Read Empyrion I: The Search for Fierra for Free Online

excessive in the extreme. More, at any rate, than he was prepared to imagine on the spur of the moment.
    For the first time since being surprised in the public bath at Houston International, Treet began to relax and warm to the idea that there may be something to this enterprise after all.
    He was basking in this sunny notion when he heard an inviting female voice utter in a throaty whisper, “I hope I'm not disturbing you, Mr. Treet.”
    “Uh—Oh!” His eyelids flew open. “No, not at all.” The woman standing next to him bent slightly at the waist as she slid onto the edge of the empty chair to his right.
    “They
are
delicious, aren't they.” She indicated the bowl of strawberries, now half full.
    “An unparalleled pleasure … Miss, ah—”
    “My name is Dannielle.” She held out a slim, long-fingered hand and smiled. “I always have them with a nice Pouilly-Fuisse. It's a wonderful combination.”
    The girl was stunning. “I am happy to meet you, Dannielle. I much prefer a Rheinpfalz myself.”
    She glanced around the table. “But you're not drinking wine tonight?”
    “No, just coffee. I wanted a clear head to think.”
    “Is that what you were going to do tonight? Think?” Dannielle folded her hands under her chin and gazed at him from beneath dark lashes.
    Treet felt a sudden emptiness in his stomach, or a lightness in his head—he couldn't decide which. But he knew what the feeling meant. He heard himself reply, “Yes … think. That is, unless something more sociable turned up.” He made a show of looking around the room. “I don't see your table. Were you with someone?”
    “No, I was alone.” She smiled languidly. “Until just a moment ago.”
    “In that case I insist you join me.”
    “Only if you order wine.”
    “Of course.” Treet had only to look up and the
maitre d'
was there. “We'd like a bottle of Pouilly-Fuisse,” he said, and then added, “One of your best please.”
    When he turned back to his unexpected companion, she had settled herself in her seat and had drawn it closer. Her perfume— something light and provocative—drifted to him, and he spent the next few moments trying to think of a suitably uncorny compliment he might pay her. Dannielle merely smiled and gazed at him with her liquid green eyes and rubbed a shapely hand up the smooth bare skin of an equally shapely arm.
    “I understand you are something of a traveler,” Danielle said. “I've always wanted to travel.”
    “It's what I do best,” replied Treet. “When I'm not thinking.”
    “Oh, I bet there are
lots
of other things you do very well, Mr. Treet.”
    “Please, my friends call me Rion.”
    “Rion, then. I'm told you are a writer. What do you write?”
    “History mostly. And the odd travel piece. The trouble is that the market for travel and history has all but dried up.
    “People have no use for history, and why read about travel when it is so easy to do? There's no place on Earth a tourist can't get to in less than four hours these days. But tell me something, Dannielle …”
    “Yes?” She leaned closer, and he caught another enchanting whiff of her scent.
    “Is everyone here at Cynetics so deliriously charming to all visitors, or is it just me?”
    She lowered her head and favored him with that throaty whisper once again. “Haven't you heard? It's Be Kind to Visiting Dignitaries Day—an official Cynetics holiday.”
    “I was beginning to wonder. And I am a visiting dignitary I take it?”
    “The only one I've seen all day.”
    “How is it that you all know who I am?” The banter had gone out of his voice. He really wanted to know.
    The girl was saved from having to answer by the appearance of the sommelier with a bottle of wine in his hand. Without a word he produced the bottle for Treet's inspection and began peeling the seal preparatory to uncorking. Dannielle reached over, took Treet's hand, and rose gracefully from the table.
    “Steward, we'd like this sent to Mr. Treet's