Jaysynn scanned the books on the shelf to see if he could find anything of interest, and to see what thoughts had filled the head of the Governor of Falcon Point. Vac’s library included a number of stark volumes of political philosophy such as The Head and the Hands, The Art of Governance, and The Chessboard Nation; books of history such as The Ancient and Medieval History of Falcon Point, Material and Magical Wealth of the World’s Great Cities, and The Spirit of the Falconers: A Detailed Sketch of How These People Respond to Tyranny; as well as a number of classic romances from the city’s distant past: The Death of Alvo, The Lais of Lemli, and Cleovalc.
Although never a great producer of art, music, or technology, Falcon Point had a rich history of adventure stories and warrior poetry. They were a people who celebrated their own bravery, their own individualism, and their own fighting spirit. From ancient times unto the present, they told mythic tales of the bravest of Falconers slaying dragons that came up the mountain, while they themselves crushed the armies of empires, of would-be conquerors climbing up those slopes, greedy for coal and ore.
Coonhil had been long in coming back, and Jaysynn was beginning to grow suspicious of Vac and of the plan. He was about to say something, but spotted another book called, Eugenics and the Magical Society. He pulled it off the shelf and turned it over in his hands.
Vac was at his desk, but could tell by the pale green cover what book Jaysynn had in his hands. “So Thorynn’s non-select son wants to know about breeding magic men?” he said. “Curious.”
“Not as curious as the fact that you own the book,” Jaysynn said, lifting it modestly in the air, trying to make his point.
“It’s more curious than you realize,” said Vac mysteriously. “Take a look at the title page.”
Jaysynn opened the book and saw its full title: Eugenics and the Magical Society: Let Man Select the Selects. The name of its author was Xander Dracon.
“This isn’t the same person…” Jaysynn said.
“No,” said Vac, standing. “It’s his grandfather. A very different man from the Xander Dracon you know. Unlike the younger Dracon, this one was a Select, but he did have the personality of a crowbar. He was a scholar—a good one, and a dangerous one.”
Vac walked toward Jaysynn. He left the sheath on the desk, but carried the Thyrion military knife with him.
“So what’s the book about?” Jaysynn asked, thumbing through its pages. “And why do you have it?”
“It’s about the social and military benefits of genetically engineering a society in which the vast majority of people are Select. The genetic theory behind it has been thoroughly debunked since it was written—so what the elder Dracon was proposing was not actually possible. But I own it because the same blood that put those words on the page fifty years ago is now pumping through the veins of one of my biggest enemies. See, I have to read fifty-year old books to figure out what my enemy is up to, because even when I’ve got his protégé in my room, pretending to be my ally, I can’t learn a thing.”
Jaysynn looked up and found Vac’s eyes staring hard at him.
Vac went on: “I’ve also got a drawer in my filing cabinet that has copies of every document your grandfather Kyzer ever drafted, and every letter your mother’s parents ever wrote to each other, because Dracon isn’t my only enemy.”
Jaysynn’s eyes sharpened. He had answered Vac’s stare with strength. Now he answered with anger. Not a minute ago Vac had agreed to help him; now that same man labeled him an enemy and boasted deep knowledge of Jaysynn’s bloodline, of his power over him. Vac was calling him out for his imperfect honesty.
And soon, according to the plan that Vac had so quickly devised, a guard would burst into the room and pierce his side with a tranquilizer, cutting off all sight and sense and thought.
The governor disregarded Jaysynn’s cold stare and looked thoughtfully toward the door. “Coonhil is running late,” he said. “I’m going to check on him.” He lumbered across the heavy boards of the floor and toward the exit.
But before he reached it, the heavy door flew open and two men, clad in black with faces covered, came through the door and another two through the window. Vac staggered back toward the bookshelf, and Jaysynn stepped in front of him.
“I am your emperor,” said Jaysynn. “This man is not your enemy. I order you to stand down.”
The two who had come through the door looked at one another. Their mouths were covered in black cloth masks, and it was impossible to tell which one answered: “We see no emperor.” The four of them drew their knives. Their feet inched closer to Jaysynn and the governor, and their steps were silent.
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