Except that Kailin couldn't travel now. None of us could. We were going to be riders.
No wonder they looked so glum. Their love story was complicated.
I was glad that things between Codric and me were simple. We enjoyed each other. The physical was good, even excellent, and he made me laugh. Neither of us expected anything more.
It wasn't love. I didn't want it to be.
Love was messy.
Love was complications and sacrifices and pain.
What Codric and I had was clean. Easy. Safe.
I liked it that way.
36
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 beforethe 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.
