Chapter Ten
ORSINI STARED at Vic. “You know that name.”
“Yes. And until recently, no one knew if he was alive or dead.”
“But you know now?”
Vic nodded. “He’s being held in a Geran camp, but apparently he’s okay. We don’t know where the camp is located, but the mate I spoke of? He’s with Jake.” He expected to see some indication of relief, but Orsini’s brow was still furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“What troubled me at the time—and troubles me still, if I am honest—is how the Gerans had knowledge of Jake’s gifts. More importantly, how they were able to take him once he left the archive. Because as far as I was aware, the only people privy to that information were the Fridan leaders I contacted about him when I learned of his abilities. It was they who arranged for Jake to visit me.”
“Then I’m troubled too, because that points to only one conclusion.” Vic’s mouth was suddenly dry. “Someone was feeding the Gerans information, and that someone had to be a Fridan. Maybe even a Fridan leader.” He didn’t want to believe that.
Orsini stroked his chin. “There is another part to this archive that I think you should see.” He rose and walked over to the huge wooden doors that covered part of the wall. Vic watched as Orsini unlocked them and folded them back onto themselves, like shutters on a window, revealing….
Vic got up and went to take a closer look. Two panels lined the wall, and one glance told him he was gazing at the depiction of a family tree. At the top were two names.
His mouth fell open. “These are Ansfrid’s and Ansger’s descendants?” So many shifters, spreading out like the branches of a tree.
“Not all of them—there isn’t enough space for that—but the heads of families, certainly. My ancestor began this work, and each new generation has continued to add to it.” Orsini pointed to the foot of the panels. “There is no room left.”
Vic peered at the last names. He noted some were circled in red, and others in blue. Then he looked higher up the panel, seeing more such names. “Why are these different?”
Orsini gazed at the panels. “The dates are important.”
Vic leaned in. “1904, 1909, 1910….”
He nodded. “Those shifters in blue became leaders of the Fridans, while those in red were Gerans. These details were added during the last century, the result of painstaking research.” He pointed to the names at the foot of the panel. “You may recognize some of them.”
Vic smiled. “I’ve met Aelryn.”
Orsini smiled. “As have I. Now there is a noble man. Do you know what his name means?” Vic shook his head. “ Bright Guardian .”
There were other names too, ones he’d only heard of. He bent down to peer at the present Geran leaders. “You keep track of these shifters?”
Orsini nodded. “As I told you, I follow neither group, but—”
“But that isn’t exactly true, is it? You said you contacted the Fridan leaders about Jake.”
For a moment, Orsini stared at him; then his face tightened. “I have tried for so many years to be impartial, but you’re right. I am lying to myself. Everything I have learned so far leads me to one inescapable conclusion, and that is—”
“There’s a war coming,” Vic said in a low voice. “A battle between Fridans and Gerans. Someone went to a lot of trouble to fabricate that so-called ‘artifact.’” He swallowed. “Someone wanted this war.”
“I fear you are correct.” Orsini pointed to one of the leaders circled in red. “In which case, remember this person.”
Vic read the name aloud. “Theron.” He glanced at Orsini. “Why him?”
“His name derives from ancient Greek, and it means to hunt . But that is merely a name, after all.” Orsini shivered.
Vic laid a hand on his arm. “Are you all right?”
He took a deep breath. “When I was a child, my father used to bring me here to educate me about the artifacts, to teach me what he knew of our history. And then Theron came to the archive.” Orsini stared at the panel. “He was not alone, but he was the only one of the visitors that day whose presence touched me. I cannot tell you what it was about him that sent a shiver through me. Perhaps it was nothing more than a child’s overactive imagination.”
“Or maybe it was instinct,” Vic suggested.
“Perhaps that too. All I know is, I have never forgotten him.” He expelled a breath. “And now, let us talk of mates. I have so many questions.”
Vic smiled. “As long as you understand I don’t have all the answers.”
He glanced at the panels that Orsini hid once more behind doors. I’m going to remember those last names in red.
What did Sun Tzu say? Not that Vic had had many occasions to quote the Chinese military general, strategist, and philosopher, but one saying had stayed with him: “Know thy enemy and know yourself; in a hundred battles, you will never be defeated.”
But if Orsini was correct, and the split between the brothers had been blown up out of all proportion, then maybe war could be averted.
If they could convince their fellow shifters it was not the only path.
“WELL? WHAT do you have to report?”
“Vic Ryder left the archive two minutes ago, sir. Do you want me to follow him? Should we eliminate him?”
Theron rolled his eyes. “Oh please. Use your brain. That’s all we need—a martyr.”
“Sir?”
He should have known better than to employ sarcasm. The foot soldier on the other end of the phone was great when it came to doling out death and mayhem but excelled at little else, especially interpreting the nuances of speech.
“Let him go. We know where he’s headed next, after all. If he has useful information, then we’ll get to hear it eventually. Right now it’s enough that we know he’s visited the archivist.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Return to base and report to your commander.” He finished the call.
“Are the Fridans proving a nuisance?”
He smiled at Fielding. “Your source was correct. Ryder went straight from Paris to the archive.”
“You don’t appear concerned about that.”
“That’s because I’m not. They may have managed to get their grubby little hands on one of the artifacts, but it’s the only one they’ll ever see.” He scowled. “It was a major lapse that they came to possess it.”
“And the shifter who lapsed paid for it with his life, if you remember.”
“I read the records as you did.” He snorted. “As well he should, letting it fall into the hands of a Fridan. And since then, I’ve taken great pains to ensure they don’t get within sniffing distance of any of the others.” He gazed at his surroundings. “They certainly won’t ever lay eyes on these.” He pressed his hand against the glass of the sealed room that contained several stone caskets, and smiled. “No one will ever see your contents.” The basement, once a dungeon with its vaulted ceilings, was his favorite place to sit. Unlike the two upper floors that had been rebuilt during the late eighteen hundreds, this part of the castle had retained some of its former charm and structure.
The obvious place to build his strongroom.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask.” Fielding pointed to it. “Why didn’t you destroy them when they were first discovered?”
He arched his eyebrows. “Because they may yet prove useful.”
Fielding stared at him. “How?”
Theron sat in the wide chair facing Fielding. “I can understand your confusion. Why keep something that would lead to peace, when we wish to sow nothing but discord and chaos?” He leaned back. “But the day will come when we have won this war. The Fridans will be nothing but a memory, and all shifters will be bereft. Then it will be time to ‘discover’ these artifacts. Then we’ll tell everyone that we never knew.” He placed his hand on his heart and affected an agonized expression. “How could we? The truth had lain hidden, undisturbed for centuries. Can’t you just hear the words? ‘But now we can see that all shifters and humans must work together, as they were meant to. We must strive to forget what has passed, and live in peace and harmony.’” He smiled. “After all the bloodshed and heartache, such words will ensure no one seeks to resurrect the past, and we shall live out our days the way we always intended—as the rulers of all.”
“May I congratulate you.” Fielding bowed his head. “You have foreseen every eventuality.”
“Not quite. Mr. Ryder’s decision to visit the Castel Sant’Angelo was unexpected. We might be following the enemy’s movements closely, but it seems someone else is following ours. We must be watchful.”
“What about Carson? You saw the latest reports from the camp?”
Theron scowled. “Indeed I did. Despite his captivity and enforced isolation, his abilities continue to blossom. And now it appears he is not the only one.”
Fielding smiled. “Then you agree with me? He has outlived his usefulness?”
“More than that. He is proving far too dangerous, and should there be another raid, the last thing we want is for the Fridans to get their hands on such a valuable and powerful weapon.” He gave a brisk nod. “Terminate him.”
“As you wish.” Fielding cocked his head to one side. “Immediately?”
Theron smirked. “Finish your tea first.” That raised a chuckle. Fielding was one of Theron’s inner circle, a man he could trust to get things done, and one of the few men who was bold enough to look Theron in the eye, even though his body language told of his nervousness.
Strength was always something to be admired, and a healthy dose of fear was a good thing. It kept men alive.
Theron tapped the tabletop with a finger. “Take care of this matter personally. You’re due to visit the camp in a week’s time, correct?”
“Yes, but I can leave immediately if you wish.”
“No. He’s been our honored guest this long. It can wait until your visit.” He smiled. “Let him enjoy his last days.”
Theron cast another glance at the sealed room. We have come too far to be stopped now.
Any obstacles in their path would share the same fate as Jake Carson.
They will be crushed.