Page 50 of The Satyr's Guilt
A freckled redheaded guy bounded through thedoor with Anna right behind him.
“Everyone stick around but do close thedoor.”
Three pairs of eyes latched onto Skyler whenshe opened the conversation. “Tell me about our records of theportals between Earth and Scath.”
The new director of information serviceslooked barely out of high school. References claimed he wastop-notch. He’d replaced Sarah Jenkins. Cal, the assistant legalofficer at the Alliance at the time, murdered her at the end oflast year.
He pulled his brows tight in obviousconfusion. “You mean how many we’ve got, where the files arestored, how they are secured, how we got the data? What are youlooking for?”
“Let’s start with how we obtained thedata.”
“Sure. Okay, then. Obviously much of it wasalready in a file when I came to work here.” He waited for someresponse from Skyler.
There was none. So he continued. “I get newportal information from the Ministry of Compliance on Scathwhenever gateways are added. I personally update the file with thenew data.”
“Why do you personally enter the data?”
“I figure the portals are pretty importantstuff. By entering the new data myself, it’s extra secure.”
“So, you expect problems?”
“I always expect problems.”
“How does the Ministry of Compliance sendyou this new information?”
“Through my e-mail.”
“Is it secure?”
He snorted but saw Skyler’s frown. “Sorry.What I mean to say is, my e-mail is beyond secure.”
“How secure is the file documenting theportals?”
“Encrypted. Quite secure.”
“But could someone other than you getin?”
He stopped fidgeting, sitting deadly still.“What’s this about, Chief Maxwell?”
“We’ve been betrayed.”
****
Celene drummed her fingers onthe kitchen table. Unlike other prisoners, she and Jace didn’tscratch the passing days on the mud wall of a dingy cell.No. They measured time in their hellhole by how many wordsthey read. “Go get the next volume ofThe Path, roomie. Iknow you’re dying to start it.”
Jace jumped up from her chair to rush to thebookcase. Her fingers skidded over spines of titles, finallylanding on the right book. “A new adventure.”
“I’d rather be parasailing butwhatever.”
“Think of Ohngel’s words, recorded by theCambion, as a way to study our enemy. Come over. Get comfy.” Jacesnuggled into the sofa, opening the unread book to its firstpages.
Weary from a lengthy truth-seeking journey,I, the Cambion from Wales, rested beside a late evening fire afterfinishing a meager repast. A nightchat flew from the trees,singing. The warbler-like bird trilled, chirped, and whistled, itsraspy notes a message from Ohngel, the fire-winged assassin of theOneCreator, the male I would deem prophet and friend in the comingyears.
Oft thereafter, Ohngel or theprophet-warrior’s emissary, the nightchat, emerged from thethickets to tell a tale of hope, courage, caution, or enlightenmentfor the Aeternals placed upon this world by the Genitrix Gahya.
“Blah, blah, blah. Stuff we’ve read before.”Jace skimmed the pages. “Here it is.”
Disconsolate over Niviane’s betrayal and thebleak future of my isolation from fellow mages, I sank further intodespair, a most debilitating humor, any action too troublesome toundertake. But the assassin-become-friend, Ohngel, counseled andset me to new tasks. Between these labors, the nightchat continuedto visit, singing its narratives. To take my mind off the child Imay never meet, hold, or succor, the messenger told of theAeternals’ fantastical origins which I penned in Volume III: TheCreation.
