The Seer (Tellaran Series) (22 page)

Jolar took a swallow of his brandy.

We should all have been actors. We play our parts all so well.

Anyone looking in though the arched windows of Danlen’s house tonight would think them only two married couples enjoying a few days of fresh air and camaraderie. Soon after they returned from their evening walk, Cenon invited Arissa to see the enclosed herbery off the kitchen while he and Danlen settled in comfortable chairs.

“You’re lucky to live out here,” Jolar said with a nod toward the tree line not far from where they sat. “I didn’t realize Sertar’s southern continent was still so unspoiled.”

Danlen shrugged. “Tano is so crowded.”

And our room definitely bugged.
The only thing good about knowing that bed would be used tonight for sleeping and nothing else was that Danlen wouldn’t hear Arissa’s sweet little—

“Yes,” Jolar agreed and took a scant swallow of the excellent brandy. Danlen had brought out the best. This stuff must cost hundreds of creds a bottle.  But while it had just gotten dark here it was past midnight in Tano and he couldn’t remember the last time he slept well. A full glass might just have him snoring in this chair. “It’s good to get a break.”

“You’re welcome to extend your stay with us. I’m sure Cenon would be agreeable. She really enjoys Arissa’s company.”

“I’d really like to but I’m on Sertar for business.” Jolar gave a regretful shrug. “There are a number of people who I put off to come here already. This is still a working vacation.”

“Maybe I can help you out with that,” Danlen said with a half-smile.

Jolar took another drink. “How?”

“If you and I come to an agreement about the Fleet contract—” Danlen leaned forward. “Well, then the rest of your trip to Sertar would be a lot more relaxing.”

“You have an offer to make?”

Danlen inclined his head. “An excellent one.”

“It’s a good opportunity. I’m sure I’ll get a lot of good offers.”

“Mine will be better.”

“I’m listening.”

“How much of a cut do you get from the contract?”

Jolar laughed. “Aylor isn’t Sertar, friend. I get a flat fee and that’s it. My job is to choose the best deal for the Fleet.”

“Well, what if I could offer the best deal for the Fleet . . .
and
something for you?”

Jolar held up his brandy glass. “A bottle of this maybe?”

Danlen laughed. “I can do better than that. Much, much better.”

“I’m still listening,” Jolar said.

Danlen rolled his glass between his hands. “I know all about you, Jolar. What your trip to Sertar is really all about.”

Jolar’s mouth went dry and his mind flashed to Arissa, now far away at other side of the house.

Gods, I’m such a fucking idiot! She’s there, I’m here and I don’t even have a festering blaster!

“Is that so?” Jolar shifted slightly, moving so the balls of his feet were on the floor, getting ready if he needed to fight. “My wife seems to think it’s all about shopping.”

Danlen’s smile was bemused then, after a moment, he shrugged. “Beautiful wife who clearly enjoys fine things. New house.” Danlen tilted his head. “It looks like you’re overextended, friend.”

Jolar’s heart hammered with relief. “I’m doing all right.”

“No, you aren’t,” Danlen said genially. “I’m willing to bet that you’re losing sleep over it.”

“Everyone has problems.”

“I have a solution to those problems. I can offer you a deal that will not only end your current financial difficulties but that will provide you and Arissa with a luxurious future.”

“All to give you the contract?” Jolar suddenly felt as awake as if he’d been drinking caf instead of brandy. “Excuse me if I’m a little skeptical. It could hardly be worth it to you to pay me that much uh—
consideration
. Providing us with a luxurious future would leave you without any profit at all.”

“Profit isn’t everything and it’s worth it to me,” Danlen returned. “Worth it enough that you could likely name your price.”

Jolar gave a short laugh. “Now I really
am
skeptical. And the price I’d name would likely floor you.”

“Try me.”

“All right.” Jolar lifted his glass. “Ten million credits. And that sparkly necklace my wife’s been eying in Tano.”

Danlen gave a nod. “Done.”

“You’re joking.”

Danlen stood and opened the wall safe. He counted out the rainbow hued credits and placed the pile in front of Jolar.

“That’s one million credits. You’ll get another four when the contract is signed. Another five after the crystals have been delivered and accepted. I’m afraid you’ll have to point out the necklace. Tano has a lot of jewelry shops.”

Jolar stared at the pile of money in front of him. This contract couldn’t be worth that much to
anyone
. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

What the hell is going on here?

“Why is it so important to you?” Jolar asked bluntly.

“Do you care?”

“I care if you’re going to leave me twisting in the wind over it,” Jolar said sharply. “I need to know why.”

Danlen shrugged. “I want my crystals on Fleet ships and nobody else’s.”

“Why?” Jolar demanded. “Are they set to detonate or something? I was in the military, I’m not going to help you kill any Fleet personnel.”

Danlen laughed. “You really don’t know anything about astuk crystals, do you? No, of course not. Nothing in my crystals that could damage the ships or kill anyone.” Danlen hazel eyes were sharp. “Do we have a deal?”

I have to get to Arissa. We have to figure out what’s going on here.

But right now I need to buy us some time.

“Well,” Jolar said slowly. “I’ll have to hear any other offers, just for appearance sake.”

Danlen smiled. “Sounds like we can find the ladies and open a bottle of sparkle wine.”

“Absolutely.” Jolar stood to offer his hand to Danlen and heard a terrified cry in his mind just as the wall behind him blew apart.

Twenty-three

Someone was screaming his name.

Jolar came to, coughing. Black smoke stung his eyes and he could hear intermittent blaster fire nearby.

He frowned, trying to recall his objective for the training simulation. He fumbled about unsuccessfully for his pulse rifle then his hand went to his blaster but he found that weapon—and his hip holster too—missing.

Ah, fuck, that’s going cost me at the eval.  

Groaning against the throbbing in his head, Jolar rolled over and started crawling toward her. Her panicked cries vibrated so loudly they were making his teeth ache.

“Give me a minute, damn it,” he muttered, wishing he could tell whoever it was she wasn’t helping matters by screaming at him like that.

He bumped up against someone lying in his way. Jolar raised his head and moved a little closer. Whoever it was, he was out of uniform.

And dead.

“Wait,” Jolar murmured, frowning as he realized the blaster sounds were outside his head and her terrified screams were inside it.

Arissa!

The bloodied body was Danlen’s. Jolar’s gaze darted around, taking in his hellish surroundings.

Danlen’s study, what’s left of it anyway. She and Cenon . . . the kitchen! Which way to the festering kitchen?

He’d given over his holdout blaster and half this room was already a smoking ruin. The wall where the windows had been was gone, leaving the room open to the warm southern Sertarian night. He’d already found the schematic of the mansion that Bruscan provided inaccurate and the power was out. He’d been through this house all of once and never to the kitchen.

Danlen’s money was scattered around the room, some of the rainbow-hued bills blowing about.

Anyone with that much cash in his house is going to have a blaster on him somewhere!

Jolar quickly ran his hands over Danlen’s body, ignoring the slickness that could only be blood as he patted the man down. He was about to give up and go without it when he found the small blaster in Danlen’s boot.

The mental screams suddenly ceased and left an echoing silence inside his mind that froze his heart.

Arissa?

Arissa! Oh gods, answer me!

He threw himself over Danlen’s body, crawling in the direction he’d felt her. There was something else, monsters moving through the dark around her.

No, not monsters, men with monstrous thoughts. The clean fragrance of the forest and that awful burnt coppery smell . . .

That he could even know that—was sure enough to bet his life on it—burst into his awareness and left him gasping. In the next instant he shoved the shock, the astonishing wonder of it, brutally aside.

All that mattered now was finding her.

He couldn’t go through the house. Staying low, Jolar crawled forward. He had to get outside and that ruined wall of windows was the fastest way.

Jolar got to a crouching position and eased along the wall. He heard the sound of a blaster shot not far away and an agonized cry. The blaster fired several more times and he didn’t have to look to know that whoever these men were, they were intent on killing everyone here.

He pushed to his feet and ducked through the opening. As soon as he was outside he ran for the tree line. Probably only the position of the house and the close proximity of Danlen’s study to the forest saved him. Any other place on the estate and he would have had twice as far to cover.

Panting, he made it to the trees. Now that he was hidden by the foliage, Jolar turned back to look and his eyes went wide. There were two shuttles that hadn’t been there before and a number of cloaked figures moving around the property, blasters at the ready, hunting survivors. The woman who had served their supper broke free to run from the house and was cut down before she got five steps.

The house itself was afire. Even as Jolar watched, the fire spread.

Jolar gripped the tree he hid behind hard enough for the bark to bite into his palm. He forced himself to breathe, to think.

She could smell the forest! She’s not in the house!

Jolar made his way along the tree line. He didn’t bother with quiet. The screams, the blaster fire would cover his movements, it was far more important he stay hidden. He bruised his shin painfully on a rock he missed in the darkness and it took an eternity to circle to the back of the house. There was a garden here, a little patio next to the herbery and the ruin of the kitchen behind it.

Jolar jerked back, bringing his blaster up as one of the men came around the building.

The man stopped, looking at something on the ground in the garden. He kicked at whatever it was, then almost as an afterthought lifted his weapon and hit it with two blaster bolts.

The man moved on, the style of his cloak familiar from Xan-Tellar and for a moment the fire illuminated the high cheekbones and strong brow, the bronze cast of the man’s face.

He was Utavian.

The man continued his search and once he was out of sight Jolar moved to the edge of the tree line.

He swallowed hard as he recognized Cenon’s bright hair. Danlen’s wife was face down in the garden, unmoving.

Arissa wasn’t with her.

The house was engulfed now and he almost didn’t hear the shuttles powering up. The shuttles circled over the ruin of Danlen’s home once, then disappeared into the Sertarian night.

Jolar broke from the tree line and quickly reached the herbery but there was no one inside the ruined greenhouse.

She was outside! I
know
she made it outside!

But what if she hadn’t? What if he had run for the trees when he should have been making for the kitchen? What if she had died inside that inferno?

“Arissa!” he shouted.

He knew that the Utavians could have left someone here. The shuttles taking off would be an excellent ruse to draw out any survivors.  

His grip tightened on the blaster. Right now he wouldn’t mind so much if someone had stayed behind though.

It would feel very good to hurt one of them.

“Arissa!” he shouted again.

He covered the garden quickly, crushing the plants beneath his boots as he searched.

She made it outside! Please tell me she made it outside!

She would have been with Cenon. Cenon was running for the forest.

Had Arissa run too but in another direction? Was she bleeding, dying, somewhere else?

If he lost her—

Arrena, Goddess, please, I’ll do anything!

He went back to where Danlen’s wife lay in one of the furrows of her garden. The wounds on her back rendered any assistance hopeless, her blue gown was gruesome with burns and blood. Her long hair spread out over the ground, her bright, bright hair golden by the light of the burning house and, against the ground, weakly reflecting the blaze, one black curl . . .

Jolar dropped the blaster and threw himself down to roll Cenon’s body to the side.

Arissa’s dark hair covered her face, her skin deathly pale, the back of her dress soaked with blood.

Jolar’s heart tore as he gathered her, limp and cold, into his arms.