Crystal Fire (9 page)

She ducked and rolled aside, firing pointblank at the guardbot. The sound was loud and abrupt in the sudden silence. It brought a light, rapid tread of footsteps in her direction.

"Marissa!"

Brace slid to a halt behind the guardbot's shattered remains. His sharp glance took in the pile of twisted metal, then Marissa's calm countenance as she slung her blaster back onto her shoulder. He grinned, then signaled her onward.

With one last, regretful look at the manuscripts stacked about the chamber, Marissa followed Brace. There was a job to be done, she reminded herself, and the room of books was now a thing of the past.

The third floor consisted of ceremonial weaponry acquired from virtually every royal house in the Imperium. Jewels encrusted the ancient shields, helmets, and swords wrought of precious aureum and argentum metals, all glittering with seductive brilliance in the flickering light of perpetual torches. Marissa paused to pry some of the larger stones free, then added them to the growing stash in her bag. In a room of gems on the second floor, on a miscellaneous pile on a back table, a narrow, ornately gilded box caught Marissa's eye. On its cover was engraved the form of Aranea's famed mutant weaving spider. Marissa picked up the container and flipped open its lid.

Inside lay an ancient scroll, yellowed and brittle with age. More secrets of the ancients, Marissa thought wryly, and closed the box. She made a move to return it to the table when a sound behind her drew her up sharply.

Another guardbot! She wheeled about, her hand moving to her blasterand froze.

An old man, gray-bearded and dressed in long white robes, shimmered before her. He smiled, his expression gentle and kind. Marissa's throat constricted.

Either she was having a hallucination or the Repository was haunted. She clamped her eyes shut for a brief moment, then snapped them open. The old man remained.

''Take the box, child," he murmured softly. "You'll need it laterfor the quest. Take it, child."

"Wh-who are you?" Marissa choked out the words. "What's your?"

He began to disappear even as she spoke, fading away as quickly as he'd appeared. Marissa blinked. Had she really seen the old man? She glanced down at the box in her hand.

Though made of precious aureum and inlaid with several fine stones, it was not overly impressive when compared to the fabulous wealth scattered about the room. Still, old man or no, there was something about it . . . With a shrug, Marissa tossed it into her bag.

Three horas and a platoon of destroyed guardbots later, they departed the Repository through the same air duct, their booty bags suitably laden. Olena was soon left behind, after a brief detour to acquire a supply of fresh food from the various shops. The-trip into town had been surprisingly successful, and the trio celebrated with a lavish banquet of stolen victuals.

Afterwards, Marissa spent the last few horas before sleep sifting happily through the contents of her bag. She came upon the box with the embossed Aranean spider and once again flipped open its lid. She unrolled the scroll carefully. The writing was unintelligible though vaguely familiar.

With a frustrated sigh, Marissa rerolled the ancient vellum and returned it to its case. Need it indeed, she thought in irritation, harking back to the words of the strange old man. The only thing she needed was the money the aureum box would sell for. The scroll itself was of little value, save perhaps for tinder.

Marissa tossed the box back into her bag and resumed her intent rifling through the rest of her booty. Brace, meanwhile, stared gloomily into the fire, planning for the moment he'd reveal his plan to leave herand battling the mixed emotions that that contemplation stirred. And, high in a tree above them, Rodac snored away, his own bag of riches clutched to his hairy chest.

They reached Tutela in another sol, arriving in the early afternoon. After taking a room over a tavern, the trio went their separate ways to comb the city for any word of Ferox, not meeting again until sol set. Marissa was the last to return. She was not pleased with the news.

"Nothing?" she demanded. "You found nothing about Ferox?"

"He seems to have disappeared for the time being," Brace called from behind the room's dressing screen, where he was changing into the new clothes he'd bought with some of his stash. "Until he decides to resurface, there's not a lot we can do about it."

"But I haven't the time"

"There's little choice," Brace interjected. "Now I suggest"

Marissa rounded on Rodac. "And you? Are you sure you heard nothing of use? You
are
capable of some simple spying, aren't you?"

The Simian's lip curled in a sneer and he made a move toward her. Brace stepped from behind the screen.

"Why not head down to the tavern?" he suggested to the tall alien, slipping between Rodac and Marissa. "We'll join you shortly, after Marissa's had a time to calm."

"Calm?" There was an edge of rising fury to her voice. "I'm warning you, Ardane. Don't patronize me!" Brace motioned Rodac toward the door, then turned to Marissa. He waited until the door clicked shut before replying.

He might as well tell her now. She couldn't get too much more agitated. Brace pulled over a chair. "Marissa, sit down."

She glanced briefly at Brace's long-sleeved dark blue tunic, laced up the front, and his snug-fitting black breeches, tucked into shiny new black boots. Her gaze lifted to his face, and she gave a start of surprise. He'd had his nose fixed as well.

Marissa grimaced. If he thought some new clothes and a rapidly improving appearance gave him the right to order her around . . .

Her chin lifted in a mutinous angle. "No. I don't want to sit down."

"Marissa, sit," came the soft, definitive command.

She eyed him for a moment more, considering further defiance, then decided it was pointless. With a disgruntled sigh, Marissa strode to the chair and sat down.

"Yes, Ardane?" she inquired silkily. "And how may I serve you?"

He chuckled. "You're mistaken, Domina. It is I who am the humble servant, not you."

"Thank you for reminding me. I forget so often of late."

Gods, Brace thought, she was so beautiful sitting there, the setting sun bathing her in a nimbus of golden light, her chestnut hair a riotous tumble about her, her striking eyes flashing a seductive challenge. He would miss her, he realized belatedly, miss the clash of wills, the fiery interchange, the hope for something more between them.

A hope that would be quashed forever in the revelation of his betrayal. But there was no other wayand he
had
provided for her the best he could. He swallowed hard and forced himself to go on.

"I once asked you if I would have fulfilled my vow if my actions, whatever they were, resulted in the rescue of your sister. Do you recall your reply?"

"Yes. I agreed. Now, what are you getting at? I grow weary of this game."

"I enlisted Rodac's aid for two reasons," Brace admitted, moving right to the point. "One was to get us through the mountains to Tutela."

Marissa saw the guilt smolder in Ardane's eyes and flush his face. Her apprehension grew. Finally she could bear it no longer.

"What?" Marissa demanded. "What is the other reason?"

For a fleeting instant regret flared in Brace's eyes. Then his expression hardened.

"I go no further on this quest of yours. Rodac is your partner now. And either you learn to work with himor head out alone."

Marissa stared at Brace for a long moment. She'd expected this, she struggled to remind herself. Yet his betrayal still hurt.

"So, how long have you been plotting this?" Marissa forced herself to ask.

Brace squared his shoulders for the battle to come. "I never meant to get involved in this hopeless quest. You'd do well to give it up, too. Your sister is probably dead by now."

"Believe me, she's alive. I'd know if she wasn't."

"Well, it doesn't matter. I'm not going with you.

"You gave your word."

"The word of a desperate man."

"You mean, the word of a coward!"

Brace's jaw went taut with rage. "Don't start, Marissa."

She moved until she confronted him face to face. "And why not, Ardane? Aren't you man enough to face the truth? The truth that you're a spineless coward and liar?" Marissa snarled, hating herself, even as she spoke, for the liar she was as well. "But even a coward can be bought. Even you must have your price."

"Yes, Marissa, I suppose I do," Brace growled, his voice vibrating with cold fury. "My freedom. I'd do anything for my freedom."

"And what about my needs? What about Candra's freedom?"

He eyed her, something snapping within him. Curse her for throwing one of his deepest fears into his face, for taunting him, and for being the alluring woman she was in spite of it all! Let her just once feel some of the same frustration and confusion he felt!

"Well, there can be a price for that, too," Brace replied, as a challenge that he knew Marissa wouldn't dare take formed in his mind. "But have a care. You won't like paying it."

"Won't I?" she jeered. "And what could it possibly take to buy a coward's backbone?"

Brace's glance slid down the length of her body, and a bewildering mix of rage and lust flooded him. "Mate with me. Then perhaps I'll reconsider."

She stared at him, stunned.

"Well, Marissa?" Brace prodded. "Surely the price isn't too high? Not for the life of your beloved sister?"

"You despicable slime worm!"

His eyes narrowed to icy slits. "Why should your sacrifice be any less than mine? I gave up everything to save my brother, and it all but destroyed me. Now, here you stand, demanding the only thing I have leftmy life. Surely that deserves some token sacrifice on your part?"

Brace's voice lowered to a rasping whisper. "How deep does your love for your sister really go, Marissa? Deep enough to endure the indignity of mating with me?"

Marissa's hand moved to the dagger sheathed on her thigh. "G-get out of here!" she cried, nearly choking on her rage. "Get out before I kill you!"

He gave a harsh laugh, then backed away. "Take some time to think about it, femina. I've seen how you've looked at me when you thought I wouldn't notice. I'd wager you need the mating as much as I."

The dagger barely missed his head as it sank into the door frame. Brace turned and left the room.

Mixed emotions assailed him as he strode the length of the hall and down the stairs. Gods, what had he been thinking, to taunt her like that? It had been crude, cruel, and so unlike him. And why had he offered his services if only she'd mate with him? No female was worth his life!

What would he have done if she'd taken him up on his offer? Mate with her? The consideration held a strong, if disconcerting, appeal. After all, he'd been without a female for over two cycles, and Marissa, mouthy defiance and all, most definitely stirred his desires. But to use, and then turn his back upon her . . . For all his newly heightened sense of self-preservation, Brace couldn't stoop that low. He was already having enough trouble hardening his heart to Marissa and her plight. He was already having enough trouble accepting the man he'd become.

Gods, Brace thought with a surge of disbelief, what had he been thinking a few secundae ago? He had to get away from that little Sodalitas, and soon, or she'd manipulate his emotions to her own ends after all!

The crowded chaos of the tavern was a welcome relief from his troubling thoughts. Brace melted into the mass of sweating, jostling bodies, inhaling deeply of the scent of well-aged Moracan ale and smoky cannaba weed hovering over the room in a thick, heady cloud. By the five moons, could anything sound or smell as rousing as a noisy, rabble-filled tavern?

Brace wedged into a spot at the bar and studied the counter top of well-scarred robur wood as he awaited his mug of ale. The various hues of the grain swirled and mingled in deep, intense gradations of color. Rich, vibrantlike the shimmering bronze of Marissa's hair.

With a fierce shake of his head, Brace rejected the swell of feelings evoked by that memory. It was over, dead between them, before there'd ever been a chance. Dead, as well it should be.

His mug of ale slid down the counter to strike his arm. He gripped its metallic coolness and lifted it to his mouth. A long, deep, satisfying draught of the spicy brew did a lot to calm his highly charged emotions. Brace emptied the contents and ordered another.

Gradually a warm lethargy settled over him. He turned to eye the tavern occupants, his second mug in hand. Rodac was sprawled in a corner booth across the room, three empty mugs neatly lined up before him on the table. In his leathery hand he clasped a fourth.

Brace frowned and leaned back against the bar. Simians weren't known for their ability to hold their liquor. Even from across the room Rodac's movements appeared sluggish, his eyes glazed. Brace muttered a silent prayer that the alien would pass out before some foolhardy soul decided to pick a fight.

Snatches of conversation floated by, snaring his wandering attention. And all the talk seemed to have a similar theme.

"The Knowing Crystal . . . finally discovered on the planet Carcer . . ."

". . . some Aranean princess and a criminal found it . . ."

". . . Ferox had it all along . . ."

At the mention of Ferox's name, Brace stiffened, his mug halfway to his lips. A strange premonition washed over him. His heart began a dull, heavy thudding.

". . . and now she's Queen of the planet Aranea, and Teran Ardane's her lord."

Brace shoved through the crowd toward the voice's owner, his mug still clenched in his hand. He grabbed the startled man by the front of his tunic and pulled him close.

''Ardane. Teran Ardane," Brace demanded. "What has he to do with the Queen of Aranea?"

The man reared back, a look of puzzled amusement on his face. "Where have you been this past monate, not to have heard the tale of their rescue of the Knowing Crystal? Locked away in prison?"

Laughter erupted at the man's mocking question. Brace scowled. His grip tightened and he pulled the man up to him until they stood eye to eye.