“Sorry about forcing you out of hiding,” he said softly, and Orchid’s tiny sniff reached his ears.
“She was going to find me, anyway” floated out from under his hat. “That woman has skills. And claws.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Orchid said, voice serious. “She’ll rip your eyes out if you look at her wrong. I’ve never seen a dark elf. What did you ever do to that woman?”
The light flicked off in the lab, and he moved a few feet down the hallway. “I was mean to her, and made sure everyone else was, too.” Maybe that had been a mistake.
Trisk came out, awkwardly resetting the lock with her left hand. Kal remembered her favoring her right hand when attacking him. She probably had a burn from whatever had tried to force his way out of her circle, leaving that rime of fat on the ceiling. “I know a few places in town that have palatable tea,” she said. “It’s taken me two years to educate them on how to make it.”
I am going out for coffee with Eloytrisk Cambri, he thought in amazement as she came even with him and they headed down the hall together.
Orchid stomped on his head, the signal that they were being watched, and he caught sight of Daniel lurking in the hall far behind them. Curious.
“Is that a sensory burn?” Kal said, snagging Trisk’s hand.
“Let go,” she said, trying to tug free.
“No, let me fix it,” he said, tightening his grip to make it look more natural. “I know a healing charm, but it works better if I’m touching you. I’ll be careful,” he said, sending a gentle warmth through his hand and into hers.
“That’s nice,” she said, her tone guarded, but she hadn’t let go. Everyone at school had abused her, but she’d wanted to be one of them nevertheless. “How’s Quen?” she asked, and excitement zinged through him. Knowing Daniel was watching, he walked confidently down the hall, his hand in hers.
“I don’t know. He works for my father, not me. Do you want to go back to my hotel and order room service?” he asked loudly, then leaned in, whispering, “Orchid could join us, then.”
Trisk turned to look at his hat, but Kal was sure all Daniel would see was her enraptured look up at him, their lips inches apart. “Okay,” she whispered back.
“Okay,” he echoed, letting go of her hand just long enough to get the door for her and gallantly gesture her through.
He had six months. He only needed two weeks, and everything she had would be his.
9
The late-October sun was warm, but Trisk was glad for her lab coat as she walked the long rows of sturdy tomato plants, fondly touching one here, another there. It was nearing the end of the season, and they’d grown tall in the strong summer light at Saladan Farms’ seed field just outside of Sacramento.
The leafy green stalks were almost over her head; the main trunk lines had become woody when the same hairs that gave the plant its superior drought resistance had unexpectedly matted together in a rude, keratin-like substance able to support the heavier growth. Even the simulated outside conditions of the underground labs hadn’t produced it, and she’d come out to take some final measurements before the field was razed next week. It never failed to surprise Trisk how an organism could respond unexpectedly to stimuli and do something completely wonderful.
Such as creating a summer-smelling canyon of shade, she thought as she took off her gloves and tucked them into her lab coat pocket along with her tape measure, pencil, and spiral notebook. The press conference to publicly release the patent to Saladan Industries and Farms was next week, and it felt as if she was saying good-bye.
Content, she scuffed through the ruts back to the farm’s office building. It was little more than a shack with running water and a single phone line connecting it to the outside world. She’d make her final report at Global Genetics this week and move on to a new project.
A smile crossed her face at the sound of kids in the field, and she laughed, shouting after the handful of exuberance that thumped past her in bare feet and exotic accents as they played tag in the setting sun. There was a farm-run school right on Saladan’s property, but it was patently obvious that it was only there to give the kids somewhere to go until they were old enough to work the field without the government crawling up Saladan’s back.
Trisk slowed as she saw her farm truck parked beside the rusted flatbed Fords and the decommissioned school bus waiting to take the migrant workers back to Saladan’s shantytown when the sun went down. She didn’t like bringing her little two-seater out to the fields on her rare inspections, but today, it would have been right at home beside Saladan’s black Jag and the red convertible Mustang that Kal had driven out from Florida, both now parked in the shade of the single tree hanging over the office shack. They hadn’t been here when she’d arrived, and she wasn’t eager to talk to either of them, as nice as Kal had been the last few days.
She’d first met Mr. Saladan last year when he’d bought the patent, suffering his large ego and patronizing slights as she fulfilled Global Genetics’ obligations during the patent transfer. She hadn’t liked the witch then, and she didn’t like him now.
Her faltering mood utterly soured when the door to the farm office banged open and Kal and Saladan came out, their pace and direction making it obvious they wanted to talk to her. Saladan was in slacks and a white dress shirt, his inappropriate shoes coated with dust and his hem discolored with it. His black tie was loosened, and as she watched, he took a pair of dark sunglasses out of a front pocket and put them on. Even with his eyes hidden, she could see the scowl making his few wrinkles fold into each other.