Melia tapped the plastic sheeting over the framed image, her lips turning down. “Do you?”
“Mm hm.”
Sima rested a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “There’s a little shop on the corner down the street. Go outside and take a left. It’s not the best, nothing fancy, just natural pigments and hand carved brushes with horse hair tips, but it’s a fine shop for local artists. The man who runs it painted this.”
The woman didn’t respond, her gaze far off in the greens and browns of the meadow landscape.
Sima went on. “Life’s too short not to do what you really want to do.”
That got her attention. Melia closed her eyes and sucked in a rattling breath. “You’re very kind.” She slipped her hand in her robes and tugged out a sharer, glanced at the time and nodded. “Thank you so much. You have a nice day.” She stared at Sima for a moment, smiled wide, and turned to go.
Chapter Eight
Collin
Melia leaned her forehead against the shuttle window. She was all alone, unless one chose to count crates of organic produce as passengers. The driver appeared lost in his own little world of punker-hash music, his fingers drumming out a speedy beat against the dash every so often. She watched as the last green trees of Alga sped by, lost, perhaps gone forever. She doubted she’d be sent here again. Her mind drifted to the woman in the rental office and her eyes. Those eyes reminded her of Enrue. “I’m obsessing,” she muttered.
“Seeing him everywhere.
What a sick assassin I am. I think I enjoy my work too much.”
She had a small, wrapped bundle in her lap. The contents were an act of utter defiance against her mother and her forced inclusion in the Kyleena military academy as a teen. She’d not wanted to go, but Mom had assured her that she belonged there. Melia ran her fingers over the brown paper, wondering if she could even paint anymore. It had been so long, such a deeply buried memory. Grinning, she recalled her days of sneaking into the vid-gamer underground. Defiance was easier then, long before she’d been recruited to be a paid mercenary. Now defiance meant a swift trial and a swifter death.
She longed to see Enrue’s face again. Flicking her sharer open, she keyed in the com to his office. It signaled several times before picking up. His secretary stood there looking terse and agitated. “What is it now, Cossia?” Her biting sarcasm angered Melia.
“I see you too have no respect for Kyleena.” She clucked her tongue. “Let me speak to the Shiemir.”
“He’s in a meeting and not to be interrupted.” The thin, gray-haired woman placed her hands on her hips and scowled.
“Specifically, not by you.”
“He said that, did he?”
The secretary nodded. “I believe his exact words were, ‘I am not to be disturbed, especially by that little Cossia imposter from the Empire.’” She had mimicked Enrue’s voice to a degree.
Melia almost laughed, but bit back her amusement. She was getting to him, and that was a good sign. He was turning into a fun challenge. “Well, can you give him a message for me?”
“I can record it, but won’t guarantee he’ll watch.” She pressed a button before her and, as seemed to be her way, went back to either filing or trying to trace the com. Her lined face went lax, her dim eyes fixed elsewhere. It was insulting, but Melia had been treated with much less regard in the past.
“Tell Enrue I’m on my way to Taraf, and I look forward to meeting him face to face.” She paused when the secretary wandered away.
Of all the nerve…
“And tell him I’ll take great pleasure in watching the Empire use his corpse as an example of what happens to traitors.”
That got the woman’s attention. She craned her neck into the com’s view. Her mouth twisted in a surprisingly pissy frown. “How dare you threaten him? Obviously, you have no idea how powerful the Shiemir is.”
Melia waved a hand in the air. “Oh, you’re wrong. I know exactly how powerful he is, who his allies are, and all about his plans. Let him know how much I enjoyed Wyther’s company just before he told me all of Enrue’s dirty, little secrets.”
“What!” The secretary darted forth, her spindly form rigid. “Jeremy Wyther? What did you say?”
“That’s right. General Wyther’s tongue flapped just like so many others before him. I must say, he disappointed me.”
Her wrinkled face became ashen. Melia had touched a tender nerve, and she reveled in the small victory of overturning this woman’s high and mighty demeanor. She twiddled a lock of hair and watched the secretary try to gather her words. When nothing escaped the older woman’s lips, Melia spoke, “Cat got your tongue?” It was an ancient phrase, but one she liked. “I’ll com Enrue in five hours. Tell him.” She clicked out and turned her gaze to the window. Signs of city-life greeted her, gravel roads for hovercraft shuttles, metal walkways and buildings reaching to the sky in tubular, silver towers. A thin layer of gray smog clung to the sky. “I already miss Alga,” she muttered.
* * * *
The Jump Station in Horga City was clean and organized. Melia passed her falsified credentials to the attendant who glimpsed over them and keyed in the data. “Would you like first class?”
“Of course.”
“Fish or vegan?”
Melia perused the other people waiting in seats nearby, seeking any suspicious gazes that might very well be from Enrue’s employees. “Vegan,” she answered.”
“Here’s your ticket and boarding card. You’re in seat 5A. Have a safe flight to Taraf, Ms. Fearing.”
“Thank you.” Melia snatched up the plastic card, tapped it three times against the counter and hurried on her
way,
her only belongings a small carry sack and the paper-wrapped bundle of art supplies. She looked forward to a soft bed and maybe painting in the morning, if time allowed. As she sauntered along the departure hall and stepped into the Jump Shuttle, she contemplated how she would kill Enrue. If he let her have her way with him, she decided she’d do it with little fanfare.
A quick, but rather painless death.
Not that she minded watching her hits suffer. It all depended on how they treated her.
She found her seat, stowed her belongings in the cabinet at her side, and leaned back. Once the shuttle was in flight, she’d com Enrue and
rattle
his cage a bit more. Passengers filtered past her. Some stared, but most hurried on their way, too busy with their lives to notice their surroundings. Melia made a habit of noticing things, the smallest details like the ginger-haired steward’s shaking hands and the lines by his eyes.
Jacked up on caffeine no doubt and probably overworked.
She forced a smile when he paused by her seat. “How’s the weather in Taraf?” she asked.
He almost smiled, but failed. “Mild compared to Irnia and most port cities. Are you on vacation?”
“Yes.” She smoothed her skirt and flashed him a wider, more inviting grin. He wasn’t bad to look at, really. Maybe he’d sit down in flight and she could milk him for information, small things that could be of use in getting close to the palace. “I want to take a grand tour, to see the museums and maybe even the palace.”
“Oh, you have to go there. I just read a special on the Nine-Wire. The Shiemir has recovered two relics from Oemir Leuj’s bombed palace.
Two statues.
They’re magnificent.”
“Statues?
Of what?”
“Unangi gods.
They’re carved of stone, and the detail is incredible.” He scooted to one side to let a straggler pass. The ship’s door slid shut. “After refreshments, I’ll bring you the Nine-Wire. There was a picture…” The tones warned of the shuttle’s impending take-off.
“I’d like that,” she said and reached out to lay her hand over his.
He blushed. “I’m Collin, if you need anything else.” He stumbled a bit when he moved away, and brushed his fingers over his skin where she’d touched him. His fair coloring revealed his moods, changing like a chameleon’s skin. Melia liked that. She liked change and the ability to do so even though it was painful at times for her.
The engines droned and the Jump Shuttle launched into the sky. When they flew over the churning sea far below, Collin returned with a plate of baked sweets and two glasses of some sort of beverage. “Mind if I join you?” he asked.
Pleased by his interest in her, she patted the empty space at her side. “Yes do.”
“I found the Wire.” He activated the metallic tray, set the cookies and drinks there, and fished through his uniform jacket.
Melia stared at his hair. It was a bit wavy, and she figured if he let it grow out much more, he’d have a full red afro. It’d be comical, surely.
“Here.” He activated the news sharer and held it out to her. “It’s on page nineteen.”
She cupped her hand beneath his, feigning innocence as to how to work the sharer. “This button?” she asked, pointing at the power control.
“Oh no, here.”
He used his free hand to change the screen and sure enough, there stood Shiemir Alonwei next to two nude statues, one male and one female. The steward was right about their detail, but Melia was more interested in the Tarafian leader. His face revealed his disinterest in being there, in posing for a propaganda photo of recovered treasures. She doubted he cared one way or the other about saving them, but more than likely wanted to negotiate some deal with the tribal Unangi for access to their mountains and the fuel beneath the ground.
“Fantastic.” She traced his finger with her thumb, not bothering to glance up to see his reaction. His arm turned bright pink. He was so easy to read. “I’d like to see them.”
A click sounded in Collin’s throat when he swallowed nervously.
“Um.
I mean this is, well, don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but I have a three day layover in Taraf. If you want someone to go there with…”
“You would take me?” She raised her face to meet his bright green eyes, doing her best to appear astonished and flattered. A consort would make her less of a target, although now she had no way to disguise herself except by conventional means. She almost wanted Enrue to see her milling about in the public section of his palace. Would he be pissed by it? Would his guards even recognize her? She hoped they’d be more suspicious now that she’d dropped Wyther’s name. The authorities had not yet ruled his death an assassination, but soon, soon the truth would leak. The Empire knew just when and how to release such things.
“Of course!
I’d love to take you. And, well, after a good night’s sleep, maybe we could do some shopping tomorrow. I’m really tired, and I shouldn’t be asking you out like this. I normally don’t, but…”
She nodded. “It’s okay. I’m flattered, really. I didn’t want to fly out here all alone, but I work a lot and I don’t have a boyfriend, and my boss kept saying ‘Darla, you need a break,’ so I finally took her up on it.”
“Darla,” he repeated. “I’m glad you decided to go on vacation.”
“Oh, so am I!” She leaned forward. “Isn’t fate funny? To think we never would have met. Wow, this is great. I bet you know a nice hotel I could stay in, too.” She wondered how direct he’d be. She wasn’t about to share a room with him. That was too much.
“Actually, if you want, you can stay at the Orlitz.”
She waited, thinking he’d push it, but surprisingly, he remained a gentleman.
“I have free passes for it from the Shuttle Service. I can give you three days of a free room. They gave me enough for two.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.” His hand closed over her fingers, warm and friendly.
“You’re not imposing at all. It didn’t cost me anything. I don’t have any friends in Taraf either, so it’d be great to have someone to spend time with.”
“Then it’s a deal.” She pulled her hands into her lap, much to his visible disappointment. Stringing him along she said, “Can you stay by me for the flight? I want to know everything you know about Taraf.”