Bonded to the Rakian Berserker (Rakian Warrior Mates #3) - Elin Wyn Page 0,57
to flicker on dimly, beacons into the unknown.
“Well, let’s go see what’s down there,” Coracle said. “I’m a little curious.”
“I expect someone in the city is going to hear that,” Jormoi said, nodding to the crushed wall.
“Then let’s not wait for company.”
Gavin headed down the stairs, senses stretched for any movement, Jormoi following close behind.
“Ooof!”
Gavin glanced over his shoulder to see that Coracle had jumped to wrap himself around Jormoi’s shoulders.
“For a hologram, you’re pretty heavy,” Jormoi muttered.
“I’m just as real as anything else Ship makes,” Coracle chided. “Pay attention to where you’re walking. Now that the shielding is down, I want to see what I can get out of these systems.”
The cat closed its eyes, apparently deep in thought. Or asleep.
With cats, it’s hard to tell.
Still, no hurried steps followed them, no shouts from the guards of the Elite.
“I wonder if there’s some sort of a ban on entering this place,” Gavin mused.
Winding deeper into the ground, suddenly a faint noise reached Gavin’s ears.
They froze, until the sounds became clearer.
“Finally!” the querulous voice of an old man rose to reach them. “After all this time.”
“Sounds like we’re expected,” Gavin said softly.
“Or someone else is,” Jormoi responded. “We might be a surprise after all.”
They continued down, the muttering getting closer until the stairs ended in a small room, three polished corridors branching off from the landing.
Out of the leftmost passage an elderly man stepped out, the white robe trimmed with sky-blue crinkled and smudged, a long thick beard hiding most of his features.
But the bright eyes that raked over them were still sharp.
“Who the hell are you?” he snapped. “You’re not Jadar.”
“Wait a minute,” Jormoi said, stepping in front. “You’re waiting for Jadar? Jadar Thalcium?”
The old man nodded. “Last I knew he was the only one that might’ve been able to bypass the lock from the Archive. Got the signal the passage was open again, figured he’d finally come back.”
Gavin shot Jormoi a questioning look, but Jormoi simply took another step forward, hand outstretched.
“I have information from Jadar,” he said slowly, “But is there somewhere else we could go?”
“Of course!” the man said, looking around as if startled to find himself at the base of the stairs. “What am I thinking? Come on, I’ve made a little bit of a nest this way, ever since that bastard Braydon locked me away.”
They followed the old man through an empty complex, corridors branching off into darkness.
With every step Gavin felt a tug at his chest, as if he was moving further away from Esme.
Information was good.
Information from a local could lead him to Esme.
But the delay was eating at the edges of his frayed control.
“What is this place?” he asked. “Where is everyone else?”
“No one here but me on this level. This is where the first Sleepers lived, when the colonists were building the city above.”
The old man stopped at a door, waved his hand over a palm plate and it slid open.
They stepped into a tiny cluttered chamber.
“Sorry,” the old man muttered. “Not exactly expecting company.”
A table at one side flashed with lights, looking almost like…
“Is that a comm panel?” Gavin blurted, surprised.
“That and more, before that bastard Braydon blocked me out of the communications system. I’ll find another way in, though.”
The old man scooped a pile of books, dishes and other random items that Gavin didn’t want to examine too closely from the table and dumped them in a corner.
Coracle leapt off Jormoi’s shoulders, went to investigate the control panel.
“I’m Larson Glatz. Now, what news do you have of my friend, and why are you here?”
Jormoi tapped his cuff, and a smiling image of Rhela sprang into the air between them, slowly rotating over the table.
“Really?” Gavin shook his head in disbelief.
Jormoi shot him a knowing look. “I give you a week before you have one of Esme.”
At her name Gavin’s chest clenched again.
This was important, though.
Information could be a weapon, too.
The man stared at the holograph, but not in wonder of the technology of such a thing, he realized.
“That young lady almost looks like Portia,” he mused. “But that chin, that’s all Jadar.”
“I only saw them briefly in a video memo he left,” Jormoi said quietly, holding out a chair. “They were my mate’s,” he paused, “my wife’s parents.”
The old man sat heavily. “Were?”
“They passed away a few years ago,” Jormoi confirmed, sitting down across the table from the old man. “But Rhela, their daughter, said they had