CHAPTER 4 - TRITTEON

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She was a Directive Crossek! Not only a Crossek! But a Directive! What game could that Oria possibly be playing? And the horrendous state of her? Her unceremonial drop off? The Oria's deliberate trip of the alarm was the only reason she'd been found before the rain got to her. What could have happened to make him leave her here like that?

I pushed my hands over my hair. None of it mattered though.

There had been a brief moment, right before I'd removed the Neutralizer, when she'd managed that powerful kick despite her weak, frozen state, revealing a small glimmer of potential. But the sight of that brand had stopped everything in its tracks.

She couldn't stay here. That Oria had sent us someone who could be used against us without our knowledge. Someone had only to touch the mark and they would be able to compel her into doing whatever they wanted. If an enemy found out we had someone like that, we could all be in danger.

I stopped in front of the nearest portal door and paused to listen. One floor down, Hyle Dellsen and Lance Corda patrolled the corridor around the corner, discussing the appearance of the strange, sickly girl. One floor down, Den Colier was mentally reliving his embarrassing hesitation that had resulted in Dellsen making him look bad, per usual. Everyone else was either asleep or too far away to worry about.

I gripped the handle of the purple door. "Whitfore Tower," I thought to it. Heat burned against my palm and I turned the handle and stepped through into an entirely different part of the Rest House. The air was warm and inviting and smelled of burning wood and cloves. Thick black rugs covered every inch of stone floor and the tall, black, double doors in front of me stood ajar.

Rilyin was still awake in his chair by the fireplace, attempting for the twentieth time to get through to the Oria, one hand tapping angrily against the small table beside him.

I stepped into the room, pulling the doors shut quietly behind me, and froze, a scent I had just familiarized myself with, hitting me all at once. "What is that?" I demanded, looking wildly around for the source.

Rilyin, who had heard the moment I stepped out of the portal door despite the com beads in his ears, didn't reply except to point behind him toward the table set with a tea service, a small, bloodied, rolled up parchment paper beside the tray.

"Where did this come from?"

Once again, the call failed.

Rilyin hissed a few choice words and threw his com onto the couch beside his chair.

"I'm sure you can guess," he said crossly. "Even I can smell her scent all over it."

"Pharro took it off her person?"

He nodded. "It came with a warning note that if anyone other than the girl tries to read it, it will disintegrate."

I paused. "Was that why you wanted her to have the cloak? Why you asked me to observe how she looked through it? To see if she would go looking for that letter?"

"It was Pharro's idea, but yes. And did she?"

"She was desperate to get it. And she did look through it. But only after examining the material for a while. Her search through it was more out of general curiosity than a specific goal."

"Then her lack of memory is truly genuine. But why would he send her something and not us?"

"He has said nothing to you? No explanation on her condition or her arrival?"

"And so far, I have been unable to get in contact with him."

I shook my head. "Is she even the one you have both been discussing? Or did he fail to secure the correct one and dropped this sickly creature on us instead?"

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