Deathstalker 03 - Deathstalker War

her surprise when her mind bounced harmlessly away from powerful psionic shields.
    "Please don't do that," said the Chancellor. "We have many private places here, mentally shielded to protect our more sensitive people from the clamor of the world. And occasionally to protect the world from some of us. I advise you to respect their privacy. For your own sake, if not for theirs."
    Knowing a good exit line when he delivered one, the Chancellor bowed briefly and left Jenny alone in the study, shutting the door firmly behind him. Jenny waited to hear the sound of a key turning in the lock, but it didn't come. Presumably the espers' union thought it had other ways of stopping her if she decided to leave. More fool they. She sniffed angrily and threw herself into the most comfortable-looking chair. She'd been held in Wormboy Hell and survived, and there wasn't much left that could intimidate her now. She glowered around her.
    Looked at closely, the study was a bland place, with no style or personality of its own. More like a stage set than a place where people lived and worked.
    Probably set up as neutral ground, a midway place where espers could meet with emissaries from the outside word.
    Jenny sank grudgingly back into the comfort of her chair and tried to relax.
    Nerve and passion and a sense of destiny had brought her this far, but for the first time she wasn't entirely sure what she was going to do next. It all depended on how seriously the espers' union took her. She was no longer used to dealing with people who weren't awed or at least impressed by her presence, or what she'd become. But this house held the greatest minds on a planet of espers.
    They weren't going to impress easily. And she couldn't just threaten them. The underground needed their wholehearted support and approval. Besides, it might
    not work. Jenny scowled sulkily. When in doubt, stick to the script. The underground had spent some time drilling her in all the proper words and phrases, till she could have recited them in her sleep. It helped, too, that she believed passionately in the arguments. Still, these people had better learn to treat her with respect. She had been touched by the Mater Mundi, and she was so much more than she used to be.
    She concentrated, diffusing her thoughts, letting her esp creep slowly outward, easing unnoticed through the mental shields to every side of her. Immediately a babble of voices filled her head, harsh and deafening, and visions flashed past her eyes almost too fast to follow. Jenny reeled, and had to grab at the arms of her chair to center herself. So many minds, all working at the peak of their abilities. Past records and future possibilities jumbled together till she could hardly tell them apart. They surged around Jenny, like waves crashing against a rock on the seashore, but she held firm and would not be swayed or moved. She concentrated, filtering through the deafening noise for the information she needed, and slowly things came to her, like ships glimpsed briefly through an ocean fog.
    Someone was praying, and sobbing so hard she could hardly get the words out.
    There were visions of buildings burning, and people running screaming in the streets. Something dark and awful was hanging over Mistworld, like a huge spider contemplating its prey. There were guns firing, and a child's blood splashed across a wall. The streets were full of people rushing this way and that as the city burned and death closed in around them. In a padded room not too far away, someone was beating at the walls with raw and bloodied hands, and though he was silent as the grave, his mind was full of an endless horrible scream. And through it all, a name, repeating over and over in a chorus of voices, surfacing
    through the babble like a heartbeat, like a prophecy of doom that could not be denied.
    Legion. Legion is coming. Legion.
    Jenny broke free of the contact, shaking and trembling. She breathed deeply, fighting to control her scattered senses. She had no doubt she had seen the future. She had seen the streets of Mistport thrown down into Hell, and watched as Imperial troops butchered the people as they ran. She'd seen the city walls thrown down, and buildings blown apart, and above it all, a scream that never ended. It wasn't a human scream. It might happen a week from now, or a year, or it might already have begun. She had no way of knowing. Precog visions were like that. She cut herself off from all mental contact, slamming