"Aphrodite's_Flame_041" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kenner _Julie_-_[Protector_04]_-_Aphrodite's_Flame_(V1.0)_[lit](multi-file html))

Chapter Thirty-eight

The halls of the Olympus facility were mostly abandoned as Izzy and Mordi moved quickly toward the main conference room. They’d used the motel phone and called for transport, then taken the Council shuttle to the Olympus headquarters to file their formal report and meet with Bilius and Armistand. Considering how little sleep she’d gotten and how busy the morning had already been, Izzy was surprised she wasn’t half-dead on her feet.
They’d already completed the paperwork portion (in triplicate, in front of witnesses), and now they were heading for the formal debriefing with the elders. They turned into the antechamber that led into the main conference room, both of their gazes drawn to the pale blue crystalline tube in the center of the room.
“Kind of puts everything in perspective,” Mordi said.
Izzy frowned, not at all sure what he was talking about.
He nodded toward the tube. “The mortalization chamber.”
“That’s what that is?”
“Yup. You’ve never seen it before?”
She raised an eyebrow. “As much as I wanted to be on the Council? I would have keeled over and died if I had to see that thing.”
He grinned. “Me, too. Different reasons, though.”
“Your dad?”
He nodded. “Considering what scum he thought mortals were, I’d be damned if I was going to be one.”
She nodded, and they both watched the tube in silence for a moment. It looked innocent enough, but it was pretty sinister to a Halfling. It was fraught with meaning. At twenty-five, a Halfling had to make a choice, picking one side or the other from their heritage. If they chose mortalization, well, then they stepped inside the tube, the power was thrown, and they stepped out a mortal. Not only were they off the Council, but they also lost all memory of Protector life. But even if they opted for the Council, they still had to pass a series of tests.
For most, their skills and powers were developed, and they had no trouble passing all the various tests and what-not. Izzy, though, had suffered from that little levitation problem....
She’d had quite a fear of mortalization, all right. And it hadn’t been unfounded.
Before she could brood any more over the past, the conference room door opened, and an assistant ushered them inside. Armistand and Bilius were already seated, each reading copies of the reports Izzy and Mordi had filled out.
“Quite an ordeal,” Armistand said.
“Yes, sir,” Mordi replied.
“And you have no idea who your attacker was?”
“No, sir,” Mordi said.
Izzy raised a brow in surprise. He did have an idea, and she knew it. He was keeping silent only because of her certainty, and that wasn’t fair to him or to the Council. She drew a breath. “Actually, Mordichai fears it may be his father.”
The elders exchanged glances, then made notes on their forms. Finally, Bilius looked up, his gaze taking in both witnesses. “I understand Mordichai’s fear, particularly in light of the history between him and his father, but I’m not inclined to believe that Hieronymous attacked the two of you.”
“Nor am I,” Armistand said.
Izzy frowned, her gaze drawn to the pens they were both using. The purple fountain pens seemed oddly familiar. “Excuse me, sir, but I couldn’t help but admire your pen. Where did you get it?”
Armistand held the implement up. “Ah, yes. Fine craftsmanship. My assistant Patel provided me with it.” He turned to Trystan. “You?”
“Young Patel as well. He said it was a gift to show his appreciation for being granted re-assimilation.”
“Oh,” Izzy said, and Mordi looked at her curiously. “That was very thoughtful of him.” Obviously Patel had no connection to her father. The casing must be a common one for fountain pens. Still, it was odd....
She had no time to think about it further, though, because Bilius and Trystan had switched back to the original topic.
“At any rate,” Bilius went on, “I hardly believe Hieronymous would attack you.” He looked at Mordi and smiled. Izzy stifled a gasp as a wash of pro-Hieronymous emotions seemed to roll off the elder— the very same elder who just a few days ago had essentially told her that the idea of Hieronymous applying for re-assimilation made him physically ill.
The turnabout confused her. Even more, it concerned her. She supposed she should be encouraged that the elders were so optimistic about Hieronymous’s reformation. After all, as she’d told herself over and over, if Hieronymous Black was good, then she and her father were out of hot water.
She should be happy. Ecstatic. At the very least, cautiously optimistic.
She wasn’t, though. Instead, she simply felt a gnawing fear begin in the pit of her stomach.

Chapter Thirty-eight

The halls of the Olympus facility were mostly abandoned as Izzy and Mordi moved quickly toward the main conference room. They’d used the motel phone and called for transport, then taken the Council shuttle to the Olympus headquarters to file their formal report and meet with Bilius and Armistand. Considering how little sleep she’d gotten and how busy the morning had already been, Izzy was surprised she wasn’t half-dead on her feet.
They’d already completed the paperwork portion (in triplicate, in front of witnesses), and now they were heading for the formal debriefing with the elders. They turned into the antechamber that led into the main conference room, both of their gazes drawn to the pale blue crystalline tube in the center of the room.
“Kind of puts everything in perspective,” Mordi said.
Izzy frowned, not at all sure what he was talking about.
He nodded toward the tube. “The mortalization chamber.”
“That’s what that is?”
“Yup. You’ve never seen it before?”
She raised an eyebrow. “As much as I wanted to be on the Council? I would have keeled over and died if I had to see that thing.”
He grinned. “Me, too. Different reasons, though.”
“Your dad?”
He nodded. “Considering what scum he thought mortals were, I’d be damned if I was going to be one.”
She nodded, and they both watched the tube in silence for a moment. It looked innocent enough, but it was pretty sinister to a Halfling. It was fraught with meaning. At twenty-five, a Halfling had to make a choice, picking one side or the other from their heritage. If they chose mortalization, well, then they stepped inside the tube, the power was thrown, and they stepped out a mortal. Not only were they off the Council, but they also lost all memory of Protector life. But even if they opted for the Council, they still had to pass a series of tests.
For most, their skills and powers were developed, and they had no trouble passing all the various tests and what-not. Izzy, though, had suffered from that little levitation problem....
She’d had quite a fear of mortalization, all right. And it hadn’t been unfounded.
Before she could brood any more over the past, the conference room door opened, and an assistant ushered them inside. Armistand and Bilius were already seated, each reading copies of the reports Izzy and Mordi had filled out.
“Quite an ordeal,” Armistand said.
“Yes, sir,” Mordi replied.
“And you have no idea who your attacker was?”
“No, sir,” Mordi said.
Izzy raised a brow in surprise. He did have an idea, and she knew it. He was keeping silent only because of her certainty, and that wasn’t fair to him or to the Council. She drew a breath. “Actually, Mordichai fears it may be his father.”
The elders exchanged glances, then made notes on their forms. Finally, Bilius looked up, his gaze taking in both witnesses. “I understand Mordichai’s fear, particularly in light of the history between him and his father, but I’m not inclined to believe that Hieronymous attacked the two of you.”
“Nor am I,” Armistand said.
Izzy frowned, her gaze drawn to the pens they were both using. The purple fountain pens seemed oddly familiar. “Excuse me, sir, but I couldn’t help but admire your pen. Where did you get it?”
Armistand held the implement up. “Ah, yes. Fine craftsmanship. My assistant Patel provided me with it.” He turned to Trystan. “You?”
“Young Patel as well. He said it was a gift to show his appreciation for being granted re-assimilation.”
“Oh,” Izzy said, and Mordi looked at her curiously. “That was very thoughtful of him.” Obviously Patel had no connection to her father. The casing must be a common one for fountain pens. Still, it was odd....
She had no time to think about it further, though, because Bilius and Trystan had switched back to the original topic.
“At any rate,” Bilius went on, “I hardly believe Hieronymous would attack you.” He looked at Mordi and smiled. Izzy stifled a gasp as a wash of pro-Hieronymous emotions seemed to roll off the elder— the very same elder who just a few days ago had essentially told her that the idea of Hieronymous applying for re-assimilation made him physically ill.
The turnabout confused her. Even more, it concerned her. She supposed she should be encouraged that the elders were so optimistic about Hieronymous’s reformation. After all, as she’d told herself over and over, if Hieronymous Black was good, then she and her father were out of hot water.
She should be happy. Ecstatic. At the very least, cautiously optimistic.
She wasn’t, though. Instead, she simply felt a gnawing fear begin in the pit of her stomach.