Amaryllis

Chapter 3

Lucas stood with Amaryllis at the far end of the museum hall and tried to keep his attention on Miranda Locking and Merrick Beech. It wasn't easy tracking their progress through the crowded room. The task was turning out to be ten times more complicated than it should have been because Amaryllis's dress kept moving. She looked as if she were enveloped in a cloud of brilliant butterflies. Every move she made distracted him from his mission.

The fluttering dress annoyed Lucas. He had contracted to pay an outrageous sum for a trained, experienced prism. In his considered opinion, Amaryllis was anything but professional this evening. She looked provocative, enticing, and, on top of everything else, she smelled good.

"Have you spotted Miss Locking?" Amaryllis asked as she bent to examine the artifacts in one of the display cases.

"They're on opposite sides of the room, but they're making their way toward each other."

She peered at one of the strangely shaped objects in the case. It was made of a silvery green metal. Shaped something like a flashlight, it had no obvious light source. "Let me know when you're ready to link. In the meantime I'm going to get a good look at these relics. I can't believe I'm lucky enough to be among the first people to see the exhibition. I thought I'd have to wait months to get tickets."

"I'm glad one of us is having a good time," Lucas muttered.

"Once in a while my job brings a few really terrific fringe benefits," she said cheerfully. "This is definitely one of those occasions."

"Nice to meet someone who enjoys her work."

"Oh, I do. When I left my position at the university six months ago, I wasn't at all certain that I would ever be happy in business. No offense, but I assumed that the commercial world would be rather uninspiring."

"It has its moments."

She glanced at him, her eyes wide and unexpectedly intent. "It certainly has had a few interesting moments for you. You've lead a very exciting life, Mr. Trent."

"Lucas."

She smiled. "Call me Amaryllis."

"Amaryllis. Don't tell me, let me guess. Your parents got caught up in the craze for old Earth flower names, right?"

To his surprise, the glow of interest in her eyes faded. It was replaced by an expression of cool politeness. "My aunt once told me that my mother chose Amaryllis because she wanted a name that would be exotic enough to make me dream my own dreams."

"And have you dreamed your own dreams?"

Amaryllis lifted a shoulder in a small shrug. "Sometimes one has to pay for other people's dreams."

"I'm not big on cryptic statements. What in the five hells does that mean?"

"Nothing." She gave him a bracing smile. "Sorry. Didn't mean to get deep and mysterious. Maybe these relics are having an effect on my mood."

Lucas frowned. "Why did you leave the university?"

"You know how it is." She turned back to the display case. "People change. I felt it was time to try a new direction in my career."

Lucas was the first to acknowledge that he had no great gift for intuition, but he had a strong suspicion that there was a lot more to the story than Amaryllis implied. He wondered if a man had been involved. Then he wondered why he should care if the answer was yes.

Wrong place, wrong time, wrong woman.

"What is Miss Locking doing now?" Amaryllis asked.

Lucas scanned the crowd and spotted Miranda. "She just stopped to shake Madison Sheffield's hand."

The professional detachment vanished from Amaryllis's gaze in a heartbeat. "Madison Sheffield is here tonight?"

"Just one thrill after another when you focus for me."

She ignored the sarcasm. "Where is he?"

"Who? Sheffield? Over there by the buffet table." Lucas gave her a sidelong glance. The keen interest in her face irritated him. Everything about her was beginning to bother him, he concluded. The sooner this evening was over, the better. "You can't miss him. He looks like he's trying to sell used cars."

"Don't be rude." Amaryllis stood on tiptoe in an effort to see over the heads of the crowd. "Madison Sheffield will very likely be our next governor."

"Probably won't be any worse than the present governor," Lucas said philosophically.

He was well aware of who Madison Sheffield was. His secretary had instructions to toss the unending stream of solicitation letters from the ambitious city-state senator's office. It was nothing personal. She also had orders to chuck the campaign fund requests from the incumbent, Tyier Wingate. Lucas was not particularly interested in politics or politicians.

But he was not surprised to learn that Amaryllis was excited by the sight of Madison Sheffield. It figured, he told himself. Sheffield was just the sort of politician who would attract the vote of an upright, prissy little prism who was overly concerned with ethics and other vague academic matters.

Sheffield was making a bid for the governor's seat on the Founders' Values ticket. He was running on a platform that emphasized a return to the supposedly sterling virtues of the First Generation colonists. People were responding to the Sheffield campaign in droves. The man had charisma.

"He's even more impressive in person than he is on television," Amaryllis declared.

Lucas eyed the senator. It was fair to say that Sheffield was tall, lean, and possessed of a nose and brow that would have done credit to any founder. His aquiline features gave the impression of a man who was ascetic in his habits. His expensively styled brown hair was tinged with just enough silver to add a distinguished touch.

Sheffield's tailor had taken care of the rest.

Amaryllis's dress fluttered again. Bored with the sight of Sheffield shaking hands, Lucas found himself distracted by the movement. The rational, intellectual side of his nature considered the perplexing question of how the gown could both reveal and conceal at the same time. It was a frustrating problem, one which only served to heighten his irritation.

Apparently having lost sight of Madison Sheffield, Amaryllis came down off her toes and turned back to the array of artifacts in the display case.

"These are incredible," she said. "Whatever the metal is, it survived, which is saying something. The alloys and high-tech materials that the founders brought with them from Earth rotted away within months. They had to learn to use native materials. I wonder why these didn't disintegrate."

Lucas forced himself to stop watching the drifting scarves long enough to glance down at the silvery relics. "The researchers don't have a clue."

"Do you really think they're alien in origin?"

"That's the consensus of opinion."

She glanced up. "How can the experts be certain? There's so much of this world that we haven't yet explored. Perhaps it's an alloy composed of some metals that are found on the other side of the planet or in the oceans."

"Theoretically, it's remotely possible that those items are made of some rare St. Helens materials," Lucas said. "But it's highly unlikely. Trust me, the lab folks subjected the artifacts to every test they could imagine. All of the results indicated that they did not originate on St. Helens."

Amaryllis gazed thoughtfully at the relics. "I wonder what happened to the people who made them."

"Probably the same thing that almost happened to the First Generation founders. They didn't make it to the Second Generation. Maybe they never discovered the basic Three Principles of Synergy. Or maybe they refused to accept the fact that the only way to survive was to learn to utilize native materials. When their technology went down, they went down with it."

"But their technology didn't disintegrate. It's right here in front of us."

Lucas smiled wryly. "Their tools survived, but they wouldn't have done the owners any good if they lacked a power source. I'll bet that whoever left these items behind never discovered jelly-ice."

"Do you suppose the people who invented these artifacts came through the curtain, the way the founders did?"

"Who knows?" Lucas watched a wispy green scarf settle lovingly around Amaryllis's hip.

"Perhaps they got trapped here, too, when it closed."

"Could be. Or perhaps they returned to their home world before the curtain came down. Maybe these things are just so much garbage they left behind."

The story of the curtain was familiar to every schoolchild. It marked the major turning point in human history on St. Helens. The drifting web of raw energy had materialized in space near Earth two hundred and fifty years ago. It had lasted just long enough for scientists and researchers to discover it, study it, and eventually to take it for granted. The curtain was assumed to be a permanent feature of the solar system.

To the people of Earth, who had not yet found a practical means of voyaging beyond the nearest home-system planets, it had been an astounding discovery.

The curtain had had several bizarre properties, the most intriguing of which had been its ability to warp the fabric of time and space. It had functioned as an energy gate to the distant star system that contained St. Helens.

Forty-five years after the discovery of the curtain, the first colonists had shipped out for the new world that had seemed so Earth-like and which, because of the energy gate, was now so comfortably close to home. Supplies could be transported easily, which was invaluable because technology kept breaking down on the new planet. Visits to friends and relatives on either world were possible. Earth-based corporations opened branch offices on St. Helens.

Five years later, just as the founders had settled in, the energy curtain had closed without any warning. It had never reopened.

"Perhaps the curtain was a gateway between many different worlds," Amaryllis said. "Not just between Earth and St. Helens." The scarves of her dress fluttered gently, as though responding to a tiny shiver that had gone through her. "It's a weird thought, isn't it? The people who made these artifacts might have been here when the founders arrived."

"I doubt it."

"What makes you say that?"

"Several reputable psychometric talents have studied them." Lucas took a sip of his weak green wine punch. It was nasty stuff. "These things are old. Very old."

Amaryllis nodded. "Well, it will give the researchers something to study for years."

"Yeah. Keep 'em busy." Maybe it wasn't just the damn flutter dress, Lucas thought. Maybe it was his own hormones. They had been vegetating for longer than he cared to contemplate.

Several months ago, without conscious motivation, he had lapsed into an extended period of self-imposed celibacy. It was as if something inside him had finally balked at the prospect of going through the ritual of beginning and ending another extended affair.

Perhaps the decision to register with a marriage agency had roused his dormant physical needs, he thought. He certainly seemed to have sex on the brain tonight.

" 'Evening, Trent. Good crowd, eh?"

Lucas stilled at the sound of the familiar voice. He nodded politely to the silver-haired man and the elegant, middle-aged woman who stood with him. Jackson Rye's parents. Just what he needed to make this evening complete.

"Good evening, Calvin," Lucas said. "Beatrice."

Beatrice Rye inclined her head in a gesture that obviously required extraordinary willpower. "Hello, Lucas. How nice to see you." Her hostility burned just beneath the surface of her blue eyes.

Lucas relaxed slightly when he saw the young man who had accompanied the Ryes. "How's it going, Dillon? Congratulations on graduating from UNS."

Dillon, the only member of the Rye family who seemed to have any fondness left in his heart for Lucas, smiled his irrepressible grin. "Thanks. Thought I'd never get out of the university. Now all I have to do is find a job."

"That shouldn't be too difficult." Lucas took Amaryllis's arm. "Amaryllis, I'd like you to meet the Ryes. Calvin, Beatrice, and their son Dillon. Amaryllis Lark."

"How do you do." Amaryllis gave the three a gracious smile.

"Miss Lark." Calvin tipped his silvermaned head in a patrician gesture. His voice was crisp and formal.

"A pleasure," Beatrice murmured. Several generations of good breeding hid most but not all of the cool reserve in her voice.

"Nice to meet you. Miss Lark," Dillon said cheerfully. "Aren't these artifacts like totally synergistic? Leave it to Lucas to find them in the middle of a jungle. Dad says Lucas has the luck of the devil."

"They're incredible." Amaryllis seemed oblivious to the undercurrents that were flowing back and forth between Lucas and the older Ryes. "Absolutely fascinating."

"You must excuse us." Calvin grasped Beatrice's elbow. "I want to have a word with Senator Sheffield."

"Of course," Amaryllis said. "Nice to meet you."

Beatrice favored Lucas with a measure of silent condemnation before she moved off into the crowd with her husband.

Dillon hung back. He waited until his parents were out of earshot before he took a step closer to Lucas. "Can I stop by your office next week? I need to talk to you. It's really important."

"Sure." Lucas glanced at the retreating Ryes. A whisper of the old sense of loss flickered through him. He squelched it with ruthless will.

There had been a time when he had been welcomed into the Rye household. He had valued the tenuous ties of quasi-adopted kinship far more than the Ryes had ever realized. Intellectually, he had acknowledged that Calvin and Beatrice's acceptance of him was prompted by pragmatic business considerations, not true affection. Nevertheless, they had been warm and cordial. Lucas had settled for the reasonable facsimile of a family that the Ryes had provided.

He had tried to be realistic about the situation. He knew that they had all been bound together by the brilliantly successful partnership between Jackson and himself.

But three years ago, Jackson Rye had been murdered by the pirates who had invaded the Western Islands. His mother had made it clear that the Ryes held Lucas morally responsible. After all, Lucas had been the one with experience in the islands. He had been raised amid their dangers.

Dillon leaned closer with an air of urgency. "Listen, Lucas, do me a favor and don't mention this to Mom and Dad, okay? I don't want them to know that you and I are going to talk business. I want to handle this on my own."

Lucas raised his brows. "What kind of business are we going to talk about?"

"I'll explain later." Dillon lifted a hand in a quick, casual farewell. "See you around. Miss Lark." He hurried off into the crowd.

Amaryllis glanced at Lucas. "Rye. Wasn't that the name of your partner?"

"Jackson Rye. He was Calvin and Beatrice's oldest son. Dillon is their youngest."

Amaryllis frowned. "Jackson Rye was killed at the start of the Western Islands Action, wasn't he? The news accounts called him a hero."

"Yes."

"Did the family inherit their son's share of Lodestar Exploration?"

"The Ryes are no longer involved with the company," Lucas said bluntly. "I bought them out eight months after Jackson was killed."

"I see."

The Ryes had wanted nothing from Lodestar except money after Jackson was killed, Lucas reflected. They certainly hadn't wanted their quasi-adopted relative. Lucas had politely unadopted himself.

Two more people emerged from the crowd. They homed in on Lucas with the skill of experts. Several heads turned to follow the handsome, sleekly coiffed man. The extremely thin blonde at his side carried a camera.

Amaryllis made a tiny, excited sound. "Is that Nelson Buriton?"

"Yeah. Try to contain yourself."

"Trent." Nelson came to a halt. "Knew you'd be around here somewhere. Hell of a crowd, hub?" He waved a manicured hand at his companion. "Elaine Crew. Friend of mine. Photographer with the New Seattle Times. Here on assignment. Me, I'm not working tonight."

"Amaryllis Lark, friend of mine," Lucas said.

Nelson Buriton turned the full power of his famous smile on Amaryllis. He held out his hand. "Miss Lark. A pleasure."

"It's wonderful to meet you in person. I feel as if I already know you." Amaryllis blushed furiously. "I suppose everyone tells you that, don't they?"

Nelson winked. "Hey, comes with the territory." He turned back to Lucas. "I told Elaine here that I'd talk you into letting her get a shot of you standing next to the display case. What d'ye say?"

Elaine smiled. "I'd really appreciate it, Mr. Trent. My editor at the Times will be grateful."

Finding himself cornered by reporters and photographers did not usually fill Lucas with delight, but tonight he was almost relieved by the interruption. He needed something to force his thoughts back to the business of the evening.

"Why not?" Lucas said. He set the glass of watery punch down on a nearby table and waited with stoic patience while Elaine unsheathed her camera.

Just as she was about to snap the picture, Amaryllis slipped gracefully out of range.

"No, wait, I want you in the shot, too. Miss Lark." Elaine lowered her camera and motioned Amaryllis back to stand beside Lucas. "Please."

Amaryllis shook her head politely but firmly. "I don't think that would be right. Mr. Trent is the one who found these wonderful relics. I had nothing to do with it."

"But you're with Trent, aren't you?" Nelson gave Lucas a speculative glance. "Someone said that you had recently registered with a marriage agency. I assumed that Miss Lark was a date."

"She is," Lucas said.

"But this is just an initial, get-acquainted date," Amaryllis interjected hastily. "Lucas and I hardly know each other." She gave Lucas a meaningful look. "Isn't that right?"

Her determination not to be photographed standing next to him exacerbated Lucas's simmering irritation. She was happy to gush over Madison Sheffield and Nelson Buriton, he thought, but she didn't want to appear in the newspapers with the man who had brought her to the party.

He gave her a deliberate smile. "I'm sure we'll be much better acquainted before the evening is over. After all, our agency claims to hit a perfect match on the first date ninety-four point six percent of the time. That's one of the reasons I registered with them."

Nelson uttered his famous, well-modulated chuckle. "After covering Trent all these years, I can assure you that he doesn't believe in wasting time. The Iceman is a man of action. Miss Lark."

Amaryllis turned a vivid shade of pink. She did not exactly breathe fire, but Lucas was almost positive he could see the flames in her spectacular green eyes. For some reason, her glare did wonders for his mood.

"So the rumors are true, Mr. Trent?" Elaine asked. "You are registered?"

"It's time," Lucas said. "I'm not getting any younger."

Nelson nodded. "I know what you mean. I'll be registering myself one of these days. Will you be staying here in New Seattle after you get married, or will you return to the Western Islands?"

"I intend to run my business from the city." Lucas watched Amaryllis. "It's time for Lodestar Exploration to diversify and expand its scope beyond the search for jelly-ice. I'll need to be here at company headquarters to oversee that change in direction."

"Sounds like new horizons for Lodestar." Nelson gave Lucas a speculative look. "Any chance that one of those new ventures might be a shot at politics? Your name has come up as a possible candidate for city-state senator. Any interest?"

"None whatsoever," Lucas said. "If you want to talk politics, I suggest you corner Sheffield."

"I spoke to him earlier." Nelson winked. "He's on an agency date, too. I have a hunch he'll be announcing his engagement soon."

"Not much of a surprise there," Elaine muttered as she made an adjustment on her camera. "Everyone knows that the voters will never go for an unmarried governor. Especially not one who's so big on founders' values." She gave Amaryllis a determined smile. "Now then, Miss Lark, if you'll just step a little closer to Mr. Trent, I'll get this shot, and then Nelson and I will stop pestering you."

Amaryllis made one last bid to avoid the inevitable. "I really don't think--"

"Don't be shy, Amaryllis." Lucas reached out to catch hold of her before she realized his intention. He felt her flinch in surprise as he carefully wrapped his fingers around the fine bones of her wrist. He smiled at her as he drew her gently but inexorably to his side. "As I said, we're going to be intimately acquainted before this evening is finished."

Amaryllis opened her mouth with the obvious intent of making a scathing retort, but before she could say anything the camera flash went off. She blinked several times and closed her mouth.

"Got it." Elaine lowered the camera and gave her victims a breezy smile. "Thanks. And best of luck to you both."

Nelson nodded. "Appreciate the info on Lodestar's new direction, Mr. Trent. Okay if I give your office a call later this week to get some details?"

"Sure," Lucas said. "My secretary will put you in touch with the right people." He kept his grip on Amaryllis as Nelson and Elaine plunged back into the crowd in search of new victims.

"That was unnecessary," Amaryllis hissed.

"It was unavoidable. We agreed on the cover story for this evening. The press was bound to want photos."

"A shot of you would have been fine. There was no need to let that photographer take a picture of us together. It'll probably be in the paper tomorrow."

"Probably. And there will undoubtedly be several more photos taken before the evening is finished." Lucas glanced down at her. "What of it?"

Amaryllis sighed. "My aunt may see one of them."

"So?"

"You don't know my aunt." Amaryllis's mouth tightened. "Never mind. Let's get on with our business, shall we? Where are Miss Locking and Mr. Beech?"

Lucas surveyed the crowd and spotted Miranda on the other side of the room. She was not alone. Beech was next to her, his head bent attentively. They were obviously involved in an intense conversation.

"They're over there, near the large display case at the far end of the hall. They're alone together, and Beech looks serious. Something's going on right now. Ready?"

Amaryllis glanced at him in surprise. "You're strong enough to detect a talent from here?"

"I can handle this room." Lucas tightened his hold on her wrist.

"But where is Beech's prism?" Amaryllis tried to peer over the heads of the crowd. "I don't see anyone close to him except Miss Locking."

"Who knows? It could be any one of the people within a radius of ten feet of where Beech is standing." Lucas was impatient to get into the link. "That waiter with the champagne tray, for example. He's close enough to link."

Amaryllis looked doubtful. "Beech would have to be awfully strong to impose a hypnotic suggestion using a prism who's standing that far away. Something tells me this isn't going to be very useful, Lucas."

"That's my problem, not yours."

"Remember that when it comes time to pay the bill."

"I will." Lucas hesitated, feeling unexpectedly awkward now that the moment was at hand. "Look, I haven't had a whole lot of experience with this kind of thing. There aren't a lot of trained prisms out in the islands. I'll probably be clumsy by your standards."

"Don't worry about it," she said softly. "I've worked with a lot of amateurs."

Lucas gritted his teeth. "Thanks."

"I didn't mean to offend you."

"Forget it." He could feel the heat in his face, but he forced himself to ignore his own embarrassment. There was no way to explain to Amaryllis just why he had so little finesse. It wasn't easy focusing a portion of his talent through a prism while he simultaneously exerted a tremendous effort to conceal the full extent of his abilities from the person who held the focus.

Slowly, carefully, Lucas eased into the link. He braced himself for the short moment of disorientation that always preceded the connection. He opened his mind cautiously, a little at a time, groping for the focus.

And suddenly it was there on the psychic plane, a glittering crystal prism. Strong and clear and ready for him. It bore almost no resemblance at all to the weak, cloudy prisms he had used in the past.

It was beautiful. Incredibly, indescribably beautiful. It was perfect.

Before he could fully admire the prism, he almost staggered beneath a wholly unexpected wave of deep sexual desire. He wanted Amaryllis. He needed her as he had never needed anything before in his life. He was shatteringly aware of her in a psychic sense. It seemed to Lucas that he was drowning in the very essence of Amaryllis's femininity.

Something was very, very wrong.

He was getting an erection. Shocked, Lucas released the link as though it were made of fire. Out on the psychic plane, the wonderful prism winked out of existence.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. True, he had only used prisms in a limited manner in the past, but he had read a lot about the phenomenon. He knew that his previous experiences were typical, even if he had been clumsy and even if he had only worked with weaker prisms.

The link between a talent and a prism was by nature an impersonal one. He had never heard of a case in which there were sexual overtones in the act of holding a focus. People said if you blindfolded a talent, it was impossible for the talent to tell if he or she was working with a man or a woman.

"Lucas?" Amaryllis sounded breathless. "Is anything wrong?"

"No." He wondered if she had felt anything. Maybe it was just him. Damned hormones.

Lucas fought for control. He was the Iceman. He exhaled halfway and fumbled again with the delicate link. Slowly, carefully he took hold of it.

It was as though he used his big, calloused hands to grapple with a strand of silk spun from fine crystal. He was terrified of ripping the fragile thread to shreds.

"It's okay," Amaryllis murmured at his side. "I won't break."

Gingerly, Lucas tightened his grip on the link. He felt the power vibrating in it, a natural complement to his own strength. She could handle him, or at least as much of him as he intended to use. Lucas relaxed slightly.

An unwarranted exhilaration rushed through him. It felt so good. So right. The sensation of intense intimacy returned. In that moment he felt closer to Amaryllis than he had ever felt to any other human being in his life.

He longed to know if Amaryllis was feeling the same surge of sexual desire that was soaring through him. He did not dare look at her.

He ordered himself to concentrate. This was business.

Amaryllis probably didn't feel a thing. She was a pro. This weird stuff was probably only happening on his end of the link.

He eased raw energy through the unbelievably clear prism.

Out on the psychic plane, the normally chaotic, unpredictable talent flowed into the prism and emerged in the form of strong, sharply delineated bands of colored light. Almost a full spectrum. Lucas damped down the power level. He was supposed to be a nine, he reminded himself. He had to be careful.

But he allowed himself another few seconds to savor the experience. While it flowed through the prism, the rush of talent was steady and sure. He could use it just as he used his other senses. Pleasure and deep satisfaction welled up inside him.

This was how it was meant to feel, he thought. Natural. Powerful. It paid to work with a professional.

With gathering confidence, Lucas concentrated on the task at hand. His goal was to detect Merrick Beech in the act of using a hypno-talent.

The hum of music and conversation faded around him. Another kind of noise filled his head. He recognized it immediately. It was the echo of a strong talent at work somewhere nearby.

"I've got him," Lucas muttered.

"You've got someone." Amaryllis's voice held a new note of tension. "But it doesn't feel like a hypno-talent. I've focused for hypnos in the past, and they didn't feel anything like this."

"Damn." She was right. Lucas realized that while she was holding the focus, she felt and experienced everything he did. He did not want to dwell on all the ramifications right now. "What's going on?"

"I can't tell." Amaryllis paused. "But because you're a high-class detector, you're picking up the prism's energy, too. There's something familiar about the way he or she is working."

"Familiar?"

"A prism's technique usually reflects his or her training. There are nuances of style that vary from prism to prism--" Amaryllis broke off, apparently concentrating.

"Can you tell if the prism is a man or a woman?" Lucas asked.

"No more than you can tell if the talent is male or female."

He was in no doubt about the gender of the prism he was using, Lucas thought grimly. But she was right. He could not tell the sex of the other talent or prism in the hall.

"What sort of talent is it, Lucas?"

"I'm not sure. I'll try to get a handle on it." Lucas retuned the bands of light, searching for one that would clarify the other's talent.

He caught it, held it, analyzed it. "What the five hells is he doing?"

"Lucas?"

The strange talent snapped off abruptly.

Lucas reluctantly released the psychic link with Amaryllis. She looked at him with mute question in her eyes.

"He stopped focusing," Lucas said. "Shut down as though someone had thrown a switch."

"He?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure there's only one person in this room who would be using that kind of talent."

Amaryllis's fine mouth tightened into a disapproving line. "Whoever it was, he burned out his prism."

"You think so?"

"Yes, I do. He was too strong. They were obviously not properly matched by his focus agency. Obviously, he wasn't a Psynergy, Inc. client. We would never make a mistake of that sort."

"Of course not," Lucas murmured.

"That poor prism. Won't be able to work for at least a week, maybe longer. I understand the feeling of losing your ability to hold a focus is extremely unpleasant."

"It's not painful, is it?"

"No. Not exactly. But most people who've been through it describe it as a sense of something missing. As if they've lost a part of themselves. They say it feels very unnatural. There is no excuse for that sort of mismatch between prism and talent."

"Uh hub." Lucas listened to the lecture with only a portion of his attention as he searched for Miranda in the crowd.

"You said you knew who the talent is?"

"What? Oh, yeah, I think so. I'm guessing that because of the sort of talent he was using and the power level he employed, it was probably--hold on a second." Lucas broke off as Miranda Locking abruptly turned away from Merrick Beech and went down a darkened hall. "There she goes. Wonder what she's up to now."

"Who? Miss Locking?" Amaryllis followed his gaze. She frowned when she caught sight of Miranda. "She looks very upset."

"Maybe Beech isn't willing to pay her what she thinks Lodestar information is worth," Lucas muttered. "This whole thing has been a waste of time and money. I shouldn't have bothered to figure out why she was doing it. I should have just fired her and been done with it."

"She's headed toward the corridor that leads to the ladies' room." Amaryllis set down her glass. "I've got an idea. I'm going to follow her."

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Miss Locking appears to be extremely anxious about something. I'm a prism, remember? That means I'm intuitive by nature."

"I've always felt that the theory that prisms are naturally more intuitive than other people was a myth," Lucas said dryly.

"Well, it's not. I'll follow Miss Locking into the restroom."

"Why?"

"In her present condition she might want to talk to another woman."

"You think she'll bare her soul to you? Forget it. That's the dumbest idea I've heard in a month."

Amaryllis met his eyes. "You want answers, don't you? I might be able to get them for you if I move quickly enough."

"Damn it, I don't want you getting involved in this."

"I already am involved. And I'm the only one who can follow Miss Locking into the restroom." Amaryllis whirled about and hurried off through the throng.

"Just a damn minute. Come back here. I'm in charge of this fiasco." Lucas realized that he was talking to himself. Never a good sign.

He swore silently as he watched Amaryllis make her way along the fringes of the crowd.

He had known it would be a mistake to work with a full-spectrum prism. Amaryllis was probably trying to prove how clever she was. Overcompensating for her lack of real talent, no doubt.

Typical prism. Headstrong, difficult, and unpredictable.

Unable to think of anything else to do, Lucas went after her.