Myoko raised an eyebrow. "So it's just coincidence Rosalind died the night she planned to elope?"
Impervia gave a dismissive sniff. "Coincidences happen."
"So do doppelgängers," answered Myoko. She turned to the Caryatid and asked, "Aren't there spells that can make a person look like someone else?"
The Caryatid nodded reluctantly. "Some illusion spells can do the trick… but they're always flawed in some way. They mimic the face but not the rest of the body; or they duplicate the appearance but not the voice; or they do the whole job but last for only a few minutes; or the illusion simply can't be seen by some people-like Kaylan's Chameleon, which fools men but not women…"
"But it is possible," Myoko said. "That's the point. And sorcery is just one possibility." She turned eagerly toward me. "Didn't the OldTechs make androids that were perfect doubles of people?"
I shook my head. "The OldTechs never got that sophisticated. Most of their robots were just boxes on wheels, or big metal arms. The few that did appear human were no more than clockwork novelties: programmed with a set of simple gestures and a recorded speech track, but not enough to fool anyone more than a couple seconds."
"All right," Myoko said, "so the OldTechs couldn't make android duplicates-not during OldTech times, four hundred years ago. But since then, the people who abandoned Earth must have improved their technology. They might be able to make lifelike androids now."
I couldn't help glancing at Opal; her gaze was turned to the floor. Meanwhile, the Caryatid said, "Many things are possible, Myoko dear… but what would be the point? Why would one of our space cousins create a duplicate of Rosalind just to deceive a lovestruck teenager?"
Myoko didn't answer immediately-she was looking in my direction, but her eyes were distant. Finally, she gave herself a little shake and said, "Sebastian is more than a lovestruck teenager. He's special."
"How?" asked Impervia.
Myoko lowered her head. "Sebastian Shore is the most powerful psychic I've ever met."
Psionic folks always terrified me… even petite little Myoko. If her gift was strong enough to lift Impervia, it was also strong enough to reach into one's chest and squeeze one's heart to a standstill. Pinch one's carotid artery. Snap one's spinal nerves.
And that was just telekinesis. Other psychics had different psionic powers. Some were clairsentient, hearing or seeing things at remote distances. Others were telepathic, able to read the thoughts of those around them or (even worse) plant an idea into your brain as if you'd thought of it yourself. Some could artificially arouse emotions; some could induce hallucinations; some could strike you blind. Most, thank heavens, had to concentrate a considerable length of time before they used their power, and few had significant range. Still, they were spooky people… and after a prophecy, a haunting, and a bioweapon, I hated to find there was also a psychic in the mix.
"So," Pelinor said, "young Sebastian has psionic powers. Good for him. We need more psychics to… um… do whatever they do. Government work mostly, am I right? Spying and scrying, et cetera?"
Myoko shook her head. "Only a few work for governors: the empath who sits at Niome's right hand to tell her when people are lying; the telepaths who provide communications between provinces; clairvoyants who spy on a governor's enemies. But most psychics don't end up as provincial officials." She dropped her gaze to her hands. "Most psychics end up as slaves."
"Slaves?" Pelinor repeated the word in distaste.
Myoko nodded. "If they're lucky, they get a gilded cage: working for some rich merchant, a secret advantage in wheeling and dealing. Psychics like that are kept on a short leash, but at least they get some pampering. On the other hand, psychics who aren't so lucky…" She clenched her fists. "They can be kept in dungeons, half-starved and brutalized, because that's the way their owners keep freaks in line."
Myoko glared at us all, daring us to speak. No one did. Pelinor gave his mustache a self-abashed suck, but stopped immediately as it sounded in the silence.
Finally Myoko let her hostility drain away as she lowered her gaze. "I went to a school for psychics. A hidden place that developed our abilities. It was as secure as our mentors could make it… but a few students still went missing every year. Kidnapped. There are ruthless criminal bastards who'll do anything to get their hands on a first-rate psychic."
The Caryatid gave a shiver. "You think that might happen to Sebastian?"
"He's powerful," Myoko replied. "He wouldn't be easy to snatch outright. But if someone created a look-alike of his girlfriend and enticed him to run off somewhere… sooner or later, the look-alike could lead him into a trap, and then he'd be stuck for the rest of his life."
"But Myoko," Impervia said, "how would anyone know he was a psychic? You haven't told anyone, have you?" She gave Myoko a reproving look. "You didn't tell us, for example."
"No, I didn't. This academy can handle only weak little abilities-not powerful people like Sebastian. It was sheer accident he was accepted as a 'local outreach' student… and sheer accident I recognized the extent of his talents. For the boy's sake, I couldn't tell anyone how good he was."
"Then how did these hypothetical kidnappers find out?" Impervia asked.
Myoko didn't answer right away. Finally, with downcast eyes, she said, "I can think of one explanation. Rosalind."
The Caryatid's motherly eyes grew wide. "You mean he told Rosalind and Rosalind told…"
Her voice faded away. After a moment, Myoko sighed. "I made Sebastian promise to keep his powers a secret; but when kids fall in love, they hate hiding anything. If Sebastian confessed the truth to Rosalind, she might have reported it to her mother… and we all know what kind of woman Elizabeth Tzekich is."
Pelinor scowled in outrage. "You mean Rosalind betrayed him?"
Myoko shrugged. "I don't think she wrote her mom and said, 'I've met a guy you should enslave.' But she might have written, 'I've met a guy I love very much, and I know you'll let us get married because he's got these powers that are really special.' "
"But if that's so," Impervia said, "wouldn't the mother just tell the girl, 'You have my blessing, bring the boy for a visit?' Perhaps when Sebastian arrived at the Tzekich home, the mother would throw him in chains and tell Rosalind the wedding was off; but until then, there'd be no need to use force."
"Besides," put in the Caryatid, "the Ring of Knives might kidnap Sebastian, but they wouldn't murder Rosalind at the same time. A mother would never kill her own daughter."
"I've heard that mothers kill their own children more often than they kill anyone else," Myoko said. "But maybe it's not Mother Tzekich at all. Maybe there's a spy in the Ring of Knives who learned Rosalind's secret. Maybe the spy told a rival criminal family, so the rivals killed Rosalind and kidnapped Sebastian."
"Or maybe," Impervia replied, "no one at all has been kidnapped and you're talking pure fantasy."
"Everyone calm down," Chancellor Opal said, holding up her hands to prevent further argument. "Let's gather more facts before we get lost in what-ifs. Myoko, Phil… search Sebastian's room."
"What are we looking for?" Myoko asked.
"Anything unusual. You two know the boy better than the rest of us."