"Which means he controlled what you saw. Which means he has a way to block or redirect psychic probing. Which means he is exactly as dangerous as I suspected."
He walked toward the window.
The citadel spread below him. The torches. The pens. The auction wing. The corridors where his property waited in cages.
"Prepare the collars," he said.
"How many?"
"All of them."
He turned back.
His smile was gone.
"And double the guard on the seer. If portal man has a way to control minds, he may try to take her from me. And Vessa is not for sale."
Morning came gray and cold.
The citadel woke to the sound of industry. Hammers on metal. Grinders on stone. The shuffling of hundreds of feet moving through corridors toward assigned tasks.
Gathrax met them at the guest chamber doors.
Not the original. A duplicate. But with the same golden teeth, the same fur cloak, the same booming laugh.
