Logan’s undercurrent of fear heightened as Sean gestured for them to link up. But there was nothing he could do about it. Logan gripped the off-worlder’s hand and said, “Go.”
Ghost-walking was smoother with Sean than with any of his own people. He mentally spoke the word they used. Transiting. The act was as simple as taking a next step. Half a second later, they stood inside a pleasant and spacious dwelling. The chambers Logan could see were empty. “Where are they?”
“A Messenger is supposed to be on constant duty. We shouldn’t need to wait long.”
“Do you really think I can be trained to travel like this?”
“If you can detect other . . . ghost-walkers, then my guess is, absolutely. But that’s not something I know much about. Yet.”
“Where are we?”
“Serena. Capital of the Human Assembly.”
“I don’t know exactly. A long, long way.” There was the sound of water running. “Heads up. We’re on.”
A young woman in a sky-blue uniform appeared in the rear corridor. She showed alarm at the sight of them standing in her parlor. “My apologies, Major! So sorry to keep you waiting, sir!”
“No, wait—” Sean began, but the woman was already gone.
Logan asked, “Major?”
Sean looked embarrassed. “Anyone appointed to the Diplomats’ school is brevetted major. But it’s just to get things done.”
“I would imagine some trainees take advantage of the rank,” Logan said.
“Probably. I don’t know for certain. I’ve only had the assignment for two days.”
Logan turned to Sidra. “It’s time for you to check on the situation.”
Just as Sidra vanished, a genuine beauty appeared, a flash of brilliance so strong the room paled simply by holding her.
Sean said, “Advocate Cylian, this is—”
A man in an officer’s formal uniform appeared, followed by an older gentleman in the finery of high office. The officer had an empty sleeve pinned to his upper arm.
“Ambassador Anyon, Colonel Carver, Advocate Cylian,” Sean said. “This is Commander Logan and his two adjutants, Vance and Nicolette.”
The Ambassador demanded, “You speak the tongue used by the Cygnean ruling council?”
“Centuries before the council came into existence, it was known as the Hawk tongue,” Logan replied. “I speak it.”
Sean said, “Logan is heir to the Hawk fief.”
“Which no longer exists,” Logan added. “I serve the ruling council on Cygneus Prime.”
Sean went on, “He needs to speak with his commanding officer, a General Brodwyn.”
Cylian said, “She serves as the military’s representative to our negotiations.”
“She may wish to send her adjutant, Gerrod,” Logan said. “Tell her that is not acceptable.”
“Time is crucial,” Sean said.
“In that case, I should make the request personally.” Anyon motioned to Carver. “Colonel, attend me.”
When the two men vanished, Sean said, “Something is wrong.”
Cylian did indeed look both strained and exhausted. She wiped her face. “We are under great pressure.”
“It’s more than that,” Sean insisted.
“Perhaps this should wait.”
“Cylian. This could be important.”
“The first two nights, the Ambassador’s entire team experienced savage dreams. Now we are sleeping here on Serena.”
Sean shook his head like a boxer throwing off sweat. “Anyon wouldn’t make a shift like that just because of nightmares. Tell me the rest.”
She glanced at the others. “Anyon’s Watchers started their first planetary survey, then . . .”
Logan asked, “Watchers?”
“She means those transiters, ghost-walkers, who have heightened their senses. They do what I did, the hunt. And they do what you do, searching out new transiters.” Sean turned back to the woman. “Tell me what happened, Cylian.”
“One came back screaming. He’s been sedated ever since. The other . . . She won’t wake up.”
“What—” Sean’s next question was cut off by the Ambassador and colonel reappearing. With them was a tall, severe woman with the expression of one who never smiled.
Vance said, “Ten-hut.”