Jayne Castle [Jayne Ann Krentz] (4 page)

Ridge glanced at him from the other side of the room, aware of the faint humor edging his employer's

slight smile. Quintel lounged in the round-backed chair, his black Risha cloth shirt and black trousers a

sharp contrast to the snowy white cushions.

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It was no accident that Quintel had dressed in black this evening and proceeded to entertain his guests in

the Snow Room. The man had an eye for contrasts and opposites. He indulged his appreciation of them

at every opportunity.

Quintel came naturally by his personal tastes. His hair was an unusual shade of silver gray that began at a

peak above his high, intelligent forehead and was brushed straight back. The silvery shade was a strong

counterpoint to the near blackness of his eyes which was, in turn, a contrast to the fairness of his skin.

When he dressed in black, as he frequently did, he dominated any gathering. He most certainly

dominated the white chamber in which he now sat.

Of course, Ridge decided objectively, even without such adornments, Quintel of the House of the

Gliding Fallon would dominate any crowd. The wealthy descendant of an old, established Great House,

he wore his, inherited power and authority with unconscious masculine grace. He could be utterly

charming, as he had been earlier that evening in Kalena's presence, or he could be quite ruthless,

especially in business. Ridge knew better than most just how ruthless his employer could be.

According to town gossip, Quintel was no longer satisfied with operating some of the most lucrative

trade routes in the Northern Continent. Some said he had his eye on a seat in the new Hall of Balance,

the fledgling legislative assembly that represented the scattered towns and communities of the continent.

The new central governing body was still feeling its way and the local communities were not about to

surrender too many of their precious rights to it, but there was no doubt that the town of Concinnity,

home of the Hall of Balance, was becoming a center of power. One of the more important prerogatives

the Hall of Balance had recently assumed was the right to recognize and legitimize newly established

Great Houses.

Physically, Quintel resembled the symbol of his proud House. His features were sharply aquiline, not

unlike the bird of prey called a fallon. His body was lean and oddly slender. Ridge was aware that

women often found Quintel fascinating, although everyone within his small circle of trusted employees

knew he was not interested in females. He wasn't interested in men, either. In the years Ridge had

worked for Quintel he had never known the House lord to demonstrate any real sensuality. Quintets

passions were reserved for his studies.

Quintel was the most learned man Ridge had ever met. His intellectual curiosity was wide ranging. He

had developed a private library that was the envy of the University of the Spectrum and had, on several

occasions, entertained masters who taught various

subjects at the university. Such invitations were always eagerly accepted.

Quintel's personal interests might be centered on intellectual matters, but he also had a business empire

to run. The company of other learned men might interest him, but he had a practical need for a man who

could be trusted to handle the dirty side of things. Operating trade routes demanded a certain amount of

muscle. Ridge could not even remember when people had begun calling him Quintel's Fire Whip.

Ridge walked across the room to a carved stone table and helped himself to another glass of warm red

ale he was sharing with his employer. "All right, so you have hitherto unsuspected talents in the field of

matchmaking. She isn't what I expected when you told me about her two days ago."

"You thought I would arrange for one of the professional trade wives to accompany you to the

mountains?"

"It seemed logical."

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Quintel shook his silvered head. "No, Ridge. Not logical at all. I want nothing to go wrong on this

investigative journey of yours, and that includes the actual trade for the Sand. Your main task is to find

out what has kept the last three trade masters and their parties from getting into the Healers' valley, but I

also want a fresh supply of Sand. For that you need a woman, and my instincts tell me that this time you

will need a woman with some share of the Healing Talent, someone the Healers are likely to accept. Even

before the trade masters and their caravans began returning empty-handed, the High Healers of Variance

were becoming increasingly difficult. Women, no matter how talented, have a way of making unnecessary

difficulties." Quintel grimaced wryly. "The Healers had begun cutting back on the routine orders from their

various medicinal concoctions and they were refusing to trade the usual amounts of Sand. The trade

masters in charge told me it was because the Healers weren't getting along with the trade wives who had

been contracted for the journeys. They claimed they didn't find them acceptable." Quintel's fine mouth

curved downward in another disgusted grimace. "The Healers of Variance said thewives in question were

neither real wives nor women with any share of the Healing Talent. They didn't want to deal with them.

Then I started getting reports of some sort of barrier across the pass. After that no one who set out for

the Heights of Variance was able to get through."

"Even if I am successful, I won't be able to bring back much Sand, let alone any of the Healers' potions.

I'll only have room for what I and the woman can carry in our saddlebags. I can't take any pack creets

with me, Quintel. It would slow me down too much."

Quintel nodded, taking a sip of his ale from the elegantly chased goblet he was holding in one hand. "I

only need a single shipment, just enough to prove that I can still supply the damn stuff. When you return

with the problems resolved, I will dispatch a major trade party"

Ridge walked to the window to gaze out into the garden. As did most private homes in Crosspurposes,

Quintel's large house was focused inward around its many exotic gardens. On the street side, windows

were few and narrow, designed to keep out the dust and noise of the town while allowing some cross

ventilation. But inside, all rooms opened onto lush greenery and flower scented air. There was a red

sheen of light on the exquisitely designed garden outside the Snow Room's window tonight. Symmetra,

the red moon of Zantalia, was at full strength. Ridge studied the beautiful scene with absent interest as he

thought about Quintel's words.

"Has someone questioned your ability to bring back Sand?" Ridge asked softly.

Quintel hesitated and then admitted, "The subject arose in the last meeting of the Town Council. I

assured the members that the problems were temporary and that normal trade levels would resume

soon."

"They would not dare take the route from you and give it to another." Ridge spoke with absolute

certainty.

"No one is above the power of the council, Ridge. The Sand is considered a crucial trade item here in

Crosspurposes. It's one of the things that gives the town its wealth and a lot of its power. If the town is

threatened with a loss of that route because the trade baron in charge can't control it, then the council will

act to preserve the route. We both know that."

Ridge turned away from the window. "You'll have your Sand when I return," he promised evenly.

Quintel smiled. "I know" There was a slight pause. "I should

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mention one other detail. While the caravans have returned

empty-handed, my last investigator did not return at all." "Who did you send?"

"Trantel."

Ridge considered that. "He's good."

"I have reason to believe he's dead."

Ridge frowned. "The Healers might become stubborn or difficult, but they would never kill. Healers can't

kill. Everyone knows that."

Quintel shrugged. "I don't know what's going on, Fire Whip. That's why I'm sending you to find out."

The two men silently regarded each other across the width of the white room. They had no need to

discuss the mission further. Ridge had been given his assignment; he would complete it. Both accepted

that as a fact.

"About the woman," Quintel finally said slowly.

"What about her? You picked her, I assume you knew what you were doing, even if you are new at the

matchmaking business," Ridge said casually.

Quintel waved aside the mocking comment. "She's our best bet as far as dealing with the Healers of

Variance. True, she's not a professional Healer herself, but her aunt is, and presumably Talent is in the

family's female line. It usually is. Kalena might not have enough of the Talent to enter training as a Healer,

but even a touch of it would increase our chances of getting the High Healers in the mountains to deal

with her."

"No chance of getting a proven Healer?"

"Unfortunately, no. Healers are proud. Most would consider themselves far above the level of a trade

wife. By the Stones, the most talented and dedicated among them become High Healers, move to the

Heights of Variance and shun the company of men altogether." Quintel's disparaging tone made it clear

that he, in common with other men, failed to comprehend such stubborn independence. "Regular Healers

and women with a touch of the Talent are almost always married. They are considered excellent wife

material. A Healer adds prestige to any House, large or small. No true Healer need settle for the role of

trade wife. And what man would allow his woman to travel as a trade wife, even for the sake of a share

of the Sand?"

Ridge's mouth curved faintly. "By the Dark end of the Spectrum, I certainly wouldn't."

"No," Quintel agreed with a knowing look, "you least of all. You have as much pride as any Great

House lord, don't you?"

"Even though I'm only a bastard?" Ridge concluded bitterly. "Why not say it, Quintel? We both know it's

true."

"Your birth status will only be a temporary handicap for you, Ridge. I am as certain of that as I am of

Symmetra's full status each month," Quintel said evenly. "The time will come when you will found your

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own House and it will be a Great one. I may have picked you up off the streets of Countervail and taught

you your manners, but the fires of the man you are today have always burned within you. They will take

you far."

"Soon," Ridge said almost to himself. "Very soon."

"Possibly at the end of this venture," Quintel drawled gently. "If you prove as good at seducing a woman

as you are at handling a sintar."

Ridge's head came around with a swift, inquiring movement. "What are you talking about?"

"I am talking about giving you the full profits of your journey." Quintel took another swallow of ale while

he waited for his words to sink in. "Less the thirty percent that goes to the woman and her aunt, naturally.

In addition, I intend to turn a percentage of the route itself over to you. I was thinking of somewhere

around twenty percent. In exchange, you will operate that route for me in the future."

Ridge waited tensely. "I don't understand."

"Yes, you do." Quintel leaned forward, his dark eyes suddenly intent. "It is vital to me that the trade

route be reopened and that a certain amount of Sand be brought back to prove that I can still manage the

route. But beyond that, I am not interested in a profit on this venture. Whatever the Sand brings when

you return to Crosspurposes is yours. As for the future arrangement, I will admit that I'm growing tired of

devoting so much of my time and attention to managing the trade routes I own. I wish to turn some of the

burden over to others without losing complete control of the routes. Who else can I trust as much as I

trust you, Fire Whip? Think of it, Ridge. The more Sand you bring back, the richer you will be. If you

bring back a sufficient quantity and deal it shrewdly, you might make enough to begin establishing your

House. Add to that financial basis a slice of all future income from the Sand route and you have what I

hope will be a very attractive incentive. Money is the root from which power springs. It takes both

money and power to found a Great House."

Ridge felt the adrenaline flood his bloodstream as if he were facing an armed attacker. But instead of

deadly anger, he felt a fierce elation. Only after taking a deep, slow breath could he say, "You are very

generous, Quintel."

"No. I am practical. You have served me long and well, Ridge. I owe you a great deal. Sooner or later

you will found your House. Nothing short of death would stop you. I understand that the goal is the most

important thing in your life. Very well. I can repay the years of service and loyalty you have given me with

the chance to make your fortune in one single venture."

Ridge met the other man's gaze. "I don't know what to say."

Quintel smiled. "Say nothing to me. But you might spend a little time talking to Kalena. Actually, it's