Summoning Light (22 page)

"What is it?" he demanded.

Her lips parted. "Ing-Radi has collapsed."

G'Leel's head turned slowly as she scanned the dimly lit bar from the vantage point of her stool. When her gaze moved toward Galen, he took a drink of his beer, pretending not to notice. At first she did not recognize him, but then her gaze returned to him, and Galen was gratified by the stunned recognition that arose on her face. The simplest tricks were often the best.

She stood, pushed past several of her crew, and approached the table where he sat. As when he had last seen her, she wore a sleeveless tunic, pants, and gloves all of black leather, with a gun case fastened at her waist. Her gold and black spotted arms were sharply defined with muscle. As she walked, each shoulder moved forward in turn, her posture stiff, erect. She stopped before him, and he noticed the pale scar across her nose.

"It's you, isn't it." She spoke loudly, to be heard over the noise of the other patrons. "From Zafran 8."

He put down his glass. "Hello, G'Leel."

She glanced back at her crewmates, who were passionately engaged in yet another drinking game. She pulled up a chair beside him. "What happened to you?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You – look different."

"I don't – Perhaps, the hair."

G'Leel shook her head, dismissing the idea. "Where is your friend? The other techno-mage."

Galen realized it had been a mistake to come.

"She told my future. She convinced me to talk to you. You never told me your names, either of you."

"She is dead."

G'Leel's red eyes flicked away from him. "I'm sorry." They sat in uneasy silence for a few moments. "She was wise," G'Leel said.

"She was killed by someone you know." Galen bit out the words. "A mage named Elizar. He came aboard your ship to collect a telepath." Anger was rising up in him, irresistible and overwhelming, and the tech raced in response. He hadn't been able to release its energy, and it wanted to be released, it needed to be, if he was to retain control.

"I remember him. But how did you–"

He fixed her with his gaze. "Have you seen him since?"

She hesitated a moment, taken aback. "No."

"Have you heard anything of him, or of a mage allied to the Shadows?"

"No."

"He brought a Centauri on your ship. An apprentice mage, named Tilar. Do you know anything of him?"

"No."

"What about the telepath? Do you know who he is? Where he might be found?"

"No." Her golden face was wary, uncertain.

Galen forced himself to break off. He took a drink, willed his pounding heart to slow. She didn't know. She didn't know what he needed to know. He crossed his arms over his chest, holding tightly to control.

"Your eyes have been haunting my dreams," she said. "They look down on me and accuse me of not doing enough."

Galen turned on her. "And have you done enough?"

"I've been listening, and watching, since I met you."

"And what have you seen?"

She released a breath. "The last time I was here, I met a man in a bar who claimed to be a telepath. I don't know if he said it just to impress females, or if it was true. He said he worked in the City Center. That's the biggest building in the city. It houses the government. A lot of the Drakh work there. Security is very tight. You aren't allowed inside without a pass."

"Where is this building?"

"I can't explain how to get there. I could show you, though."

His anger was slowly fading, though the restless energy of the tech remained. He was tired of holding it in, tired of being cold. "What else can you tell me?"

"There's something strange going on down there. When I saw you before, we were carrying some demolition equipment for Joncorp. They're using it to destroy their factory, which is next to the City Center. They're just finishing up now. The thing is, I know a Narn who worked on the construction crew for that factory. The place was state-of-the-art, and it was built only two years ago. I thought maybe the city forced them out to expand the Center. But my construction friend just told me he's been hired to rebuild the factory for Joncorp in exactly the same place, to the same design. Construction is going to start soon. So why would they tear it down?"

"To keep busy?"

G'Leel smiled. "I didn't think you had a sense of humor."

"I save it for special occasions."

She leaned toward him, and her red eyes glistened in the dim light. "I know where Z'ha'dum is. A system called Alpha Omega. Drakh come and go from there, perhaps a few others. I don't know anyone personally who's been there. I think the Shadows live there, just like you said. I think they direct what goes on here."

"The Shadows are here as well. You cannot see them."

G'Leel looked around the bar. "In here, now?"

"I see none. But my ability to detect them may be imperfect."

"That's reassuring." Her gloved hands tapped nervously against the table. "Everything here is focused on a coming war. The growth, the activity – it's got to start soon." She looked at him expectantly, hoping her information was sufficient.

Though she had failed to tell him the one thing he wanted to know, Galen tried to find the right words to thank her, tried to remember what had been said to her before. "You've been a great help. The information is very useful."

"But what can you do with it? What can I do, against all of them?" Her hand closed around his arm. "You showed me a vision of my parents, on Narn, being attacked. How can I stop that from coming true?"

"If I knew the future, and I knew how to change it, don't you think I would have done so?"

She released him, her lips tight. "When I heard about the destruction of our outpost in Quadrant 37, I wanted to return home, to defend us from any threats. But I thought maybe I could do more good here. From what you and–" Her pause extended, her thought hovering in the air, waiting for the word required, the word that would allow the thought to continue.

He must say her name. "Isabelle."

G'Leel nodded. "Isabelle made me realize that I might do the most good here, if I could gather information and share it with others."

"You have done well." Galen felt himself growing distant from G'Leel, from this place, from this time.

"But why would the Shadows attack Narn at all? We've done nothing to them. The Centauri are the ones who have always threatened us."

"There is a warehouse here," Galen said, "where weapons are made. They are loaded into crates indicating that they were manufactured on Centauri Prime. I believe they will be sent to the Centauri."

"The Shadows are sending arms to the Centauri? Then they've allied against us."

"It appears so."

An expression passed over her face that Galen couldn't identify. "I have to stop them. Let me help you. You're going to attack them?"

"I am here to gather information," Galen said.

"In preparation for an attack. Where are the rest of your kind?"

"They will not come. I am with just one other."

"Two of you. To gather information. What good is that?"

"It may save us."

"Save you."

"Yes."

"And what about us?"

Galen said nothing. The answer was obvious.

"You drew me into this fight. You led me to believe we could win. And now you're just stepping aside?" Her red eyes demanded an answer, but he had none.

"Those weapons have to be stopped," she said. "If the Centauri don't get those shipments, they may not have the stomach to attack us. This warehouse – where is it?"

"I will tell you, when we have the information we need."

G'Leel gathered the lapel of his coat in her gloved fist. "You'll tell me now," she said, her breath hot against his skin.

"If you move against the warehouse and are captured, you could reveal our presence. No one must know that we are here."

"I could reveal your presence right now," she whispered.

"But you won't. You need the information I possess."

G'Leel's gun barrel pressed into Galen's chest. "You'll tell me now."

Energy surged through Galen. He felt a driving need to attack, to strike back at this threat. Yet at the same time, something within him hoped that her finger would tighten on the trigger, and the weapon would fire, and the end he had sought would finally come.

With fierce focus he forced the screen in his mind's eye to remain blank. "I am under the direction of another. I've already told you much more than I should. I must get his permission before I can share the information."

A movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention, and Galen turned his head. Blaylock was sitting a few tables away, a large dinner spread before him.

G'Leel followed his gaze. "Is that him? How long has he been there?"

"I don't know. But try to make a good impression."

She slipped the gun back into its case, sat back in her chair. Briskly she straightened Galen's coat. "As good as new."

Galen began a mind-focusing exercise, desperately trying to regain some sense of calm. "Let me speak to him alone. I will come to you as soon as I'm able."

"In two days we leave again." She stood. "If you don't find me, I'll find you."

"I'll count on that," he said.

G'Leel returned to her crewmates, each shoulder moving forward in turn with her stride. She gave a short nod as she passed Blaylock's table.

Galen took a moment to slow his breathing, to compose himself, then joined Blaylock. He broke off the exercise, knowing Blaylock would demand his full attention. "I'm sorry I left the hotel."

"You indulge your emotions. They rule you." Blaylock pushed the platter of food to him and switched to the language of the Soom. "Here. Eat. We'll discuss your disobedience later. At length."

Galen spoke in the language of his home as well. "Where is yours?"

"I break my fast only once a day. Tell me why you trust this Narn."

"Do you want to know what she told me?"

"I heard all. I arrived shortly after you. I'm not asking whether I should trust her. I have already made that determination. I want to know why you trust her."

"She provided useful information before."

"Why did you trust her before?"

"We observed her."

"Yes?"

Galen shook his head. "I had no idea whether she could be trusted. But: Isabelle knew. Somehow she knew that G'Leel would help us."

"Wise is the mage who trusts in those who know better than him." Blaylock's gaze remained on Galen, making sure his point was taken.

Galen got the message. He was to obey. But as seemed common with Blaylock, this conversation was about more than one subject. "You've questioned my judgment of people since we began this trip. I admit it is a weakness of mine. But how did you know?"

"Elizar. It was obvious that you trusted and admired him."

"You didn't trust him?"

"Elizar seemed to me to prefer the image of doing good over the actual doing of it. He believed the greatness of our order dependent on how much power we wield, and he desired the greatest power for himself. But it is not the magnitude of power that matters. Men can build weapons more powerful than we are. Our greatness lies in knowing when and where to apply that power. In the finesse with which that power is applied. In the sacred intimacy with which we are connected to that power." Blaylock extended a finger. "Eat."

Galen dug into the food, which was some sort of shredded meat dish. "Can we tell G'Leel what she wants to know?"

"Once we learn what we need. Then you may tell her."

Galen realized he had one piece of news that might at least partially redeem him in Blaylock's eyes. "I translated the spell. I can't be sure of the accuracy, though, without a test."

Blaylock's thin, dour face contracted in a way that somehow suggested pleasure. The expression seemed odd on him. "It is too dangerous to test. We may be detected. We may well have only one opportunity to use it."

"In my language, the spell reduced to a one-term equation, like the spell of destruction. My thought has been that these one-term equations may be only partial spells, and that they may carry great, unstable energies. This one may carry power similar to the spell of destruction."

Blaylock nodded. "You have checked your work?"

"Yes."

"Then we must try it. It offers our best chance of success. And you must be ready, if it goes ill, to do everything in your power to stop it. I have searched what datasystems I could penetrate, and I have learned some of the Shadows' strengths and bases. But there are no files relating to our order, or any plans they may have for us. Tonight, I believe, may be our only opportunity to gain the information we require."

"Perhaps you should look at my work."

"I don't have time to learn both your spell language and Isabelle's. I trust in your skill, Galen, in your intelligence and your thoroughness. If I did not, you would not be here. It is your discipline I find lacking."

The criticism angered Galen. He had obeyed the Circle, he had upheld the Code, and she had paid the price. Wasn't that enough? "I have followed the dictates of the Circle."

"And you must continue to do so. We face great danger tonight. If we are to survive to pass our knowledge to the others, we must be of one mind and one intent."

"I have sworn myself to this task."

"As you have sworn to kill Elizar?"

Galen leaned forward eagerly. "Have you found him?"

"Finding him is not our task."

His body was racing again, energy driving through him. The images returned. Elizar's face, turned in fear. Elizar's blood and tech. Galen looked down, and his raw hands closed into fists. "Above all, we must find out as much as we can to ensure the safety of the mages," he said.

When Blaylock did not respond, Galen raised his head. Blaylock's eyes were narrowed on him. "You hold much inside. We all do. It is the way of our order. Secrecy. We all have thoughts of things we must not do, thoughts of destruction. It comes with having power. That is why obedience to the Code is so important. To obey the Code we require control. To gain control we require discipline. In discipline we do what we must, whether we desire it or not. Those of us who follow the ways of discipline reject emotions, desires, physical cravings. We seek to purify ourselves, to attune ourselves not to the flesh, but to the tech. Even then, discipline is never easy. Why do you think so many follow my ways?"