CassaFire (14 page)

“
I could hardly refuse Korden’s order,” Byron answered with a wry grin.

“
And why would you want to?” Illenth demanded, holding up an overladen plate of food. “No one throws a party like the Tgrens.”

“
Well, all I need right now is a drink.”

The man led Byron to another booth and he secured a glass of dark purple spirits. The fruity taste was more subtle than the smell, which threatened to overpower his senses. He decided it would suffice. Illenth moved through the gathering crowds and toward a string of tables. Over the commotion, Byron heard his name called. He caught sight of Mevine at one of the long tables. Indicating his choice to Illenth, they joined Mevine and another science officer.

“
Have you tried the berry wine?” Mevine asked, holding up his glass. A small trace of red liquid remained. Judging from the lad’s relaxed expression, it was not his first drink of the evening.

“
I’ll try it next,” Byron answered, peering into his glass. “Not sure what I have now.”

“
It’s made from rtrax,” Illenth announced, holding up his drink. “A small, round fruit that grows near the river. It’s a Tgren staple.”

“
You’ve been here a while,” Byron observed, scooping a spoonful of vegetables into his mouth.

Illenth grinned. “I arrived here a week before the last Hlerre Festival. Tgren’s the best assignment I’ve had in years.”

Mevine finished his drink and rose from the table. “I need to try rtrax wine,” he announced before scurrying away from the table. His rapid movement did little to hide his uneven gait.

Byron shook his head. Guess I better keep an eye on the boy, he thought.

He sampled two more dishes and a yellow bread that crumbled sweetly in his mouth. Byron located the source of Mevine’s berry wine and sampled that brew as well. The young man’s penchant for nervous chatter increased with each sip of his drink. The alcohol revealed a bolder side to Mevine. His antics amused rather than annoyed Byron. At least Mevine was a happy drunk. Garnce’s negative and belligerent attitude grew even more unpleasant when he drank. Byron preferred to avoid the sour pilot tonight at all costs.

The music came to an abrupt halt. A voice over the crackling intercom system announced the arrival of the prefect. Byron glanced over his shoulder, mildly curious. He caught sight of the man as he entered the main square. Attired in elegant and regal clothing, Orellen was not alone. His son accompanied him, dressed in similar attire and strutting with his chin held high.

Unimpressed, Byron’s attention shifted to the woman on the prefect’s arm. His mouth fell open when he noticed a familiar trail of long hair. He pivoted in his seat to get a better view.

Clad in a bright red, sleeveless shirt and long, multi-colored skirt, he hardly recognized his protégé. Athee’s hair was pulled away from her face and tied with red ribbons, the length of her tresses brought forward across one shoulder. Her gait was graceful as her uncle led her to the center of the square. Orellen faced his niece and the music began again in earnest. Istaner extended his hand to a young woman waiting at the edge of the square. The two couples began to dance while everyone else watched. Mesmerized by the change in the woman’s appearance, Byron’s eyes were on Athee as she danced with her uncle. She couldn’t be the same person.

“
It’s tradition,” said Illenth, breaking into his thoughts.

“
What is?” Byron asked, glancing briefly at the man before his attention returned to the main square.

“
The prefect and his family enjoy the first dance of the evening,” the man explained, leaning closer. “The prefect normally dances with his wife. I guess Orellen began dancing with his niece after the death of his wife.”

“
From her thoughts, I perceive they are close.”

“
The prefect considers her part of the immediate family. Athee lost her father shortly after the prefect’s wife died. I understand her mother died some years ago.”

Byron shot Illenth a startled look. “I didn’t realize both her parents were dead.”

Illenth’s brows came together. “You’ve been working with her for weeks now,” the man stated, implying Byron should’ve known.

“
I haven’t delved that far into her mind.”

If you’re not connecting on all levels, then how do you know the full capacity of her abilities?
Illenth thought, not bothering to conceal his stunned disbelief.

Remember, I can hear what others can’t. I don’t need to go deep to access her powers.

The man’s brows remained furrowed. However, his answer apparently pacified the psychic officer. Illenth turned his attention to his glass, downing the last of his drink. Byron returned to observing the center court. He continued to follow the Tgren woman as she moved across the dance floor. He knew the extent of her abilities. Illenth might object to his lack of full connection, but Byron didn’t need to dig deeper to know Athee’s powers rivaled his own.

The music ended, eliciting a round of applause from those gathered. The prefect escorted Athee from the dance floor. Byron lost sight of them in the swirling crowd. He glanced at his companions and realized only Mevine remained at the table. The lad tipped back his glass and emptied its contents.

Better slow down
, Byron thought, taking another sip of his wine.

Why? Am I drunk?
Mevine thought, his eyes wide as disbelief resounded in Byron’s head.

No, but you will be soon, and you’re not sleeping it off in my quarters.

The dance square filled as the music began once more. Commander Korden stopped by their table, pleased to see the men enjoying their evening. Byron held his breath, worried Mevine’s deteriorating condition would reveal itself in the boy’s words or uninhibited mental transmissions. Somehow Mevine managed to shield his thoughts long enough to fool the commander, and Korden continued on to the next table. Byron permitted the young man to refill his drink with the promise that this glass would last more than ten minutes.

He’d just finished his wine and risen to his feet when Byron noticed Athee approaching. Their eyes met and her face lit up with joy. Feeling trapped, Byron set his empty glass on the table and waited. Athee stopped in front of him, a full glass of spirits in her hand.

“
Enjoying the festival?” she asked.

“
Yes, I am,” he told her, his fingers on his empty glass. “Good food and good drink.”

“
Have you tried Jtal?” Athee said, holding up her glass.

“
No, I haven’t.”

She held it out for him to sample and Byron hesitated. “I’ve not even had a sip yet,” Athee promised.
And I assure you it’s not poisoned.

Byron took the glass from her hands and raised it to his lips. The difference in quality struck him immediately. This was the good stuff.

“
Knew you’d like it,” she said, retrieving her glass and setting it on the table. “Now, I believe you promised me a dance.”

“
One! And you better make me look good.”

Athee’s expression was one of amusement. Before she could respond, Mevine’s voice broke into their conversation.

“
Damn, have you tried the Jtal?” he gasped, coming to an abrupt halt at Byron’s side. His eyes widened as Byron and Athee turned to face the young man.

“
Officer Byron, I’m sorry,” he stammered, his speech further impeded by his state of intoxication.

“
That’s all right, Mevine,” Byron answered. “Can you watch Athee’s drink while we dance?”

Mevine stood at attention, the movement causing the liquid in his glass to slop over the edge. “Yes, sir.”

Byron let Athee lead him onto the dance floor. She positioned his hands and instructed him to follow her movements.

You taught me how to fly a shuttle, now I’ll teach you how to dance.

Her comment elicited a smile from Byron.
Fair enough.

The music began and she stepped to the left. He followed her movement, feeling self-conscious. Athee projected her next move, visualizing the steps in his mind. With that assistance, he mirrored her actions with more accuracy. Allowing her to guide him with her thoughts, Byron’s confidence grew with each step. Smiling at his partner, he realized that she was grinning in return.

You don’t feel foolish, do you?
Athee thought.

Straightening his back to his full height, Byron eyed her with suspicion.
Not unless you intend to embarrass me.

Not tonight anyway.

The tempo picked up and Byron was again forced to concentrate on her mental guidance. He followed Athee as they glided across the dance square, weaving around the other couples with ease. By the time the music stopped, he’d mastered the steps.

Offering a round of applause for the musician’s skillful playing, they returned to the table. Mevine flashed Byron a foolish grin. Feeling strangely self-conscious, Byron avoided meeting his eyes. Athee retrieved her drink and cocked her head at Byron.

“
Would you like a glass of Jtal?” she said.

Byron nodded and she pressed her drink into his hands. “Take mine. I’ll get a fresh glass.”

Before he could protest, she whirled away and vanished into the crowd. Sinking onto the bench, Byron took another sip. It was by far the best spirit of the evening, smooth and not too sweet. He wished he’d discovered it first.

Setting his glass on the table, he noticed Mevine staring at him. The young man grinned, mischievous thoughts dominating his mind.

“
Is that the pilot you’ve been training?” he said, enunciating his words with care.

“
Yes, that’s Athee.”

“
You like her, don’t you?”

Byron leaned his arm on the table. “Mevine, she’s a Tgren.”

“
She’s really pretty,” the lad offered.

“
She’s also the prefect’s niece,” he said with exasperation.

“
And she obviously likes you,” Mevine countered, gesturing with a wide sweep of his arm.

Byron leaned away and grasped his glass. There was no arguing with the lad in his present condition, though he did ponder Mevine’s observation. He’d not considered Athee’s interest anything but a desire to satisfy her own curiosity regarding flying and her psychic abilities. If the intrigue extended beyond their professional relationship, Byron didn’t want to encourage the situation.

Athee returned, a fresh drink in her hand. “Have you explored the booths around the courtyard?” When Byron shook his head, she extended her hand. “Let me point out the finer delights of Ktren then.”

With reluctance, he accepted her hand and rose to his feet. Byron glanced at Mevine, reluctant to leave the young man alone. If he was to explore the grounds with Athee, he preferred an escort as well.

“
Can you walk?” Byron asked, suppressing his skepticism.

Mevine arose, grasping the edge of the table to steady his actions. “I can walk,” he declared, his fingers curling around what remained of his drink.

The men followed Athee as she led them around the courtyard. Byron had little use for possessions, but he feigned interest so as not to insult his Tgren hostess. Mevine’s fascination seemed genuine and he asked questions at every booth. They stopped often to speak with others attending the festival. Many reflected intrigue at his choice of company, but no one questioned the pilot or Athee. Byron hoped to avoid an encounter with the prefect. The man would not approve of the Cassan occupying his niece’s time.

They were drawing closer to the musicians when Erenta approached Athee. He exchanged pleasantries with Byron and Mevine before asking Athee to dance. She glanced at Byron and he gestured toward the center court.

“
By all means, don’t let me stop you,” he said. Recalling Athee’s previous comments concerning the young man, Byron doubted Erenta would hold her attention for long. She regarded her fellow pilot as a friend, nothing more. Judging from Erenta’s eager expression, he still entertained hopes of changing her mind.

Byron and Mevine located a table and grabbed the remaining two seats. Scanning the revelers, Byron surmised the majority of Ktren’s population was in attendance. A few Cassans were in evidence, clustered in small, segregated groups. He caught sight of Illenth, deep in conversation with a Tgren man, and admired the officer’s ability to blend with the natives. After many months in the Tgren sunshine, he even looked like one of the locals.

“
You’re going to dance with Athee again, aren’t you?” Mevine inquired.

Byron’s attention shifted to the boy. “I only promised her one dance,” he said, finishing his drink.

“
Just one?”

Mevine’s tone bordered on disrespect and Byron frowned, allowing his displeasure to project. At once he sensed regret in the lad’s thoughts.

“
Sir, I mean, you shouldn’t waste the opportunity,” Mevine stammered, sinking in his seat. “She’s pretty. I’m sure many others are vying for her attention.”

“
I wish them luck then,” Byron stated, choosing to let the young man’s remark slide.

Athee returned without Erenta. She paused at Byron’s side, as if expecting him to rise. He held his ground, staring at the Tgren woman in defiance. He desired another dance with her, but didn’t want to give Athee the satisfaction.