The Seer (Tellaran Series) (15 page)

“What about you?”

“Commander Jolar d’Tural you mean? He’s still alive and well in Xan-Tellar. I complained to everyone who would listen that I was going to buried in weeks of report writing for the Council.”

“Jolar,” Arissa’s brow creased. “Could someone have wanted to stop you from taking this mission? Is it possible that was why he tried to kill you?”

Jolar shook his head. “If my cover’s blown from day one, they’re better off letting me take the assignment. Kill me and Dacel would just find someone to take my place, someone they might
not
know about. And after Kav . . . We were very careful. Dacel didn’t even share the plan with his staff.” He studied her for a moment. “That Utavian—did you sense anything from him?”

Arissa cast back in her memory to that night, the feel of the man’s mind. “It wasn’t personal to
him
,” she said slowly. “But it was a matter of honor for him to succeed.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you more. It all happened so quickly.”

The empty space, the sudden wrenching silence of the man’s mind . . .

Jolar’s fingers intertwined with hers. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” She brought her focus back to Jolar, to the warmth of his hand in hers, the feel of his thigh against hers. “So who are we staying with? The insider?”

“Bruscan Milin.”

“You know him.”

His mouth quirked upward in an appreciative smile. “I do. Our parents had mutual business interests. I’ve known Bruscan for a long time. That’s something we have going for us that the previous agent didn’t.”

She tilted her head. “You don’t trust this man—Bruscan.”

“He’s a businessman on Sertar and he isn’t dead yet—those two facts speak a lot to his character. You’ll be able to tell me more about him, I’m sure.”

“He knows who you are already. Does he know who I am?”

“He’ll know you’re Arissa Legan from Aylor.”

“But he won’t know—”

“No,” Jolar warned. “No one can know. You’ll have to be very careful.”

She shook her head, puzzled at the sense she caught. “Are you worried
I
can’t keep a secret?”

“They killed Kav, Arissa,” Jolar said sharply. “And they weren’t quick about it either. We’re sitting here calmly talking about wraiths, and how many people who knew our suspects have already been found
dead
like it’s—”

Jolar suddenly stood, twisting away and scrubbing his face. “Gods, I hate this! I hate taking you into this!” He folded his arms, his nostrils flared. “Arissa, there’s no time now to fret about what might or might not be true about the Seers. If there’s
any
edge we have, we’re using it. We practice. Every day. At least once a day. Agreed?”

She gave a reluctant nod. “All right, Jolar.”

He held her gaze, his sense churning. “I still hate this.”

Fifteen

“Well, the architecture doesn’t seem that different from Xan-Tellar,” Arissa commented. Jolar’s quiet confidence at the controls of their private shuttle calmed her fear of flying enough that she could attend to the hurly burly sprawl of Tano-Sertar below. In stark contrast to the neat squares and restrained development of Xan-Tellar, Sertar’s capital was a mass of twisting streets with no forethought put into convenience, future impact—or likely even public safety. “But Tano seems a lot less planned.”

“Civic duty is not at the forefront of most Sertarian officials’ agenda,” Jolar said dryly. “More like how fast they can line their pockets. The Sertarians euphemistically call it ‘giving consideration’ and believe me
nothing
happens here without a bribe. You don’t even want to call SerSec if you’ve been robbed. If they took your billfold, you won’t get an officer to fill out a report because they know they won’t get the expected bribe.”

“So I don’t want to call SerSec if I’m in trouble?”

His mouth was a grim line. “You
can
get swift justice if you’re prominent, or under the protection of someone prominent. I’m sure Bruscan gives enough ‘consideration’ that someone harassing one of his guests would win a wicked beating and lengthy imprisonment.”

Arissa’s lips parted in horror. “That’s awful.”

Jolar’s smile was cynical. “That’s Sertar.”

“I guess it’s not worse for me though.” Arissa looked out over the city. “I don’t even have the right to a trial, no matter what world I’m on.”

“I know.” His mouth was a grim line. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“To ask you to help people who would treat you like that. Especially when the best I can offer right now is that you’ll be given a falsified ID. You have the right to live openly.”

She shuddered. “I can’t even imagine. Even if they gave me a pardon, allowed me to live, I wouldn’t be welcome anywhere.”

“You would on Zartan. I’d make sure of it.”

“How?” she wondered. “How could you make people there accept me?”

“Because I—” he started sharply then broke off. “I don’t know,” he continued, his voice steadier. “But you’d have at least one person who would welcome you there.”

She threw him a warm smile. The green space below was growing more pronounced, the residences larger. “This area looks nice.”

Jolar raised an eyebrow at her. “And each house has a security shield and armed guards and privately paid street patrols . . .”

At this speed she couldn’t see guards or any street patrols but the high walls and redundant pulse gates encircling the estates made each a veritable fortress.

“Where is not so nice,” Jolar continued. “Is Tano-Sertar itself. The city is crime-ridden and dangerous as hell. I should have asked before—how are you with a blaster?”

“You mean firing one? Gods, I’ve never even
held
one.”

He tensed beside her. “Okay. How about self-defense?”

“I’m a fast runner,” she said lightly. Her throat closed. “You’re angry.”

“Yes, I’m fucking angry!” he burst out. “I was showing you how to play festering
Star Quest
and carrying you back to bed when I should have been—” She felt him take control of himself but his grip on the shuttle’s yoke was tight. “I can’t go back and do what I should have done. I’ll get you a blaster. I’ll show you how to use it and how to defend yourself.”

She hunched her shoulders. “All right.”

He spared her a glance. “This is my fault, not yours. I’m not angry with you.”

“I know. I just . . . I’m not sure I can hurt anyone.”

“Promise me,” he said sharply. “Promise me that if it’s ever you or someone else that you’ll do whatever it takes to survive.”

She hesitated, thinking of the rush of emptiness she felt when Jolar shot the Utavian.

His eyes were intent. “If you love me, Arissa, promise me this.”

“All right, Jolar,” she said faintly. “I promise.”

Her vow set his mind at some ease as he began to set the shuttle down on a large, beautifully landscaped estate. The landing was a gentle one but after he powered the shuttle down Jolar went very still.

“Gods,” he said hoarsely. “You can’t fly one of these things, can you? Or operate a groundcar?”

“No,” she said, surprised. “Of course not.”

“Because you didn’t have an ID.” His jaw hardened. “Okay, we’ll add them to the list.” His attention shifted to outside the shuttle. “That’s Bruscan. What do you think?”

Arissa stretched her senses toward the tall, well-dressed man wearing a pleasant expression as he walked out to great them. 

“Quick, sharp mind,” she said. “Ruthless but very self-disciplined. He finds all this amusing but he’s wondering if he can get paid more. Surprised.” She sent a questioning gaze at Jolar. “He wasn’t expecting anyone to be with you.”

Jolar threw her an unapologetic grin. “Amazing,” he murmured then pressed the control to open the shuttle doors.

Arissa kept her focus on Bruscan as she stepped out of the shuttle and she flushed a little as his glance darted over her and then lingered.

Bruscan’s attention swung to Jolar and his smile and embrace of welcome was sincere.

“Jolar Legan!” he said, plainly aware he was being observed by a gardener. “It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s been too long.” Jolar agreed and nodded at her. “I’m glad you finally get to meet my wife. Of course, even after four years I’m not sure Arissa’s forgiven you for missing our wedding.”

“Let me say again how I sorry am I missed it, Arissa.” Bruscan took her hand. “I hope while you’re here I can earn your forgiveness.”

He wasn’t a handsome man but with his height, dark hair and eyes and easy confidence, he was very much a charming one.

She flushed a little at the vibrating interest he directed at her, at his warm, strong fingers wrapping around hers.

She managed with a shy smile. “Of course.”

Jolar nearly snatched her hand out of Bruscan’s grip. “I like the new house,” he said, a little loudly. “How long have you been here again?”

“Three years. Yes, it’s worked out quite well for me. But please, come in out of the sun.”

Nothing in her experience prepared her for the opulence of Bruscan’s home. It was a mansion of gleaming Novician marble and soaring domed ceilings. Arissa spied a painting by Jol Dethara hung, as if placed offhandedly, in the vestibule of the house. The palatial foyer was dotted with almost primitive looking carved birds and her mouth parted when she recognized them as kanta idols of the early monarchal period.

The kanta’s oversize eyes looked out at her with the same dispassion that had watched a thousand generations come and go before their jeweled gaze; their dark blue, glazed bodies glossy in the afternoon sunlight of Bruscan’s front hall.

Just one of these sculptures was worth more than her parents’— no, her uncle’s, she remembered darkly—home.

As Bruscan led them past the curved staircases and down the hall, Arissa became aware of other people inside the house. Plainly garbed and obviously servants of the household, their interest in the visitors was unnervingly intent. Remembering that she’d promised Jolar to use her Seer senses at every opportunity she reached out to one of them . . .

And grimaced.

A quick inventory of the staff nearby showed them at best unethical and at worst unmerciful. Clearly there were none inside these walls that could be trusted either.

“My office,” Bruscan said, over his shoulder by way of explanation. The room was done in soft shades of cream, and a whole wall of plexisteel overlooked the sunny landscaped grounds and swimming pool. A young brunette woman dressed in a yellow quilted jacket of Xeltan design followed them in, pausing expectantly just inside the door.

“Nela,” Bruscan said. “These are my guests, Jolar and Arissa Legan. Jolar, Arissa, this is Nela, my estate manager. She oversees—well, pretty much everything. Feel free to ask her for anything you need while you’re here.”

Nela sent them a friendly smile but Arissa was very glad that Jolar had encrypted his datapad and put an ID lock on it.  A mind touch showed Nela already cataloguing everything about her and Jolar in case it was information she could sell.

“Your suite is ready,” Nela said. “I’ll have your luggage brought to your rooms right away. Can I get you anything else now?”

Bruscan glanced over the refreshments that already awaited them on the low table  then threw them a questioning look. Jolar shook his head.

“That’s all for now, Nela,” Bruscan said. “Please close the door after you.”

When the woman had gone, Bruscan saw them settled on the sofa with iced fruit drinks in their hands and urged them to help themselves to the bite sized offerings in front of them.

Bruscan leaned back against the cushions, a drink held casually in his hand. “So, how can I be of service to you, Jolar,” his mouth quirked infinitesimally upward, “Legan?”

Jolar sent him a narrowed look. “I’ve had the good fortune to be chosen to select the next supplier of the Fleet’s crystal needs. It’s a five year contract.”

“How lucrative,” Bruscan said. “I’m sure a number of people will be interested in acquiring such a rich opportunity for themselves—or their friends.”

Jolar gave him a tight smile. “I have few people in mind already. Can you introduce us?”

“Of course,” Bruscan said. “You know, I’m in the security business. My home and grounds are quite shielded from eavesdropping, Jolar. And my private guards are the best.”

“That’s good to know.” Jolar glanced at Arissa. “I still have every intention of showing . . . care.”

Arissa weighed it but it was a question one wouldn’t have to be a Seer to ask. “What about your staff? Do you trust them?”

Bruscan’s mind sparked with amusement. “Oh, hell no.”

Arissa’s brow creased. “Why have them in your home then?”

“Because they’re as trustworthy as any on Sertar,” Bruscan said off-handedly and gave a nod toward the refreshment tray. “And they do their jobs superbly.”  His mouth curved, his brown eyes warming. “Your accent is quite charming, Arissa.” Jolar’s flare of jealousy seared her mind even as Bruscan’s gaze shifted to him. “And your husband is
very
protective.”

Jolar’s eyes narrowed. “You baited me.”

“We all have vulnerabilities and weak spots. It’s good to know your own.” Bruscan raised an eyebrow. “You can stop glaring at me, Jolar. I see the boundary line.”

Jolar’s jaw worked for a moment. “Clearly I need to watch that.”

Bruscan shrugged. “It makes you a more believable married couple. So, to whom am I introducing you?”

Jolar gave him the names and Bruscan gave a nod. “Tovic and Mirat I know. I’ve seen Carlea Renn here and there but Broc Atarr is recently come to Sertar. I’ve only met him once.”

“Do business with any of them?” Jolar asked.

Bruscan shook his head. “They’re wealthy even by Sertarian standards. They have their own private security staff and code slicers. But I know at least Larner Tovic and Danlen Mirat as friendly acquaintances. I should be able to track where they’re all going to be so we can bump into them.”

Arissa frowned. “I thought they had private security staffs.”

“Yes,” Bruscan said. “But whoever will be hosting them might not.”

Arissa blinked. “You’re just going to hack private transmissions till you find where they’re going to be?”

“Of course,” Bruscan said surprised.

“Heartwarming place, Sertar, isn’t it?” Jolar asked Arissa sardonically. 

“You want warm? Go to Nima,” Bruscan retorted. “Wait—Carlea Renn is Niman, isn’t she? I’ll need to find out if she’s even planetside right now. Anything else you’re going to need from me?”

Jolar glanced at her. “Arissa needs some small arms training and self-defense instruction. She needs to learn how operate a groundcar and shuttle.”

Bruscan blinked and Arissa could feel his unspoken questions. That she might not be accomplished with a blaster or close combat could be expected but not to know how to operate a groundcar or a shuttle was odd.