Cloud Rebel (R-D #3)(56)

"Too bad Farrell is dead. He likely had some hidden for his own experiments."

"And as a result of his death, we may never find it."

"My question is this—why has the original not displayed any of the talents of our wizard?"

"My guess is that whatever prevents the manifestation of talent in the original may have been voided when this one suffered a blow to the head shortly after receiving the blood. He was quite combative, you understand. He is a docile slave, now, thanks to our intervention."

"Surely we could remove the chains?"

"We will take no chances with this one. He is too important, and the one whose blood he received—he can kill with only his hands."

"Ah. We will keep him chained, then."

*

Corinne

Bekzi didn't come to us—we went to him. I really didn't want to go back to Canada, mostly because Finch and Farrell were there, but Val thought it necessary, so there we went.

Neither Finch nor Farrell liked it that they were locked out of the meeting between us and Bekzi, but I really didn't care how either of them felt. Val studied Finch as he complained, but said nothing.

In my opinion, Finch had either been born without tact, or sold what little he had through an online auction service. Either way, he didn't possess that necessary ingredient and it showed.

Nathan shook his head behind Finch before leaving the room. I sent mindspeech to him when he left, telling him to hide for the next half hour. If he didn't, he'd be hearing all of Finch's current complaints, most of which centered on aliens and their secrets.

Once the study door was closed and Val placed a shield about the room, Bekzi began. To say that I was shocked and dismayed by his theory would be putting things in terms too mild for contemplation.

"I'm going to kill Farrell, and then go back and spit on Becker's body," I snapped when Bekzi laid out his hypothesis that there was at least one more Ilya somewhere.

Ilya, his face stony, listened carefully to everything Bekzi had to say.

"With warlock and Sirenali, they have transportation and shield," Bekzi said.

"But warlocks have to have their talent awakened," Val began.

"Look—your archives," Bekzi said. "At least three in past, have brain damage. Out pops ability. Two—murderers. One—she make dolls. Scare children. Adults, too."

"All three are long dead," Nefrigar appeared in our midst. It was obvious that Val had either sent information or allowed his father to see and hear through his senses.

"Here's my thinking—if they had him tied down, and they probably did," I began slowly, "the Ilya I know would have woke fighting. If somebody bludgeoned him to keep him from getting away," I shrugged.

"Then that explains how some of them may have evaded the army of Lyristolyi sent to kill them," Val agreed. "He knows how to fold space, now. No telling what else he knows."

"And it's likely that he's obsessed, on top of everything else. My question is this," I said. "How much power does he actually have?"

"There is a way to find out," Nefrigar said. "But it will require opening this one's power to find the level of potential."

"I don't want," Ilya began.

"It matters not what you want," a man appeared as if he'd been called. I blinked at him. I'd read about him in the Archives. Erland Morphis, father of Rylend Morphis, King of Karathia in the future, had arrived.

"Don't worry, it's not painful, or even scary, although I've known six-year-olds who've lost their breakfast because the older ones told them frightening stories," Erland smiled.

He was perhaps the handsomest man I'd ever met. To me, however, Ilya would always be my ideal.

"Cabbage?" Ilya turned to me.

"Honey, we need to know, and this will allow you to be who you were meant to be."

"Then do it," Ilya jerked his head at Erland.

"I have to put my hands on your head," Erland cautioned.

*

Ilya

"Fifth-level capability," the one called Erland sighed and took the offered seat at the kitchen island.

"What does that mean?" I didn't attempt to cover my accent.

"It means you can kick ass after your training," Erland said. "Most can do basic things after their power is awakened, but most six-year-olds don't have the focus the older students do. You, on the other hand," he shook his head. "I think your middle names should be focus and control."

"What are the levels, then, so I may make a comparison?"

"First is weakest, Fifth is strongest. Does that answer your question?"

"Yes."

"You don't sound pleased."

"I am most displeased that there may be a clone of me with the same power I hold," I said. "One who is obsessed—perhaps more so than I am."

"Very true," Erland dipped his head in a nod. "At least he's on someone's chain and likely to use his abilities on command, rather than going wild and causing random destruction."

"That's a rather horrible thing to say," Corinne interrupted. "Somewhere, there is a victim who is being coerced in the worst way possible."