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 wasthoughtful 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, andafter 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.
