Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Why?” Harht said, glancing at Seyn.
Speaking of Seyn, he was oddly quiet now, watching Ksar with a strange look on his face.
“Because they can’t find out your bond is broken,” Ksar said. “What do you think will happen if they do?”
Harht crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t think they can arrest me for accidentally getting rid of my bond. And technically, they can’t make me bond to Leylen’shni’gul again, because the Bonding Law concerns only young children.”
Ksar shook his head. “Don’t be naive. Of course they can. You still have a binding betrothal contract to Leylen’shni’gul. Do you really think the Council will let you be? The sole potentially high-level telepath in their midst while their own telepathy is suppressed by the bond?”
Harht flopped down on the couch, frowning deeply. “I’m pretty sure I’ll test as Class 3 at most. I’m not all that dangerous.”
Ksar gave him a flat look. Sometimes he couldn’t believe how naive his brother was. “And you think they’ll just take your word for it?” He chuckled. “Can you name many civilizations with registered telepaths higher than Class 3?”
Harht bit his lip. “Yorgebs and Tajickssu.”
“And do you really think there are just two races in the entire galaxy that have Class 4 telepaths? Or that there are no higher level telepaths anymore?”
“It’s possible to fool the Ministry’s test,” Seyn said quietly, before Harht could respond. “It probably gets easier to fool it the stronger the telepath is.”
Ksar’s heart skipped a beat.
Avoiding looking Seyn’s way, he nodded. “They’ll never believe you that you’re just Class 3. You’ll be watched all the time, at the very least. A small misdemeanor will be used against you as an excuse to prosecute you or use you as a tool for their agenda.”
“What agenda?” Harht said.
Ksar heaved a sigh. “Certain members of the Council insist that the Ministry’s test is inconclusive and that having a telepath in charge of a grand clan shouldn’t be allowed, because it might lead to abuse of power and it’s supposedly ‘unfair’ to the telepathically null members of the Council.”
Harht’s brows furrowed. “But most ruling members of the grand clans are telepaths.”
Ksar gave him a pinched look. He couldn’t believe how politically inept his brother was. “The ruling members of the grand clans aren’t the only people in the Council. Need I remind you that the royal houses have only twenty-four votes and the rest of the votes belong to elected members, most of whom are telepathically null?”
“And you think they’d use me to further their agenda?” Harht said.
“I don’t think it,” Ksar said. “I know they will. You already used your telepathy against humans. A case like this is the perfect excuse they’ve been looking for. That’s why you can’t remain unbonded.”
Harht’s face crumpled. For the first time, it seemed like he finally understood the hopelessness of the situation.
“The t-nulls should have pushed for the repeal of the Bonding Law instead,” Seyn grumbled. “One would think it’s in their best interests. Instead of being constantly bitter that they have next to no telepathy, why don’t they do something about it?”
“Because there’s no guarantee that repealing the Bonding Law would make things better for them,” Harht said quietly. “They must be scared that telepaths would become even more powerful if their bonds were removed.”
“Yes,” Ksar said, pleased that his brother understood that. There had always been some tension between telepathically null Calluvians and telepathic Calluvians, but the existing tensions would be nothing compared to what would happen if telepaths became much more powerful. Civil war would be a very likely outcome.
Keeping his face neutral, Ksar said, “Some believe that without the bond people who are now telepathically null would become just Class 1 telepaths, but the telepaths would become…something far worse.”
Sometimes, Ksar mused, he felt like the worst sort of hypocrite, but he’d made peace with it a long time ago. He had never claimed to be a selfless person. Just like t-nulls, he had no wish for other telepaths to become more powerful. He was more than fine with the status quo.
The one difference between him and t-nulls was that t-nulls’ primary motivation was fear. According to urban legends, high-level telepaths could completely erase and replace a person’s memory and personality, could inflict immense pain, and could damage areas of a person’s brain irrevocably. It was said that Class 7 telepaths could kill with their minds, shutting down a person’s vital organs with as little as a thought.
Theoretically…those fears weren’t unfounded.
Harht slumped back against the couch. “What options do I have? Besides going back and restoring my bond to Leylen’shni’gul?”
Ignoring the twinge of guilt, Ksar said, “None.”
“Bullshit,” Seyn said.
Ksar went still before schooling his face into a blank expression and looking at the bane of his existence.
Seyn was glaring at him hatefully. “You aren’t bonded to me, are you?”