The Seer (Tellaran Series) (18 page)

Nela met her in the foyer. ““The gentlemen are outside on the patio. Master Legan asked that you join them as soon as you arrive. I’ll take your things to your suite.”

It was unnerving how this woman was always watching and cataloguing the smallest thing anyone in the household did.             

“Yes, thank you,” Arissa nodded, forcing a smile relieved to be away from the woman as soon as she handed over the beautifully wrapped package. 

Her awareness shifted as soon as she stepped outside. Seated with Jolar and Bruscan was a powerfully built man, his dark hair, eyes and bronze skin showing him a Utavian.

Arissa recognized him instantly.

Jolar stood as soon as he saw her and pressed a kiss against her cheek. His blue eyes held hers for a moment. “How was Tano-Sertar?”

“Wonderful,” she said.

“Let me introduce you,” Jolar said. “Arissa, this is Broc Attar. Master Attar, my wife.”

“Mistress Legan,” he said standing, his Utavian accent unmistakable. “It is a pleasure.”

Behind his dark eyes Broc was a jumble of stomach-churning anxiety. In the blink of an eye Arissa brushing his sense and an image of him, fearfully scanning for danger, always on guard against attack, filled her mind. Jolar and Bruscan were serious-minded but not frightened.

Whatever danger Broc felt he was in, the other men felt secure here. Nor did Broc fear
them
. In fact, he would likely do anything to impress them.

“For me as well,” she said.

“We’ve been talking business,” Jolar said. “Master Attar may be interested in supplying crystals to the Fleet.”

“I would not wish to bore the lady,” Broc assured quickly.

“Nonsense,” Bruscan said. “I’m sure Arissa would love to sit in on our discussion.”

Broc spread his hands. “But we have concluded for the day, I would say.” He took a step away from the table. “And you mentioned you had plans for the evening, did you not?”

None of Jolar’s puzzlement and wariness showed in his smile. “Yes, we have an engagement tonight.”

“I will leave you then.” Broc inclined his head to Arissa. “I look forward to extending our acquaintance another time.”

“Of course,” she said.

Bruscan escorted Broc out and Jolar gave her a questioning look.

“He’s very fearful,” she said quietly. “I startled him to the point of panic when I came out.”

“He hides it well, then.” Jolar gave her an appreciative smile. “Though not from you, of course. Anything else?”

“I can say for certain he doesn’t know who you really are.” She considered. “He knows himself to be in great danger. Like he has to constantly be on guard.”

“But maybe that’s because he’s a very wealthy man from a poor world,” Jolar pointed out. “And his money appeared too quickly for him to have come by it honestly. What else?”

Arissa thought. “He doesn’t appear to bear you any ill-will. He’s very interested in making a good impression.”

“He’s very interested in the contract that’s for sure. But considering his supposed wealth, he shouldn’t need it. I’ll ask Bruscan to make some inquiries about Broc’s financial situation.” He gave her a smile. “Maybe he recently lost it all playing tongo.”

“So where are we going tonight?”

“Ah,” Jolar said, sliding his arms around her waist. “We, wife, have procured some very hard-to-get invitations to the trade conference reception being held at the Niman embassy.”

“Carlea Renn,” Arissa said.

“Carlea Renn,” Jolar agreed. “How was Tano-Sertar, really?” He cupped her cheek. “Did you have fun, sweet?”

“Didn’t the guards tell you? They watched every move I made.”

“They told me that you spent a long time looking at a certain necklace—”

She blinked. She hadn’t expected their reporting to be so thorough. It was disconcerting, really. “Did they tell you what I bought?”

“No, but considering
where
you bought it I can honestly say I’m looking forward to seeing it on you tonight.” Jolar gave her a hot smile. “And then taking it off . . .”

Eighteen

Arissa adjusted the shimmersilk wrap around her shoulders as she looked over the crowd at the Niman embassy. A quieter, more sophisticated group than those at the previous night’s party, a number in attendance tonight seemed to be Niman, with the fine and beautiful bone structure of that world’s inhabitants. The décor inside the embassy was a lovely blend of cool ocean blues and warm coral tones. Even the chandeliers were abstract frosted glass reminiscent of sea creatures; the musicians played on traditional Niman wind flutes filling the air with sweet sound.   

The daily practice Jolar insisted on was helping her focus tremendously. Now, even at a crowded party like this, she could dampen her awareness of the emotions around her until they were a background hum instead of an agonizing din. She could concentrate on one person or group and shift her awareness quickly to another at will.

During this afternoon’s practice session the images she gleaned from Jolar’s mind came easier and the experience was far less frightening. He delighted in sharing with her a memory of the sand under his feet, the feel of the warm crystal waters of the Niman ocean around him.

Jolar handed her a glass of sparkle wine.

She took a sip and smiled at the taste. “It’s like a shooting star!”

He laughed, his golden hair catching the light. “Shooting stars don’t leave you with a hangover if you drink too many. You know, usually I hate these things,” Jolar said with a glance around at the formal reception. He gave her a warm smile. “Must be the company.”

She felt beautiful under his soft gaze. “I think this is wonderful.”

“Well,” he said. “If you like this sort of party, I can promise we can go to plenty more of them . . . later.”

Later. When this was finished and she had her ID. He would take her to Nima, and the other worlds, and show her the homeworld that he loved so much, Zartan.

A whole life together.

But right now they had to find Carlea Renn.

She had seen Carlea’s holo but with a change of hairstyle along with the formal attire of the party and in a crowd from her homeworld, she wasn’t going to be easy to pick out.

Wondering if Bruscan had any better luck in finding their quarry, Arissa sought him with her eyes and Seer’s senses. She soon located him talking with the Niman ambassador on the upper galley.

Arissa took another quick sip of the sparkle wine and touched Jolar’s arm. “Bruscan wants to introduce us.”

Jolar’s surprise rippled as he glanced around. “Uh, do we even know—”

“Upper galley.”

Jolar glanced that way and finished off his wine before placing his glass and hers on the tray of a passing waiter.

The Niman ambassador was a portly man with silver hair, his formal high-collared black shirt seemed to be cutting a bit into his neck but he was gracious in his welcome when Bruscan introduced them.

“I spent some time on Apovia in my younger years,” Ambassador Tivan said to her kindly. “It’s a lovely world.”

“It is,” Arissa agreed. “I’m afraid I’ve never been to Nima.”

The Ambassador’s brushy gray eyebrows rose. “You must remedy that at first opportunity, Mistress Legan! My homeworld has much to recommend it.”

At that amusement rippled from both Jolar and Bruscan and, while Arissa couldn’t hear the words, she knew they were likely thinking the same thing:
Like the best trained Ornaments in the Realm.

“I understand the beaches on the southern continent are considered the most beautiful anywhere,” Arissa said.

The Ambassador inclined his head. “But natural beauty aside, I think you’ll find the Niman people as devoted to learning and the arts as the Apovians.”

“In fact,” Bruscan said. “I was just admiring this piece. It’s breathtaking.”

The sculpture Bruscan indicated stood nearly a story high. Done in icy blue crystal, it very much resembled ocean water frozen in mid-spout. Interesting, but it lacked to Arissa’s eye—and she knew to Bruscan’s—that elusive
something
that took a work from attractive decoration to masterpiece. Still, it certainly would have been very expensive.

Arissa tilted her head. “From the third wave of the Niman abstractionists, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I believe you are correct,” the ambassador said warmly. “It was a gift to the embassy.”

“Well,” Bruscan said. “I should like to meet whoever has such exquisite taste.”

The ambassador glanced around. “Unfortunately I don’t see . . . Ah, there she is! Allow me to introduce you to Mistress Renn.”

As they followed the ambassador, Jolar leaned forward to mock grumble in her ear. “I’m starting to wonder if I’m needed on this trip at all. You two would probably do just fine without me.”

Arissa gave him an amused glance then turned her attention to the woman that the ambassador was embracing. Carlea was of middle height and attractive in a very obvious way. Her yellow gown was too low cut for her large bosom and her hair very elaborately styled, her makeup well done but heavy. Carlea had the unfortunate appearance of one who had spent a great deal of money only to look quite cheap.

And her brown eyes gleamed with lust as her gaze raked over Jolar.

“So, you like the sculpture, Master Legan?” she purred to Jolar after the introductions were made and the ambassador moved off to mingle with the other guests. “It’s rare to find a man who appreciates art.”

Jolar gave her a dazzling smile. “Well, I’ve always had a soft spot for the third wave of Niman abstractionists.”

Arissa controlled an urge to roll her eyes. 

From the confused pulse and blank look that Carlea gave him it was plain she wouldn’t know an abstractionist sculpture if it toppled over onto her. Likely she had selected that artwork based on the impressiveness of the price tag but in the next instant the woman simpered. “They’re my favorite too. I wonder what else we have in common?”

Bruscan gave a soft cough. “It’s terribly dry in here. I really must have something to drink.” His hand went to Arissa’s elbow. “Come along, let’s get you something too.”

She couldn’t sense anything but lustful desire from Carlea and as soon as Arissa allowed Bruscan to pull her away from Jolar, Carlea took the opportunity to take a step closer.

“We were most definitely an impediment back there,” Bruscan murmured as he escorted her to the lower galley.

“You intended all along to get them alone. You knew she’d zero in on him,” Arissa said, her voice low and angry. Carlea was inches away from Jolar now, her face tilted up at him, an inviting smile playing on her lips. The Niman woman’s hand came up to rest lightly on his chest and Arissa scowled to see that Jolar made no effort to remove it. “And that she has a great weakness for blond men.”

“Blond, handsome men—to be precise.” Bruscan gave her a sly smile. “And Jolar’s great weakness is you. And
that
my dear is interesting in itself.”

Arissa flushed and throwing her focus at him found in his mind a befuddling mix of amusement and regret. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Bruscan took two glasses of sparkle wine for them from a passing waiter when they reached the lower galley.

He handed her a glass and took a sip from his own. “Hmm, they brought out the good stuff. Must be eager to impress upon the local officials that what they’ll lose in tariffs they’ll make up in bribes with a new trade agreement.”

“What did you mean ‘interesting’?” Arissa persisted. She wasn’t getting anything now from Bruscan now but world-weary resignation and didn’t dare risk a deeper probe.             

“Just take it as assurance that you have nothing to fear from Mistress Renn.” His eyebrow quirked upward. “Although Jolar might. I hope he’s kept up with his self-defense training because, yes, she has quite the reputation.” He tilted his head, his smile rueful now. “You love him.”

Arissa flushed.

“It’s obvious, really,” he said when she didn’t answer. “A lot of your feelings show on your face.”                             

She looked away. Having had the life she did, being what she was, she had never learned to school her features as other’s had. She’d never needed to. “I didn’t know that.”

“It’s not a bad thing, necessarily.”

“But it’s something I need to learn to control.”

He took a casual sip of his wine. “You might be well served to do so . . . at least while you’re here.” His expression brightened. “The buffet looks sumptuous. Shall we?”

Arissa sighed and let him lead her over. The food looked wonderful, dozens of offerings filled the tables but for once Arissa had little appetite. Not so Bruscan, who ate heartily and managed to socialize and play escort to her without his considerable charm being in the least bit taxed.

Determined or not, Arissa struggled to hide her grumpiness as the evening wore on and Jolar didn’t reappear. Worse, she reached out to him to find that, wherever he was, he was intensely focused on his companion and in no hurry to leave her.

After supper she and Bruscan took a turn through the embassy’s courtyard. Cleverly arranged with plantings and charmingly lit with hanging lanterns, the veritable maze of greenery provided enclaves for private conversation and allowed the courtyard, small in size in expensive Tano-Sertar, the feel of a much larger space. 

She was sourly wondering if he would be gone the whole night when Jolar finally came upon them.

“I’ve been looking all over for you two,” he said.

“We only just came outside,” Arissa said, annoyed that she couldn’t keep the sulky tone out of her voice.

Jolar pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry I was gone so long.”

“Well,” Bruscan said. “Our evening was pleasantly spent. I hope yours was . . . productive.”

“It went quite well actually.”

Arissa turned her face away.

“Give us a moment, Bruscan?” Jolar suggested.

“Of course. I think I’ll have another look at the center fountain.”

Jolar waited till Bruscan was out of earshot. “What is it?” he asked softly.

She couldn’t look at him, he would see in her face how miserable, how insecure she felt.

“Nothing,” she mumbled.

“Because if you’re wondering if I’m interested in Carlea, nothing could be farther from the truth.” He cupped her face in his warm, broad palm. “You, sweet, are all I want.”

Tears stung her eyes as she looked up into that tender blue gaze.

“I love you,” Jolar said softly.

She swallowed. “I love you too.”

He brushed his mouth against hers. “Let’s go back to our room,” he said huskily. “I missed you and I’d be more than happy to show you just how much.”              

She managed a smile. “Okay.”

Jolar took her hand in his and they found Bruscan waiting for them at the fountain.

“I think we can bid good evening to the ambassador now,” Jolar said to him. “I’m ready to get out of here, that’s for sure.”

“Excellent,” Bruscan said, pulling a comm unit from his pocket. “I’ll have the groundcar brought around.”

The crowd inside had thinned considerably and the reception was coming to an end. No doubt at this hour a number of guests were also making their goodbyes now.

Just as they reached the doorway the breeze picked up and lifted Arissa’s delicate shimmersilk wrap from her shoulders. She let go of Jolar’s hand, hurrying to retrieve it before it could be carried off into the courtyard by the wind. Bruscan, a few steps behind them, managed to catch it and she smiled her thanks as he handed it back to her.

Jolar waited at the doorway to the embassy and a young woman just stepping out into the courtyard nearly collided with him.

She was tall, elegantly so, and her red silk gown showed her to be possessed of a slender, graceful figure. Strikingly beautiful, the woman’s hair was a pale golden blonde, her face fine-boned.

The blonde blinked, her smile was instant and dazzling. “Jolar!”

His horrified recognition made the breath catch in Arissa’s lungs.

“Jasa,” he said hoarsely.

The blonde gave a light laugh. “Well, I’m delighted to see you too! What are you doing here?”