Chapter 36 Ravel
RAVEL
"Intelligence work is patience with purpose. One thread leads to another, and another, until the whole tapestry is revealed."
—Director Hakell Madrad, Elucian Intelligence Corps
Irarely used the office that I had been assigned over twenty years ago when I became a commander.
Most of my time was spent with my squadron, and I usually wrote my reports in my apartment in the officers' wing.
But I didn't want to bring the converts' investigation into my private quarters.
Some illogical part of me didn't want to contaminate my space with the filth I was dealing with right now.
I spread the files across my desk and studied them.
Twelve names now. The original three attackers and the dead one, the five they'd named, and three more that the five had given up during subsequent interrogations.
Each file told a similar story.
The subject had been found gifted, attended the pilgrimage, and failed to qualify for bonding. Assigned to support roles in the Citadel or other Dragon Force installations.
But Noven Sarhan's confession had added a crucial detail that changed everything.
They hadn't been truly gifted at all. Their sacrament had artificially granted them the ability to hear the dragon call, just long enough to pass the initial screening.
When the drugs wore off, when they couldn't get more during the rigorous academy training, the false gift faded, and they failed to bond.
The Sitorians had found a way to manufacture riders. Or rather, to manufacture the appearance of potential ones.
I pulled out a map of Elucia and began marking locations. Birthplaces. Training sites. Current assignments.
A pattern emerged almost immediately.
All twelve converts were originally from Podana or the surrounding region. And according to the records I'd requested, every one of them had attended one of two summer training camps—Camp Snow Peak or Camp Green Valley.
On a hunch, I pulled out the records of Terris Windars—the man who was suspected of planting explosives in Skywatcher's town square on the eve of the pilgrimage.
He'd died of his injuries, so we couldn't determine if he had been involved, and there had been nothing incriminating in the room he'd been renting.
Still, the circumstances of his death seemed suspicious, and I had kept a copy of his file in my top drawer as the various investigations of sabotage and terror attacks continued.
I wasn't in charge of the investigation, but I was involved, and I now suspected that Terris had been part of a much larger operation.
He was originally from Podana, attended the pilgrimage, and hadn't been found gifted. Perhaps it had been before the Sitorians had found that the so-called sacrament could temporarily provide the illusion of the gift.
No one had thought to check which summer training camp he had attended as a youth, but now that I knew what to look for, I needed to check on that. I would have to contact the summer programs that seemed to be the incubators for converts and ask them to check their rosters for Terris Windars.
It took me over an hour to find the right people to talk to and then another hour to convince them that the information was crucial and to search the archives for his name.
I had been promised answers by tomorrow.
Those camps trained thousands of kids each summer, which meant that the administrators would have to go through stacks of records. I doubted I would have answers so soon.
How many had been converted?
How were they chosen?
What traits made them easy victims for the brain worm that the Sitorian spies infected them with?
The scope of this development was starting to look much bigger than I originally anticipated, and as much as I wanted to continue the investigation, I wasn't the best equipped for it.
I needed to update General Lesten so he could contact the commanders of the ground forces in Podana and other parts of the country and alert them to the problem.
The Sitorians had been converting our people for nearly two decades, and we had been none the wiser.
I gathered my notes and headed for the General's office, which was located at the far end of the command center.
"I'm here to see General Lesten," I told his aide. "It's about the ongoing investigation."
The aide used the intercom to announce me and waved me through.
The General looked up from a stack of papers when I entered. "Ravel. What do you have for me?"
I laid the files on his desk. "A disturbing pattern emerged.
All of the converts we have in custody attended one of two summer training camps in Podana.
Camp Snow Peak or Camp Green Valley. On a hunch, I contacted the administrators of these camps and asked them to search their records for Terris Windars, who was a suspect in the bombing in Skywatcher's Point.
He's originally from Podana, and I'm willing to bet that he attended one of these camps. "
"How long has this been going on?" Lesten asked.
"Based on the ages of the converts, at least seventeen years. Possibly longer. The oldest one we've captured was recruited at twelve."
"Twelve." Lesten's jaw tightened. "They've been converting children for almost two decades right under our noses."
I nodded. "I blame vanity, sir. Elucians think that they are the best at collecting intelligence and sniffing out Shedun, but apparently, we are not."
"How did they do that?" The General asked. "How can an Elucian child who is taught from infancy that the Sitorians' ultimate goal is the complete and total annihilation of all Elucians and dragons fall prey to their propaganda?"
I was asking myself the same question, and the only thing I could come up with was mental instability.
Adolescents were vulnerable, with raging hormones contributing to violent mood swings, and in some cases, depression and suicidal thoughts.
Some felt worthless, not deserving of love and appreciation, and others were bullied by other kids.
It didn't take much for a manipulative adult to give them an alternative that made them feel part of a cabal, special.
Adding drug addiction to the mix almost guaranteed successful results.
I chose not to share my musings with the general because I was no authority on the subject of adolescent psychology, and I might be completely off.
"We should consult professionals," I said instead. "They are recruiting children, and it's too delicate a subject to attempt without the proper training in child psychology."
Lesten pursed his lips. "Psychology is a lot of hogwash. Every reasonable person knows wrong from right."
"That might be true, but we can't treat children like soldiers."
"I disagree. Discipline starts in the home. Parents today are too lenient, and they are raising weak children."
The last thing I wanted was to get into a discussion about parenting with Lesten. We were both bachelors who knew nothing about raising children.
"There is more," I said to change the subject.
"The detainee who was targeted at twelve was approached because he had access to the ingredients needed to manufacture the drug.
His father was a metalworker, and he became a supplier for the other converts.
As it turns out, the drug artificially grants them the ability to hear the dragon call if consumed right before the ceremony. "
Lesten's eyebrows rose. "That's possible?"
"According to the prisoner I interrogated this morning, yes.
The drug doesn't just produce euphoria and religious delusions.
It temporarily opens the telepathic channel that is otherwise closed.
It's enough to pass the initial screening at the pilgrimage, but it's not good enough to pass the tests leading up to the Day of Volition, or to bond with a dragon. "
Lesten frowned. "What if they can get their hands on more of the drug? We could have riders who are converts."
"The guy who was recruited because his father was a metalworker continued making the drug right here in the Citadel. So, it would seem that it wasn't good enough to open the telepathic channel consistently."
The general looked relieved, but then he frowned again. "There is nothing to say that they didn't convert genuinely gifted Elucians. We might have cadets and riders who are traitors."
"It's possible," I agreed. "But they are not looking for the talented ones. I think the failure is by design. It places the converts in support positions throughout our installations, where they can gather intelligence and sabotage operations while waiting for orders."
The general was quiet for a long moment, staring at the map I'd marked with locations. "We need to investigate every summer program in Elucia. Not just in Podana, but everywhere. If they did it there, they could be doing it elsewhere."
I nodded. "My thoughts exactly. But the scope of this operation exceeds our resources and jurisdiction. We need the Joint Staff involved."
"I agree." Lesten reached for his pen. "I'll contact General Bardaky. But the prisoners are our responsibility. Continue the interrogation and update me if you discover anything new."
"Yes, sir."
I gathered my files and left, but I didn't return to my office. Instead, I walked down the corridor to the shaman's office.
His assistant, a second-year cadet whose name I'd forgotten, looked up from his desk when I entered.
"Commander Ravel. The shaman is expecting you."
I raised an eyebrow. I hadn't sent word that I was coming.
The cadet smiled. "Shaman Saphir said you would arrive within the hour. He's ready to see you now." He rose to his feet and opened the door to Saphir's office. "Commander Ravel is here." He motioned for me to walk in.
Inside, a fire crackled in the hearth, and Moki was curled on a cushion near the flames, his large eyes following me as I entered.
Saphir sat behind his ornate desk, looking tired, which was unusual for him. In all the years I'd known him, he'd always seemed ageless, unchanging. Tonight, though, the weight of centuries showed not so much in the lines of his face because he had none, but in his eyes. They looked haunted.
"I assume you've gotten the investigation preliminary report," I said.
"I have." Sadness colored his voice. "Seventeen years. Possibly longer. And I never saw it. Never sensed it. How did they manage to sneak past me?"
"There were so many thousands."
Saphir shook his head. "I look into the mind of every pilgrim who passes through the Circle of Fate. It's just a glimpse, but it's usually enough to sense their true nature, their potential, and even hidden darkness. I should have seen the rot in these people."
"You can't read everyone deeply. You have only seconds, and you focus on their abilities to direct them to where they could best serve Elucia."
"A glimpse should have been enough. Especially among those who answered Nyxath's call. The gifted ones. I always pay more attention to them. They stood before me, and I blessed them, and I never sensed anything wrong. How is that possible?"
I'd been thinking about that question since my interrogation of Noven Sarhan.
"It must be the drugs," I said. "The effects are similar to those of the tea they are given.
The converts describe feeling connected to the divine when they take it, euphoric, and when they feel like that, they forget about the darkness they allowed into their souls.
That connection, as artificial as it is, might be masking the rot. "
"That's an interesting hypothesis." Saphir smoothed his hand over his white beard.
"A chemical shield." His voice was thoughtful now, the self-recrimination fading as his analytical mind engaged.
"It's possible. The Sitorians have always been skilled with their poisons, and since deception is one of the main tenets of their belief system, it shouldn't be surprising that they developed a drug that masks it. "
I nodded. "Thankfully, the drug wasn't enough to fool the dragons, and they couldn't pass the test when it came time for the Day of Volition."
Moki chirped from his cushion, a worried sound. Saphir rose to his feet and walked over to him to stroke his fur.
"If the Sitorians can manufacture the appearance of the gift, they can send anyone through the pilgrimage," Saphir said quietly. "Not just those with trace amounts of natural ability, but anyone with access to their drugs. They don't even have to be Elucians."
The implications were staggering. "I think that only Elucians have the telepathic pathway, but I might be wrong. Still, they could flood us with Elucian converts."
"They could destroy us from within." Saphir's ancient eyes met mine. "Not through direct attack, but through infiltration. Death by a thousand cuts, each one delivered by someone we trust."
I thought of Kailin, sleeping in secure quarters with guards I'd handpicked posted at every entrance. I thought of the attackers who'd rappelled down the side of the building to break through her window.
If there were more converts scattered throughout Elucia, how many more were waiting for the order to strike? How many were watching the Hero of Elucia, looking for another opportunity?
Too many.
"We need to change the screening process," I said. "We need to search all the pilgrims before they are allowed on the trail, and after they are searched, they need to be kept in isolation so no one can smuggle the drugs to them."
"What a start to a sacred pilgrimage." Saphir sank into the other chair by the fire.
"But that's a worry for the next pilgrimage, which is four months away.
In the meantime, we have to find an unknown number of converts who are already in position and waiting for orders, and hope we identify them all before they strike again. "
I didn't put much stock in hope. I believed in vigilance and the calculus of threat assessment and neutralization. But sometimes hope was all we had.
"We'll find them," I said.
The shaman nodded, a ghost of his usual smile crossing his face. "You're a tracker, Commander Ravel. It's what you do."
The prophecy again. The seven who would save the world, with me, supposedly, among them.
I still didn't believe in prophecies. But tracking down enemies who threatened my people? That I believed in. That I could do.
"We need to increase security for the Day of Volition ceremony," I said. "And afterward, the quintet should remain in protected quarters until we've neutralized the threat, or they might stay with their dragons in the aviary. They will be safe there."