The Chief Agent nodded. "Possibly a sailor; there are families by that name on the coast, where you would expect it. Of course, you could also translate the name as meaning 'the end of the world.' "
Now Finny blushed. "They did give me a nickname that meant 'the end,' sir, but I'm sure that was only an accident."
"Accident or not, Agent Finister, we expect it to be an omen for the aristocrats and civil servants who cross your path," the Chief Agent said. "Destruction of government begins with destruction of governors, and with your particular gifts, you should be able to disable them emotionally even when you can't kill them physically."
His words gave Finny a frightening rush of elation, of a feeling of power—and of despair, because she knew this was all she was good for. Well, then, she would do it well, she vowed to herself—and she was sure her victims would deserve whatever she gave them.
"This is your first major assignment. M The Chief Agent took another piece of paper from his desk and handed it to her. "The Marquis of Cromcourt, currently a member of the Queen's Privy Council. He is also an unprincipled scoundrel who has exploited his peasants unmercifully—especially young and attractive women."
Finny stared down at the page, not seeing it, but holding it tightly in both hands, elbows pressed to her body to keep it from shaking. "Am I to assassinate him, sir?"
"First drain his mind of everything he knows about the government's current plans," the Chief Agent said. "Then assassinate him, yes. Revenge his peasants upon him—but leave no signs."
"Yes, sir." Now the paper did shake. Finny's studies had prepared her for this duty, so it did not shock her—but she understood that the only way she would be able to catch the Marquis at a sufficiently vulnerable moment would be to seduce him, or rather, to let him seduce her—which he would surely want to do, if she used her projective power well. She didn't doubt that she would have to submit to his embraces, or even his bed, but since that was all she was good for, what did it matter? It wasn't as though it would be her first time, after all. She felt no compunction about one more such foray. She just hoped he wouldn't be too old or too ugly.
Chapter 21
Something of her misgivings must have shown in her face because the Chief Agent's voice softened, becoming sympathetic. "Of course you're frightened. Agent Finister—anybody would be. There is some risk involved in killing a nobleman, after all—but very few of our agents have been caught. You're nervous, too. as nervous as a hunter before he shoots his very first deer. But think of it as slaughtering a pig. In some ways that's exactly what you'll be doing. You may be sure he deserves it."
"Oh. I don't doubt that, sir." Finister said. "I've read about the droit de seigneur and I was thoroughly disgusted."
"So you're equally disgusted by this nobleman and quite ready to stick a knife between his ribs."
"Yes. sir!" Finister nurtured her anger, nurtured the reserve of rage and bitterness that seemed always to be there now at the core of her being.
"Righteous anger. Good, good." The Chief Agent nodded. "But a knife between the ribs would be very likely to see you arrested and executed. Agent Finister. and we'd rather not lose you. It would be much less suspicious if the Marquis's heart simply stopped beating."
She nodded and tried to keep her stomach from turning over. It was. as he had said, very much like slaughtering a pig. and she remembered how frightened and sick she had been the first time she'd had to do that. She knew she would feel the same way again, her first time killing a man—but she knew she would get used to it.
She carried off the assignment quite well, obtaining a position as chambermaid in the Marquis's household, then blushing prettily at his flatten. He was only middle-aged fortunately, and still rather good-looking, though with an edge of cruelty that made her quite sure of the lightness of what she was doing. She projected pure sexuality whenever he came near, and sure enough, his flattery became dalliance, furtive kisses and caresses on the back stairs, during which she drank in all the information about the Privy Council's doings. After only two weeks he summoned her to his bedchamber. It was mortifying, but she knew she wasn't worth anything more; she gritted her teeth and went through with it. That made it all the more satisfying when he yawned and went to sleep—and she reached out for his heart with her thoughts and stopped its beating. Then she dressed and slipped out of his room, letting her humiliation and disgust show in response to the guards' ribald remarks. No one would be surprised if she disappeared from the house that night; the Marquis had a reputation for dismissing women as soon as he'd had his way with them. She wasn't there when they discovered that the Marquis had died in his sleep. Instead, she hurried back to headquarters, unnerved and trembling, for her first experience with human death at close quarters had been as shocking as she had known it would be.
The Chief Agent was sympathetic, assigning her light duties again and assuring her she would grow accustomed to the experience.
She did.
A melange of similar assignments followed, some lethal, some not, some only for the gathering of information. There were continual attempts to penetrate the royal castle, but the Queen's telepaths soon detected any agents of their own kind; she barely escaped capture twice. By and large, though, her career blossomed, taking her from one assignment to another, each more important than the last.
She met Orly years later, in the line of duty, but they never talked about their past. Some months after that, she met Sukey, and when they talked about the farm, feelings leaked through Sukey's shield—resentment and anger at Mama for having excoriated her so thoroughly when she'd caught her in the barn with one of the boys. Shocked, Finny made a point of finding Dory and holding a similar conversation—with similar results. She simmered with anger toward Mama and Papa after that—they had made it sound so horrible, as though she and Orly were the two most deplorable people in the world, when it was really something that happened every year! But she couldn't find them and scold them, of course. She didn't dare. After all, they were Mama and Papa, and if they didn't love her, no one did.
Then followed a catalog of atrocities and disillusionment as Finister began to realize that her SPITE superiors were trying to feather their own nests and competing for promotion and rank with all its perquisites, one of which turned out to be her, and several other of the prettiest female agents. Worse, though they still believed in the rightness of their cause, they had lost faith in its eventual triumph.
Finister had not. She resolved to gain both vengeance for her own exploitation and renewed zeal for the Cause by assassinating her superiors and becoming Chief Agent herself. But she had become cynical enough to strive for material luxuries, just as her bosses did, and finally realized that the perfect revenge on the nontelepaths who had persecuted her and her foster siblings, and on the bosses who had betrayed her by their cynicism and exploitation, would be to marry into the nobility, becoming a Duchess or perhaps even Queen (since the Crown Prince was her own age). Besides, in that way she could work to destroy the aristocracy and the government from inside as well as outside.
So when her boss assigned her to either assassinate Magnus Gallowglass or make sure he would not reproduce, she was fired with zeal to achieve both his plans and her own.
"The swine!" Gregory said, pale-faced and trembling. "To use the love of a child as an instrument to warp her soul!"
"Her foster parents will have much to answer for when this curing is finished," Geoffrey promised him grimly.