Page 13 of Silent Lucidity

You already know, Tenthil thought.

“Yes, I do,” the Master said, “but I want to see from your eyes. Truth must be examined from all angles to be understood. I will pass judgment once I have seen your perspective.”

The Master portrayed himself as an omniscient figure, an all-knowing being connected to the Void, which touched everything. But even Tenthil, who’d spent his earliest years on a primitive planet, raised by a primitive people, knew better. There was no mysticism involved—the Master employed a vast network of spies, hackers, and informants who constantly funneled information to him.

And who constantly kept watch on acolytes while they pursued contracts in the field.

The first signs of intrusion came in the form of pressure in the back of Tenthil’s mind; it felt like icy fingers were sinking into his brain, sending a chill down Tenthil’s spine. That presence was as compelling as it was cold—the urge to reminisce about his mission awakened in Tenthil’s subconscious, but he resisted, having learned years before how to recognize such foreign compulsions.

The pressure in his mind strengthened along with the grip on his shoulder.

Tenthil could resist, but not indefinitely, and the longer he held out the more painful it would be when his defenses finally crumbled.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Tenthil ceased his struggle.

The Master plunged into Tenthil’s mind, rifling through thoughts like a peacekeeper from the Eternal Guard searching a criminal’s dwelling. Tenthil did the only thing he could to protect himself—he summoned memories of the night’s events so the Master wouldn’t search any deeper. He began at the slaying of the Ergoth gang member and worked forward. The Master’s icy touch slithered over each memory, examining, prodding, and poking.

Tenthil did not omit the human female—the memory gap would’ve been too obvious, and the Master’s scrutiny would’ve intensified—but he was careful not to recall his feelings for her save his lingering lust. He wanted to rut her; it was true, even if it was but a sliver of the entire truth.

Once his memories of the evening had ceased, he cleared his mind again, allowing himself no reflection upon any of it. The Master’s presence remained in Tenthil’s head, cold and alien.

The room was still and silent. Tenthil dared not move, bracing himself for the inevitable pain of the Master delving deeper, seeking to pry outeverything. His head already throbbed; even the mildest of these intrusions were not without pain.

Finally, the Master broke his silence with a heavy, prolonged sigh. His grip on Tenthil’s shoulder tightened for a moment before he lifted his hand away. The pressure of the Master’s mental intrusion lessened, but his presence in Tenthil’s mind did not cease.

The Master walked past the chair and paced in front of Tenthil. His dark, voluminous robes hid the size and shape of his body; he was taller than Tenthil by half a head, at least, with a seemingly wide body but long, thin arms. Tenthil had never seen the Master without his raised hood and black, featureless facemask, had never seen the face hidden behind the darkness.

No one knew what his face looked like. No one knew his real name. No one even knew his species. In an organization founded upon secrets, perhaps the most closely guarded was the Master’s identity.

“Do you recall your homeworld?” the Master asked.

Tenthil braced his mental shield and shook his head. What memories he retained from his earliest years belonged to him, and he refused to share them.

Fortunately, the Master did not probe to determine Tenthil’s honesty.

“Your people are a fierce race. Strong, quick, and predatory. Barely more than animals.” The Master halted and turned toward Tenthil. “I invested heavily in you. Gave you purpose. Knowledge. Training. I did not pay to have a maddened beast at my command, I paid to have a cunning, methodical killer. Tonight, you disgraced both yourself and my Order. You violated the tenets, shunned my teachings, and spat in my face.

“You lusted after that female like a wild animal, relinquishing all self-control, and your stupidity left hundreds of witnesses to your contract’s closing.”

Tenthil clenched his teeth and fists as the Master’s presence slithered through his mind again. The sensation intensified as it pushed deeper, creating jolts of pain like spikes being driven through his skull. He concentrated on nothingness, on emptiness, and resisted the psychic onslaught.

The Master stepped closer. “You are by far the most skilled of my acolytes. No other would have survived the situation you escaped tonight. For that reason alone, I have been lenient with you. This is the last time.”

Crouching slightly, the Master moved his face closer to Tenthil’s. “I made you what you are. And I will no longer hesitate to destroy you. Do you understand?”

Staring at the Master’s mask was like staring beyond the edge of the universe; if the Void could exist within a living being, it was in front of Tenthil now. A twinge of fear pulsed in Tenthil’s chest, but it quickly twisted into something else—anger.

His life was his own. He refused to be cowed by threats from anyone, even the Master.

Swallowing his fury before it boiled to the surface, Tenthil nodded. If the Master sensed Tenthil’s anger, he made no indication of it.

The Master straightened and walked past the chair, disappearing from Tenthil’s view. “Good. There are many brothels in the Undercity, should you require release. I suggest you visit one before you make another foolish mistake.”

The icy, alien presence in Tenthil’s mind withdrew abruptly. The stabbing pain resonated in his skull for several seconds before giving way to a throbbing ache. Tenthil drew in a slow, deep breath as his heartbeat faded from his hearing and forced his clenched fists open. The sting of the cuts his claws had opened on his palms added new pain to his growing list.

He didn’t look back as he stood up and exited the chamber; he knew the Master had already retreated into the cover of the shadows.

Corelthi was no longer positioned outside the door—a small boon, but one for which Tenthil was nonetheless grateful. He strode through the hallways toward his quarters, denying himself all thoughts but those regarding his navigation. It was not until he was in his room with the door closed and locked that he allowed everything to flood into his conscious mind.

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