Tor (Women of Earth Book 2) (29 page)

Wynne laughed at his suspicion. "My sister was the hunter, but I was the one she forced to track her prey."

"Mira hunts?"

"Not any more, Mohawk. Her hunting days were over once the war began, and then she met Roark. So..." She slapped her hands on her knees and looked around at the others. "Are we good?"

"No."

"I'm getting tired of that word, Tor." Wynne began clearing the used dishes from the table.

"No more so than I." He sighed and, elbows on knees, he lowered his head to his hands. "Once we find Riegard, what then? If he's in contact with Honarie, it won't be in public. Honarie's too smart for that. I doubt if Riegard or any of the buyers know where the women are being kept. We don't even know if they're in the city or being kept somewhere else. We're no further than we were before."

At least he was using 'we' instead of 'I'. Wynne mover her hand from her knee to his. "Posy can find them," Wynne tried to reason. "That's what you have to do, right? Before you, um, eliminate the problem, right?"

Posy smiled at the turn of phrase. "Yes, but an assassin's game is one of patience, Wynne. The problem can't always be eliminated quickly. Tracking your quarry takes time, especially if they know they're being hunted. We don't have the luxury of time. There's also the complication of saving the women. If we wait until they're sold..."

"No." Wynne raised both hands. "That's non-negotiable. We have to rescue them, too. Don't you see? They're exactly like Chubo and Nix. They're exactly like me."

"Wynne is not like Chubo and Nix," Chubo protested.

"But I almost was. It was only by the grace of God and your captain's conscience that I wasn't taken with the others."

"Kushma." The word, so softly spoken, was an apology. Tor gripped her hand.

"It's all right. I understand, but the fact remains. The Brides Brigade is part of this deal. It has to be."

Posy broke the silence that followed. "The best way is to draw one of the brothers out into the open so I can follow him back to his lair. Once I know where that is, I'll find my way in. Riegard is the key to that, but what's the bait?"

"Me." Wynne's one word had all heads turning.

"No." The word was repeated by the three men. Ish remained silent, but with a half-smile and a speculative glint in her eye. Truca's eyes went wide, but whether with shock or fear, Wynne couldn't tell. The Hukas looked to each other first, and then to Tor.

"You said it yourself, Tor. I'm a princess of the House of Kronak, and I'm human, and probably GCP," She counted off on her fingers. "Though you shouldn't mention the probably part. I'm worth more credits than any of those Brides. What a coup to have your House allied with the House of Kronak through your heir. Ish said we can't ask for him at the front desk, but if we know what room he's in, she can knock on his door. She's my Companion and she's about to turn me over for more money than I could ever pay her."

Ish was nodding. "I like it, but more important, Riegard will buy it, and so will Honarie. Orax might even want to keep you for himself. His own personal...what did you call it?"

"Coup. It's like a victory."

"Yeah, a victory. It's the best chance we have, Tor. She won't be alone. I'll be with her and if Riegard decides to pay me off, Posy will be there in the shadows."

"I don't like it. Why not wait another day or two and see what we can come up with?"

Mohawk's suggestion of delay surprised her. Wynne expected a protest, but thought it would be more about his exclusion than the timing, since he took her safety so personally. Maybe the old warrior was beginning to feel his age.

What was more surprising was Tor's agreement with him. It made her wonder if he was still following his own course and had only offered lip service to throw them off track.

"It wouldn't hurt to wait. There's not much we can do tonight," he said. "Posy, you keep looking. Mohawk, you're with me. Wear that uniform. You can ask the laundry staff where a poor and lonely co-pilot can get a reasonably priced drink while I borrow a uniform. You see what you can find out in the alehouse. I need to find the Communications Office and set up those alibis for Posy and Ish."

"I thought you already... Oh, alibis. I got it. Sounds like a plan." Mohawk almost fell out of his chair in his haste to go change.

"They won't need an alibi," Wynne argued. "You'll have the Brides' Brigade. You'll have me. When Riegard takes me to either of the brothers, I'll be an eyewitness."

"We'll call it a backup plan."

Tor rose and walked to the pile of bags that were still waiting to be sorted and put away. He found the one he wanted, a very small one compared to the rest. He dumped its contents onto the floor and refilled it with items from another, larger bag. That one she recognized. It was the one Mohawk had left on the floor of Alamandria's workroom. With his back to the room, Wynne couldn't see what he took. Bag packed and sealed, he headed for the door.

"Ish, you stay here and keep an eye on things." His eyes slid to Truca and Wynne.

Wynne followed him. "Where are you really going?"

Tor cupped her cheek in his palm. "Still don't trust me?"

"With my heart, yes. Anything else? Not a bit." She turned her face into his hand and kissed his palm. "When can I expect you back so I know when to start worrying?"

"I won't be too late. I'm only going to the roof. The Gates of Heaven is the tallest building on the boulevard. From up there, I can see who lands or leaves on the other hotels. That's why I chose it, not for Riegard." He leaned down to kiss her. "Get some sleep and keep the bed warm. I'll wake you when I get back."

His kiss was short, and warm, and sweet, and not at all like he was saying goodbye. That, more than anything he said, reassured her.

It didn't stop her, though. As soon as the door closed behind the two, she turned to Truca. "Let's go find something in Alamandria's stash for you to wear. Hopefully, we can put together an appropriate outfit for a shy, but flirtatious, young woman. And hopefully, that adorable doorman is still on duty."

Ish stood in front of the bags and trunks, arms crossed and feet planted firmly. "Tor said to keep an eye on you two."

"Good," Wynne told her, "You can do it in the lobby. You're my Companion. You didn't think I'd let her go alone, did you?"

Chapter 29

Wynne surreptitiously admired their handiwork from the seat she'd chosen in the lobby. As she had before, Ish had sorted through the stack of garments, throwing this aside and that on the bed. Based on what they'd seen on the street, Truca chose a pair of trousers with flowing legs that looked like a full length skirt when she stood still. It was Nix who matched the pants with a tight fitting top cropped a few inches above the waist. A sheer and flowing tunic covered the top. Bred as a handmaiden, it was Nix who made it all fit. Her fingers flew as she whip-stitched Truca into the outfit.

"Nix must be ready at all times to see to the lady's repairs," she said in reply to their praise.

Her own outfit was easier. She was a mordata cosma and not a young girl. Her strapless bodice sparkled with crystals. Her skirt was a swirling mix of all the colors of the rainbow. Wynne loved the look until she stood in front of the full length mirror. The skirt was as sheer as Truca's tunic and showed what her grandmother would call 'everything but what she had for breakfast'. It made her feel self-conscious and that was not what she needed to present to the world.

Ish's comment didn't help. "Tor's not going to like that."

"Tor's not the only one." Wynne began looking for something to use as a slip.

Nix came to the rescue there, too. Still lowering the hem of Truca's pants, she reached for a garment Ish had tossed to the floor. "Try this."

The white silk skirt was more narrowly cut and when slid beneath, seemed perfect. "What do you think?"

"The bulk makes your waist look too fat," Nix answered promptly and giggled at Wynne's look of dismay. "Nix must always tell the truth unless the lady does not wish to hear it."

"Too late," Wynne muttered. She turned away from the mirror. "Nix, about your truthfulness. You obviously can lie, right?"

The little woman's smile faded. "Nix will remember next time."

"No, no, not about this. I meant other things." Wynne hesitated and then spoke the words she didn't want to think about much less say aloud. "If things don't go well, if the police, I mean peacekeepers become involved, could you say you were told you belonged to a man called Orax?"

After criticizing Tor for expecting Truca to bear false witness, here she was asking this poor woman to do the same. God forgive her, she was breaking the eighth Commandment to protect the man she loved.

Nix apparently had no religious qualms. She shrugged. "Chubo and Nix's captors said the Sky Hawk had a new owner. Chubo and Nix belong to the Sky Hawk. Yes?"

"Yes, and thank you." Wynne wasn't sure it would work, but if Tor was right, it might encourage the court to be lenient.

The little woman had patted her hand. "Chubo and Nix understand consequences to their actions. Chubo and Nix are loyal members of the crew."

Using what she'd learned from Alamandria, Wynne applied their makeup; lightly for Truca, more heavily for herself. Truca wore no outer covering. Wynne wore a white cloak with crystal trim along the opening and around the edge of the loose hood. She was to pretend to be waiting for her patron to arrive to take her out for a night on the town.

Ish wouldn't let them leave without one last addition to their ensembles. "Where are your knives?"

"The Osana equivalent of a fashion statement." Wynne laughed as she raised her foot to a chair, lifted her skirts, and attached the strap as if it was a sexy garter.

Truca laughed with her and did the same. "No well-dressed woman should be caught without one."

Ish didn't see the humor and now stood by Wynne's side with a forbidding scowl that discouraged anyone from saying hello. There were several other women waiting as she was and Wynne wouldn't have minded a little conversation, but Ish was adamant.

"Keep your mind on the mission."

Not bothering to hide her boredom, Wynne watched Truca play her role to perfection. The young woman played it so well, Wynne began to think Truca wasn't acting at all. She chattered and giggled and blushed, and looked like she was enjoying herself.

The young doorman was enjoying it, too, though he tried not to show it. He stood stiffly at his post and was attentive to his duties, but his head kept tilting down to look at Truca and his mouth kept moving in response to her comments and questions. Every once in a while, he would smile and then blush and become straight faced again when he remembered where he was.

Guests came and went and Wynne was becoming concerned that Truca's behavior would soon come to the notice of the young man's boss. She was just about ready to call it quits when another chair arrived.

The man exiting was Godan, an older man by the grey in his hair and the more pronounced ridges in his forehead. By the gold braids hanging from the shoulders of his dark grey tunic, and the diamond studded medallion at his chest, he was a man of some importance. He ignored the young doorman's offered hand and his greeting. He paused only long enough at the entrance to make sure the two men who shared his chair took their places behind him. They were dressed in matching dark suits and Wynne assumed they were body guards.

The trio wasn't much different than several others that had entered and exited before except that once the man was halfway across the lobby, Truca began to hop around and wave her arms like she was cheering at a basketball game. Their quarry had arrived.

Ish swore and Wynne rose. Showtime.

"Catch Truca's eye and get her out of here. Then call Tor," Wynne whispered as she moved to the front desk.

Senator Riegard was being fawned over at the reception desk. She caught the room number and little else as the maître d'hôtel handed over an electronic square that must have contained the man's messages. His body tensed, and frowning, he looked around. Beyond where she stood to the side as if waiting to make her own inquiries, he spotted whoever he was looking for.

Breathing a sigh of relief that he wasn't looking for her, Wynne turned to walk away. She wasn't taking any chances. His room number would be enough. In turning, she jostled against a man who was calling the Senator's name. He looked down to apologize as she looked up. Looking away, she tried to hurry past, but she was too late. His hand on her arm prevented her escape.

"Piatchu." Adjutant Yatos's greeting was far from friendly.

Behind her, Senator Riegard spoke. "What did you call her?"

Wynne was pinned between the two men with nowhere to run. She caught a glimpse of Truca's frightened eyes before she turned her head away with a slight shake of denial. She could only hope the girl got the silent message to move on. She didn't dare look for Ish.

"My apologies Senator," Yatos said. "This woman is a known thief and I am authorized by my superiors to place her under arrest."

In an unnecessary and exaggerated display, Riegard patted down the front of his smooth and meticulously unwrinkled tunic and cried, "My purse. This woman has stolen my purse."

With his free hand, Yatos flashed his credentials at the maître d'hôtel behind the desk. "We need a room where the Senator can make his statement in private."

"Of course, of course." The man blanched and swayed, and closed his eyes, offering a string of apologies and swearing loudly that nothing like this had ever happened before. This was a respectable hotel.

Wynne was bent forward across the counter. Her hands were pulled behind her back. When she was bound, Yatos leaned over her and whispered in her ear.

"When I'm done with you, Alamandria will pay, too."

Her mind was racing, not only with fear for herself, but for the others. If she was recognized as Councilor Albermarle's mordata cosma, they would send someone to the suite and the others would be found out. The maître d'hôtel was already issuing angry and excited orders to his staff, a few of whom Wynne was sure were security. Would Ish get there in time to warn Chubo and Nix? Or would she choose to follow the senator and Yatos and send Truca to deliver the message? Tor and Posy would come. Mohawk, too. She was sure of that, but would they come in time to see where she was being taken?

Her heart raced along with her mind. She was barely aware of the chair she was shoved into or the man who ushered them to the room being dismissed.

"Where's Tor?" Yatos's shout made her jump.

"Who?" she asked, not because she didn't hear, but because nothing but her fear was registering.

Yatos's response was a slap that sent two of the tiny jewels that dotted her face spinning across the room. She watched as they hit the bookcase and fell to the floor. Her cheek stung and her eyes watered, but she refused to cry.

"She knows him. She was seen with him at Alamandria's."

Oh, oh. Were she and Tor seen before he closed the curtains on the platform? No. She had to trust that Tor would have noticed any watchers that night. Yatos was using the same lie he had on Celos.

"Where is Tor?"

This time she clamped her jaws shut and deliberately refused to answer. Yatos's slap sent several more jewels flying. Wynne didn't see where they landed. She only saw stars.

He asked again, but before he could raise his hand to strike, Wynne screamed. If she was going to be beaten, she wanted every snobby money whore in this gaudy, overpriced hotel to know it.

If she wasn't so frightened, Yatos's stunned look might have been comical. She thought it best to quit before he got over the shock. She stopped mid-scream and spoke to the Senator, since Yatos was precisely the asshole she'd pegged him for.

"I don't know this Tor. If the Adjutant saw me in the alley at Alamandria's, he saw me with my Perithian guardian and a woman named Gisela. She took us to Alamandria. My guardian arranged it. That's all I know."

Riegard didn't comment. His mind appeared to be elsewhere, lost in thought until Yatos's insistent yammering brought him back.

"Tor is here." The way Yatos changed the location convinced Wynne his previous claim was a lie. "We followed him. He lost us at Ammon's Tunnel, but I knew where he was headed. We have his ship and the man he stole it from. He has identified this woman. She's with Tor. I know it."

It was another lie. Beso and Till were snoring away when she saw them. To call him on it, though, would prove she was there.

"We have no time for this," the Senator said impatiently. Honarie has called and is waiting for me. Orax has made the delivery. Tor is your concern, your only concern, not mine. This creature is useless. Get rid of her and if you embarrass me in such a way again, you will find yourself at a desk in the Ferdon system. For the rest of your life," he added for emphasis.

Wynne's mind was stuck on 'Get rid of her'. Riegard said it so casually like something he said every day. Maybe he did. He'd murdered or had someone murder Senator Plincoff, too. She opened her mouth to speak, but had to close it again to swallow. She found her voice when Yatos yanked her from the chair.

"Do you know who I am?"

"No, and I do not care," the Senator answered.

"You should." It was so hard not to keep babbling. Her silence paid off. Plus, it gave her a minute to rehearse the changes. She shouldn't have a problem. She and her sister repeated it with hilarity, over and over, when Mira first met Roark. Of course, her life didn't depend on it then.

"I'm a busy man. Say what you have to say."

Wynne took a deep breath and began. "I am Wynne, Second daughter of the House of Donazetto, North American Continent, Earth; adopted sister of Roark, First Commander and now Governor of Sector Three; adopted daughter of Tadin, Master of the Honorable House of Kronak of the Godan Nation, People of Mishra, a Founding Planet of the Galactic Confederation.” She blew out her breath. "I'm pretty sure Tadin is a member of the High Council, too."

"She lies."

She ignored Yatos and appealed to the Senator, who was now looking at her with interest. She repeated what she'd told Tor. "I'm a princess of the House of Kronak, I'm human, and I'm GCP." This time she dropped the probably. "I also know what you're up to."

"Aha. How could you know this?" Yatos smiled as if he'd caught her in a trap.

Wynne had had enough of the pompous little ass. "Because I was on the Romer II. It doesn't take a genius to figure out why ten women on their way to the Bride Market got kidnapped."

"And why would that be, Wynne of the House of Kronak?" Riegard asked. Wynne had seen sharks with a friendlier smile.

"You're holding them for ransom," she lied, "and I know what I'm worth."

"Fortunately for you, so do I." Riegard motioned to Yatos. "Get her up and get that cloak around her. I want her fully covered. I'll have my man call for a chair." He started to turn away, and then changed his mind. "On second thought, Make sure her head is covered and walk her there. There's nothing suspicious in a peacekeeper marching a felon through the streets. I want her seen. And don't damage the merchandise any more than you already have," He added as an afterthought. "Unless you have to." This last was a direct warning to Wynne.

Yatos's nasty smile said he liked the idea. "I'll make the arrangements, Senator."

It was embarrassing to be marched along the main thoroughfare to a side street three blocks away. Wynne was sure her parents and Nona were rolling over in their graves. In her youth, Mira had been the wild one and her younger brother David had some serious run-ins with the law before finding his way, but neither had ever been formally arrested. She tried to console herself with the fact that this was a sham, that being flanked by four uniformed peacekeepers with their puppet Adjutant in the lead made it easier for Tor and his crew to find her.