“It is imperative that an analogous crime syndicate does not form in Dublin. Consequently, this meeting must be stopped. Your aim is to capture Antoinette Carter. I believe she, too, may be a rare type of clairvoyant, and I intend to find out exactly what power she hides. The second aim is to apprehend the Seven Seals. The White Binder is a critical target.”

Jaxon. My mime-lord.

“You will be supervised by the blood-consort and his cousin. I expect results. I will hold you all responsible if Carter is allowed to return to Ireland.” Nashira looked at each of us: 30, David, Carl, and I. “Is that understood?”

“Yes, blood-sovereign,” 30 and Carl said. David swilled his wine around the glass.

I said nothing.

“Your life here is about to change, 40. You will be able to use your gift, and to use it well, on this assignment. I expect you to show gratitude for the long hours Arcturus has poured into your training.” Nashira looked away from the fire, into my eyes. “You have great potential. If you do not attempt to reach that potential, I shall see to it that you never walk the sheltered halls of Magdalen again. You can rot outside with the rest of the fools.”

There was no emotion in her gaze, but there was hunger. Nashira Sargas was losing her patience.

20 A Little World

20

A Little World

The fifth and six members of our group were found in early 2057, the year after I joined.

It was during a particularly vicious heat wave that they arrived. One of Jaxon’s couriers reported two new clairvoyants in I-4. The pair had arrived as part of a tourist party for the annual summer conference at the University, which was always a great success. Eager young tourists were brought in by the hundreds from non-Scion countries, ready to be sent back as advocates for anti-clairvoyant policies. Such programs had already found support in some parts of America, where opinions over Scion had been divided for decades. The well-meaning courier had spied two auras and run straight to his mime-lord, only to find out that the newcomers weren’t permanent residents of I-4. They had no idea that the syndicate existed. They might not even know they were voyant.

The courier had reported that one of the two tourists—a young woman—was almost certainly a whisperer. Jax was unimpressed. Whisperers, he told me, were a kind of sensor—privy to the workings of the æther, the smells and sounds and rhythms of spirits. They could hear their voices and vibrations, even use them to play instruments. “A pretty gift,” he said, “but by no means groundbreaking.” Sensors were rarer than mediums, but not by much. The fourth order of clairvoyance. Still, there weren’t many of them in the citadel, and Jaxon did like oddities.