“What’s so special about the plants?”
“They’re useful for Healers.” Merran looked at her more closely. “You, I see, are suffering from a cold. What are you doing here? You should be in bed resting.”
Tamara sniffed again. “You sound like Greg. I’m fine.”
“Colds are our bodies’ way of telling us to take it easy. Among other things. Come on, I’ll take you home.”
She scowled. “I’m fine.” She blew her nose again. “Oh this stupid nose.”
Merran grinned, his expression making him look years younger and much less tired. “I’ll take you home, Tamara. Don’t be stubborn.”
“I don’t want to go home.” Tamara could feel herself pouting, but since that was how she felt she didn’t try to change her expression. “I don’t want to lie in a bed staring at the ceiling. I hate being sick. Besides, I have work to do.” She pointed at the partially finished files.
“Janille can finish them. I’ll help you bring them out.”
Tamara set her jaw and crossed her arms. “Janille didn’t say I could go.”
Merran cocked his head and looked at her from under his long eyelashes. “I’m the boss, remember?”
“But I don’t want her to think I can’t do my job.”
Merran made an exasperated sound. “She doesn’t want you dripping all over the files either.” He collected the files. “You have proven yourself plenty in the past four weeks, Tamara. You’ve made quite a name for yourself with your speed and accuracy. I have heard nothing but praise for our intern. You can certainly afford to take a day off and take care of yourself. What’s more, you aren’t coming in tomorrow.”
Tamara watched him gather the files. “Are you always this bossy?”
He laughed. As he stood up, he brushed his hand against her cheek. Even though she felt terrible, the touch made her skin tingle and her stomach jump. “Usually I’m worse. Just ask anyone in the office.” He turned away from her and walked into the office, with Tamara trailing behind.
Janille looked up as soon as Merran and Tamara entered. “You managed to get her to leave, I see.”
Merran grinned. “I’m going to have to make sure she actually makes it home, though. Even though Greg prefers to let us suffer our folly when we work ourselves hard enough to get a cold, I think I’m going to see if I can talk him into giving her something. Would you finish these, please, Janille? “
“Certainly, Ambassador. Shall I call a cab?”
“Thank you,” Merran replied, although he hesitated for a moment. Tamara heard the pause and wondered again if she’d missed something. “Shall we?”
Tamara nodded and followed him downstairs. It was not until they got outside that she ventured to say anything. Merran shook his head and held up a hand as he led her to a small door at the back of the property through the employee parking lot that led to the alley behind the embassy. The cab waited at the corner and they got in. Merran gave the cabbie the address to the campus.
“What happened?” Tamara demanded as soon as the cab pulled away from the curb. “I think I missed something. We could have walked. Or don’t you have a car at your disposal?”
A grin teased the edge of his mouth. “There are lots of cars at my disposal. But a cab is far more discreet.”
“Discreet?” Tamara’s eyes widened as she looked at the cabbie who was either ignoring them or deaf. He didn’t appear to notice them at all. “What do you mean by that? Can’t he hear us?”
“No, I’m shielding us.”
“You mean you can prevent humans from hearing something?” Tamara hissed, staring at him.
Merran lowered his voice. “It’s not easy, and I couldn’t do it if he weren’t concentrating on the traffic more than on us. The cab company Janille called usually sends out pretty close-mouthed cabbies as a rule. We do a lot of business with them. I wouldn’t call his attention to us, though. Unlike Alarin or Greg, I couldn’t make him forget what he heard or saw.”
“They can actually make someone forget?” Tamara spoke in an incredulous whisper. “They never told me that!”
“It’s a very grey area of ethics, of course. At least what Alarin can do. Greg’s version of it is even more effective, but he’s bound not to unless requested by the person whose memory he is changing. Have they been working with you?”
Tamara sniffed, her head aching a little “Every damn day. But obviously, they aren’t telling me everything.”
“We should probably discuss this later.” Merran motioned with his eyes to the oblivious cabbie and leaned his head back against the seat.
The cab driver pulled up to the curb on the main street that ran through the center of campus. Suddenly not wanting to get out of the car and end their little private interlude, Tamara hesitated. She doubted Merran would see her to her room—it was too public. “Are you going to just drop me off into Greg’s untender care?”
A slow smile spread across Merran’s face. “I was going to see what I could talk him into. But other arrangements could be made, if you prefer.”
A sudden sense of shyness gripped her. “I would like that.” A sneeze tickled her nose, making her question her decision, but she hung in there, hoping whatever he planned wouldn’t be too energetic. She did feel better than she had when she was staring at files and feeling miserable, but the cold still had her in its grip.
Merran leaned forward and gave the driver another address. The cab driver obeyed, pulling free of the curb. The cab driver pulled up to a tall skyscraper that wasn’t far from either the embassy or campus— although it would be something of a long walk from the university. Instead of dropping them out front, he pulled into the underground gated parking garage entrance, which was sheltered from the street outside. Pausing only briefly to speak to the guard at the gate, he pulled up to the curb just around the corner from the gates. Merran discreetly handed him a large wad of money and got out of the car, extending a hand to help Tamara get out. She crawled out of the cab and looked around as the cab zipped away. The area was quiet, not visible from the street out front. Glass sliding doors, slightly mirrored so no one could see in, protected the entrance. The glass doors slid back as they approached, but whether or not they used the usual human technology or the weird Azellian technology Tamara couldn’t tell. They didn’t startle her as badly as the doors at the embassy—she was used to sliding doors opening automatically. No human guard stood in the lobby, but cameras watched from every nook and cranny. She could count ten cameras from where she stood. The lobby was quiet, an almost library hush to it.
Tamara looked around as Merran led her to a middle set of elevators. “Aren’t we going to be obvious?” The elevator door opened immediately, which startled her. Elevators never opened immediately!
He stood back to let her go first. “Like I told you before, cameras are for humans.”
“You distracted me after that,” Tamara sniffed. “So, what? Are you telling me cameras can’t register an Azellian?”
Merran looked up at the camera in the elevator, then placed his finger on a pad and tapped in a code. The elevator doors whooshed closed. It gave a little jerk, but the sensation of movement was minimal. “Projection onto a digital media is something we all can do, more or less.”
“So what are the cameras looking at right now?”
“Blurs.”
“What do the physical eyes that see this think about those blurs?”
“They aren’t using the cameras anyway, except to catch humans entering this building, or in case we need proof for prosecution. No humans live here. All of the guards watching are Azellian, and they knew who I was the moment I entered the building.” Despite his assurances that they were not being observed, he didn’t make any moves on her, something she thought a little odd considering he was taking her up to what she assumed was his apartment. Going to visit Merran’s living quarters. The thought made butterflies wiggle a bit in her stomach. She suppressed a sneeze. She did wish she felt better.
&
nbsp; The elevator doors slid open to reveal the most breathtaking apartment she’d ever seen. It was huge! Based on the panoramic view out the windows, it had to cover most, if not all, of the top floor. “Oh my God,” she said, staring around. Huge windows looked out over the mountains. The skyscraper loomed tall enough that no other building blocked its view of the whole front range from Long’s Peak in the north to Pike’s Peak, barely visible in the distance to the south. The sun poured in the window, but some kind of polarization must have been on the windows because the temperature of the room was pleasant. The open floor plan held a large, circular, sectional leather couch that formed a semi-circle around a large stone table. A flat screen television was on the ceiling. How one could watch it she had no idea.
Merran walked past the couch to the open kitchen. “I have some herbal teas that will help your cold.” He turned on the water, filled the kettle, and put it on the stove.
Tamara stared around the room. To the left of the kitchen was something resembling an alcove, too open to be a bedroom, but definitely another “room.” A huge mahogany desk dominated most of the space. A large bay window with a balcony provided the backdrop. The window faced south, not west, revealing more of the city, although the mountains were visible to the southwest. Gray-and-black metal and tile formed the décor—very formal, very cold, and very clean. Two doors framed the metal elevator doors, one on either side of the elevator. One led to a bathroom that she could see from where she stood. The other door, firmly closed, probably was his bedroom. She sniffed and wandered toward the bathroom. The room itself was small, only a half-bath, with a black toilet, black sink, and white carpet.
When she came back out, Merran stood in the kitchen, watching her. “How do you like it here?”
“It’s overwhelming.”
“It’s what ambassadors are expected to live in, though. And entertain in. Not that I have the time to entertain. I personally prefer my little house in Azorantxl.” He motioned to the couch. “Did you want to sit? Your tea is done. I’ll bring it to you.”
Tamara went over to the couch and perched on it. It squeaked as she sat, the leather talking in soft tones. She sank down and it folded itself around her. The couch was much more comfortable than she’d expected.
Merran brought over the tea and placed it on the coffee table in front of the couch. The tea cut through her stuffy nose and smelled wonderful. She reached forward and picked it up. “What do you do in this mausoleum if you don’t entertain?”
Merran leaned over and pulled a remote out of a cleverly designed door in the arm of the couch. He touched a button. The flat screen on the ceiling slowly dropped down and came on.
Tamara stared at it and blinked. “Damn. That’s scary.”
He smiled and handed her the remote. “Relax for a moment. I want to get into something more comfortable than this suit.”
Tamara kicked off her shoes and curled her feet under her, watching him as he walked across the near-white carpet. At the moment, he was definitely more interesting than the television. Merran opened the door to what she’d assumed correctly to be his bedroom. She caught a glimpse of a room very similar to the rest of the apartment. A huge, four-poster bed with gauzy curtains draped around it dominated the room. When he didn’t close the door behind him, she got to her feet and padded across the floor. “This tea is really good. I do feel better.”
“Good,” Merran’s reply came back muffled. “Greg would rather have us suffer because it forces us to slow down for a while. But, since I have to manage to work anyway, I have managed to brow beat some very good remedies out of him.”
Tamara hovered at the edge of the open door, suddenly feeling awkward at seeing this, Merran’s inner sanctum.
“Come in, I want to show you something.” Merran emerged from the depths of a huge walk-in closet. “I have a duplicate of it in my office, but since the view from the office is much nicer than this view, I don’t use this one much.”
Clinging to her cup, Tamara stepped across the threshold. Wearing a pair of loose shorts and a t-shirt that had some intricate Azellian lettering on the front, Merran walked barefoot over to the bedside table and touched something. His outfit made him look different, and much younger, than when he wore his usual suits. The bank of darkened windows facing east lightened and showed one of the most breathtaking scenes Tamara had ever seen. An alien sun danced over the red sand and threw rainbow sparkles into the air, making the shadows in the room jump. Far to the left, a sparkle of blue, then a spattering of green caught the eye, and made her seek to catch the tiny rainbows with her eyes. Each rainbow danced away as she looked at it. She stepped closer, her eyes riveted to the scene. She lifted her hand to touch it, then lowered her hand again.
Merran stepped up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. She craned her neck to look up at him. “It’s beautiful. What is it?”
“It’s Azelle.” He dropped to kiss her neck, his warm breath caressing her skin. “At sunset.”
“How can you tell?” She sneezed.
She could feel his chuckle vibrate through his chest. “It said so on the controller. I also commissioned the picture to be taken at sunset. Then and at dawn are the only two times the rainbow phenomenon is visible. I was pleased with how it came out actually, although like I said, the other picture I have at my office is more dramatic.”
She sneezed again, a little more violently. Merran guided her to the bed and padded toward what appeared to be a huge master bathroom to get some tissue. He returned, handing the tissue to her and rescuing her tea. He placed it on the bedside table beside her. “Do you have other views?” she asked between sneezes.
He motioned across the bed. The picture changed. A twilight view with a tremendous sunset. “I have four—sunset, the rainbow, full day, and night. I’d like to add dawn but I haven’t found the right one yet.” He leaned across the bed and lay on his side, resting his head on his hand.
“You just used your psi, didn’t you?”
Merran smiled. “Yes. I could have done without the gesture, but I wanted you to notice.”
“How far away does it work?”
“Depends on the strength of your ability.”
“What’s yours?”
“Unless I’m really familiar with an area, I usually have to see something to manipulate it telekinetically. Visual range is my limit.”
Tamara was silent a moment as she digested this information. Greg had talked to her about their talents before, and all the Azellians had used them in her presence—Alarin made an effort to use psi as often as he could when they were in private—but she was more curious about Merran, since he was so reserved and distant most of the time. Her eyes wandered to the lettering on his shirt. The letters were Azellian and she could make out most of the words, but the sentence didn’t make any sense to her. “What does it say on your shirt?” Tamara reached out and touched the slightly raised lettering. Merran’s breath caught a little as she traced the letters.
“It’s just a saying that we have. That to see the rainbow is to experience the ultimate in beauty. It’s referring to the phenomenon I just showed you.”
“How do you say it in Azellian?”
He spoke a phrase, much shorter than she expected. His voice was deeper somehow when he spoke Azellian. She closed her eyes to listen, and a shiver slid up her spine. “How do you stand being away from it for so long?” She opened her eyes.
“Earth has its beauty, too. Azelle doesn’t just represent the planet either. There are times when being light-years away from my relatives is a good thing.”
She leaned back against the headboard of the bed. “Do you have any brothers and sisters?”
“Both. One brother and one sister. Half-siblings, actually. After Junian and Alerra’a mother died, father took up with my mother.”
Something about the way he said it made her ask, “They weren’t married?”
Merran shook his head. His expression was flat and neutral, as was his tone
. “My mother was a Liporinn. There was no way Father’s family would let him marry her. It didn’t win me friends when I was growing up.”
Tamara remembered something from class, something that had startled her when she’d heard it in passing. For a planet renowned for its individualism, Azelle also had its archaic remnants. “Azelle has a formal class hierarchy, doesn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t say it is formal, but there is a pretty strong sense of family, yes. We’re not as structured as say your historical monarchy. But there are definitely families to belong to and others that create more of a problem. Corina is High Council. Liporinn is not one of the families that followed the aarya, so they have been ostracized. My father taking up with a Liporinn was not exactly acceptable to the other members of the family. It’s been one of the reasons I’ve enjoyed Earth so much. Here rank is held more in your job status than in your family name.”
“That’s primarily because of the history of where we live. What used to be the Old West was pretty damn egalitarian. Might and ability were more important than name because life was hard here.” Tamara sniffed again, dabbing her nose. “It’s certainly not the case across the world. There are areas of the world that are more or less hierarchical than others. Money talks, of course, across the board.” She sipped her tea again, enjoying Merran’s unusual openness. “Do you get along with your siblings?”
“Now that I live on Earth most of the time? Sure.” He closed one eye, thinking. “Alerra’s never been difficult, actually. She’s pretty easygoing. My niece is not a whole lot younger than I am and she’s quite friendly. She decided not to come to Earth with Alarin, Greg, Mellis, and Justern, but she’s part of the crew anyway.” Merran turned over, dropped his head onto the pillow, and linked his hands across his chest. “Junian, well there’s such an age gap. When I was born, Junian had just moved out of the house. Alerra married her husband and moved out when I was five. Junian never did forgive Father for his liaison with my mother. Alerra treats me like her child—I lived with her for a while once my parents died, before I struck out on my own.”
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