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Authors: Lynn Viehl

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BOOK: Nightbound
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“We never discussed it,” she admitted, “but Robert was a bachelor, and he had to travel extensively for his work. Sometimes he sent postcards to me from different countries.”

Back in the processing area Alys gave Chan the task of assembling what she called “the trolley” while she set up a monitor screen, computer tower, and wireless transceiver.

To Chan she said, “Mr. York hasn’t worked at a site
using ground-penetrating radar. Why don’t you explain the system to him?”

“Sure.” The intern turned to Beau. “The GPR transmits a signal into the ground, which bounces off subsurface features and objects. The receiver collects the return signals and displays them on the trolley’s LCD unit as a graphic. It also transmits them to the computer, where our software processes the time it takes for a signal reflection, and calculates parameters and depth. If the scans are clear, we should be able to construct a 3-D map of the area, which gives us precise coordinates.”

“We’ll need to use a lower-frequency signal out here,” Alys added. “Chan, please calibrate the emitter for two hundred megahertz to start. We’ll adjust it after we see the initial test scan.”

Beau eyed the trolley unit, which appeared to be little more than a four-wheeled cart. “How deep can the signal travel?”

“With this equipment, depending on the frequency we use, up to a thousand meters,” Chan said.

“The saturation of the ground will help.” Alys came over to adjust one of the switches on the trolley. “Dry soil doesn’t reflect signals very well. When it’s saturated, the moisture interfaces with buried objects, retaining or pooling on them, and that acts like a mirror. The more water present, the better the signal and the more details we can see in the reflection data.”

Beau studied the equipment as he sorted out what they had told him. “So you push this over the ground, and the echoes of the signal it makes creates a picture of what is beneath the soil. They tell you where you should dig, how deep, and what you will find.”

“It doesn’t take all the fun out of it,” Chan said as he attached the U-shaped push handle to the trolley. “We have to create image maps from the amplitude time-slices and interpret them. Spatial correlation is very objective as well. What we think looks like a Grecian goblet on the screen might turn out to be a big fossilized turd once we excavate.”

“A coprolite, you mean,” Beau corrected, and winked at Alys.

 

Jayr rose early from her rest, easing out of Aedan’s strong arms to silently dress and slip out of their bedchamber. Keeping the Realm running smoothly always required a great deal of time, and now she had only a few weeks with which to finish the renovations and finalize the arrangements for the new performance schedules. The innumerable details and conflicts involved proved a constant challenge; she felt for every task she accomplished, two more cropped up in its place.

Jayr first paid a visit to the administrative offices to call the Realm’s answering service and pick up the inevitable dozens of messages her mortal vendors left for her during the day. This time, however, the operator informed her that the messages had already been relayed to her assistant.

“Would you like me to read them again to you, ma’am?” the woman asked.

She checked the duplicate copy in her message book and saw the messages had been recorded in unfamiliar writing. “That will not be necessary. Thank you.”

Once she retrieved the clipboard with her notes on the progress in the different areas under construction,
Jayr retreated to her study, where she found a fire burning in her hearth, a stack of messages sitting on her desk, and a neatly typed page that appeared to be some sort of task schedule. She had barely begun reading it when a knock on the door sounded. “Come in.”

“Good evening, my lady.” Devan Leeds entered, carrying a bottle of bloodwine and a crystal goblet on a silver tray, which he brought over and served to her. “
Tresora
Burke called earlier to remind you that the lady visitors from Alenfar
jardin
will be arriving tonight. I’ve readied the reception room, and as they are sisters, I’ve arranged adjoining chambers for them in the guest quarters. Is that acceptable to you?”

“That sounds very good.” Jayr watched him prepare her drink. “Have you been settling in?”

“Quite well, my lady. I took the liberty of checking on the current renovations, which are progressing according to schedule, and placed orders for the props, fabrics, and gift items you wished to obtain for the reopening. The stable master reports the sickly mare has much improved and, as your seneschal suspected, buttercups were the culprit. He promises to eradicate them from the field at once. When convenient, Captain Harlech wishes to have a word about purchasing some new mounts for the jousting performance. I believe he wishes to buy five more from a breeder in the Carolinas.” He offered her the wineglass he had filled. “This is a very pleasant Spanish red; I think you’ll find it superior to the French label you’ve been served of late.”

Jayr stared at him as she accepted the glass. “Good God, man, have you slept at all today?”

“I have, my lady, thank you.” He stepped back and folded his hands behind his back.

Jayr drank from the glass and regarded him. “I am in awe of your efficiency. Have you left anything for me to do?”

“I thought you might want to review the messages from the service, that I might know your wishes and attend to the return calls while you welcome your visitors.” He nodded at the typed page. “That is my work plan for the night, but if you need me to do anything else, of course you may change it as you will.”

Jayr wasn’t sure she dared look at it. “Mr. Leeds—Devan—you likely know better your duties than I ever will. I would ask only that you not exhaust yourself. In two days I believe you’ve done more work than five men might have in twenty.”

“It is good to have some real purpose again,” Leeds admitted. “These last months since my master…Well, I am happiest when I am busy, my lady, but should I ever prove an annoyance, you have only to say.”

“That I think you will never hear from me, sir.” She drained the remaining wine from her glass. “I’ll review messages with you now, but the return calls can wait until after the Alenfar ladies arrive. I should like you at my side in the reception room.”

For the first time a flicker of doubt passed over Leeds’s features. “You would? Forgive me; I had assumed that place to be your seneschal’s.”

“As Byrne refuses to learn proper protocol and quite despises formal receptions, I feel certain that you will do a much better job of it.” She picked up the slips. “Now,
this call from Disney corporate is likely yet another offer to buy the Realm. Please advise them that my answer has not changed, and that I shall be delighted to sell it to them once hell freezes over.”

 

Farlae slipped onto a viewing balcony, and parted the curtains to look down at the Kyn assembled below. The suzeraina greeted the two just-arrived female visitors differently, shaking the hand of the tall, fair Frenchwoman before embracing the petite, dark American. He knew from his sources in Europe and South Florida that the females were newly turned, the blonde by Korvel, formerly seneschal to Richard Tremayne, and the little brunette by Jamys, son of Thierry Durand. Neither woman had come from the ranks of the Kyndred, orphaned humans made over with Kyn DNA by the Brethren, but he still did not trust them.

If Farlae were to be honest, he trusted no one and nothing. Especially not the smiling mortal standing beside Jayr.

“What are you doing?” a beloved voice whispered as the scent of warm strawberries teased Farlae’s nose. “Spying on our lady? What for?”

“I am not spying. Be silent.” He should have expected Rainer would follow him here; when it came to tracking Kyn or mortal, his fool lover had no equal. “Better yet, go back to your poppets.”

“They’re called puppets, not poppets. What is she doing?” Rain tried to peek through the slit in the curtain. “Who are those females? That tall one looks fierce. Do you come here to spy on her?”

Farlae took Rain by the arm and marched him out of
the balcony and into the adjoining corridor. “I have told you about this,” he said through gritted teeth. “You cannot tag along after me when I am working.”

Rain stuck out his lower lip. “You work in the sewing rooms, where I never go. Except tonight, but I needed more string for my puppets, and you were not there.” He hung his head and shuffled his feet. “You were not very attached to that shawl you were making, were you?”

Farlae wanted to tear his hair out. “Rain, I don’t give a damn about that bloody shawl, your puppet string, or–”

“My foolishness,” Rain finished for him, his eyes sad. “As you have said, many times. But I am not as stupid as you think. I know what you are about here.”

He had always managed to keep his lover from knowing about his less scrupulous activities. “I am merely admiring the lady visitors.”

“Do not lie to me,” Rain said, suddenly looking uncharacteristically fierce. “You watch because you’ve taken a fancy to that new mortal of Jayr’s.”

Farlae almost laughed. “Why would I want him when I have you, lad?”

“You do not even deny it.” He nodded toward the balcony. “That is why you are there, peeking through the curtain. You have been following him everywhere. You want to do things with him, don’t you? Things you’ve only done with me.” His voice rose to a higher pitch. “Things you said you would
only
do with me—”

“Shhhh.” Farlae gripped his shoulders to give him a shake. “Must you shout it to the whole of the keep, you idiot?” As he saw the hurt in his lover’s eyes, he eased his hold. “I want nothing from that mortal.”

“I know I am an idiot,” the big man said with great
dignity. “I am very good at it, am I not? But I have never fancied anyone else but you. I love you and only you, even as I know I am going to burn in hell for it for all eternity. If you would allow me, I would shout it to the rafters. But you wish to keep it all secret, so that no one will think less of you.”

Was that what he imagined? “Lad, you are mistaken—”

“I am not so much the idiot you think. You never speak of us to anyone and I know why.” He jabbed his finger into Farlae’s chest. “You are ashamed of me.”

Farlae rubbed his head. “It is not my way to natter on about how I feel, especially to others. Christ Jesus, Rain, you ought to know how I feel for you. I bought you out of slavery. I taught you every pleasure you know. I saved you from Sherwood and execution and anything that has tried to harm you these seven hundred years.”

“But you do not love me, not as I love you.” Rain shrugged off his hands. “You may have the mortal. He is not so handsome, but he is clever, like you. I am sure he will never disgrace you, as I have.” He trudged off.

Farlae started after him, swore under his breath, and returned instead to his listening post. When this was over, he decided, he would make it up to his lover. He would take Rainer away with him on a journey. What did the mortals call it? A vacation.

Aye, he would find a patch of woods where they could camp and hunt as they had in the old days, and bathe out in the open, and love each other without fear of being seen or despised.

A look through the curtain allowed Farlae to see Leeds, now dabbing at a large wine stain on the front of
his immaculate white shirt. Behind him, Byrne held an empty glass and was trying very hard not to look pleased.

If the
tresora
hadn’t been under suspicion, Farlae would have felt pity for him.
Such accidents that will happen every time you try to take Byrne’s place beside his lady.

He heard Leeds excuse himself in order to tidy up, and glanced down to see him retreating from the room. Farlae had to trot out to the corridor and down the back staircase before he could pick up the mortal’s scent from a safe distance.

Leeds’s trail ended at the door of the nearest unoccupied guest room, and Farlae could hear him moving around inside. Quickly he entered the next chamber and went to the adjoining door, feeling along the surface until he found the plug of wood concealing the peephole, and tugged it out.

Leeds had bolted himself inside the chamber and now stood before a mirror. After rubbing the back of his right hand as if it pained him, he unbuttoned his ruined shirt, frowning at his reflection as he removed a handkerchief and a small container from his trouser pocket.

BOOK: Nightbound
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ads

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