***
Francesca sat at her desk and tried to think of a single useful thing she had done that morning. She had to admit that, so far, she had been worse than useless. Not only had she not accomplished anything positive, she had made Antonio clench his jaw twice by snapping at him, and she had seriously annoyed Elena Leong when she called to inquire about a change in their delivery schedule.
Francesca decided to face the problem. Heedless of the fact that it would set tongues wagging, she buzzed the security booth at the front gate.
Brewster was still on duty. He sat up straighter when he saw who was calling him.
“Yes, Baroness?” he inquired politely.
“Has my husband’s visitor left the complex yet?” she demanded.
“No, Baroness,” Brewster said. “Merced took her up to the house and no one has called to have her escorted out yet.”
“Thank you.” Francesca cut the connection before her anger could show on her face. She couldn’t believe Janis Uurtemo would have nerve enough to stay for nearly two hours on an uninvited visit. What could they be doing—Francesca got up from her desk and left the office, brushing past a startled Antonio with a hasty explanation.
For one minute, Francesca considered repeating Ran-Del’s trick of entering the bedroom through the hidden door, but she decided that that would have too many unfortunate allusions to her own near-unfaithfulness, so she headed for the front door of the suite.
When she came through the door, she was brought up short by the sight of her husband sitting on the sofa drinking tea with a gray-haired woman who looked vaguely familiar.
They both looked up at her as she came in.
Ran-Del rose politely. “Hello, Francesca. I’d like you to meet Clara Rangoon.”
Francesca stood, speechless with surprise.
“Actually,” Clara said, staying seated but holding out her hand, “we’ve already met, Baroness, but you were rather upset so you might not remember it.”
Francesca shook Clara’s hand and got a grip on herself at the same time. “Oh, yes; I remember meeting you at the hospital. You’re Georges’ wife.”
“Yes,” Clara said. “I help with the books at the warehouse, so I know Ran-Del quite well.”
“I just remembered,” Ran-Del said, sitting back down as Francesca sank into a chair. “You were worried the day I was attacked, Clara. You must have had a vision.”
Clara nodded. “I did, but it wasn’t strong enough to do any good. I knew something nasty would happen, but I couldn’t tell what it was, and after I was away from you, the feeling faded.”
“Most of mine are like that,” Ran-Del said. “It’s very annoying to have intimations rather than clear pictures—rather like remembering that you meant to do something but not being able to recall what it was.”
“Sometimes it works better for me,” Clara said cheerfully. “And occasionally, it’s completely wrong—I assume because something changes the sequence of events. The vision fades and goes away by itself.”
“What are you two talking about?” Francesca asked in exasperation.
“Foretelling,” Ran-Del said.
“Precognition,” Clara said simultaneously.
They both grinned. “Same thing, different words,” Clara added.
“It seems,” Ran-Del said, “that not all the people with psy abilities left the city. It’s just that the ones who remained hid themselves. They were afraid to let anyone know they had gifts.”
“We’re still afraid,” Clara said. “That’s why no one said anything to Ran-Del when he first came here, even though we knew he was an empath; we didn’t want to give ourselves away.”
“Who is we?” Francesca asked.
“Me,” Clara said, “Janis, and a dozen or so others in our circle.”
“Janis?” Francesca said with distaste. Yet another reason to dislike the red-haired woman.
“Yes,” Clara said. “Janis is rather like Ran-Del; she’s a strong telepath, but her precognition is almost nonexistent. For me, the balance shifts the other way. I have enough telepathic skills to be conversant with other telepaths, if I’m close enough to them, but I also have flashes of visions that are often compellingly correct. Ran-Del was telling me about how his great-grandfather used to hold seeings. I understand that you witnessed one?”
Francesca smiled sourly. “There wasn’t much to see.” She crossed her arms over her chest and got to the point. “Why did you come to see Ran-Del, Clara? Are you having a reunion?” She sounded rude, but she didn’t care. First Ran-Del wanted to keep her away from his friends, and now it turned out they were all more like him than she was.
Clara didn’t look affronted. “Not exactly, Baroness. I wanted to talk to Ran-Del about a job.”
“A job?” Francesca said. “Doing what?”
“Training young people.” Ran-Del sounded entirely too eager. “When Clara’s friends locate young people with psy talent they try to help them.”
“What kind of help?” Francesca asked.
“Help like my grandfather gave me,” Ran-Del said. “A psy gift can make you think you’re going crazy.”
“Yes,” Clara said. “Ran-Del will be particularly useful because his talent grew so quickly.”
“So you’re going to do it?” Francesca said. “You’re going to work with these people?”
Clara and Ran-Del exchanged glances, and then Clara stood up.
“I think I had better be going, Ran-Del,” she said. “I told Georges I’d stop by the warehouse, and he worries when I’m late.”
“I’ll see you to the front door,” Ran-Del said.
Francesca offered her hand and said goodbye but even to her own ears she sounded aloof rather than warm. She walked back to her office wondering if this new task would throw Ran-Del into Janis Uurtemo’s path. It seemed to Francesca that it was bound to—and there wasn't much she could do to stop it.
The Sixth Discipline Page 89