CLARION

William Greenleaf

37

It took a moment for the meaning to sink in. Paul sat down and nodded toward the attache case.

"That gun is two hundred years old?"

"Correct. Quite a collector's piece, in fact." Sabre's eyes remained on Paul a moment longer, then moved to Dorland. When he spoke again, it was obvious he was choosing his words carefully. "I hope you appreciate the significance of that, Mr. Avery. We want to find out why Bekman tried to kill you. We think he may have been an agent of a political faction that is not friendly to UNSA."

"The Fringe Alliance?" Paul asked. He could think of only one political faction that would be important enough to rate the attention of the Omega Security Director. But that didn't make sense—the Alliance was well armed with modern weapons. Its agent wouldn't be using a twohundred-year-old laser gun.

"The Alliance is involved," Sabre admitted. His eyes were still on Dorland. Then he cleared his throat, leaned back in his chair and abruptly changed the subject. "Mr. Avery, we've checked our records and we find that we're missing a few pertinent details about your background. Would you mind telling me where you were born?" Dorland answered without hesitation, as if he had been expecting the question. "Giant Forest. It's a planet in the—"

"I know where it is," Sabre interrupted. "Why isn't your birth recorded in SoSec records?"

"Giant Forest is a backwater planet. They've never been careful about keeping records."

"Have you ever been to a planet called Clarion?" Paul felt himself flinch inside. Selmer Ogram's words came back to him: Sabastian wants you to come home. Ogram had been referring to a planet called Clarion.

"I travel a great deal," Dorland answered. "I can't remember every planet I've been to."

"Does the name Alban Brill mean anything to you?"

High Elder Brill, Ogram had said. Paul stared at Dorland.

"Should it?" Dorland asked.

Silence descended while Sabre and Dorland regarded each other. Paul knew that Sabre was discovering something new about Dorland. Dorland Avery the man was much different from Dorland Avery the psi-player. As a player, Dorland was a striking, almost intimidating figure. From the stage, the power of his personality flowed out over the audience and merged with the colors and music to hold them fast. But off the stage Dorland was a quiet man—almost exasperatingly so at times. Socially, he was a dud; Paul had long ago given up trying to turn him into the high-lifer and party-goer the public expected of its psi-players and other top entertainers. He had instead opted to make

Dorland a mystery figure, almost a recluse. That suited Dorland fine.

But one characteristic was shared between

Dorland the psi-player and Dorland the introvert: the power of his eyes. Dorland had a steady gaze that often made people feel uncomfortable. Paul even felt it at times when he looked into those dark eyes. There was a great depth in them, and it was easy to believe they could look into your very soul. Sabre felt it, too, and he was the one who cleared his throat and looked down at his clenched hands.

"The man who tried to kill you is from Clarion," he said. "We were able to trace the gun's ident number back to the sector ship that went to Clarion two hundred years ago. I want to know why he tried to kill you."

"There's no need to go through this again," Paul said. For the second time, he pushed back his chair and got to his feet. He glanced toward the door and noticed that Frakes had not moved away from it. 38

William Greenleaj

He wondered if Sabre was desperate enough to keep him and Dorland here by force. He touched Doriand's shoulder. "Let's go."

"We found Bekman's streamer," Sabre said, barely glancing at Paul. He spoke earnestly to Dorland. "It's a scoutcraft from that same sector ship. He was after you, Mr. Avery, and I'm sorry, but I just can't believe you don't know why. You're our only lead. You have an obligation to help us." Dorland pushed back his chair and stood. "Can we return to our hotel now?"

Sabre stared at him. "Surely you understand what—"

"Do we have to call our lawyer?" Paul asked.

"There's no need to—"

"Good, then let us go."

Sabre's face hardened without any noticeable shift in muscles. He sat silently for a moment, staring at Paul. Then he grunted and waved a hand at Frakes. "Take them back."