Kate Steele

Another flawless landing. It was a seamlessly smooth transition from space to dock and yet Jorrian Tavaris felt every nuance of vibration and movement the ship made. Pain lanced through his head, his vision momentarily blurring. Grimacing, eyes squeezing tightly shut, one hand went to his temple while the other stretched forth to search for the edge of the bed. Finding it, he flopped down with a groan and lay still, waiting for the pain to recede.

The attacks were coming with more and more regularity. In the darkness behind his closed lids, he let himself admit to a little of the fear he’d been successfully holding at bay. It wouldn’t be long now before the darkness claimed him for all time and, depending on popular beliefs, there would be eternal rest, a place paved with streets of gold or a fiery pit of never ending torment.

Jor snorted, a cynical if pained smile curving his lips. If it were up to his fellow gamblers, his reward would be the fiery pit. More than one had claimed he had the devil’s own luck, doling out curses along with the valuables they relinquished. At least he had the satisfaction of knowing it wasn’t only luck but skill that made him a winner. He never used his Maleri’ abilities while playing games of chance. One spectacular misuse of his empathic powers had lost him everything. No one could say he didn’t learn from his mistakes.

Suppressing the sharp stab of grief that the memory of Belthola and his lost position amongst the Maleri’ brotherhood brought, Jor massaged his temples. I’ll settle for the eternal rest. Peace, quiet, no hunger, no need, no pain. What’s not to love about that? Yet even as he thought it, deep inside a part of him rebelled. To sleep forever, to do and be nothing seemed an awful waste, not to mention boring as hell. Although I suppose if you’re asleep it’s a moot point. The universe could explode and you wouldn’t know a damn thing. He sighed. All this afterlife speculation was a melancholy and frustrating thing at best.

Experimentally opening his eyes, Jor blinked. He focused on the ceiling. The pain was receding. He’d been granted a few more hours, days or weeks. There was no way of knowing when his inner mind shield would give way, and no salvation was coming. Only the touch of his true mate could save him and Jor had never searched for him. He refused to burden anyone with his disgrace. He sat up, then stood. Satisfied when his legs remained steady, Jorrian took his already packed black leather duffle and left his cabin in search of the nearest drinking establishment.

Tired of metallic walls and recycled air, Jor bypassed the usual space dock bars and went in search of a little local color. A quick shuttle trip planet-side saw him debarking at the planet’s shuttle station on the outskirts of a medium-sized town with a rustic air. Buildings of different designs and heights housed a variety of shops and eating establishments. Quite a few people walked the sidewalks and ranged from browsers to serious, package-laden shoppers. On the street, a steady stream of personal and public transport units cruised.

Three blocks from the port he found what he was looking for. The bar was well appointed, not fancy but definitely not a dive. The clientele looked average, middle class. There was music playing loud enough to be heard but not raucous. The ratio of men to women was approximately three to one, most of the women obviously with a male partner. The servers seemed to be equally divided in number as to male and female, but all were young and good looking. The smell of food mingled with liquor. A small menu was posted behind the bar with simple offerings of sandwiches and finger-foods.

With a practiced eye, Jor quickly found a table with a card game in progress. The men who sat there were focused on their cards and the other players, not in the least interested in what went on in the room around them. This was exactly what he was looking for. Some obviously serious players.

Jor made his way to the bar, took a seat and ordered a shot of whiskey. In all his travels, whiskey was a form of liquor that seemed to be universal. No matter what it was called, every culture he’d come across had discovered a way to ferment whatever kind of grain their planet produced. Taking the small glass the bartender poured for him, he took an experimental sniff. The smell was potent but refined. This brew had an aged scent that caressed the palate as well as a clear and deep reddish-amber color that was visually pleasing.

He took a sip and savored the smooth and smoky bite while it slid down his throat. It settled in his stomach, its warmth easy and persuasive as it encouraged him to relax. Jor let a small curve lift his lips and finished his drink, taking the comfort it offered. He was about to rise from his seat when a tentative hand on his arm caught his attention.

He looked over to find a boy of perhaps fifteen or so giving him an inviting yet nervous smile. “Is there something I can do for you?” Jor asked politely.

The boy’s smile widened. “Maybe we can do for each other.”

Jor’s brow rose. The boy was propositioning him. Not that it hadn’t happened before, but this child was much too young to be offering himself in barrooms. “Go home to your mother, boy.”

A stricken look came over his face. “She’s sick.”

Before he could stop himself, Jor reached out with his senses. He’d met his share of flim flam artists but none could ever fool his empathic ability to sniff them out. What he felt from the boy was heartrending. Fear, sadness, shame, determination, they mixed and mingled with a dozen other raw emotions that beat at Jor’s shield.

Suppressing the urge to throw his arm up to ward himself from the boy’s roiling emotions, Jor reached into his jacket and drew out a small, leather case. Opening it, he took out a card and handed it to the boy. “Do you have a comm unit at home?” The boy shook his head. “Go to the shuttle station and use one of the public comms. Have you heard of the planet Belthola and the Maleri’?”

“Yes, sir,” the boy acknowledged with wide eyes.

“Put a call through to the number on that card. You won’t be charged for the call. This is going to put you into contact with Chastien Kaldor. He’s Maleri’ and head of the Taskin City Security Bureau on Belthola. Chase will vouch for me, then he’s going to put you in contact with some people who will help you and your mother. All right?”

The boy’s emotions soared. Hope warred with distrust. “Not that I don’t appreciate it but why… um why are you helping me and what do you want in return?”

“Let’s just call it my way of helping to balance the universe. And as for what I want in return? Make something of yourself. Don’t waste this opportunity, boy.”

“Val, sir, Val Cammor.”

“Pleased to meet you, Val Cammor. Now get your young ass out of here.”

Val grinned and dashed out the door.

Bond of the Maleri' V:
Redemption - Excerpt

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Bond of the Maleri' V: Redemption - Excerpt

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Bond of the Maleri' V:
Redemption - Excerpt