Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
“Come, my boy, and sit down,” Master Foltham said, waving Nostrus over to the desk.
Nostrus closed the door and strode across the study. He sat in one of the chairs and settled his arms over the armrests.
Master Foltham leaned forward, propping his elbows on his desk. “Well, have we made progress?”
Careful to keep his expression neutral, Nostrus nodded. “I believe we’ve found a…suitable candidate, sir.”
“All this time and only one candidate?” Master Foltham huffed and shoved away from the table to lean back in his seat. “The cost is of no concern, Nostrus. If I need to hire a small army to have justice, I will!”
“I understand, sir.” Nostrus drew in a steadying breath.
He knew he’d been overly sensitive regarding this matter, but he couldn’t let it go.
He couldn’t allow another stain to cling to his father’s name, couldn’t allow his own reputation to remain tainted.
“But, as you’ve said, we must go about this delicately.
Your security is my foremost concern, and putting out an open contract risks drawing too much attention. ”
Master Foltham’s throat skin swelled for a moment. “The best, Nostrus. This candidate had better be the absolute best available.”
“Everything we’ve been able to dig up so far, sir, points to that. This hunter’s reputation has been earned over many years of work.”
“Hmm. And yet you sound trepidatious.”
“Most bounty hunters who are willing to go after runaway slaves, sir, are barely a step above criminals,” Nostrus said carefully. “Regardless of reputation, I have difficulty bringing myself to trust their ilk.”
Nodding thoughtfully, Master Foltham settled his hands over his belly. “Perhaps. But I imagine a generous bounty is enough to curtail any thoughts of betrayal.”
Just like a high payout was supposed to keep that azhera from stealing from you in your own home?
“I can’t pretend to understand the motivations of such individuals, Master Foltham.”
“No, of course not. You’re a cultured being, young Nostrus.
But if there’s one thing I know, if there’s one secret to my success, it’s the understanding that you ought to turn elsewhere when something falls outside your own areas of expertise, especially when acquiring those skills is impractical.
We need animals hunted down and dragged home, so we must seek out one well versed in dealing with such creatures—someone barely removed from animals themselves. ”
The rage that had been simmering within Nostrus for weeks flared a little at that; he was deemed unfit to perform this duty, but someone Master Foltham considered barely more than an animal was qualified?
Nostrus realized in that moment that he’d been gritting his teeth. He forced his jaw to relax. “Sir, I will dedicate my every moment to hunting them down. I’ll bring them back to you. I’ve scores to settle with both of them.”
“I’ll not discuss that matter with you again, Nostrus.
You know my mind on it. You’ll have your revenge, rest assured, though it will not be in the terms for which you’re so desperate.
” Master Foltham lifted a hand a few centimeters and waved his fingers lazily.
“Now then, do you have the contact information for this bounty hunter?”
“I do, sir.”
“And have you made any inquiries regarding the arrangement of a contract?”
“A member of my team has made contact. The hunter was willing to discuss the matter further.”
Master Foltham reached forward and brought up a holographic display over his desk. With a flick of his fingers, he turned the screen to face Nostrus. “Call the hunter now. I want this set into motion.”
“Sir, it would be—”
Master Foltham slapped his hand down and shifted his considerable bulk forward to loom over his desk.
“I want my terran back, Nostrus, and I’ll wait not a minute longer than necessary.
It’s been what? Forty-nine days? Fifty? I have always exercised patience in all things, but the limits of my patience have been hard-pressed by this situation. Call the hunter. Now.”
Pressing his lips into a tight line, Nostrus turned his attention to the screen and accessed the secure, encrypted commlink. He entered the bounty hunter’s commlink ID and pressed connect to engage an audio-only call.
The connection opened after a few seconds.
“Yeah?” asked a raspy voice.
“An associate of mine contacted you regarding a contract,” Master Foltham said.
“You the one with a couple lost pets?”
“Indeed. From what I understand, your record is impeccable.”
Nostrus clenched his teeth and clutched at the armrests. He couldn’t ignore the persistent ache in his hand any more than he could forget the reason it was there to begin with.
“Yeah,” the bounty hunter replied.
Master Foltham leaned back again, turning his gaze toward the ceiling. “Are you interested in the work?”
“I’ll need details before I commit to anything.”
Smirking around his thick tusks, Master Foltham nodded. “Naturally. I’d prefer my pets returned to me unharmed, if possible. They are a male and female. An azhera and a terran, respectively. It’s only prudent that I mention they are both dangerous.”
“Most people are once they’re being hunted. I’ll need some more specifics.”
“The male managed to overcome my head of security and escape an extremely secure compound with the female in tow. And she has caused serious injuries to several members of my staff despite her deceptively petite size and build.”
The ache in Nostrus’s hand intensified, becoming a rapid, piercing throb. He forced himself to lean back, hoping that the few extra centimeters it put between himself and the call screen would help him keep his mouth shut. He didn’t need to dishonor himself any further than he already had.
“I should add that the female is pregnant,” Master Foltham continued. “I want her offspring returned as well—alive and unharmed, if she’s birthed it when you collect her.”
“Price?”
Master Foltham turned his head toward the screen. “I would prefer to work out that detail in per—”
“Price,” the bounty hunter repeated firmly.
Master Foltham’s lips peeled back in distaste. He preferred a manner of doing business that struck many as old-fashioned or unnecessarily prolonged, but Nostrus saw the wisdom in it—it provided further opportunity to reveal the true nature of the people with whom the master was dealing.
With a disapproving grunt, Master Foltham said, “Two hundred thousand each, but they must be alive.”
“One azhera, one breeding terran, and possibly an infant, presumably hiding out on Arthos. Adults both dangerous enough to overcome trained professionals,” the bounty hunter said flatly. “Five hundred each.”
Master Foltham’s throat flesh swelled, and his heavy brows fell low over his dark eyes. “Preposterous!”
“It’s nothing for a person like you.”
“How dare you presume anything about me after demanding such an outrageous sum? I am the one who was insulted and stolen from, the one who was attacked in my own home. Have I not paid price enough already?”
“If you owned a terran,” the bounty hunter replied in a measured tone, “you’ve paid handsomely. Which is exactly why you’re going to pay what I’m asking to have her back. A half million is nothing compared to what you spent to have her.”
Master Foltham clenched his teeth and leaned forward again; for a few moments, he looked as though he were contemplating trying to strangle the holo screen in front of him. “And how soon will you deliver?” he asked tightly.
“Have your people send me the rest of the information. Images. Names. Everything in your possession. We’ll talk timelines once I’ve been able to review it all.”
“I don’t typically deal in such vague terms,” Master Foltham grated.
“You also don’t typically deal with locating two individuals in a city of billions, or you wouldn’t have contacted me. I’ll be in touch.”
The call disconnected abruptly.
Master Foltham’s nostrils flared with several deep, heavy breaths, his throat flesh swelling and deflating with them. He didn’t look at Nostrus when he said, “That will be all for now.”
Nostrus stood, turned away, and walked toward the door.
He told himself that his burgeoning sense of satisfaction at seeing Master Foltham so irritated by dealing with the bounty hunter was both immature and inappropriate, but he couldn’t dismiss the feeling.
Part of him—a part to which he would never give voice—thought it served Master Foltham right.
If this was the path they had to take to make Master Foltham see the folly of outsourcing a contract for something Nostrus would’ve gladly done by his own hand, so be it. One way or another, they’d get their hands on that azhera. One way or another, Nostrus would right his failure.
And it will all be worth it just to see the look on the azhera’s face right before he dies.