The Seer

by MacArran, Ariel

  His sense churned with anxiety. “Good.”

  “Jolar?” She rested her hand on his chest, his heart thumping under her palm. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes.” He wet his lips. “No.” His face reddened further. “I have to say it?”

  “Say what?”

  His blue eyes were raw. “I love you.”

  Her breath caught. “What?”

  He gave a short, embarrassed laugh. “You didn’t know?”

  Blinking, she shook her head.

  “Probably from the first moment I looked into your eyes in that alley on Tellar, I just didn’t realize—” He searched her face. “But I thought you knew.”

  Her vision blurred. The intensity, the shifting emotions—she hadn’t the experience to recognize what he felt. But he meant it, truly meant it. Beautiful, intelligent Jolar, whose presence lit up a room . . .

  Loves me!

  “Well, then if . . .” He cleared his throat again. “If you don’t feel the same way, then that’s all right, you don’t need to—”

  “I love you too.”

  Jolar blinked then his face fairly glowed, wild joy bursting like a million beams of light around him. “You do?”

  “Gods, of course I do.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “How could you not know?”

  He cupped her wrist, the firestar of her betrothal bracelet catching the sunlight. “I didn’t even realize why I had to buy this for you until we were standing outside the restaurant tonight. What I’ve been hiding from myself.”

  “This was your errand today?” she asked, indicating the bracelet.

  “Actually I saw earrings that I thought you would like. But when I went to buy them I saw this, and all I could think about was putting it on your wrist.” He traced the delicate gold of the bracelet. “I want to marry you.”

  Her mouth parted but then her brow creased at the sense she caught. “But you aren’t asking me, are you?”

  He closed his eyes briefly. “After Sertar, we can talk about a life together.” He touched his forehead to hers. “After you have that ID, after I know I’ve made you safe, then we can plan.”

  “Okay.” She smiled at him through tears. “Okay.”

  He smiled back. “Does that mean I get to kiss you now?”

  Fourteen

  Arissa folded her arms. “I’m telling you, Jolar, I’m not comfortable doing this.”

  After the words of love spoken last night she was even less eager to attempt reading his mind. If she did— no matter how unintentionally—harm him, she wouldn’t be able to live with it.

  But she just couldn’t seem to convince him that probing into his mind was fracking dangerous. Certainly, her stern posture now was having no effect.

  She relaxed her arms and tried a wheedling little smile instead. “You know, maybe we should—”

  “No,” he said firmly. “You have charmed and sweet-talked and generally befuddled me with lust all morning but now I’m insisting.”

  She’d delayed this by asking to be taken to breakfast, suggesting they pack, begging for a cup of white tea. She had wrapped her arms around him, tracing kisses along his jaw and ran her hand down his hardened length until he groaned and carried her back to bed.

  “You can’t order me, Jolar,” she said, sulky now. “I’m not in the military. I’m not technically even a Tellaran citizen.”

  “I know. A very convenient way to deprive you of any civil rights.” Jolar sighed, leaning back against the sofa in the living area of their suite. “We need to practice just to discover what you can do. I know you’re afraid—”

  “Because this is terrifying!”

  “Is that what you’re feeling from me? Fear?”

  “No,” she admitted. “I’m not saying you’re afraid. I’m saying you should be. I know I am.”

  “And I know you won’t hurt me. We are going to practice, Arissa. We’re headed planetside soon and I don’t know how the rest of today is going to shake out so that leaves now.”

  “I don’t even know what to do!”

  “Let’s try what worked yesterday,” he suggested. “I’ll think of a place and you describe it to me.”

  His mind was set and unyielding and finally she gave a defeated sigh. Closing her eyes, she brought her focus fully to him as she had the day before. She reached past his eagerness, his stubbornness, past the peaks and valleys of worry that seemed to crowd his mind lately, reached a little deeper . . .

  She caught her breath at the sudden flood of images.

  “Arissa?”

  She struggled to calm her breathing. “I need a minute.”

  He stroked her hair, his concern swirling around her.

  It was stronger this time, easier to reach into his mind.

  Terrifyingly easy.

  After a few moments, she gave a shaky nod. “I’m all right.”

  “What did you see?”

  “A city, I think. No, that’s not right . . . like a city. There were buildings all around but I knew they were empty. There was shouting, running, other people in uniform all around me with weapons but I wasn’t in any danger. It was exciting but I was worried too, trying to think of everything I needed to do—”

  “I was trying to think of everything,” he corrected. “I was remembering some of my advanced training on Lema. It was a mock combat drill. We were being evaluated on performance.” Jolar shook his head, his eyes wide and awed. “Oh, sweet, what I wouldn’t give to do what you can do. It’s—Gods, it’s amazing!”

  A lump formed in her throat.

  He frowned. “What’s the matter? Did doing that hurt you?”

  “No.” She swallowed hard. “You make me feel . . . better about what I am.”

  “You should feel proud of who you are. Proud of what you can do.” He touched his forehead to hers. “I am.”

  Tears overflowed and she ducked her head against his shoulder. He held her close, stroking her back and she drank in the comfort of it, the warm familiar feel of his mind.

  Anxiety suddenly stained his sense.

  “What is it?” she asked, wiping at her face. “What’s wrong?”

  His arms tightened around her. “We’ll be planetside in a few hours.”

  “And you have more to tell me now, don’t you?”

  He closed his eyes briefly. “Yes.”

  He went into the bedroom and returned with a datapad. He offered it to her. “This is the information the other agent was able to get to Dacel before he was killed.”

  She took the datapad and scrolled through the information slowly. “It looks like he was there for months,” she murmured. “He did a lot of work.”

  “I doubt we have even close to that long,” Jolar said grimly.

  “So you think he was right about these five individuals? They’re the only ones with enough influence on Sertar to take control of the energy supply?”

  “Four,” Jolar said.

  Arissa glanced at the datapad. “I thought—”

  “One of them is dead now. But Dacel trusted his agent, and these findings, implicitly. Which is good because we don’t have time to start over.”

  “I’m guessing that one being dead made it more possible for the remaining four to solidify their power.”

  Jolar gave a nod. “And whoever figured out who Dacel’s agent really was will be twice as cautious about who he—or she—trusts now.”

  “And we need them to trust us.” She frowned. “But why would they? I mean, we’re just supposed to be a married couple from Aylor; you were a lieutenant in the Fleet. We’re outsiders.”

  “They’ll trust us for two reasons—one, we have a contact on Sertar who is an insider. He’ll be hosting us, taking us around. Lending his—I guess you could say ‘trustworthiness’ though that term is pretty relative on Sertar—to us.”

  “Did he take around the previous agent?”

  “No,” Jolar said quickly. “And if those two ever met, it’s not in the reports. But we need his hel
p to enter Sertarian society quickly. Kav had a lot more time to cultivate those relationships than we do.”

  “Kav?”

  “Kav de’Reaven was the agent Dacel sent before us. He and I weren’t friends but he was a good man.” Jolar’s mouth tightened. “He deserved better.”

  “You said there were two reasons,” Arissa prompted, hoping to draw him from his dark thoughts.

  “Yes. I’m supposed to be the representative who will be purchasing the crystals for the military for the next five years.”

  “That must be a valuable contract.”

  “Very,” he agreed. “And even a cursory check will reveal our finances are at the breaking point. I’m also plainly not above bringing my wife along for a business vacation on the government’s tab.” He gave a faint smile. “It seems we’re a couple of spendthrifts living beyond our means.”

  “To make you appear more amiable to corruption. Smart. All right,” she said looking at the notes again. “Tell me about the four that are left.”

  Jolar took the datapad and brought up the image of a man in his middle years.

  “Larner Tovic,” he said with a nod at the screen. “Native Sertarian, in fact there’s no record he’s ever left the Sertarian system, not even for a vacation. His family has been involved in crystal mining for generations. He has abundant wealth and connections and he’s . . . aberrant.”

  Larner’s was an unremarkable face, and he had dull brown, closely cropped hair. His gaze was remote as if all his focus remained on his inner world.

  “Aberrant?”

  “No wife, no children. No lovers, past or present. No criminal history. No scandals. His life is utterly—I guess you could say tidy.”

  Arissa raised her eyebrows. “And that makes him suspicious?”

  “You don’t wield that much power, amass that much wealth on Sertar, without getting your hands bloody. Either Larner really has managed to live like one of Seleni’s novices—on the most corrupt world in the Realm—or all evidence of his wrongdoing has been scrubbed. According to Kav, a number of Larner’s competitors have vanished over the last year. The details in Kav’s report imply that Larner is just very proficient at cleaning up his messes.”

  Jolar brought up another image, this one of a woman in her thirties with dark, elaborately styled hair and brown eyes. Her jewels were beautiful and her makeup perfect—though she was wearing far too much of both. “Carlea Renn. Niman heiress who inherited a shipping empire that spans from Utavia to Lema. She’s married but she and her husband seem to spend far more time out of each other’s company than in it. He has an established mistress back on Nima and Carlea seeks out a variety of men to pass the time with. Kav’s last report linked her to the bribing of an official on Sertar – an official who was found dead shortly after Kav was.”

  Arissa frowned at the image. It was a posed picture, taken at a party or fundraiser perhaps. Carlea’s deeply plunging dress revealed much of her smooth, taut, lightly tanned skin. She was smiling broadly but there was something about this woman’s eyes that showed her well capable of cruelty.

  “Danlen Mirat,” Jolar said, changing the image. Danlen had a very young looking face for one whose hair had gone all silver and his hazel eyes were hard and cold. “He’s Gensoyan. He was arrested on his homeworld a number of times starting in his teen years, mainly for assault and property damage – bar fights and the like. He even served prison time for weapons smuggling on Gensoy before he left. He relocated to Sertar about fifteen years ago. He’s now owner of the largest crystal refining operation in the system and somehow he’s managed to rise to what the Sertarians would deem respectability. He’s married to a Sertarian woman but he seems to keep her out of sight.”

  Arissa went to the next file. “Broc Atarr.”

  Jolar gave a nod at the swarthy man’s image. “Like Larner Tovic, he runs a mining operation. He’s amassed a great deal of money and influence very quickly. Two years ago he didn’t have a credit to his name and now he’s Larner’s direct competitor.”

  “Couldn’t they all be working together?” she wondered, looking at the information again. “Larner and Broc run mining operations, Carlea is in shipping and Danlen is in crystal refining.”

  “It’s possible,” Jolar allowed. “But with their current public alliances their interests seem to run counter to each other.”

  She shook her head a little. “But gaining our military contract wouldn’t be of any interest to Carlea Renn, would it? She doesn’t have anything to do with mining or refining crystals, does she?”

  “True, but we’ll have enough clout to meet her socially at least. And she should try to steer a plum contract like ours to one of her friends. One of those friends might well turn out to be Larner, Danlen or Broc.”

  Arissa hesitated. “Broc Atarr is Utavian. Do you think—?”

  Jolar nodded. “Yes, that Utavian in Xan-Tellar you saved me from came specifically to kill me.”

  “Do you know why?”

  Jolar blew his breath out. “We don’t even know who he was.”

  Arissa frowned. “But a scan—”

  “No,” Jolar said shortly. “No ID, no genetic profile. No record anywhere in the central system that this man ever existed—a wraith.”

  Arissa stared. “I thought ‘wraiths’ were a holodrama thing. I mean, I know you altered my ID but to erase someone—”

  “Oh, it’s possible. Just very illegal and very, very expensive. If you hadn’t been there I’d be dead now—killed by a ghost.”

  “Expensive . . . ” She looked at the datapad. “If one of these people tried to have you killed—Jolar, what if someone recognizes you?”

  “You’ll tell me.”

  “That’s how you got the Zartani Councilor to agree,” she said. “That’s what you meant when you said I would keep you alive. Because if you were recognized a Seer would know.”

  “Yes.” He searched her face. “Would you?”

  “Yes,” she said, confidently. “Yes, I would.”

  A quick smile touched his mouth. “I knew I was right.”

  She shot him a fond glance. “No, you didn’t.”

  “Well,” he allowed. “I hoped I was. Dacel will do his best to investigate but without an ID there’s not much hope. The man carried only cash and the weapon was reported stolen in Xan-Tellar three hours before he tried to kill me. Dacel had the TelSec reports on the Utavian locked down, and the body removed. The TelSec officers who saw him were told the blank ID was a glitch and they were ordered not to discuss the case. He was Utavian but right now that’s all we know about him. Still, if anyone is looking for that wraith they won’t find him.”

  “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.”