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Chapter 9

FONTANA EASED THE RAPTOR TO A HALT IN FRONT OF A pair of massive gates and punched a code into a small device on the dashboard.

The gates were fashioned in an elaborate design that made them appear more like large works of metal art than a security feature, but Sierra had a hunch they were probably made of mag-steel. A high stone fence surrounded the property.

The gates swung open, and she saw the mansion. It loomed like a fairy-tale castle in the glowing green fog. Not the home of the handsome prince, she decided, more like the ominous domain of a sorcerer.

"Must take a big staff to run this place," she observed, trying to make herself focus on small talk.

"I believe in delegating. I have a household manager. She comes in five days a week and oversees whatever is needed. I let her take care of hiring gardeners, housekeepers, and any other services she thinks are necessary."

"But she doesn't live here?"

"No. I like my privacy. When I come home at night, I want to be alone."

The drive was so choked with luminous mist she could barely make out the dark shapes of the trees that lined the approach to the big house.

Fontana eased the Raptor along the paved lane and into a garage. The door of the garage locked behind them with the rumbling clang of a bank vault. Sierra collected Elvis and got out of the car. Together they waited while Fontana extracted her small suitcase from the trunk.

He used another code to rez a second vaultlike door.

"Okay, I see what you mean about your security system being a bit more elaborate than mine," she said. "Do all Guild chiefs feel that it's necessary to invest in such sophisticated equipment, or is there something about being the boss of the Crystal Guild that makes it a good idea?"

"Are you implying I might be a trifle paranoid?"

"Just a touch."

"It's a good character trait in a Guild boss."

"I'll take your word for it," she said.

They entered the mansion through a back hall. Fontana turned on a few lights. She looked around as they moved into the house.

"It's beautiful," she whispered.

"Not quite the kind of place you expected a Guild man to own?"

"Don't start with me, Fontana. I've had a very long day."

"Sorry."

He paused. She got the feeling he was regrouping, searching for a way to get the conversation back on track.

"The house dates from about fifty years before the Era of Discord," he said. "The inlay work and the mosaics are all original."

"Beautiful." She studied one of the dark blue, yellow, and white mosaics on the floor. "There is so much history in this house."

"That was the attraction," he said. He looked at her. "I don't have a family history of my own, so I bought one."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm a bastard."

"You mean your father never married your mother." She brushed that aside with a small move of her fingers. "Yes, I know. I found that out when I did my research on you."

She could tell that she had finally caught him off guard, but he covered his reaction swiftly with a wry smile.

"Ray did warn me about the dangers of marrying a journalist," he said.

"It wasn't the circumstances of your birth that I found interesting," she continued. "It was your reputation. When hunters talk about you, they always cite Fontana's First Rule: Never leave a man behind for ghost bait."

He shrugged. "It's an old story."

She watched his face in the shadows. "I gather it goes back to your work in the tunnels. There was an incident. Someone tried to hijack a shipment of artifacts. You were in charge of the expedition that was attacked. You and your men fought off the pirates and got the civilians out of harm's way, but some members of your crew were taken hostage by the hijackers. You went back down and single-handedly rescued your men."

"That was a long time ago."

She smiled. "That's the thing about reputations, isn't it? They hang around for a long time."

He led her into a room lit with faint, luminous green light. She recognized the source of the illumination. It came from the array of alien antiquities massed inside. Countless vases, urns, and exquisite little jars were displayed on various tables and pedestals. Most of the artifacts were crafted of the ubiquitous, indestructible quartz that the craftsmen of the vanished civilization had used to build everything from their utensils to great cities. The psi that emanated from the quartz was the source of the eerie green glow.

Having concluded that they were going to hang around awhile, Elvis scampered down from her shoulder and began exploring. He soon disappeared into the deep shadows of the gallery.

Sierra went to stand in front of a selection of quartz plaques engraved with strange designs.

"This is a very tine collection," she said. "Museum quality."

"It came with the house." He walked toward her and halted directly behind her, not quite touching. "The former owner was a collector. When he died, the heirs wanted to sell the collection to a museum. I offered to buy it instead."

"That must have tacked quite a bit onto the purchase price."

"Yes." He rested his hands on her shoulders. "But it was worth it."

A case full of artifacts that were not made of green quartz caught her eye. It was the one cabinet in the room that had artificial lighting.

"Good heavens," she whispered. "Is that real dream-stone?"

"Do you really think I'd have any fakes in here?"

She flushed. "No. My father has a couple of pieces, but I've never seen that much of it outside a museum."

No one knew why the aliens, who had used quartz for virtually everything else, had fashioned some items out of the mysterious dreamstone. The experts could not even decide if the exquisitely beautiful substance was native to Harmony. No naturally occurring deposits had ever been found.

Unlike quartz, dreamstone did not glow with its own natural illumination, but in the subdued case lighting, each item shimmered and shifted and swirled with fabulous colors that had no names. Dreamstone was solid to the touch, but to the eye it had the properties of a liquid, ever changing and endlessly, fascinatingly beautiful.

She looked at Fontana, a little awed in spite of herself.

"I take back what I said about you being a trifle paranoid. The dreamstone alone justifies all your security."

Another kind of energy shimmered through the room.

"I protect what is mine," Fontana said.