Blood Lines

before.
    'May I inform Mr. Zottie that you've arrived?"
    'You may." He had made it very clear, right from the beginning, that the Solicitor General was not to be called until he had completely recovered. Control must come from strength and a personal weakness would weaken the whole. The women of this culture were trained to nurture weakness, not despise it, and, while in theory he disapproved, he would, in practice, use the attitude. By the time George Zottie had hurried out to the reception area, anxious to escort his newest adviser into the inner sanctum, he had all but recovered from the effects of the elevator. The mild nausea that remained could not be seen, so it did not matter.
    Leading the way toward the double doors, he could feel the heat of the younger woman's gaze. She had created her desire from the merest brush across her ka, intended only to ensure her loyalty; he had not placed it there nor did he welcome it. If truth be told, he found the whole concept vaguely distasteful and had found it so for centuries before he'd been interred. The older woman had responded to a show of power- that he understood.
    His plans for the Solicitor General had required a more thorough remaking.
    Once they were alone inside the office with the doors tightly closed behind them, he held out his hand. Zottie, with remarkable grace for a man of his bulk, dropped to one knee and touched his lips to the knuckles. When he rose again, his expression had become almost beatifically calm.
    The scribe-the press secretary-had given him the key to Zottie and fifteen hundred years of dealing with bureaucracy had enabled him to use it. He had gone to their first meeting with a spell of confusion ready on his palm. He had passed it through the ceremonial touching, activated it, and with it gained access to the ka. In the past, a man with this much power would have had powerful protections, would have most likely kept a wizard in his employ solely to prevent exactly this sort of manipulation. At times, he still found it difficult to believe that it could be so easy.
    There wasn't much of George Zottie left.
    With Zottie, he could go one by one to the others he needed to build a base for his power but, with Zottie, that was no longer necessary; they would come to him.
    'Has it been done?"
    'As you commanded." The Solicitor General lifted a handwritten list off his desk and offered it with a slight bow.
    "These are the ones who will be in attendance. In spite of the short notice, most of those invited have agreed to come.
    Shall I reinvite the others?"
    'No. I can acquire them later." He scanned the list. Only a few of the titles were familiar. That would not do.
    'I need a man, an elderly man, one who has spent his life in government but not as a politician. One who knows not only the rules and regulations, but one who knows…" The first ka he had taken supplied a phrase and he smiled as he used it. "… where the bodies are buried."
    'Then you need Brian Morton. There isn't anything or anyone around Queen's Park he doesn't know."
    'Take me to him."

    '… an unfortunate occurrence at Queen's Park this afternoon as senior official Brian Morton was found dead at his desk of a heart attack. Morton had been employed by the Ontario Government for forty-two years. Solicitor General George Zottie, in whose ministry Morton was serving at the time of his death, said that he had been an inspiration to younger men and that his knowledge and experience will be missed. Morton's widow expressed the belief that her husband had not been looking forward to his retirement in less than a year and, if given a choice, he would have preferred to die, as he did, with his boots on. Funeral services will be held Monday at Our Lady of the Redeemer Church in Scarborough.
    And now, here's Elaine with the weather."
    Vicki frowned and switched off the television. Reid Ellis and Dr. Rax had died of heart failure at the museum. The mummy had come from the museum. Brian Morton died of a heart attack while in the employ of the Solicitor General.
    She believed the mummy was using the Solicitor General to gain control of the police and build its own private army.
    Morton was an older man, his death could be coincidence. She didn't think so.
    Henry thought the mummy might be feeding. It had been free for a week now; how often did it have to feed?
    She pulled the papers for the last week off the "to be recycled" pile to the left of her desk and sat down on her weight bench