“You there!” Sir called to him.
“Yeah, what?” the Korrigon responded in Low Korgish, which was the language Sir had told me the Lower Caste of his people used. Then he saw who was talking to him and amended his tone. “I mean, yes, Your Honor?” he asked anxiously, looking up at Sir.
“Who told you it was acceptable to use Mind-Controlled slaves here in the palace?” Sir demanded of him. “You know it is forbidden!”
“Begging your pardon, Your Honor, not no more it ain’t,” the Korrigon foreman said, shaking his head. “By order of His Lordship, Sir Gra’multh, we began importing these Torvians just a few solarwernsago.”
Sir swore under his breath.
“Yes, I can see their mind chip scars are fresh,” he said shortly.
I wasn’t sure what he was talking about until all the Torvian workers turned their heads at the same time. Then I saw a fresh, white scar under each of their left ears—it looked like a little x that showed up quite well on their bright pink skin.
“I’m just doing as I was ordered, Your Honor,” the Korrigon foreman said, lifting his arms in a “what can you do?” gesture.
“Well don’t get too used to it,” Sir growled, scowling at the other male. Then with an angry lurch, the golden chariot drove on, leaving the workmen and the foreman behind.
“What was going on back there?” I asked uncertainly.
“By tradition only free men and women work in the palace.” Sir spoke tersely, looking straight ahead and I could see by the tightness of his jaw how angry he was.
“So…those guys, those Torvians, weren’t free? They all had Mind-Control chips?” I asked.
He nodded—a sharp jerk of his chin.
“This is Gra’multh’s doing—he’s letting the poisonous practice of Mind-Controlled slavery infect the palace.”
“Do you think he’s doing it with the Sovereign’s permission?” I asked.
“I certainly hope not,” Sir growled. “If Splendara the Third and Thirtieth is allowing this practice right under her very nose, I don’t have much hope for her judgment in the matter of your galaxy.”
“Really?” I looked up at him with wide eyes. “So…we’ve lost before you even make your presentation?”
“No, little one.” Sir looked briefly down at me and stroked my hair and shoulders comfortingly. “Don’t think like that—we have more than enough evidence that the people of your galaxy should be left unmolested.”
“Why were the peoples ofyourgalaxy allowed to be subjugated and Mind-Controlled, though?” I asked. “Those Torvians didn’t look that different from humans—well, except for the extra arms and the bright pink skin.”
Sir looked grim.
“Unfortunately, much of the subjugation was done before my lifetime. By the time I grew old enough to inherit my title and position from my father, our whole galaxy was already completely under Korrigon dominion. Though I and my councilors from the Northern Continent have been fighting to set many of the Mind-Controlled free,” he added. “It is an uphill battle—the Sovereign and many of the Nobles who serve her derive much of their wealth from the labor of the Mind-Controlled.”
“But why do you need chips to control people?” I asked. “I thought you were strong enough to do it just with the power of your mind.”
“I and others of the Higher Caste are,” Sir told me. “If I wished, I could have controlled you from the start, little one. But I didn’t want an unwilling pet—I wanted the chance to convince you to be mine.”
I felt a shiver go down my spine as I thought of all the Torvian workers, doing the exact same thing at the exact same time. To think that Sir could have done that to me—that he could simply have taken over my mind and used me like a puppet—was almost scarier than knowing he could use his Mental Powers to crumple me up like a piece of paper if he wanted to.
“Of course,” he went on, apparently not seeing my shiver. “When one is Mind-Controlling someone, it takes a good deal of concentration and power, which is where the chips come in.”
“Do they make it easier to control someone?” I asked, almost in a whisper.
Sir nodded shortly.
“They also allow those of the Lower Caste, with hardly any Mental Abilities, to control a great many creatures at once.”
“So that guy—that foreman—probably wouldn’t be able to control anybody if they didn’t have chips implanted?” I asked.
Sir nodded again.