Deathstalker 02 - Deathstalker Rebellion

branches of a tall tree. It didn't speak much, as a rule, but its great golden eyes rarely blinked, and it gave the impression of listening very carefully. Finlay also had a lurking suspicion that just maybe the tree might be more than it seemed, too.
    To put off making his report, Finlay looked around at the medium-size crowd attending the meeting. Finlay's reports always drew a crowd. He smiled at them pleasantly, and they smiled back and bowed their heads in respect. A few even applauded. There was the usual mixture of elves in their leathers and chains,
    clones with the same face, and assorted hangers-on, like him, tolerated by the powers that be because they were useful. Apart from the expectant crowd, people were also darting in and out—carrying messages, making their own reports to lesser officials, or just earwigging in the hope of picking up something useful.
    The underground thrived on gossip.
    And then Finlay's roving gaze juddered to a halt, and his jaw dropped as he recognized two faces at the front of the crowd. Two faces he'd never expected to see together, let alone in the underground. Adrienne Campbell and Evangeline Shreck. His wife and his lover, chatting happily together and apparently getting on like a house on fire. His first thought was that it had to be some kind of esper illusion, some extremely nasty joke or trick to throw him off balance, but no one apart from him knew about the two women in his life. So it had to be them. Here. Together. Finlay looked quickly around for the nearest exit. Stuff his report, he had to get out of here. There were some things no man could face.
    Maybe if he just turned and ran very quickly…
    "Finlay Campbell, attend us," said the mandala in a loud and piercing voice that echoed painfully inside his head, and that was that. Apparently, the voice hadn't just been aimed at him, as everyone else was now looking in his direction. Finlay sighed resignedly and strode forward to nod briefly to the esper leaders. He didn't get too close. There was something about the projected illusions that put his mental teeth on edge. He gave them a brisk salute, as much for the crowd as anything, but didn't bother with standing to attention. If they wanted a soldier, they could get one. He was just a troublemaker on a grand scale, with a reputation to live down to.
    "Can you slow your colors down a bit?" he said sharply to the mandala. "I'm
    starting to get seasick. I don't know why you three are bothering with the illusions anyway. I've given up being impressed for Lent. Don't you trust me, after all I've done for you?"
    "It's not a matter of trust," said Mr. Perfect in his pleasant, charismatic voice. "What you don't know, someone else can't make you tell them. Security is vital, now more than ever."
    Finlay sniffed loudly, carefully not looking in Adrienne and Evangeline's direction. He could feel cold beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "I take it you want a report. All right. I killed Lord William St. John and a lot of his people, stole his personal flyer and got clean away. End of report. Can I go now please? Back in my quarters, a large brandy is calling for me with growing impatience."
    He ignored the disappointed murmurs from the crowd, his gaze fixed on Mr.
    Perfect as the least disturbing of the three leaders. The mandala's colors flowed suddenly in a direction his eyes tried to follow in spite of himself, but couldn't, and then its voice echoed loudly in the wide chamber.
    "Normally, we would press you for a more detailed report, but there is no time.
    We need you to go out on another mission. Immediately."
    Finlay stared at the leaders, for a moment almost lost for words. "You want what? I've only just got back, damn it! I've been cut at, shot at, chased halfway to hell and back while dodging in and out the pastel towers on a glorified gravity sled, and only just got away in one piece, and you want me to go out again? Does the phrase Stick it where the sun don't shine sound at all familiar? Have you all gone crazy, or are you just harboring a death wish? On the ground that if you don't change your minds about this new mission in one hell of a hurry, I am going to find what's behind these over-rehearsed mirages
    of yours and slice and dice all three of you into pie fillings! I am tired, hurt, and completely lacking in the sense of humor department. And no I don't have any sense of loyalty or honor. I'm an aristocrat, remember? I'm not going anywhere till I've had