Fire Pearl

by Cyndi Friberg

  “Do you know where she is now?”

  “I do not.”

  She released him and turned to face the Stirate. “I believe him.”

  Quentin crossed his legs, his gaze narrowed with speculation. Despite his youth, he appeared at ease in the opulent throne room. But why shouldn’t he be comfortable? Every male of his bloodline was groomed from birth for the possibility of wielding authority. When his brother had been murdered three weeks before with only a daughter to succeed him, Quentin had become one of the youngest Stirates in Rodyte history.

  Emboldened by her pronouncement, Faujer looked into the Stirate’s eyes. “I know you are disappointed in me, but I will do anything to regain your favor.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” One corner of Quentin’s mouth curved in a cruel smile. “The question is how do we track someone who has hurled themselves through space?”

  “How long has she been gone?” Noll asked.

  “Ten months,” Quentin told her.

  “What!” Noll rubbed her arms, trying to keep her astonishment from showing. “Why did you wait so long to contact me?”

  “My brother dealt with many situations differently than I would have. His resentment of all things magical was unusually strong, even for a Rodyte.”

  “In other words, Pern never would have trusted a Mystic, regardless of the cost?” Her gaze narrowed at the insinuation before she gained control again.

  “Let’s just say Pern’s priorities regarding Mystics were different from mine. I find loose ends unacceptable while he tended to focus on the situation at hand.” Pausing for a moment, he studied her expression. She’d have to be careful. His youthful appearance hid shrewd intelligence. She had no doubt many underestimated him. Her lips curved at the thought. They had that in common. Not even Vee had comprehended her true potential.

  “Aria has no idea who she is,” he said. “The need to find her escalated when Vee died. Do you believe his journal was destroyed as Evan and Dro Tar told the council?”

  She shook her head, her gaze unconsciously gravitating toward Faujer’s tall form. “Not a chance. I don’t know who they’re protecting, but they don’t want anyone investigating the situation.”

  “Anything that upsets them is likely to our advantage.”

  “I agree. The real Seeker Circle narrowed Dro Tar’s search to one of three hotels in Las Vegas. I’m convinced Evan wasn’t the only thing she discovered during her mission.”

  “Are you able to pass for human?”

  “I am.”

  “Good.” He stood and stepped down from the dais, cupping Faujer’s chin in one hand. “You will accompany Mistress Noll. Until I have proof that Aria is dead, you will be Noll’s slave, obedient to her every command. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Sire.” Faujer responded without hesitation, but the flash of rebellion in his gaze sent tingles down Noll’s spine.

  * * * * *

  Drakkin watched color bloom across Aria’s cheeks as she gazed through the image crystal. She started to speak then turned her face away, lowering her hand to her side.

  “I know this is hard to believe—”

  “It’s impossible to believe.” She raked her hair with her fingers, pushing the shimmering strands off her forehead. “If my father was a powerful Mystic, how were the Rodytes able to take me away from him?” She tossed the disk back to him and crossed her arms over her chest.

  It was a very good question. Vee was exceptionally powerful for an Ontarian and E’Lanna had been a Mystic as well. “I don’t know.” He slipped the disk into his pocket as he pondered the question. “It has only been in recent years that Rodyte technology has enabled them to emulate our abilities.”

  “And protect themselves from your abilities.”

  Drakkin hid a smile. She’d obviously been indoctrinated by her Rodyte captors. Her attitudes would change naturally as she explored her own abilities, so he didn’t argue the point. “How did you end up in Star-Crossed? Weren’t you worried about the Rodytes finding you?”

  “As you said before, I didn’t realize I was a prisoner.” She paused, her gaze shuttered and cold. “I have only your word that any of this is true. Why should I believe you?”

  Keeping his touch light, Drakkin eased into her mind. He wouldn’t ordinarily intrude, but she was in far more danger than she realized. An impressive shield surrounded her thoughts and emotions. Who had taught her to shield her mind? If he pushed any harder, she’d detect his presence. With a frustrated sigh, he withdrew. He needed to gain her trust and gain it quickly.

  “Have you ever been to Bilarri?” he asked.

  “I told you, I spent my entire life aboard various ships.”

  “And none of those ships ever entered Bilarrian space?”

  “I don’t know.” Her tone was sharp and impatient, but he wasn’t sure if frustration or fear accounted for the change in her voice. “When you never get off the ship, destinations become irrelevant.”

  He held out his hand and tried to capture her gaze. She looked everywhere but at him. “How many moons orbit Rodymia?”

  Her eyes rolled slightly as she looked at him. “One.”

  “Bilarri has three. If you can see more than one moon, you’ll know we’re not on Rodymia.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, she took his hand. He held the entrance flaps aside as she passed through the opening. The gauzy k’fal floated around her slender body, teasing him with hints of the curves concealed beneath. Stay on task. She needs a mentor, not a lover.

  A brisk wind swept across the campsite. Drakkin positioned his body behind her, protecting her from the swirling sand. She looked out across the endless, rolling dunes. He rested his hands on her shoulders, resisting the urge to bury his face in her hair. Two of Bilarri’s moons hovered in the distance.

  “This doesn’t prove we’re on Bilarri.” As she turned, the wind wrapped her hair around his torso, surrounding him with her unique scent. “At least I’m certain we’re not on Rodymia.” She allowed herself a half smile then ducked back inside the nenalte.

  Drakkin tried not to watch her rounded behind as she stooped to enter the tent, but the position was just too tempting. She was too tempting. Her voice was slightly throaty yet smooth. He longed to feel her hair slip through his fingers or swirl against his chest as she straddled his hips. Were her nipples crimson as Indric predicted? It didn’t matter! There was far more at stake than physical pleasure. Reinforcing his determination, he joined her in the tent.

  “Is it always so inhospitable here?” She brushed sand particles off her skirt and finger combed her hair. “Why would anyone choose to live here?”

  “If you know the desert’s secrets, it can be quite beautiful.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “Las Vegas was built in the middle of a desert. You seemed to like it there.”

  “Las Vegas had air conditioning and electricity.”

  She was still locked into the Rodyte mindset. He walked to the nearest wall and splayed his fingers against the fabric. “Tell me when you’re comfortable.” Summoning water from beneath the sand, he saturated the tent’s fibers. Then he commanded the weave to loosen, allowing air to pass through the damp threads while keeping the sand at bay.

  “It feels cooler already.” She moved up next to him, her hand hovering over the colorful wall. “What are you doing?”

  “A simple manipulation.” He clasped his hands behind his back and gazed into her eyes. “If you have half the aptitude your father had, you’ll have little need for technology.”

  Shaking her head, she lowered her arm and glanced away from his face. “You said the Rodytes were using me to control him. If he’s dead, why would I still be in danger? They have no reason to want me now.”

  “I wish that were true. You’re a member of the Royal House of Aune and the Rodytes held you captive. That cannot go unpunished.”

  Her lips thinned for a moment then she chuckled and she shook her head.
“Did you throw that bit in because I asked if I could be a princess?”

  Astonishment unfurled within him as her reaction registered. She didn’t believe him. He thought they’d gained more ground than this. “What do I gain by concocting this story?”

  “You tell me. What do you gain by holding me prisoner?”

  “You are not a prisoner.”

  “Then take me back to Earth.” She met his gaze, shoulders squared, chin raised.

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Of course it is.” She said nothing for a moment, her expression hostile. “If Vee had no idea where I was, then how did you find me?”

  “Your father kept a journal detailing everything that happened at the Conservatory. As his mentor, I validated each entry and then entered them into the Wisdom of the Ages.”

  Her gaze widened and she took a step back. Was she impressed or frightened? “You have connections with the Symposium?”

  It was clearly admiration in her tone not fear. Her reaction both surprised and pleased him. The Symposium was an interplanetary council. Still, most associated it with Bilarri. He had expected her attitude to reflect the same Rodyte taint that had colored the rest of her thinking. “Is there something you need researched?” If he admitted he was a founding member and the current director of the Symposium, it would sound as if he were trying to impress her. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad idea.

  “When you’re stuck on a ship for years on end, you do a lot of reading. It seemed no matter the topic, my searches led to the Wisdom of the Ages.”

  She tried to wave away the subject, but Drakkin wasn’t quite ready to let it go. “You weren’t impressed with physical evidence supporting my story. Why does my occupation put you at ease?”

  “I’m far from at ease,” she stressed, “but this balances the fact that you’re a sorcerer.”

  She said “sorcerer” as if it were something utterly undesirable. How very Rodyte of her. “I’ll accept whatever concession you’re willing to grant, but I still don’t understand.”

  “Members of the Symposium are known for their integrity and neutrality. They are steadfast in their pursuit of truth and do not tolerate any manipulation of the facts. You mentioned this almost in passing. You weren’t using it to change my mind.”

  Thrilled that he’d stumbled on to something that added to his credibility, he simply smiled and allowed her own conclusion to take root within her mind.

  “Did Vee mention me in one of the journal entries?”

  “He captured your image in the crystal disk and sent it to me on the day he was murdered. I teleported to Ontariese when I felt his passing, so the package was waiting for me when I returned.”

  “That’s kind of creepy.”

  Her candor made him smile. “I returned to Ontariese and learned that Vee’s apprentice Evan had stolen the journal and teleported off-world. When I spoke with Evan, he explained that a spontaneous vision had taken control of his teleportation. Guess where he ended up?”

  “On Earth?” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her hand trembling just a bit.

  “Not just Earth. He materialized in the hotel where Star-Crossed is performed.” Drakkin chuckled. “We’re probably lucky he didn’t end up onstage.”

  “This happened after Vee died? How could…? Did Vee tell Evan about me?” For the first time since the conversation began, she sounded as if she was sorting through facts rather than indulging her captor.

  “Vee used coded journal entries to reveal that he was being coerced by the Rodytes. Up until the moment his spirit left his body, he was fighting to keep you safe. I think the journal triggered Evan’s vision and the vision itself was a seeker pulse preprogrammed to locate you.”

  She licked her lips and fiddled with her hair. Her fascination with the strands increased with her nervousness. “The day I teleported to Earth, I heard a voice inside my head. Actually it was a conversation. A voice I didn’t recognize told Faujer that his mission was over and ordered him to bring me to wherever the other man was.”

  “Who was Faujer?”

  “That’s complicated.” She stepped just out of reach.

  Tension banded Drakkin’s chest. It was unrealistic to hope she was still untouched, but he didn’t want to think of her in the arms of another man. Ever. He tried to shake away the possessiveness. She didn’t belong to him. But that fact didn’t seem to matter.

  “I thought he was my lover,” she continued, “but apparently he was my guard.”

  “How did you…” He took a deep breath and wiped his mind clear of the past. “It’s none of my business. Forgive my rudeness. Did this man ever harm you?”

  Her gaze returned to his, warmth flickering through the pain. “No.”

  “I guess I won’t have to kill him.” She laughed, but he was entirely serious. “How did you end up in Star-Crossed? You never explained.”

  “I was terrified and disoriented when I stepped out of the transport conduit.” She strolled about the tent as she spoke, absently touching the furnishings. “I was in a secluded corner of the casino and a woman rushed to my side, thinking I had fainted. She took my hand and helped me to my feet. I touched her shoulder and my mind connected with hers. I can’t tell you how I did it, but I suddenly knew her name and understood what she was saying.”

  “Language links are a very common form of mind connection. I’ll teach you how to control them.”

  “I can’t control it. I have no idea what I did.”

  Before she could argue further, he closed the distance between them and drew her hand to his temple, pressing his hand over hers. His eyes tingled as he opened his mind to her, inviting her inside. The first tentative brush of her mind made his mouth go dry. He wanted her there, joined with him, sharing her feelings and thoughts. Clearing his throat, he augmented the link and guided her to the language center of his brain.

  “Listen to my voice. Absorb the meaning of each word.” Halfway through the second sentence he switched from English to Bilarrian. “Follow the connection to the language source, the portion of my brain creating the words.”

  “It can’t be this easy.” Wonder filled her eyes and Drakkin smiled.

  “Leave the link active and finish your tale in Bilarrian.” The language infusion would be strengthened by an active link. Still, a part of him just wasn’t ready to let her go.

  She nodded, her hand slipping out from under his. “Forming words seems to be more difficult than understanding them. I got many comments on my odd accent.”

  “You’re doing very well. Don’t concentrate on the individual words. Just let your story flow. Did this woman suggest you audition for the production?” He had a hundred questions he wanted to ask. Her coloring must have caused myriad complications.

  She started pacing again, gazing at everything but him. “They were holding open auditions the day I arrived. My appearance led everyone to believe I’d come for the audition. I sat in the auditorium, trying to figure out what had happened to me. I was terrified.” Her anxious steps faltered and she rubbed her upper arms. “I watched each person take their turn onstage and when my number was called, I just did what everyone else had done. I stepped into the spotlight and the entire auditorium grew silent. I was about to run for the nearest door when Preston Carmichael told me to have a seat in the front row.”

  “Who is Preston Carmichael?”

  “Star-Crossed is his baby. He produced, directed and co-wrote the show. He knocked on my dressing room door right before you created the vortex. Anyway, he made me wait through all the auditions. I started to calm down and analyze my situation. Faujer couldn’t ‘rescue’ me if he had no idea where I was. I had no shelter, no food and no form of currency. I needed a job.”

  “Why did Preston ask you to wait?”

  “He wanted to offer me one of the walk-on parts, but he also wanted me to train as Juliet’s understudy.”

  “You didn’t start out as Juliet?”

  “No. I covered
for her during off-peak performances for several weeks. Then she got in a fight with Preston and quite the show. He was an overbearing pain in the ass, but I didn’t have the luxury of walking away.”

  “How did you explain your appearance?”

  She shrugged and started back across the room at the same leisurely pace. “I had it written into my contract that I would never appear in public out of costume.”

  “Very clever.” He wasn’t fooled by her nonchalance. She was distancing herself from her emotions, fighting hard to remain composed.

  “I enjoyed doing the show, but I was so isolated whenever I wasn’t onstage.” Sadness bled through her reserve, confirming his suspicion. She must have been horribly lonely.

  “How long had you been on Earth?”

  “Ten months.” She glanced at him with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I arrived on New Year’s Day.”

  Drakkin’s eyes widened then a smile parted his lips. It was starting to make sense. “Your teleportation wasn’t random at all.”

  “What are you talking about? I have no connection to Earth. Why would the vortex take me there?”

  “You were trying to reach your sisters.”

  * * * * *

  “Keep your sunglasses on and let me do the talking,” Noll said in an urgent whisper. Cool air blasted through the doorway as they entered the hotel lobby.

  “Why did the Mystics allow you to participate in their ritual?” Ignoring her warning, Faujer asked the question in Rodyte. She’d decided against giving him a language infusion. Information was power and she shared it judiciously. Even in jeans and a T-shirt, he looked dangerous. The transport conduit had left him breathless and disoriented, yet it had only taken him a minute to regain his equilibrium. Strong, stubborn, wild—he was all those and more.

  “I’m the best Farseer at the Conservatory.” She squared her shoulders and listened for the musical cacophony she remembered from the shared vision. “I participate in all Seeker Circles. Now don’t speak again until we’re alone. We don’t need that kind of attention.”