Rook

dress?”
    “Well, if you’re certain, then,” said Myfanwy.
    “Quite certain,” said Clovis. “Now, there was just one more thing.”
    “Oh?”
    “Yes, and I believe it may be a matter of deepest concern to our national security,” he said in ominous tones.
    Bloody hell,
she thought.
This is all getting a bit much for my first day of work.
    “Someone has been Googling you.”
    “I—what?”
    “Someone has typed your name into Google,” said Clovis, leaning forward as intently as if he’d just announced that the Prime Minister had exploded.
    “Gosh,” said Myfanwy. “That’s, um, yeah. Are we sure it was me?”
    “What?”
    “Well, I mean, Myfanwy is a Welsh name—they didn’t just make it up for me. And Thomas is a pretty common name too. There’s got to be a few Myfanwy Thomases running around the place.”
    “There are twelve that we know about,” said Clovis seriously. “Nine of them are in the United Kingdom, one in Australia, one in the United States, and one in New Zealand.”
    They keep a list of Myfanwy Thomases?
thought Myfanwy.
Well, that’s your tax dollars at work.
    “However,” continued Clovis, “you are the only Myfanwy Alice Thomas. Plus, they typed in your birth date.”
    “Oh,” said Myfanwy.
    “Yes.”
    “Wait, how do we know that someone’s Googling me?” asked Myfanwy.
We don’t own Google, do we?
    “We’ve placed the names of all the members of the Court on a watch list,” said Clovis. “The various organizations with which we have agreements and relationships inform us if any of those names pops up.”
    “Okay,” said Myfanwy.
I don’t suppose it’s the Grafters. I mean, they already know where the Rookery is; Van Syoc was observing it. And I like to think that they’d have greater resources at their disposal than Google.
“Well, do we know where this Googler was?”
    “This morning they were in London,” said Clovis. “In an Internet café. They paid with cash.”
    Who would be looking for information on me?
Myfanwy wondered.
Other than me, that is.
    “They wouldn’t have found anything, would they?” she asked.
    “No, you have no presence on the Internet,” said Clovis. “We’re very careful to keep all Checquy personnel off the Web, of course. But can you think of anyone who would be looking for you? Someone outside the Checquy? Who else knows you exist?”
    Are you kidding?
thought Myfanwy. I
didn’t even know I existed until a couple of days ago.
    “I have no idea,” she said.
    “Well, it’s very strange,” said Clovis. “But we’ll keep watch for any more hits on you.”
    Myfanwy was asking if there was any other way someone might be able to track her down when Ingrid sailed in.
    “I’m sorry, Rook Thomas, but your car is here,” she said.
    “My car?” Myfanwy said.
    “It’s time for your dinner with Lady Farrier.”
    “Oh, crap,” she sighed, then noticed Clovis’s shocked expression. “I mean, oh, good, this should be delightful.”

10
     
     
Lady Linda Farrier
    Is regarded nervously by everyone in the Checquy. It’s not just that she’s the boss. Or that she is an actual aristocrat from an old family and is close personal friends with the monarch of our nation. It’s not even the fact that she can actually enter your sleeping mind.
    It’s that she exudes authority. And she looks at you as if she knows everything you’re thinking and everything you’ve ever done wrong. Her gaze makes you want to straighten up and pee yourself at the same time.
    The extent of her power and influence is uncertain. Although everyone in the Checquy knows that Lady Farrier can enter and control your dreams, there are also whispered rumors about other powers. That she can place hypnotic suggestions in your mind (some say she has gone all Manchurian Candidate on several key members of Parliament). That she can lock you into a dream permanently. That she can drive you mad.
    I wonder—if she can enter one’s mind and do as she pleases, then is she perhaps the traitor? Is it she who will sneak into my head while I sleep and obliterate my memories?
    If it is, you’re screwed.
     

11
     
    W hy was Thomas so afraid of using her powers? Myfanwy mused as the car whisked her away from the Rookery and toward a much more gastronomically inclined district. She herself was terrifically aware of her abilities. Even as she looked through the tinted glass behind the purple-clad driver’s head, she knew that she could cut the light out