Colonel Mozt kept his eyes fixed away from the young Mistress. He heard her plea wanting to know what was happening to her, and dared not respond. The Royal Family had made it clear. Until they made their demands known publicly, no one was to say anything. In fact, even if he wanted to, no words would come. They had placed some kind of an inhibitor on everyone in this building.
He hated them. The Colonel hated no one that he remembered, except for them. He never even hated the Blades who put a death mark out on him the day he left them. He feared the gang of felons less than he feared the royals. It was just that he felt something terribly wrong about them. Motz wasn’t any more Talented than the next man, but he couldn’t shake that feeling of something being off.
He felt sorry for the young Mistress. He wished he could have remained her good friend Bil Motz, friend and accomplice to Snake, her father. He had liked working with the man. Snake never enjoyed burglary, but he needed to break his wife out of prison before they killed her. In fact, they almost did kill the Lady before he and Snake rescued her. That was the only time Bil believed he did the right thing when he broke the law.
His one regret was that he never found the courage to allow the young Mistress back into his life after he killed her father. She tried several times to tell him that she forgave him. He thought that bringing to the Lady’s attention that he had killed her husband, solely in defense, not murder, never murder, would be his hardest job. As it turned out, facing the young Mistress’ agony of losing her father, the only parent who really understood her, became more than he could bear.
The young Mistress, as he called her, never Mistress Chalatta, because no matter what her parents called her, he knew she was some kind of a daughter of prophecy, Tadessa, Tad, as he knew her then. Now she was a prisoner of the Faj. The royals would have their way, sure enough, and he hated what was happening to her.
He wanted to warn the girl, but there was nothing he, or anyone else, could do. It wouldn’t matter, of course. She’d never remember who she used to be. That was the way of it, when those mind workers gained control. He felt especially sorry for the Lady. She had to watch it. She, who had done everything she could to get things back to right again, had to watch it all fall apart again.
Colonel Motz kept his face impassive. He kept his mind impenetrable. Not Talented, not at all, but his shield was stronger than plastisteel. They wouldn’t get to him, and they wouldn’t get to his Lady.