Birthright (The Technomage Archive, Book 1) - Complete Novel

Chapter Twenty-Eight

 "You're lying," Damien said.

"Jaronya was what you called your little playground, am I right?"

Damien was silent, but the nanites pooling under his hands began to edge forward along the desk toward Squalt. If the headmaster noticed, he made no indication.

"From what I recall, the Sigil had some engine trouble, and it just so happened that the hyperdrive gave out in the luckiest spot imaginable."

"That's impossible," Damien said. "You're lying."

"Maybe I am," Squalt said. "But if I'm not, can you think of any other place that would be as good at tracking down the Untouchable as Jaronya? You were very clever in hiding it all those years ago. The chain of Instances was almost impossible to track down. All it would take to get the Sigil nearby was a few minor course corrections and some well-timed engine failure. Of course, without the hyperspace envelope, the ship's connection to Erlon was severed, but what can you do? After all, the terrorists must be dealt with. Oh, wait. I'm lying, aren't I?" The headmaster grimaced comically, biting his lower lip and raising his eyebrows.

"Gilbert, you sorry, stupid little man."

The pools of blackness under Damien's hands erupted, shooting forward and coating Squalt's entire head and face. The headmaster tried to suck in air, but couldn't. After a few seconds, the headmaster's face appeared and he gasped for breath. Immediately, Damien raised one finger on his right hand, and the nanites yanked the man's head into the desk face first. A wet crack sounded and black blood fell from Gilbert Squalt's nose.

The balding man grabbed his nose and screamed. "My nose! You broke my nose!" His breaths were shallow and rapid. His voice wavered. Damien could tell that the headmaster was seconds away from losing consciousness, so, like an expert torturer, Damien recalled him from the brink. The nanites around his head burrowed inward, each one jolting him with a slight electric shock. Squalt's shoulders sagged, but he would not lose consciousness.

"You son of a bitch," Squalt snarled.

"I honestly don't remember my mother, Gilbert. You might be right about that. And going back to what you said earlier: you were also right that I was scared that night in my home. However, I was not a coward."

Squalt fell back into his chair and glared at Damien. "Perhaps you can explain to me how being afraid does not constitute cowardice?"

"I've lived a long time, Gilbert. And I have no faith to speak of. I don't know the old gods; I have no relationship with any of them. My gods have always been science and the Archive."

"You mean that your god has always been you."

Damien shrugged. "Maybe. Now, though, after all these years, I'm afraid to let go. Afraid of what comes after this. So I will not go easily, and if that means hiding a few hours while I get the nanites in my blood to completely reactivate, then so be it. But now, they're reactivated, and I am proficient with them again. And you need to tell me what you know about this situation with Ceril."

"I think we're done here, Damien."

Something on Squalt's desk chirped, and the headmaster said, "I'm going to have to take this call, if you don't mind."

"Go ahead."

Squalt waved his hand over his desk and a display was projected from nowhere Damien could see. Technology was certainly moving along, he thought. He saw the front-desk receptionist who had stamped his hand earlier. She was looking directly at Squalt when she said, "Sir, there's been an incident."

"I'm aware of the security drones, Beth."

"Yes, sir. I know. There's been a...discovery. Two, actually," she said.