Hero (12 page)

Micayla and Windura exchanged a look. Neither of the women understood why

those particular items would have been important enough for him to keep but left it at that.

***

Grekkor glared at his chief assistant, fighting the urge to kill the messenger.

"Idiots!" he spat. "When I find who neglected to tell me that we were sending only one ship full of those fool Nedwuts after a known arms dealer..." Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Grekkor added. "Find out who that was, would you please, Worell?"

"Yes, sir."

"And while you're at it, find out everything there is to know about Lerotan

Kanotay--his ship, his contacts, his friends--anything that might help us track him down."

"That will be difficult, sir," Worell said candidly. "He deals in arms--illegally on many worlds--and there is no registry of such merchants."

Grekkor gripped the arms of his chair so tightly that the thin metal gave way

beneath his hands. "Then find out who he's fucking!" he snarled as he released his grip--

not so much to avoid damaging the armrest, but because his rings were cutting into his fingers. Smoothing out his sleeve, he added, "We all know that says more about a man than anything."

"The Hooker's Network is impossible to hack into, sir," Worell pointed out.

"Many have tried, but--"

"Then find me a fucking whore who can tell me to my face!" Grekkor snarled.

"Send Dolurp back to Orleon in a shuttle. Tell him to bring one of them in for questioning." Grekkor laughed pleasantly as another thought occurred to him. "They might even know something about the women who killed that poor Norludian."

"Sir, shall I give that as a reason?" Worell asked.

Grekkor glanced suspiciously at Worell, briefly noting that the man was as

impassive and colorless as ever. "It is the reason." With a flick of his wrist, Grekkor added, "Just get one. I don't care how."

"Sir, we also have new information from the station," Worell went on. "A Nerik ship made an unscheduled departure from the docking ring not long after The Equalizer."

"And?"

"It left on the same heading."

"Interesting. A Nerik ship, you say--not one of ours?"

"No, sir," said Worell. "It is registered to a Nerik called Veluka."

"Could it have overtaken Kanotay's ship?"

"Possibly."

"Hmm, the plot thickens... wouldn't you say, Worell?"
Chapter 9

The voyage to Darconia had taken three weeks, and Micayla's first glimpse of that world had been the waves of heat rising from the desert floor as they landed at the spaceport. "Not exactly your tropical paradise, is it?" she said to Windura.

"No, but get a load of that," Windura replied, pointing with a gesture toward the city. "It looks like the whole place was carved out of stone."

This was true. From what Micayla could see, there was nothing to break the

monotony of the dull yellowish brown of both the desert sand and the buildings in the city.

"The palace is over that way," Lerotan said with a gesture past the jumble of stone structures.

Micayla peered into the distance. The huge palace sat right in the center of a vast stretch of green farmland and looked like something straight out of 1001 Arabian Nights.

"Is it cooler there?" she asked hopefully.

Lerotan nodded. "It's not too bad once you're inside. Being built on the oasis source helps too."

Micayla was encouraged, but Windura was skeptical. "I don't know," she said.

"Looks pretty hot to me."

They rode to the palace in hovercars which provided some relief from the heat,

and upon their arrival, they were met by Tycharian and Kyra. Lerotan was right; it was cooler in the palace, but not by much.

Introductions were made and during the happy reunion which followed, Micayla

studied Trag's brother, deciding that while they were both equally attractive, there were still differences. Seen together, they reminded her of two tigers. The white streak in Tychar's otherwise black hair and his china blue eyes made her think of a Siberian tiger, while Trag, with his orange streak and green eyes, was reminiscent of the Bengal variety.

Their personalities were different too--Tychar was more cultured and charming, while Trag was a bit rough around the edges--but the most surprising thing was that she could talk to Tychar without feeling the need to hurt him. This made her wonder what would happen when the others arrived. Would she hiss at them? Or was it only guys with green eyes and a streak of orange in their hair that aroused her ire? On the other hand, it might not have had anything to do with how he looked; maybe it was the way he smelled.

She wished she could have tested that theory in some reasonable way, but other

than saying flat out that she wanted to compare their scents, she didn't think it was likely.

She'd kept as clear of Trag as she possibly could during their journey to Darconia--which was difficult on a ship that size--but she was no more comfortable in his presence than she had been from the start. If anything, the feeling had intensified.

***

desolate with nothing but rocks and sand all the way to the distant mountains. Kyra,
however, was even more beautiful than he remembered.

They'd arrived in the early evening, and laughing joyously, she'd run to him and

hugged him hard. His eyes stung from the desert glare--at least, that's what he told himself--but the effect of her scent on him was unmistakable; something told him that nudity on this visit was not an option. Perhaps it would be best to wear loose trousers and tight underwear because she still smelled like love, whether she was his brother's mate or not, and worst of all, except for a few jewels, she was naked. She still wore her long, dark hair in a braid, and memories of what it was like to free those tresses and feel them on his skin made him wish he'd stayed away.

"Wow, Trag," she exclaimed. "I almost didn't recognize you under all those clothes. Aren't you hot?"

"Been freezing to death ever since I left here," he replied. "I'm just starting to feel warm again."

"I don't suppose Jack is here yet, is she?" Lerotan asked.

"No, but we expect them soon. They had to go to Terra Minor to drop off the

young ones, so you have no reason to gloat, Leroy," Kyra added, obviously noting his smug expression. "It's going to be so great having all of you here!"

"In the meantime, we have plenty of time to relax and plan our strategy," Trag said. "Got any fruit? I haven't had decent food since I started hanging out with these pirates."

"Pirates?" Lerotan echoed. "We are not pirates."

"Oh, lighten up, Leroy," Kyra said. "He's just kidding you, and you know it.

Come on, Trag," she said kindly. "Let's go get you something to eat. You'll want to see the kids too." In an aside, she whispered, "One of them looks just like you."

Trag's heart nearly stopped at the thought of Kyra having his children. It wasn't possible, of course--she hadn't conceived until long after he'd left Darconia with Lerotan--but the idea still made his head swim.

He must have looked odd too, because Kyra took his hand, saying solicitously,

"It's the heat, isn't it? You aren't used to it anymore. Remember how wilted I was when I first arrived?"

"How could I forget?" Trag said, trying to sound more cheerful than he felt. "You were fainting all the time."

"Oh, I was not," she said, giving his hair a tug. "But I was kinda puny," she admitted. "I'm pretty tough now."

Tough wasn't the word he would have used to describe her, but it didn't matter.

Nothing did as long as she was in love with Ty.

Trag let her take him by the hand, inhaling her fragrance as she led him and the

others through the maze of corridors to the dining room of their quarters. Trag was a little surprised to find them living in the palace, but apparently Queen Zealon had insisted. Just like Scalia.

Trag certainly hadn't been in love with the late queen, but he'd liked and respected her and the palace just didn't seem the same without her. But for Dobraton's failed coup, he would be there still, he and Ty sharing Kyra's love, and Kyra teaching piano to the princess.

So much had changed. He was free, but not truly free to go anywhere he wished,

or to be with whomever he chose. Being Scalia's slave hadn't been hard, but being free
was difficult. All of the other Zetithian survivors had found mates and had begun new lives. He had chosen a new life, but without love, there was no satisfaction in it.

***

enjoying a reunion that she only wished she could feel a part of. True, they were strangers, but she ought to have felt a sense of kinship or camaraderie at the very least.

Instead, she felt on the outside, like the friend of a friend who had nowhere else to go for Thanksgiving dinner and was invited out of pity. Windura had even less of a connection to the group, but she seemed to be having a great time--though perhaps it was just from having a bunch of hulking Darconians around to protect her from Grekkor. The one

called Dragus seemed quite taken with her and didn't bother to hide it, hitting on her unabashedly throughout the meal, which added to the fun. Micayla thought it would be much easier to parry comments from a guy who looked like a snub-nosed, upright

Tyrannosaurus rex than it was to hold her own against someone like Rodan, who at least looked human--sort of.

It was Dragus who escorted the ladies to their quarters in the palace later that

evening, explaining the workings of the glowstones--"You only have to think you need more or less light, and they'll do it"--and scrail cloths--"No water for baths; you wipe yourself off with these"--as well as the comstones. "If you ladies need anything--and I do mean anything--you be sure to let me know." He gave them each a necklace consisting of one small stone on a fine chain. Placing them around each of their necks, he went on,

"You need to wear these at all times, and if you need me, just tap the stone and call my name and I'll be right there."

Micayla turned her back, pretending to be fascinated with the view from the

window while trying very hard not to laugh. Rodan practically made her sick, but Dragus was kind of cute.

"I'll be happy to do anything for you," Dragus reiterated, his suggestive meaning perfectly clear. "Call me anytime."

"I'm sure we'll be just fine through the night," Windura told the amorous lizard before practically shutting the door in his face. The echoes of his ponderous tread had just begun to fade away when they both dissolved in giggles.

"Do you believe that?" Micayla said, wiping her streaming eyes. "A horny dinosaur!"

"I must admit, that's a first for me," Windura said. "Can't say I've ever been propositioned by a lizard before."

"First time for everything, I guess. I haven't laughed like that in a long time."

"Me either," Windura agreed. She was smiling when she said it but sobered considerably before she spoke again. "So, did you notice anything odd at dinner?"

"Like what?" Micayla returned. "I mean, other than the fact that our host and hostess weren't wearing clothes and some of the guests looked like prehistoric monsters?"

Windura shook her head. "No, I mean Trag," she replied. "He was acting very strangely." Pausing for a moment, she ran her hand through her hair and sighed. "If I didn't know better, I'd say he's in love with Kyra."

Since Micayla had done her best to avoid looking at Trag at all cost, these slight
differences in his behavior were lost on her. "What makes you think that?"

"Well, every time I looked at him, he was looking at her," she said morosely.

"The way his eyes were glowing was hard to miss. So much for my chances. She's freakin' beautiful."

"But she's also his brother's wife," Micayla pointed out. "It's not like he's going to marry her or anything."

"Yes, but before Kyra and Tychar were married, she apparently did a little

something with Trag--at least, that's the impression I got. Maybe I should get a string of beads and dress like the Darconians," she added pensively. "It was weird having Tychar and Kyra naked all the time. He's completely stunning, of course, but--"

"Not starstruck anymore?" Micayla ventured.

"More like I'm stuck on the star's brother," Windura said lamely. "I know I don't stand a chance, but he is so totally hot, I just can't help it..."

"Well, I'm certainly not going to stand in your way," Micayla said briskly, "and I hate to say this, girlfriend, but if he's still all dreamy-eyed over Kyra, you probably don't stand a chance."

Windura sighed again. "Yeah, I know. Story of my life. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that hunks don't notice geeks like me until their computers break down--and then it's just a pat on the back on my way out, or on the ass if I'm lucky."

"There's nothing wrong with being appreciated for your talents," Micayla said wisely. "Trust me, being attractive to men isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"Yeah, maybe," Windura grumbled. "But just once I'd like to have a problem like that."

Micayla couldn't help but laugh. "There's always Dragus."

"He's a hoot, isn't he?" Windura agreed. "Of course, given the size of the rest of him, he must have a dick as long as your arm. He'd probably kill me with it."

"Still, he might be better than Rodan," Micayla said with a shudder. "I don't even want to think about that."

Windura was laughing too, but reluctantly. "Yeah, or Hidar." Shaking her head, she went on, "I see what you mean, but if Trag was nuts about you, wouldn't you at least talk to him?"

"You've seen what happens when we try," Micayla said with a shrug. "We're like oil and water. We just don't mix."