“Major Odal?”
“Of course,” he replied silently.
“Tes … of course.”
There was something puzzling. Something wrong. “You … you are not the….”
“I am not the man who put you into the dueling machine. That is correct.” The voice seemed both pleased and worried. “That man is at the controls of the machine, while I am halfway across the planet. He has a miniature transceiver with nim, and I am communicating with you through it. This means of communication is unorthodox, but it probably cannot be intercepted by Kor or his henchmen.”
“But I know you,” Odal thought. “I have met you before.”
“That is true.”
“Romis! You are Minister Romis.”
“Yes.”
“What do you want with me?”
“I learned only this morning of your situation. I was shocked at such treatment for a loyal soldier of Kerak.”
Odal felt the words forming in his mind, yet he knew that Romis’ words were only a glossy surface, hiding a deeper meaning. He communicated nothing, and waited for the Minister to continue.
“Are you being mistreated?”
Odal smiled mirthlessly. “No more so than any laboratory animal. I suppose it’s no worse than having one’s intestines sliced open without anesthetics.”
Romis’ mind recoiled. Then he recovered and said, “There might be some way in which I can help you….”
Odal lost his patience. “You haven’t contacted me in the middle of the night, using this elaborate procedure, o ask about my comfort. Something is troubling you greatly and you believe I can be useful to you.”
“Can you actually read my thoughts?”
“Not in the manner one reads a tape. But I can sense things … and the dueling machine amplifies this talent,”