"Aphrodite's_Flame_031" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kenner _Julie_-_[Protector_04]_-_Aphrodite's_Flame_(V1.0)_[lit](multi-file html))

Chapter Twenty-eight

Mordi rushed through the deserted corridor, glanced at his watch, and then picked up his pace. He’d been up all night poking around on the Internet, trying to locate Romulus, trying to figure out who Harold’s silent partner was, trying to determine if any of the traitors he’d caught in the past might be trying to kill him. In sum, trying to get some sort of handle on any one of the fires that were currently burning at the top of his workload.
In the end, he’d accomplished nothing. He had, however, thought a lot about Izzy Frost. About the gentle way she interacted with her father, and the pride she had in him. About her snappy comments and her sense of humor. About the way she could take care of herself. And most of all, about the way she made him feel when she looked at him with those ice-blue eyes.
She’d crept into his mind even when she didn’t belong there and—damn him—he’d let her stay.
Now, however, wasn’t the time to be thinking about that. Not when he was on his way to see her, for she’d most certainly pick up on any stray thoughts of lust.
He rounded a corner, almost careening into Elders Armistand and Trystan. “Elders,” he said with a small bow. “I didn’t see you.”
“And where are you going in such a hurry, young Mordichai?” Trystan asked.
“Isole Frost, sir. More testing.” He coughed. “For my father.” He cringed a little as he spoke the words. Elder Trystan held a particular dislike of Hieronymous, though Mordi didn’t know the cause. As for Elder Armistand, he had initiated the Re-Assimilation Act, so Mordi knew he wasn’t prejudiced against Outcasts per se, but the word on the street was that he’d never expected the more notorious Outcasts to try to make use of the new law.
“I understand he’s doing quite well so far,” Trystan said, sounding pleased. “Ms. Frost’s initial report was quite encouraging.”
For a second, Mordi almost couldn’t manage an answer. Then he nodded. “Uh, yeah.”
“Excellent,” Armistand said. “I’m certain that if he is doing that well, Ms. Frost will recommend complete re-assimilation.”
“And the committee will surely approve the recommendation,” Trystan added. “I know I will enthusiastically vote yes.”
Mordi frowned. The committee—like the treaty committee—was composed of the entire Inner Circle and a few other select Protectors.
“As will I,” Armistand agreed. “It will be wonderful having him back on the Council.”
“And in the Inner Circle,” Trystan added. “Don’t forget that.”
“Of course, of course.” Armistand bobbed his head jovially while Trystan beamed. Mordi wondered if he’d been transplanted to an alternate universe.
A fledgling Protector rushed forward, a clipboard in his hand. “Sirs, sirs! Could I get your signature on these power-use authorizations?” He tapped the paper. “Here, and here. And press hard because the form’s in triplicate.”
As the flunkie held out the clipboard, Mordi watched as both Trystan and Armistand pulled out identical purple fountain pens. Then they signed the papers with a flourish. Armistand turned to Mordi, as if he’d forgotten he was there. “Well, do run along, Mordi. Surely you have someplace to be.”
“Washington, D.C., I believe,” Trystan said. “Didn’t Bilius tell me you had a meeting this afternoon with Senator Banyon?”
Mordi blanched. Hopping Hades ... was that today?

Chapter Twenty-eight

Mordi rushed through the deserted corridor, glanced at his watch, and then picked up his pace. He’d been up all night poking around on the Internet, trying to locate Romulus, trying to figure out who Harold’s silent partner was, trying to determine if any of the traitors he’d caught in the past might be trying to kill him. In sum, trying to get some sort of handle on any one of the fires that were currently burning at the top of his workload.
In the end, he’d accomplished nothing. He had, however, thought a lot about Izzy Frost. About the gentle way she interacted with her father, and the pride she had in him. About her snappy comments and her sense of humor. About the way she could take care of herself. And most of all, about the way she made him feel when she looked at him with those ice-blue eyes.
She’d crept into his mind even when she didn’t belong there and—damn him—he’d let her stay.
Now, however, wasn’t the time to be thinking about that. Not when he was on his way to see her, for she’d most certainly pick up on any stray thoughts of lust.
He rounded a corner, almost careening into Elders Armistand and Trystan. “Elders,” he said with a small bow. “I didn’t see you.”
“And where are you going in such a hurry, young Mordichai?” Trystan asked.
“Isole Frost, sir. More testing.” He coughed. “For my father.” He cringed a little as he spoke the words. Elder Trystan held a particular dislike of Hieronymous, though Mordi didn’t know the cause. As for Elder Armistand, he had initiated the Re-Assimilation Act, so Mordi knew he wasn’t prejudiced against Outcasts per se, but the word on the street was that he’d never expected the more notorious Outcasts to try to make use of the new law.
“I understand he’s doing quite well so far,” Trystan said, sounding pleased. “Ms. Frost’s initial report was quite encouraging.”
For a second, Mordi almost couldn’t manage an answer. Then he nodded. “Uh, yeah.”
“Excellent,” Armistand said. “I’m certain that if he is doing that well, Ms. Frost will recommend complete re-assimilation.”
“And the committee will surely approve the recommendation,” Trystan added. “I know I will enthusiastically vote yes.”
Mordi frowned. The committee—like the treaty committee—was composed of the entire Inner Circle and a few other select Protectors.
“As will I,” Armistand agreed. “It will be wonderful having him back on the Council.”
“And in the Inner Circle,” Trystan added. “Don’t forget that.”
“Of course, of course.” Armistand bobbed his head jovially while Trystan beamed. Mordi wondered if he’d been transplanted to an alternate universe.
A fledgling Protector rushed forward, a clipboard in his hand. “Sirs, sirs! Could I get your signature on these power-use authorizations?” He tapped the paper. “Here, and here. And press hard because the form’s in triplicate.”
As the flunkie held out the clipboard, Mordi watched as both Trystan and Armistand pulled out identical purple fountain pens. Then they signed the papers with a flourish. Armistand turned to Mordi, as if he’d forgotten he was there. “Well, do run along, Mordi. Surely you have someplace to be.”
“Washington, D.C., I believe,” Trystan said. “Didn’t Bilius tell me you had a meeting this afternoon with Senator Banyon?”
Mordi blanched. Hopping Hades ... was that today?