The Seer (Tellaran Series) (21 page)

Their spot at the leather-padded booth seemed tailor-made for an assignation. Their table faced a window with the particular tint of plexisteel treated to serve as a one-way window and a terrific view of Tano-Sertar’s skyline

Extra insurance against any spy-cam toting hawkshaw hired by a suspicious spouse, Jolar thought dryly. He wondered if Carlea’s husband bothered to have her tailed. Of course, depending on the terms of Carlea’s trust fund, to have their marriage dissolved might not be in her husband’s financial best interest . . .

Still, this table was as private a spot as clandestine lovers could hope for in a public place. Their booth had a control to signal for the waiter to come—even to refresh their drinks—so their server wouldn’t stumble upon them at an inopportune moment and the music level seemed loud enough to cover
most
sounds.

Although, Jolar reflected wryly, if he were so inclined as to couple with Carlea, and in a restaurant for gods’ sake, with his height the confines of the booth might prove tricky.

But the only witness to that copulation could possibly be the white, fluffy, blunt-nosed pet snuffer Carlea had brought along. She’d cooed over the thing all through lunch, feeding it bits from her plate, its enormous black eyes regarding her in simpleminded adoration, crumbs catching in the fur around it’s sharp-toothed mouth. Jolar couldn’t help but wonder how much it had cost Carlea in ‘consideration’ to be allowed to bring the creature in here. Its belly rounded out with the culinary achievements of an intersystem-ranked chef, the beast was now curled up asleep in its carrier, huffing snores out of its stubby nose.

“I’m married,” he reminded as he moved Carlea’s hand off his leg—
again
— but he smiled when he said it.

Carlea gave a careless shrug. “So am I.”

“Oh,” Jolar said, feigning ignorance. “How long?”

“Too long,” she purred.

“Does he live on Sertar?”

Carlea’s mouth tightened. Plainly the subject of her husband was not a welcome one. Jolar hoped it helped to cool her overtures long enough for him to get any useful information at all.

He was uneasy at being separated from Arissa, even with Bruscan’s promise to stay with her until he returned. After Bruscan’s grim news that their most promising and eager suspect had been shot in a gambling establishment in Tano an hour before it had taken all his discipline to leave her at all. A disagreement over cards, Broc’s death had happened in front of dozens of witnesses, his killer—a Leman—had already paid a hefty fine and been freed by SerSec, only to vanish so well even Bruscan’s slicers couldn’t find him.

Broc had been very anxious that they meet with him privately that evening and now had a blaster bolt through the heart.

Larner and Danlen were positively chilly toward them.

And all of it made the meeting with Carlea something he couldn’t afford to cancel.

Carlea’s sexual innuendos showed her both experienced and adventurous but he struggled not to cringe away from her. Time spent with Carlea was anything but pleasant.

And every moment stole from what little time he had left with Arissa.

At the thought of her now, his chest tightened with longing.

Since that night at the embassy she never touched him nor allowed him to touch her. She shied away whenever he got close. He had gotten very good at directing her when they went out without once putting his hand on her.

Sharing a bed with her was hell. She kept her back to him, as far away as the mattress’ width would allow. Now there were no smiles, no shared laughter, no easy talk as they lay within each other’s embrace.

She practiced her Seer skills with clear reluctance and knowing without being told what she feared, he choose things to think of at those times that were as devoid of emotion as he could make them. Pleasant images from childhood, the darshball playoffs with Tasan, Admiral Henlon’s speech when he was promoted to Commander’s rank.

His casual suggestion yesterday that she might consider Zartan as a new home at the conclusion of their mission was met with stony silence, the message clear.

He’d ruined everything between them. He could not even hope for the tepid position of friend.

And when this was over he might never see her again.

“Let’s not waste our lunch together chatting about spouses,” Carlea said with a toss of her glossy, dark hair. “I find the topic so dull.”

“Have you considered the contract I showed you?” Jolar said, shifting to take a swallow from his wine glass. It allowed him to face her better and move further away at the same time.

She gave a half-shrug, a smile playing at her lips. “Of course I’m interested in anything you want to show me.”

“How interested?”

She scooted closer to him, brushing her full breast against his arm as the snuffer gave a loud raspy snore from its carrier. “
Very
interested.”

This is going nowhere and I’ve had enough for one day. Maybe Bruscan can come up with something.

Jolar smiled blandly and put his glass down. “How long did you say you’re going to be on Sertar?”

She blinked. “At least another two weeks.”

“That’s excellent.” Deftly avoiding her jeweled and painted talon-like nails Jolar pressed a kiss to the back of her hand as he simultaneously pressed the control to summon their waiter. “When can we meet again?”

Jolar’s legs gave out and he sank down on the wide, curtained bed in their suite at Bruscan’s house, the message on his coded data pad still displayed.

Since leaving Carlea all he could smell on himself was the cloying fragrance of her perfume. He’d intended to take a shower and change before going in search of Arissa. But he’d had to check his messages first, and now—

He sat trembling, the datapad clutched in his hand, longing to go to her, wanting to bury his face in the silky black ringlets of her hair. He wanted to inhale the scent of her, feel her softness, take comfort just in her presence . . .

Arissa came in and closed the door behind her.

Of course she knows. Probably sensed it as soon as I read the message.

“What is it?” Arissa asked. “What’s happened?”

“Dacel,” he said numbly. “My friend—the Zartani Councilor.” Just the words seemed wrong and it took such effort to get them out. “He’s dead.”

Her face paled. “How?”

“Shot. He was shot through the chest.” Jolar shook his head. “Dacel was a good friend, one of the best I ever had, Arissa. He was a good
man
. He worked for Zartan, for the Realm, for over thirty years and last night someone just walked into his house on Tellar—and blew a hole through him.”

“I’m so sorry.” She gave a sharp headshake. “Oh, no. Jolar, no, this is
not
your fault.”

“It’s not?” he demanded hoarsely. “Dacel trusted me to figure out what’s going on. I was the only one he felt he could trust and I
failed
him! He’s dead because I didn’t figure this out fast enough. I promised—I promised him—”

She came closer but not close enough.

Never close enough now.

The desire to pull her down to the bed, to bury his face in her hair, bury himself in her arced through him.

Jolar forced himself to look at the datapad gripped in his hand. “This message came from Rekan d’Barat, the new acting Zartani Councilor. He’s ordered me to contact him immediately on our status. I have to get him apprised of our situation here. I want to know if there’s—if they know who killed Dacel. The media hasn’t even started reporting it yet. I suppose it will come out sometime today.” His grip tightened on the datapad. “I’ve got to convince Rekan not to scrub the mission.”

“Gods,” she whispered. “Jolar, if someone’s killed the Zartani Councilor then—”

“I have to do this,” Jolar broke in roughly. “I promised Dacel. I have to keep my word. I
have
to.” He closed his eyes briefly. “Arissa, if you want to return to Tellar or—”

“No,” she said quickly. “No, if you stay, I stay too.”

He hesitated. “I’ll make sure Rekan keeps Dacel’s promise to you.”

“No, I meant—We’re making progress.”

Jolar shut his eyes for a moment. He could scarcely remember the last time he’d slept well. “Progress but no answers. And Danlen Mirat’s abruptly come around. I heard from him right before I got the message about—” Jolar swallowed. “Danlen has an estate in the western mountains of the southern continent and he’s invited us to be his guests there for a few days.”

“His guests?”

“Alarm bells ringing?” he asked wryly. “Yeah, mine too. Considering he’s been the least interested in having anything to do with us this turnaround is suspicious but Bruscan says Danlen has just spent a great deal of money. He may just need the income very badly.”

“What did he spend it on?”

“That we haven’t found out yet. I know it’s dangerous as hell but as friendly as he’s suddenly become, he won’t come here. Something about his wife being not able to travel and her wanting to meet us.”

“Then we go to them,” Arissa agreed softly. “What happened with Carlea?”

He sighed. “Nothing useful. Bruscan says her finances are solid. Too solid.”

Arissa frowned. “What do you mean?”

“She inherited her wealth and as near as Bruscan or I can tell she has advisors to run it all. She doesn’t seem to do anything but spend money and screw her latest interest. The problem is that everyone on this festering planet holds dummy corporations, puts ownerships in trusts, hides behind partnerships.” He gave a short, humorless laugh. “Well, not everyone. Larner seems to claim ownership of everything he has but maybe he’s just better at hiding it all.”

“We need to have dinner with Carlea—her husband too, if you can manage it.” Arissa looked thoughtful. “That should give me enough time to give you some insight.”

Jolar winced. “That’ll be a fun evening.”

“It’s the only way I can—”

He waved it off. “I know. It’s a good idea. I’ll send her a message after I speak to Rekan. I’ll tell her my wife’s getting suspicious and we need to show there’s nothing going on. She’ll probably like that.”

Arissa hesitated. “While you were with Carlea, Bruscan and I managed to track Larner down. We ‘accidentally’ bumped into him as he was leaving a business meeting.”

“And?”

She tensed, wrapping her arms around herself. “And  . . . he has the oddest mind. It’s like it’s put together
differently
than any other I’ve ever encountered. He wasn’t surprised to see us there.”

She must have felt his alarm because she shook her head.

“He wasn’t
expecting
us either. He wasn’t angry or unhappy or startled. He told me that he would have some suggestions of who might suit the contract soon. He said it as if that were the sum total of all that needed to be said.” She shook her head again. “It’s like people are nothing but holoprojections to him.”

“And dead or not Broc Attar isn’t off the list yet. Bruscan’s going to continue to work on his end to see what he can find.” Jolar looked at the datapad in his hand. “As long as I can convince Rekan.”

“You don’t like him.”

Rekan was Zartani Councilor now; he had to respect the office if not the man but still Jolar felt his lip curl. “Dacel was worth a thousand Rekan d’Barats.”

She was silent for a moment. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Other than turn your abilities up to full blast?” He let his breath out. “I guess while I contact Rekan you can start packing. In an hour we’ll be going to Danlen’s or soon headed back to Tellar.”

Twenty-two

The forest blurred below them as they travelled southwest, following the sun. Arissa knew her fear of flying still lingered, though she felt completely safe with Jolar piloting. A loan from Bruscan, this shuttle was a luxurious vehicle. She wasn’t sure she wanted to fly something this expensive on her first attempt but she began to wonder if the best way to finally conquer her fears were to get behind the controls herself.

Other shuttlecraft became scarcer the further they travelled from the capital and Sertar’s northern continent. Now she spied other shuttles only rarely; she hadn’t considered just how isolated their destination might be when she agreed they should go.

She glanced sidelong at Jolar. There was anguish beneath his determined expression but nothing she said seemed to ease his grief—or his self-recrimination.

At the sight of a herd of tanalope racing across the savanna below, their hooves kicking up a half-kilometer of dust as they ran, Arissa exclaimed in wonder. She had never seen wild animals with her own eyes before, but Jolar couldn’t even seem to spare a flicker of interest for the herd.

“We’re coming up on it,” Jolar said.

It was the first time he’d spoken in an hour and the plains had long ago given way to the thickly forested mountainous regions. She could already feel him begin to sink back into his painful thoughts.

“You said Danlen was pressing about us visiting,” she prompted.

Jolar began the descent to land. “Remember—this isn’t Bruscan’s place. We’re going to have to be careful what we say even when we’re alone.”

She threw him a smile as they touched down. “I’m sorry we’re not both telepathic.” She flinched inwardly at how her words caused him such scalding pain.

“I’m sorry too,” he said softly, his hands resting lightly on the yoke. He had his safety restraints off and was out of the shuttle before the door on his side had even completely opened.

Arissa breathed in the warm, clean country air as she stepped from the shuttle. While already late evening in Tano, it was only mid-afternoon on this side of the continent. Danlen’s estate, a two-storied brown and bronze structure, sat within a clearing but the land around was heavily wooded. Sporting many windows and balconies, this home possessed a style and grace that harmonized with the forest encircling it and was free of the tacky ostentatiousness found in so many of the mansions in Tano-Sertar.

Danlen looked far more at ease here, his clothing was looser, his hazel eyes brighter as he came out to meet them. The woman beside him was sweet-faced, with striking white-blonde hair and large gray eyes but, though she was far taller than Arissa, she had the air of one who was delicate to the point of fragility.

Danlen smiled at them. “Found the place all right?”

Jolar nodded. “No problems at all.”

“Your home is beautiful,” Arissa said honestly and reached out to brush their minds.

“All Cenon’s doing,” Danlen said, with a loving look at the woman. “Jolar and Arissa Legan, my wife, Cenon.”

“Welcome. It’s so nice to have guests again.” Cenon gushed, her native Sertarian accent kind to the consonants.

“We haven’t had many lately.” A shadow passed over Danlen’s face. “Cenon has been ill.”

She took her husband’s hand. “I am perfectly fine now,” she said firmly and Arissa wondered if Jolar, too, could hear the lie.

“Please, come into the house and we’ll get you settled,” Cenon continued. “Dinner will be ready in about an hour and I’m sure you are tired from your trip.”

Jolar was tense beside her as they went inside and hid his displeasure with a friendly smile when the weapons detector flashed in the doorway and he had to hand over his hold-out blaster.

It was a fine house with gleaming wood floors, smooth plaster walls and a polished wooden ceiling. Arissa spied a number of servants both inside and out and a mind touch revealed they lacked the single-minded ruthlessness of servants in Tano. These people had a sense of comfort here, as if they considered the place just as much home as Cenon and Danlen did. The furniture seemed selected with comfort as a priority rather than style and the whole house was worn enough to show it more home than showplace but there was no sign of children within.

As the couple showed Jolar and Arissa to their room, two spots of color showed in Cenon’s cheeks. She was a little out of breath from climbing the stairs. Danlen sent worried looks her way but hid his concern as soon as her eyes turned to him.

A young male servant brought their luggage to the room and Cenon and Danlen left, entreating them to rest and come downstairs as soon as they were ready.

The wide planks of their suite’s floor were rich dark, rich wood; the rugs were faded but clearly valuable antiques. The beautiful oval-shaped windows were made of cut crystal, not plexisteel, and tendrils of rainbow colors shot through their panes as one moved about the room. The windows were open, and the breeze smelled of sunshine and growing things. Pale green, plastered walls gave the room a cool, organic feel and echoed the serenity of the woods outside.

In the little sitting area a thickly padded sofa and chairs showed soft curves and the earth-toned linen fabrics bespoke comfort. Arissa could well imagine whiling away a rainy afternoon contentedly settled in a chair by the window with a holonovel in her hand and a cup of white tea at her elbow.

A wide bed was tucked into an arched wooden alcove, a cozy haven that invited the joyous intertwining of bodies.

A lump formed in her throat and she saw Jolar’s glance, too, lingered there . . .

Resolutely, Arissa looked over the grounds into the surrounding forest. She had a great deal to tell Jolar and didn’t dare here.

“It’s wonderful to get out of the city,” she said. “I’ve missed the fresh air.”

“Me too.” Jolar met her gaze. “Tano is so crowded.”

“And it’s nice to be away from all that crime.” She gave him a level look. “It’s so safe here . . . in the country.”

Jolar’s shoulders relaxed. “I was worried you would be bored.”

“Oh, no,” Arissa said. “You really don’t need to worry. In fact, maybe we could explore the countryside a little tomorrow like we used to? Just take a lunch and wander off alone?”

“We might be able to squeeze in a walk after dinner.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely,” she said seriously. “In fact, I can’t think of anything I’d like better.”

“I think we’re far enough from the house now,” Jolar said with a look at the woods around them. From the forest he could hear only the faint hum of insects, the occasional
ah-wop
of a furred nectar glider. “They couldn’t have bugged every tree out here.”

She glanced back, the silky black curls of her hair framing her heart-shaped face. She’d learned to hide her feelings much better. He couldn’t read her expressions as easily as he once had. He remembered bitterly how he’d worried Sertar would take that sweet innocence from her.

No, I’m the one who did that.

There was a sadness to her now, even when she smiled. Only at times of their closest intimacy could he feel her too and those were some of the most cherished moments of his life. He would have traded all he had to be a Seer now. To know if there was any love left for him behind those beautiful eyes.

To know if there were any hope at all.

It was hard to be so close to her. It was hard to sleep beside her, to feel the warmth, the softness, of her near him and accept that he would never know it again. But as agonizing as this was, he knew even this would come to an end.

And then he would have nothing of her.

At least right now he could see her, hear her, soak in her presence. With every moment he wanted to cry out to her that nothing had changed for him, that any part of her life she allowed him to occupy he would take with humbled gratitude.

But the simple fact was that, knowing as she must his love was unchanged, she never spoke of it.

And that told him everything he needed to know. After all the hurt he had caused her the very least he could do was spare her the burden of speaking of his unwanted affection.

“I don’t feel any animosity at all,” she said quietly. “If anything, Danlen’s extremely concerned we think well of him.”

“Yeah,” Jolar grumbled. “He’s very friendly now, very much the affable host. He was so standoffish in Tano, unmoved to the point of disinterest in the contract.”

“Has he talked to you at all about it yet?”

Jolar shook his head. “He suggested that I join him for a drink when we get back from our walk. I’m guessing he’s going to broach it tonight.”

Her brow creased a little.

“You’re worried.” He started to lift his hand to cup her cheek and catching himself, clenched his fist at his side.
Don’t touch her. You don’t have the right.
“What is it?”

She folded her arms, looking back at the house again. “It’s just
odd
. They’re so welcoming, so friendly. Like we were old friends instead of barely-met business contacts.”

“Maybe they’re just in desperate need of the money.”

“But they aren’t desperate. They’re very at ease. And they feel friendly enough toward me but are very anxious that
you
think well of them.”

“That’s understandable if they want me to choose them.”

“I don’t . . .” She sighed. “Maybe that’s it.”

“Can you—I don’t know—describe what you’re feeling from Danlen?”

She considered. “Amiable, friendly. Like he feels you can do each other a great deal of good, like you have the same goals.” She shook her head, frustration plain on her face. “I’m sorry, I wish I were better at this.”

“No, the information you’re able to give me is extraordinary.” His glance went over her, the waves of her hair in the fading sunlight as the day drew to an end, the soft curve of her cheek. “I can’t imagine what it would have been like to do this without you.”

She gave him a faint, fleeting smile.

He cleared his throat. “What do you think of Cenon?”

“She’s very much what she appears. At least now I know what Danlen’s holds so dear. He loves her very much.”

The breeze stirred her ringlets and Jolar remembered the silky feel of her hair against his cheek, his shoulder, curtained over his thighs . . .

He twisted away to face the house. He shut his eyes and drew a deep breath to calm himself.

In the far distance he heard a frantic rustle of leaves and the startled yelp of some tiny creature—cut short as it was devoured by a larger, stronger one.

An omen?

He had never believed in such things before.

“Jolar?”

“Yes?” he managed, surprised to find his voice so steady.

She was silent but if she were touching his mind he couldn’t feel it.

“We should probably get back,” she said at last. “Danlen must be eager to talk.”

“I wish I could have you with me,” Jolar said hoarsely.