was taken to one side and sat down on a chair between us and the Adepts.

Skylur went on to the attack. “Your main case, House Correia, which you’re having difficulty setting up, seems to be that Amber Farrell is unfit to be Mistress of a House, is behaving incorrectly, and that in appointing her, I am similarly unfit. And since you’ve also brought up Emergence, we will discuss that in the process of this debate.”

Matlal and Correia stiffened, but they recovered quickly.

“Unfit to be Athanate,” Matlal said. “And thus unfit to be Mistress of a House.”

Skylur snorted. “Your presentation has run aground, and I doubt you want a vote now?” He raised eyebrows at them. “What assessment of fitness would you accept? An expert?”

“Yes,” Correia said, too quickly.

Skylur shrugged and indicated she should continue.

“I request the ushers bring Judicator Philippe Remy before the Assembly.”

I recalled Diana saying something about trusting him only to behave as expected. My nervousness increased. I wished Diana were here to give me advice.

Remy came in and I didn’t like him any more than I had before. He refused to look at me as he walked into the central area and peered at the controls for the presentation system. We swiveled to watch the screen behind us.

He got a picture of his cart of equipment up on the screen and then he spoke in bursts about what it could do and how it worked.

 It was a development of the latest systems available anywhere in the world; it was almost perfect, all it needed was someone trained to interpret it. Here were some more slides.

I tried to focus. I had the feeling there was an unpleasant shock hiding in here. Correia and Matlal had been just too eager to get him in. They must know what was coming.

When it came, it started deceptively dully.

“On the left, one can see the average outline pattern for healthy Athanate. Do not worry about the shape of the pattern, simply that there is a pattern. This is gathered from many tests I have done in many Houses.” A second pattern slid in from the right. “Now, on the right, one sees a different pattern, from fewer subjects, very different.” He paused. “All these subjects on the right failed to pass through crusis, and became rogues, or passed and still became rogues.”

I didn’t like the direction this was going. Remy himself looked increasingly uncomfortable.

“One now overlays the shape obtained from Ms. Farrell.” He pulled a shape to the left, then to the right.

My stomach dropped. I felt nauseous. It was closer to rogue than normal, far closer. Even I could see that.

“Judicator Remy,” Skylur cut through the buzz. “Is House Farrell rogue?”

I sat there, struggling to keep my face clear, while every eye turned to me.

“No.” He dragged out the word. “That is not what I am saying. Merely that there is a predilection. Statistically, she will become rogue.”

“I see,” said Skylur. “Statistically. Altau don’t use this machine or your undoubted expertise. Tell me, are you familiar with our success rate?”

“Yes.” Remy had to admit it.

Oh gods, you go Skylur!

“Well, we put our trust in our methods, and they tell us differently in this case. Still, very interesting, all these new gadgets. I shall be so impressed when you’re getting as good a prediction rate as we are. Tell me, just out of interest, are Basilikos culling Aspirants on the basis of these results?”

“I do not know. I merely do the tests, sir. I am within the mantle of the Warders.”

“Hmm.” Skylur smiled at him like a crocodile. “And tell me, would a different set of tests or a different order of displaying produce a different result, a different shape? One which maybe everyone approximated to?”

“Yes, but—”

“Thank you. Proceed, Judicator Remy.”

My stomach settled.

I forgive you everything, Skylur. Nearly everything.

“But of course, Altau did not infuse Farrell,” said Matlal. “We do not know the House that did. Altau merely…adopted what had been started. There was no preliminary assessment.”

Basilikos around him nodded in agreement. Panethus stared blankly back at them.

Remy stopped to wipe his brow with his handkerchief. Sweat marked his jacket. I was shivering with cold.

“The next feature I wish to present is not entirely from my own work. This equipment is starting to be used in the wider world to assess mental conditions. Using guidelines developed there, I have assessed Ms. Farrell’s mental condition.” Remy started to load images on the screen, his fingers clumsy on the controller.

“Ms. Farrell has an exaggerated preference for risk.”

Not news to me. What did I have to worry about? Where was he going with this?

“In isolation, a concern, but regrettably, it is not in isolation.” Remy bowed his head and pressed his fist to his mouth for a second, before continuing. “One does not like to use the terms schizophrenia and paranoia, because of popular misconceptions about their precise medical meaning. I shall say, rather, that Ms. Farrell manifests a predisposition to delusions.”

What?

“These may be in the form of voices telling her to do things, or constant feelings of persecution. She has been relatively successful, so far, in controlling this. In order to do this, a structure for dealing with these matters pervades her mind. Without more study, one could not be absolutely definitive, but I believe she regards her Athanate state as a sort of creature in her mind, to keep chained.”

Panethus stirred in their seats again.

Bian’s grip on my arm tightened. I was tensing to stand. I forced myself to relax back.

Remy wiped his brow again. “And…there is evidence of memory tampering.”

“What?” Even Skylur started at that.

What did they do to me? What did they do to me in that windowless cell?

I wanted to run. Anywhere. Hide. Bian’s grip increased. She pulled me closer, her lips right next to my ear.

“Breathe. Calm. Breathe. He is trying to provoke you. Trust me, Amber. I will not betray you.”

She put her head in front of mine as if I was whispering in her ear. She was dosing me with pacifics. Leaving me defenseless.

Trust me with your life.

I took a deep breath.

“It is possible for one to determine blocks on the memory,” Remy said, “as might be performed to obscure Athanate information. This is not a technique exclusive to the Athanate and Ms. Farrell has just such a block. Alas, I can tell you no more, without more study.” He looked down, and continued slowly. “But Ms. Farrell was previously in the United States army. One could say…that is, it is not inconceivable that they are responsible.”

“So, Judicator Remy,” Matlal said. “She is mentally unstable and may be under some form of compulsion to betray us? Or even to assassinate someone?”

“One could…one could validly draw such conclusions,” Remy stuttered.

“Or she might be under a compulsion to sing the National Anthem on Independence Day,” Skylur said. “The point is, you have no idea whether there is a compulsion or what it might be.”

“No. The point is, Judicator Remy, would you assess that she is suitable material to be an Athanate?” Correia asked.

“Unfortunately, that decision is past.” Remy dropped the presentation controller and scrabbled to pick it up. His hands were trembling. “She is already Athanate, or at least partly so. One might speculate that there is cross-infusion with Were.” There were gasps from the representatives. “I speculate that she is in an indeterminate state, one could say, a perpetual crusis.” He looked down and his voice dropped. “For everyone’s sake, she must remain constrained. In these circumstances, in her mental state, one would recommend lobotomy, as a mercy.”

Bian’s pacifics weren’t working well enough. “Let me go,” I groaned through clenched teeth.

“Why not termination, if she’s liable to go rogue at any second?” Correia said.

I would go rogue. I would take Correia and Matlal, I’d rip their throats out before anyone could stop me. And Remy. I’d do the whole world some good.

“Amber, think of the others,” Bian hissed in my ear. “Jen, Alex, David, Pia. They need you to get through this.”

“The Warders…” Remy blinked and looked as if he was lost for a second. “The Warders request to take responsibility. However damaged the vessel, these claims of reduction in crusis from the Blood must be investigated. The Warders’ facilities are neutral and would ensure that any benefit would be available for all Athanate.” His gaze wavered over the Assembly. “This investigation must include all House Farrell Athanate and kin.”

“No!” I tried to shout, but Bian’s pacifics robbed me of strength. It came out as a croak. Why were they doing this to me?

“We propose a vote on this immediately,” Matlal said.

“A short while more,” Skylur said, holding up one hand. “Where are these facilities?”

“New York,” Remy mumbled.

“New York? Are you sure?”

“There are better facilities being constructed, which we would move to in due course.” Remy’s eyes darted as if he were looking for an escape, and now the sweat ran unheeded on his face.

“Those would be the facilities in New Mexico, would they? The ones that have just been started.”

Remy stuttered incoherently.

“Paid for by Banco Armeria, which in turn is owned by…Bioteca Eztlian.” Skylur’s words fell into a pin-dropped silence. “That’s one of yours, isn’t it, House Matlal? You truly thought we would not notice? What is happening when the Warders accept gifts from Basilikos?”

Lindberg, the Panethus representative for Sweden, spoke. “Clearly, it cannot be anywhere but New York. That is the assigned neutral territory. But also clearly, this investigation must happen. Surely you agree with this, House Altau. This is too great an opportunity to waste.”

“Really?” Skylur brooded for a minute before sighing. He turned back to Remy. “And all these opinions and speculations you have so uncharacteristically come out with?”

Norgaard, the Panethus representative from Denmark, stood. “I agree,” she said. “It takes weeks to get an opinion from you, and here you are shoveling speculations like so much shit around a farmyard. What has happened, Remy?”

Remy said nothing.

“Who put those opinions there, Remy? What was your price?” Skylur demanded. “New facilities, no limitations on the scope of your investigation?”

“This is ridiculous,” Correia said. “He works for the Warders. He is neutral. New Mexico would be in Panethus territory. This is a vote of faith on the part of Basilikos. I protest this treatment of the expert. You agreed to his determination on this matter.”

“Ridiculous...” Remy echoed, sweat pouring from him. “Neutral…”

“Come, Remy. Look at the truth of your position.” Skylur pointed at Marlon. “Admit it.”

Remy just shook his head violently. He looked as if he might be about to throw up.

“Then I am truly sorry,” Skylur said quietly, and pressed a button on his seat.

The presentation screen now showed Remy in conversation on the telephone. I heard almost nothing before Remy started shouting and waving his hands as if he could stop them from watching.

“Cease this. This is outrageous!
Scandaleux
…” He stopped, dwarfed by the Remy on the screen. “
C'est
…
?
” A look of bewilderment passed across his face, and for the briefest moment, sheer terror. Then it was just blank, like Marlon’s. And, behind him, the screen showed him arguing the details of the diagnoses he had just made on me. Trying to argue against and simply being told what to say.

Skylur stopped the video. The room was silent as ushers removed Marlon and Remy.

I felt ill. Bian’s hand remained on my arm, but I slumped in the chair, waiting for the next disaster.

Lindberg rose to his feet again. “I restate my opinion that Ms. Farrell should be placed in a protective situation, and a neutral team set up to study the effects of her Blood on crusis.”

Norgaard started to argue, but Skylur cut across them both. “House Lindberg, my understanding of scientific method is that there needs to be a control subject. Perhaps you are offering for the whole of House Lindberg to go into this protective situation with House Farrell, and have your Blood studied for the benefit of the Athanate?”

“But I am…” he stopped.

“Exactly. You are Athanate, and Master of your House, and not subject to arbitrary imprisonment.” He leaned back. “Just like House Farrell.”

“That has not been determined,” said Matlal. “Remy suggested—”

“You are surely not accepting anything Remy said?” Skylur looked astonished and raised his hands to the ceiling. “He has just been completely discredited. But I did agree to submit to expert determination, and the suborning of Remy has robbed us of one expert. But not all. Adept Emerson?”