The Earl and the Executive

by Kai Butler

  Groaning, he stood and poured himself a drink. It was well past evening and heading into late night; it wasn’t improper to be drinking hard liquor, even if the amount he poured himself was a bit excessive.

  Ovi opened the door and entered without a knock. She stood in front of his desk until he settled back in his chair, nursing the golden drink in his hands.

  “I might know how the previous earl died, although certainty will cost us,” she said. She dropped a drive down on the desk, and spread the information across the screen with a wave of her hand. “The late earl had a habit of visiting The Last Resort —”

  “The gambling satellite?” Zev asked. He took another drink. The alcohol burned as it slid down his throat.

  “More of a gaming hell, if my information is correct. They also deal in … physical pleasures,” Ovi said. “As I was saying, the late earl was known to visit the satellite. Although he was not supposed to be on Lus when he died, I have video of him here. He drove himself up to the satellite.”

  With a tap of her finger, she pulled up a video, showing a man Zev immediately recognized as Lecc Oican sitting in a cafe. Zev had been to that cafe and knew that Lecc was likely enjoying the view of the city.

  “So he was killed on the satellite?” Zev asked thoughtfully.

  “Maybe,” Ovi said. She swiped away the video and pulled up what looked like a mug shot. The man was grinning at the camera, his eyes gleaming with what Zev would swear was mischief, as though he was amused that he’d been caught and not in the least afraid of the consequences of his actions.

  “This is Rea Dintro,” she said. “An outer-rim pirate by trade.”

  Zev raised his eyebrows. “He killed the Earl?”

  “He claims to not have, but he’ll only talk for a lot of money and if we meet him off-world.” Ovi’s expression showed her distaste for both of the requirements.

  “But you think he did?”

  “I think that if he killed an earl, he wouldn’t offer to talk about it for money,” Ovi said.

  Zev paged through the information he had about Dintro. Much of the dossier was hearsay, but it included a couple of arrest accounts and a rather salty captain’s log entry about him.

  He touched on the information about the late earl and found more photo and video evidence of him on Lus. A hotel bill in his name, a few other receipts. There was a closeup of him smirking and the image sent a cold shiver of memory down Zev’s spine.

  He shook off the feeling. He’d assumed he was long over the experience, but seeing that same expression on Lecc’s face reminded him that perhaps he was not.

  “What will you do now?” Ovi asked.

  Zev leaned back and took a long drink, closing out all the photos of Lecc.

  “Nothing,” he said. “Tiral will be engaged shortly, and dragging all this up won’t serve him any purpose. If he gains nothing, my own curiosity is untoward and will go no further.”

  “Surely he wants to know the truth of his brother’s murder,” Ovi said stubbornly. He glanced up, amused at how this line of research had shown that she remained, at heart, the true military officer she’d once been. She still believed in right for right’s sake.

  Zev drank again and felt a slight warmth tinge his body. “But likely not from me.”

  Ovi didn’t say anything else, but collected her materials and gave him a slight bow. When she left, he finished off his drink and decided that another was very much in order.

  He wished that he could say that the rest of the following week was spent more productively, that without Tiral to occupy his time he was sharper and more focused on work. But the reality was that more often than not, he woke to realize he’d drunk himself to sleep on his office couch and that at some point someone had covered him with a blanket.

  On the fourth day, Ovi reminded him pointedly that there was a dinner party he’d been looking forward to because they’d likely be discussing the newest Laft Aeromech ships. Both the host and guests often purchased the newest technology and the new Laft luxury ship was being released just in time for them to show interest.

  With no small agony, he bathed and allowed his valet to dress him, avoiding a pre-dinner drink even though hair-of-the-dog might have been welcome. At the party, he vowed to stay sober, if only so that he wouldn’t make a fool of himself as he had at the last event he’d gone to.

  That was his intention until he saw Yun Rit smiling in the center of a small crowd of admirers. At the sight of that perfect face, Zev couldn’t help but grab a drink from the nearest footman and down it quicker than the host had likely intended.

  Three drinks later, he approached Rit as he stood on the balcony outside the room.

  “Rit!” he greeted jovially, as though they were close friends.

  Surprised, Rit turned to him and frowned in puzzlement. Before he could speak, Zev was already talking.

  “I hear congratulations are in order, my good man!” Zev heard the words coming out of his mouth and knew that they were proper, but they still felt like broken glass dragging through this throat.

  “For what?” Rit asked. His smile was slightly puzzled and he swirled his wine slowly.

  “I heard you were to be married,” Zev said, his forced smile turning into a frown.

  “Oh, that,” Rit sighed. “Well, the count wants to get it done as soon as possible, so likely it’ll be nothing more than a small ceremony with a judge.”

  “The count?” Zev asked, puzzled. “You mean the earl?”

  “Gret? No, no,” Rit’s smile turned wistful and he looked down at his drink. “I’m afraid he turned me down."

  “What?” Zev said, nearly at a loss for words. The alcohol now made him feel clumsy and he wished he had a slightly clearer head. “Tir- er, Gret turned you down?”

  “We thought it would be a good solution, but I think his conscience couldn’t force his heart into an unwanted marriage,” Rit said. He took a drink of wine and eyed Zev critically. “If I might make a suggestion, Yuls?”

  Zev said nothing, and Rit continued. “I wouldn’t give up so quickly with Gret. He’s a good man and anyone willing to give up his inheritance for love isn’t someone you should let slip away. I’d be glad to know that he still has that choice.”

  The words were peaceable enough, but the light in Rit’s eyes made it a challenge. Whatever had happened between him and Tiral hadn’t made him bitter. He seemed quietly sorrowful, and perhaps jealous that Tiral had been able to say no where it was clear that Rit had been pressed to say yes.

  Nodding, Zev managed a quiet, “Well, felicitations and I wish you happiness in the union.”

  “Thank you,” Rit said, nodding in goodbye. He brushed past Zev on his way back to the party and Zev found himself staring out at the gardens.

  He could think of no reason that Tiral would say no to Rit. He seemed an amiable enough fellow and he had the money to save the estate. But Rit had said that Tiral was willing to give up the estate. Was he doing it for Zev? The idea seemed impossible, especially since they had so unequivocally ended it.

  Shaking his head, Zev realized that only one person could answer any of his questions. With the new information he had about the previous Earl’s death, he now had a reason to visit Tiral. Hopefully the man would still see him.

  The mood in the house was somber. Their mother hadn’t left her chambers since Tiral had admitted his intentions and made it clear that her particular brand of coercion would be ignored. Edah had been flittering about the house, bringing food to their mother, trying to talk with him, and, in general, keeping the place running when she wasn’t out with Lady Socis.

  It was his sister who found him brooding over the books, trying to squeeze a few more days out of what was left of their money. Breezing in, she immediately pulled open the curtains of his study, nearly blinding him and causing the tablet he held to go near black at the sudden change in ambient light.

  “That’s better,” she said, ignoring his glare. “Now don’t hiss like the c
at that’s been kicked off the hearth and forced to go mousing.”

  “You’re cheerful this morning,” Tiral noted, suspiciously.

  “I try to maintain an equilibrium befitting a lady,” she said. “And also, someone needs to not be dour. Between you and Mother, you’d think that all was lost.”

  “Isn’t it?” Tiral asked, confused. He looked at the tablet again. Had he been looking at the wrong numbers? No, everything seemed correct. They had at most three more months before they would officially be out of money.

  “No. You’ll go back to your job, Mother will live off her own inheritance, and I’ll…” she trailed off.

  “You’ll be kicked out of the only home you’ve known,” Tiral said unhappily, slumping back into his seat. He looked away, guilt eating at him.

  “Well, that’s a bit of a damper,” Edah said. “Lord, have you been like this all morning? No wonder the servants have been avoiding you.”

  “I think they’re angry at me,” Tiral said, placing the tablet on his desk. He picked up a loose stylus and twisted it between his fingers.

  “Mad at you? Whatever for?” Edah asked, sitting across from him.

  “It’s their jobs, too, that I lost.”

  “For goodness’s sake,” Edah snapped. “I don’t think they would prefer you to live unhappy for the rest of your life so that they didn’t have to look for another position!”

  “It would have been the right thing to do,” Tiral muttered.

  “And then they would have had to look at your poor excuse for a ‘making the best of it’ face for the rest of their careers. I think not.” She shook her head. “They’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. I’ll… come live with you!”

  “In university housing?” Tiral asked, slightly aghast. “It’s a one-bedroom house!”

  “You’ll sleep on the couch and request more rooms,” Edah said patiently. “Or I’ll go live with Lady Socis.”

  Her lips curved into a soft smile and she was suddenly very focused on the pattern of her dress. Even feeling as morose as he did, Tiral couldn’t help but feel gratitude for the lady in question.

  “Is that how the wind blows?” he asked.

  “She’s offered me a job,” Edah admitted.

  Raising his eyebrow, Tiral said, “A job?”

  “Working for her estate. We share some beliefs on the future of agriculture,” Edah said. “Honia is… really quite amazing, Tiral.”

  “Well, I’m glad for you,” Tiral said. “Although, Edah, really. Have you ever even had a job?”

  “I’ve had a job, Tiral!” she said. “On the estate. I was managing it.”

  “I’m not sure it counts if you’re the lady of the estate,” Tiral said. “You’d have to listen to what someone else said and actually do it.”

  “You’d think I’ve never been a lady in polite society before,” she said. “Honestly, brother, what do you think ladies do?”

  Waving off her valid point, he said, “Well, that seems well enough.”

  “The only thing I’m uncertain of is the question of… well, how did you know?” she asked, leaning forward to grab his hands.

  Surprised, he almost pulled away, but forced himself to stay still in her embrace. “Know what?”

  “That you couldn’t marry Rit, even though it would settle everything,” she whispered.

  He echoed her tone, as though they were sharing a deep secret.

  “Because I looked forward and the future I saw was pleasant. We would be good companions and likely great friends if given time. But I would never love him. I just couldn’t see it.” He looked at their hands, entwined on his desk. Her slender fingers matched his. “And I realized that without love, it would always be only half a life. A life lived in cowardice, knowing that I had and could love but that my husband simply didn't stir any of those feelings in me.”

  Edah gripped his hands tightly and avoided his gaze.

  Tentatively, he asked, “What feelings do you have for Lady Socis?”

  “She is all I can think of,” Edah admitted. “I wake and think of her and miss her terribly when I don't see her. And, oh, Tiral. She's so brilliant. She's so smart and has such wondrous ideas.”

  Amused, Tiral said, “I think, perhaps, lack of certainty is not your failing.”

  Releasing his hands, Edah flopped backwards. “But how do you know what the right decision is?”

  “You just have to have faith in yourself,” Tiral said. “And know that the other decision is… untenable.”

  “Untenable,” Edah said, as though tasting the word. “Tiral —”

  “You don’t need to decide now,” he said. “Give yourself time. We have a few months before we need to make any changes.”

  Nodding, Edah stood. “Well, I came to make sure you were eating and had actual sunlight. Come to lunch.”

  She stepped around the desk and tugged on his hand until he stood, following her out.

  “It will be alright,” she murmured quietly as they made their way to the dining room. “If this is how we end it, then at least we know that we didn’t cause it.”

  With a small smile, Tiral accepted the words. But his shoulders still slumped. It might have been untenable to marry Yun, but it would have been safe. He was navigating uncharted waters and he couldn’t help but feel foolish for making so rash a decision based on nothing but his own needs.

  Edah would forgive him, and his mother would either pretend that it had all been her doing or never see him again, but he couldn’t help but wish that it was all different. That it had been a different man asking for his hand. No, he reminded himself. He’d made the decision with no expectations of Zev and with the knowledge that Zev might not ever want to see him again.

  It was far better to expect nothing than be disappointed.

  19

  The next day, Zev drank only coffee and water. Ovi glanced at him suspiciously when she thought he couldn’t see her, but said nothing. He was working more efficiently and he was pretty sure that that had been all she wanted anyway.

  At lunch, a meal he ate off a tray on his desk, he opened the dossier that Ovi had prepared and browsed the information about the late earl again. It seemed straightforward and he knew what he wanted to do, even knew what he should do, and both of those things lined up neatly.

  “Did this pirate give you a timeline?” Zev asked quietly.

  Ovi looked up from the paperwork she was forwarding to the correct departments and raised her eyebrow, but didn’t pretend not to know exactly what he was talking about.

  “Soon,” she said. “He’s leaving as soon as his ship is fixed. He didn’t want to stop at Lus at all, but apparently the next closest planet would have put him in loyalist territory and he liked his chances on a pleasure planet better than one that would see his head on a pike.”

  “Set up a meeting,” Zev said. “Wherever makes him comfortable, but somewhere I can take an earl.”

  “You think Gret will want to go?” Ovi asked, surprised.

  “Of course. He’ll want to know what happened to his brother more than most, I assume.” Zev tapped on the pirate's photo and zoomed in, showing a handsome face, that amused look in the eyes.

  “I’ll see it done,” Ovi said. “When are you going to see Gret?”

  “Today,” Zev said, decisive. He said it with more confidence than he felt, and ignored the look she threw at him.

  After that it was choosing the right clothes and ordering the car brought round. He had chosen a darker suit that didn't match his usual style. The dark blue was near black, staid and serious. He hadn’t been sure if he should go for a look that acknowledged what Tiral had just given up or for a suit more along his usual line that indicated that Tiral’s choices were none of his concern.

  He drove himself to Tiral’s house and waited outside, staring at the door for a moment before mounting the steps and knocking sharply. He should have called ahead, should have checked for his welcome before simply arriving at the man’s front step. />
  The serious butler answered and showed him inside with a small bow. He was left alone in a parlor that overlooked the street, hyperaware of the possibility that when the butler returned it would be with the announcement that Lord Gret was ‘not at home.’

  Instead, after a few minutes, Tiral opened the door. He did it suddenly, and stopped on the threshold as though arrested by the sight of Zev in his home. The furrow between his brows was easy to read as confusion.

  “Zev,” he said, his expression open with want. Shaking his head, he corrected himself. “Mister Yuls. Is-is everything all right? I didn’t expect you to call.”

  “Lord Gret,” Zev said, with a small smile. “Thank you for seeing me. I thought we might discuss some information I’ve come across. Would you care to sit? You might find it startling.”

  “Of course,” Tiral said easily. He stepped into the room, shut the door, and took a chair across from a small settee.

  Zev sat down as well, but then felt unsure how to begin. Finally he said, “I have some evidence that your brother’s death may have been due to foul play.”

  “Foul play?” Tiral asked. “You think someone might have intended him harm?”

  “I do,” Zev said. “We found some video footage of him on Lus before he was killed and some evidence that he went to visit The Last Resort before he died.”

  “The ‘Last Resort’? Is that a hotel?” Tiral guessed.

  “A gaming hell,” Zev said. “It’s a small satellite that orbits Lus. I’ve never been, but I understand that it’s also known for being a bit of an abbey.”

  “Prostitution?” Tiral asked, frowning. “Lecc never had problems in that area. I think he was more inclined to purchase mistresses. We’re still finding the receipts from some of his more expensive conquests.”

  “Maybe he was a gambler, then?” Zev suggested. “Either way, the last we have from him was that he was driving up to visit the satellite himself, and then he was found dead…”

  “On Lus’s own moon,” Tiral said thoughtfully. “Well that is rather suspicious, isn’t it?”