The Gates of Winter Read Online Free Page A

the sigil of the Seekers: a hand holding three flames. So it was a new ID card, that was all, a replacement for the one they had taken from her at the first debriefing months ago. She turned it over to look at the reverse side.
    Farr sat up straight and drew in a sharp breath. Deirdre raised an eyebrow.
    “What is it, Farr?”
    “Those bastards. Those cunning, diabolical bastards.”
    Deirdre frowned and followed Farr's gaze to the back of the card. It bore her thumbprint—no doubt in ink laced with her DNA, taken from blood samples the Seekers had on file. The DNA signature in the ink could be read with an ultraviolet scanner, providing a level of authentication that was virtually impossible to counterfeit. However, as interesting as the technology was, that couldn't be the source of Farr's outburst.
    Then, in the lower corner of the card, she saw the small series of dots and lines—a computer code printed in the same DNA ink. Next to the code was a single, recognizable symbol: a crimson numeral seven.
    A jolt of understanding sizzled through Deirdre. She looked up at Farr, her eyes wide. When she spoke, it was in a whisper of wonder. Or perhaps dread.
    “Echelon 7 . . .”
    Farr grabbed the other envelope, shredded it, and snatched his new ID card from the debris. He flipped the card over, then tossed it on the table with a grunt. Like Deirdre's, his card was marked with a red seven.
    He slumped back in the booth, his expression stricken. “Now,” he murmured. “After all these years, they finally give it to me now. Damn them to hell.”
    Deirdre didn't understand. Why was Farr so upset? Energy crackled through her. She turned the ID card over and over in her hands. “I'd heard stories, of course. Echelon 7—a superhigh level of clearance, a type of access far beyond anything else granted by the Philosophers. But I always thought it was just a rumor—a legend told to new recruits. The highest level of clearance I've ever seen is yours, Hadrian, and that's Echelon 5. I didn't think anyone who wasn't a Philosopher could go any further.”
    “No, Echelon 7 is quite real. I know because I've been working for years to gain it.” He hunched over the table, voice hoarse. “Do you understand what this means? With this card, you can access every file, every artifact, every document and bit of data. The deepest secrets of the Seekers will be at your disposal—everything but the private files of the Philosophers themselves is yours.”
    “And yours, too, Hadrian.”
    “I don't think so.”
    Deirdre gave an exasperated sigh. “What are you talking about? You said you've been working for this for years. And now you're just going to throw it away?”
    Farr shrugged, running a thumb over his card. “I suppose I did want this once. But I can't say I really know what I want anymore. Except maybe that's not true, either. Maybe I do know what I want, only it isn't this.” He flicked the card away from him across the table.
    Deirdre snatched it up. Sasha was right; Farr at his most coy and arrogant was vastly preferable to this maudlin version. “This is ridiculous, Hadrian. You're one of the most important agents the Seekers have, and they've rewarded you for your work. Why is that so hard to bear?”
    Farr let out a bitter laugh. “Come now, Deirdre, surely you're not that guileless, not after what we've witnessed. This is no reward. It's simply another ploy to control us. Think of what we've seen, what we know. And think of who besides the Seekers might want that knowledge for themselves.”
    “Duratek,” she said on reflex.
    “Exactly. The Philosophers will do anything to keep us out of the hands of Duratek—even if it means giving us what we've always wanted. But that doesn't mean we're anything more than the puppets we were in Colorado.”
    Anger bubbled up inside Deirdre, at Farr—and, she had to admit, at the machinations of the Philosophers. Much as she would have liked to deny it, there was a ring of truth