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- The general was a strong-willed man, resistant to Jace’s probing to some degree, but he was not a mind mage, nor any kind of magic-user. Jace broke through his natural defenses and saw…
- The entire Trovian battle plan for the coming campaign hovered before him, an illusory map that matched the contours of the land to the smallest detail. Their plan was audacious…and without proper countermeasures, it was going to work.
- “You’re sure this is genuine?” the general asked.
- “Positive,” said the hooded figure. “Has our source ever misled you before?”
- “No,” he said. “Nor the renegades, I’m sure.”
- “Of course,” said the figure. “When your business is information, reputation is everything.”
- “Of course,” he said.
- The hooded man—boy, really, lanky and cocksure—knew much more than he was willing to tell…like the identity of this source. For the good of the Ampryn, he ought to seize the young man, torture the name of this source out of him, and….
- “It wouldn’t do any good,” said the kid. “He doesn’t tell me much.” The boy’s eyes glinted beneath the hood.
- “Fine,” he said. “Take your payment and go. And tell your source there’s more where that came from, any time he has intel.”
- “I’ll tell him,” said the kid. He pocketed the money and turned, and the general caught a glimpse of his face….
- Dimly, from the outside world, Jace heard yelling. He’d taken too long.
- He was trapped. Trapped in a mind, trapped in a memory, frozen, staring at his own face behind that damned hood, in a conversation whose entire context was a mystery to him.
- He pulled…
- …and he was out.
- The general slumped in front of him, eyes vacant.
- Running footsteps. The tent flap opened. Jace turned.
- Three guards. He waved a hand, and illusions swarmed around them.
- The general was breathing, but his mind was blank.
- I’m sorry.
- JACE’S ORIGIN: ABSENT MINDS
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