Alawahea: The Azellian Affairs, Book One by Sara L. Daigle

Author:Sara L. Daigle [Daigle, Sara L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Merry Dissonance Press
Published: 2015-07-02T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

AS THEY STEPPED into the office, Peter motioned for Merran to sit across from him. Tamara settled into a chair next to Merran. “Before anything else, I think we should discuss my fee.”

Merran leaned back to pull a thin wallet out of his front pocket. He pulled out a card and handed it to Peter. “I am prepared to cover whatever’s necessary for Justern’s defense. As I mentioned in the car, I’m probably the only one of Justern’s relatives and acquaintances who is willing to contribute to his defense.”

Peter stared at the card on his desk. “It will be from your private pocket. If I remember correctly, Azelle does not provide for its off-planet citizens should they get in trouble with the law.”

Merran smiled. “That hasn’t changed.”

Peter sniffed and slid the card back at Merran. “Well, I’m willing to take Justern’s case for one-quarter my normal fee.”

Merran stared at Peter, momentarily speechless. “I can cover whatever is required.”

Peter shook his head. “No. In memory of his mother, I will take Justern’s case for one-quarter of my normal fee.”

Something clicked in the back of Merran’s mind. A story. The Dorvath-Memaxthal fiasco. This man’s surprising awareness of Azellian and the elaborate language of bows. Justern’s hushed-up, tragic history. Justern’s father disowning him immediately upon the death of his mother. “This wouldn’t be because of twenty years ago, would it?”

Peter’s eyes flicked to Tamara, and he looked nervous. Merran could sense the waves of suppressed guilt, worry, fear, and anger that leaked around his up-until-now calm veneer. “Something like that.”

Merran leaned toward Tamara. “Tamara, would you mind stepping outside for a moment? I need to ask your father a question I think he would be more comfortable answering in private.”

She got up, and though he could sense that she was somewhat irritated by the dismissal, she left.

Merran turned back to Peter as soon as Tamara left and spoke more bluntly than was his normal wont with humans. “Are you Justern’s father?”

Peter stared down at his desk. “No.”

“But you were the human that nearly upset the entire Uzorantxl Dorvath-Izorantxl Memaxthal clan plans,” Merran said, not really framing it as a question. “The young man who was banished from Azelle for having fallen in love with an Azellian.”

Peter sighed heavily. “It was a long time ago. When did she die?”

“About ten human years ago.”

Peter closed his eyes, his face pale. “I made her life a misery. I didn’t mean to, but … we didn’t intend on it going as far as it did. We met during Festival.”

Merran raised his eyebrows. “That shouldn’t have caused a problem. We all know what Festival is like.” Although it did surprise him that Peter had been exposed to Festival—most humans were strictly kept away from it—there were a few who could hear the Song that were allowed to participate. A few humans showed up at the embassy doors every year, drawn by the Song and the call to gather, unaware of why they’d been called or what they were doing.

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